Monday, August 24, 2015

Shimmer Chinodya's longest interview....

Today 'The Herald' of Zimbabwe has published what I think is Shimmer Chinodya's longest interview ever... maybe the longest interview that a writer has ever had with a local paper... and I enjoyed it. Impressive. Well done, Mr. Elliot Ziwira! So, here is the link to the interview: http://www.herald.co.zw/90-minutes-with-shimmer-chinodya/

Monday, August 17, 2015

Simon Chimbetu: ten years ago


+ + I wrote this article on Aug 16, 2005 at the request of editor Moses Magadza and it first appeared in the Southern Times on Sunday 21 August 2005.  Ten years later, on Sunday August 16, 2015 the Sunday Mail republished it to mark the tenth anniversary of Chimbetu’s death:  http://www.sundaymail.co.zw/?p=43086

 

The death of Zimbabwean musician Simon Chimbetu last Sunday left his admirers and ideological friends shocked. Who knew that “the master of song” would go ‘asina kuwoneka’ (without saying goodbye) just like ‘Mama Elizabeth’ a character in one of his most touching songs?

However, we should not lose opportunity to dwell on what the man represented. His last album “Ten Million Pounds: Reward” reminds one of the singer’s unique music and his intricate circumstances as a musician and nationalist.

For the past four years, Chimbetu has been on spotlight. Sadly, his case has not received adequate analysis and understanding in Zimbabwe and abroad.  There have been open hate messages towards Chimbetu, show boycott and even open demonisation by some sections of the local media.  But the man soldiered on.  Recent observations show that his shows and sales were gradually picking up again.

In search of a quick story the ladies and gentlemen in the media can easily cobble up a few sentences about an artist. It must be understood that they do not have much time and space. There is tendency to write about how many people were at a musical show, which songs were sung (in what order) and waal.. there was a lot of cheering, which singer is misbehaving nowdays, and with who? One does not see some fundamental questions asked (and answered) every time the media reflect on music and ideology in Zimbabwe. Can any music (especially the lyrics) ever be neutral?  Is music (or any art form for that matter) be divorced from the major and minor struggles in any society?  Is the musician not entitled to a side, a view?  If he does, must it not come out in his music?  Whilst singing is business, how much of that singing should target money and money alone? 

Though resolute and focused, I think Simon Chimbetu himself was not a stone.  In his song Kikiriri (the tussle), on the latest album “Ten Million Pounds: Reward”, he reflects on how the odds are piling against the individual and how these malevolent forces attempt to bury him.  The lyrics remind one of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane when doom beckoned.  Part of the song goes:

 

                    “Jehovha wehondo, pindirai mufambe neni

                    Jehovha musandisiye, pindirai mufambe neni

                    Ndasanganiswa neasinganyare, kikiri-kikiri neni

                    Ndasanganiswa neasinganete, kikiri-kikiri neni

                    (My Lord  don’t forsake me my rivals

                    are vicious and they fight me relentlessly)”

 

In that song Simon Chimbetu’s tenor approaches the alto and the prayer rings very clearly.  The accompanying guitars are deep and you imagine a slow solemn dance on the dance-floor. Ndasanganiswa neasinganyare/ Ndasanganiswa neasinganete is about fighting a power morerelentless than the individual. More like fighting HIV/AIDS before the advent of antiretroviral drugs. This situation recalls Chimbetu’s 1989 song ‘Usandisiye’ (don’t leave me behind) in which the persona pleads with ‘mukoma Sam’ not to leave him behind because – danger larks everywhere and there is harm at the end of the bend in the road. The forest too, teems with man-eaters of all kinds.

But Kikiriri and Usandisiye can as well operate on a scale far beyond the individual.  There are subtle allusions in Kikiriri to the embattled circumstances of Zimbabwe for the past three years – when friends and some benefactors retreated as the “land issue” scaled heights and it needed extra strength for one to be able to say, “I come from Zimbabwe.”  It is said even some well known revolutionaries developed shivers and were ready to abandon ship.

There has always been a pan-African side to Simon Chimbetu.  He comes closest to the poet David Diop whose love for Africa was not necessarily idealist. Diop the great poet was informed by a desire to see black people using their common history of suffering as a vehicle to higher goals.  In a poem “Africa” Diop acknowledges the bloody road Africa has traveled but he has the wisdom to insist that such an experience must actually make Africa locate itself in higher material struggles. What is beauty if we are not free? What is beauty if we have no food, clothes and shelter? In Chimbetu as in Diop, suffering is not a career but a road to higher ideals. It is that careful militancy, that pragmatic radicalism that got me hooked onto Chimbetu in songs like Africa Inaliya, Lisaidiye, One Way, Henrichi and others.

 In the latest album there is a particularly soulful song called Maneno Yawongo (the lies that detractors tell), sung partly in Swahili and English. To me, it could easily pass as the best song on this album.  So many lies have been told about Africa and Africans by detractors but there is no reason for Africans to give up, Chimbetu sings. This song in the lingua-franca of Africa (Swahili) is bound to travel further than any other song on this album.  The Swahili part of Maneno Yawongo goes:

                    Wao wanasema maneno ya wongo

                    Sio wana zuri uri adui kwangu

 

                   Wao wanaandika maneno ya wongo

                    Sio wanazuri ini adui zaAfrica

                    (There are those who tell lies about Africa

                    and they are enemies of Africa)

 

The instrumental and vocal combinations in this song are steeped in Benga which is an early East African version of rhumba.  In Zimbabwe Benga has been popularized as Kanindo first by the guerillas of the 70’s war of independence who had had contacts with East Africa during military training.  In recent years it has been identified with Radio Zimbabwe’s Simon “Pashoma” Ncube.  Some of the Benga hits that are popular in Zimbabwe are Kiseru by Orchestra D.O.7 Shiratti Jazz Band and Rusalina Soda by Mori River Jazz Band.

 There is in Chimbetu’s latest album (and in many of his older albums) a sense of the classic and a deliberate attempt (by Chimbetu) to remain in contact with the original and enduring traditions of rhumba music.  So far most of the Zimbabwean musical works tend to be largely inward looking in terms of lyrics and instrumentation, to a point of negating that Zimbabwe music should be part of the larger African traditions.  Besides singing in Swahili and Shona, Chimbetu also sang in English, Ndebele and Chewa and not many Zimbabwean musicians go that far.

 

If Maneno Yawongo is serious then the other song called Karhumba is an open celebration of the joys of rhumba music and its association with rhythmic dance:

 

 

                    Karhumba ndisiye-

                    Ndisiye nditambe karhumba

                    Karhumba kandiomesera,

                   Ndisiye nditambe karhumba

                    Karumba kemutsigo,

                    Ndisiye nditambire karhumba

                    (Let me dance to rhumba.  The rhythms of rhumba

                    provoke me and I can’t hold on)

 

According to the Negritude movement, the essence of blackness is the relationship between rhythm and the body.  In Africa marriage is dance, joy is dance, death is dance, love is dance…  Every station of life is an occasion for dance. Karhumba seems to dwell on that philosophy and operates with short sharp chants and cascading instrumentation.  Dance becomes a dramatization of victories and defeats a body can endure.  As Senghor put it years back, “We are not only intellect and reasons.”

Chimbetu had a certain decisiveness and combativeness which he tossed and roled in idiom and metaphor.  This is so well done in the song Muridzo.  In this song the leader of the revolution is being addressed using the language popular with African traditional doctors – kana wabva pano usacheuke dakara wasvika kumba.  (From this place, go straight on and don’t turn your head until you get home.)  Those familiar with this language of the Shona n’anga will marvel at the following:

 

                    Mwana wekubereka, usacheuke muridzo

                    Ndapota usacheuke muridzo, usacheuke muridzo

                    Nyanwe mutete, usacheuke chete

                    Nyangwe akabata mari, usacheuke muridzo

                    Ndapota usacheucheucheu, usacheuka chete

                    Ramba wakananga mberi, usacheuke muridzo

                    Pauri panoshura, usacheuke muridzo

                    Nzvimbo yauri inoyeura, usacheuke muridzo

          (Don’t look behind regardless of distractions, look ahead and be resolute)

The idea of looking back and losing one’s principles is a motif in Simon Chimbetu’s music.  It appears in an earlier song called ‘Simba nederere’(surving only on okra) from the chart-busting album Survival:

                    Inga wakataura wani

                    Kuti mugwara tiri tose

                    Saka wapanduka sei?

                    Wanditiza sei?

                    Wandiramba sei?

                    Wapanduka sei?(You made many promises, now why do you renege on them?)

 

There was here a musician blessed with a certain fear of betrayers. From Cape to Cairo, Africa has been betrayed by its own. The issue is no longer about people but individual gain. Chimbetu bemoans the selfishness and wanton greed that some African leaders espouse today.  This is more painful if seen in the context of the previous excitement with shared ideals and journeys made together for the benefit of the collective. 

I imagine Chimbetu the composer as a man who imagined that all meaningful endeavours must thrive towards a centre, a rallying point.  This formulated part of Chimbetu’s nationalist Pan Africanist vision.  The same view is buttressed by the song on the latest album called Kumba “home.” You quickly realize the somewhat Garveyite vision of Africa in Chimbetu in that song. ‘Kumba’ is no song to play when you are far away from and things are not working out fine. The persona asks with the humble tone of a home-sick slave – “Ndinokumbira kuenda kwedu kuAfrica!” (I beg to go back home to Africa) Of course I sometimes think that this is a song in which the artist predicted his own death! In that song there was that longing to return to a source beyond home.

Simon Chimbetu’s vision has been trashed and even misunderstood in some cynical circles.  It has been seen as blind praise of party and country. But it is natural for cynics to be parochial, forgetful and vicious.  In fact Chimbetu, like Oliver Mtukudzi, makes very subtle and intelligent criticism of the establishment in many of his songs.  In an older song called ‘Vana vaye’ (from the Survival album) the singer pleads with the leader not to forget Chingwa (bread) and Upfu mealie-meal ‘zvevana vangu.’ (my children)

 Criticism of the establishment in Zimbabwe by Simon Chimbetu is even more acute in ‘Ndaremerwa’ (I can’t bear it any more) from the album called African Panorama Chapter I.  In that song the leader (babamukuru) is told in no uncertain terms about the rising travel costs for people who commute to and fro work from Monday to Friday.  Many people try to commute for the whole week, but by Saturday, they are broke and the going is unbearable:

                    Babamukuru honai’ka

                    -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday

                    Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

                    -Mugovera, ndaremerwa

                     Kwandinoshanda kure nekwandinovata

 

In that song, Chimbetu refers to the leader as “babamukuru’ (old-father/uncle). This is in keeping with the mode of cultural Shona criticism. This is in sharp contrast with some artists who have fast forgotten the strength of sign, symbol and metaphor whether you are lambasting or even praising. So much vitriol in some other people’s lyrics shoots through the roof and hits below the belt.

‘Kure kachana’ (It is far) is one of the Chimbetu’s most intelligent songs to date and his ideological rivals know it.  The message in that song is unequivocal:  the journey to state house is not and was not as easy as a walk in the park. You need a very clear agenda. You need a clear vision. You get to State-house through processes that involve the people and there are motions and rituals to go through.  Near as it might seem physically, “kuState house kure. This does not mean the artist is saying: don’t try to go to state house! The song speaks equally clear to those inside and outside state house! It is not an easy song. It is not anyone’s song.

There are some who would choose to miss the meaning of that song and would rather loathe or harm the musician himself.  Kure kachana is from Chimbetu’s 2002 album called Hoko. Though half of that album carries remixes of yester-years, the title track itself – Hoko has arguably the best instrumentation and lyrics ever done by Chimbetu.  Maybe the song Hoko could only compete against Varoyi, another brilliant track on the same album.  With the album Hoko, Chimbetu reaches the ultimate.  Understandably, his rivals mobilized against this album because of its ideological alliances with the land reform of which many now (across the political divide) are beneficiaries. I think the musician was aware that the issue of land cannot and should not be partisan because after our many weird and petty skirmishes, we have to go back to the land. That is why our ancestors said: kana uchitamba usakanganwe kutsika pasi.

And then his song Henrichi even predicted the fast track land reform decades before it came! In that song a settler famer blames his grandparents for not warning him that all these acres called farm are black soil and the owners might want to reclaim them back at some point:

                                  Henrichi mwana wemurungu

                                   Henrichi wakakanye basa

                                   Pakuzofa usina kureva chokwadi

                                   Kuti: nyika ino inyika yevatema

                                   kana voida, vadzorerei nyika…

However, away from his lyrics, albums and ideology, Simon Chimbetu had his organizational lapses which needed keen attention.  To start with, he did not taken advantage of his Swahili and Chewa lyrics and the Benga sounds of his music to make inroads in Central Africa.  Whether it was his own or his recording company’s clumsiness, Chimbetu’s music needed to be promoted in the populous Swahili territory which spreads from Zanzibar to Kinshasa.  Follow up shows and partnerships with musicians of the region might have helped.  One has in mind the manner in which Oliver Mtukudzi slowly but seriously penetrated the South African musical space by partnering (on stage and corecording) with Steeve Dyer, Ringo and others.

There was a short period when one thought Chimbetu was almost in partnering Kanda Bongo. It was not to be.  What we saw of Chimbetu’s outreach were the periodic trips to England and England alone.  The craze has caught up, sadly, with Alick Macheso.  There was need to imagine recording and touring in South-Africa, giving his music opportunity to travel further afield in the region. Chimbetu could also have taken advantage of his Chewa/Nyanja songs as a to ‘invade’ Zambia, Malawi and Mozambique.

 

Of course one could point at the untimely death of lead-guitarist Never Moyo and the move to greener pastures of several other guitarists, but it was not encouraging to note that since African Panorama Chapter 2 (2001) Chimbetu had taken three years to launch a fully fledged new album.  Some people have claimed that the “man had gone farming” and yet those who have followed  him over the years know that there was a time Chimbetu  could  compose, record and hold shows even when he was employed on an eight-hour-a-day job with a tobacco establishment. The managerial side of Chimbetu needed a serious revamp. There were signs that his band depended solely on brotherhood and trust. Whilst that is not a crime, it is not adequate if one intends to build an institution.  Chimbetu needed to learn from Mtukudzi, especially about the idea of shedding off some responsibilities and concentrate on composing and reflecting.

The seriousness and maturity of the latest album could have been a starting point for the journey back to the higher shelf. Dendera music had become  soulful, meditative and mature and one hopes his highly talented blood brothers and the whole group must find reason to  play on.

 But we remain with fond memories. One of them: a warm evening, November 1991, University of Zimbabwe students carry Chimbetu in their arms from the entrance all the way to the stage of the university’s Great Hall. The smart guy with bashful eyes, a soulful voice, a boyish hair cut  and an unshakeable Pan-African vision will be sorely missed by the rest of us! The earth has taken back its gift.
+ the writer, Memory Chirere works and lives in Harare, Zimbabwe

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

selected pictures from Manu Sigauke's Chisiya Writers Workshop


Am coming from a unique 4 day writing workshop at Gwavachemai Secondary School in Mazvihwa, Zimbabwe. It was organised by a son of Mazvihwa, Emmanuel Sigauke himself, now based in California. 1. It had the young and old, male-female. 2. It was not set in a city or town or at a hotel. It was in the countryside and from the classroom you could see the legendary acacia trees of Mazvihwa, the many goats... 3. It was not a one hour early August workshop. No! We were at it for 4 full early August days in the year 2015! 4. The forty participants, David Mungoshi, teachers and I, finally accompanied Emmanuel Sigauke up the Chisiya hill where he would go as a boy to read Achebe, Dangarembga, Ngugi, Mungoshi and others...or just meditate... and see the valley below...  5. I have never felt as blest as I felt, reading ‘Roja Rababa vaBiggie’ to an attentive audience - up there, near the clouds…

Thursday, May 21, 2015

KwaChirere reads Textures from 'amaBooks


Reviewing ‘TEXTURES’, a collection of poems by John Eppel and Togara Muzanenhamo, published in 2014 by ‘amaBooks.ISBN 978-0-7974-9498-5

Today, Thursday, 21 may 2015, we attend the Harare launch of Textures, a collection of poems by John Eppel and Togara Muzanenhamo. This will happen at the Book Café. The Bulawayo launch was sometime in March and I understand that the book was well received. In one online picture, the two poets are standing very close together. Togara’s face has a satisfied smile as he looks straight into the camera.  Eppel appears to be contemplating, almost saying under his breath, “We are finally there, young Togara. I told you.” That grey beard and specks give Eppel a grandfatherly look.

John Eppel is a big name in Zimbabwean writing. He is a serious satirist most of the times and you need to climb up to his high sense of humour to fully appreciate him. You cannot go through Eppel without a re-read. He is master of irony. I tend to pick him in the second or third reading and at every step,  I pick out something new. I do not allow him to frustrate me. There is always more onion under the onion. We haven’t met (having only read his works that are everywhere in Zimbabwe) and I do not yet know the texture of his voice or the feel of his hand.

If we meet today I want to ask him, “What are all those birds doing in your latest poems?”  In our country there are many birds that sing, good and bad. Some stand for death and some- good fortune. That brings me to Eppel’s poem, ‘Cape Turtle Dove’ which I enjoy immensely because I have also been very close to doves all my life. Of all the habits of the dove, the persona here is most touched by dove song which is haunting ‘like well-loved landscapes lately lit’. And the poem ends. The poem brings me back to the veldt with a deep sense of nostalgia. I am lost in my childhood when a dove was as commonplace as maize seed and the bushes themselves. The dove is the typical character in typical circumstances.

There is also ‘Grey Heron’ in which the bird is first described elaborately like you find characters being described at the point of entry in a detective novel. This particular heron is like ‘some poets’, lonely, calm but sometimes- suddenly swift and aggressive. Are these birds not like the people that we know? This time Eppel puts aside the political subject and goes bird watching! In order to come back rejuvenated? But are these birds not Eppel’s usual political animals now resurrected as birds? But Eppel is not aggressive now when working with birds. He is at his most soulful pitch. He is awestruck by the presence of various birds. He wishes he were a bird, too, far away from the madding crowd. Is age catching up with Eppel? Will I get used to the new Eppel? He is uncharacteristically calm and even prayerful… I am thinking.

Then I come to ‘Golden Orb Spider.’ This is my favourite poem in this whole book because we start with the spider and end up elsewhere! The spider at work becomes the genius; a Mozart, a Marechera, a Thomas Hardy etc. But the spider traps, mangles and kills its victims too, with the help of its web!

Today, if I have the chance, I will ask Eppel, “Sir, I think you come across as lonely!”  In ‘A Surburban Night in August’  there is something of T. S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock! I mean, the image of the wandering and sleep walking male loner, soaking it all in. Walking slowly in the dark, concerned with the losses of a distant past. I think ‘Looking for You’ is a quest for love lost. I also think the same about ‘Solvitur Ambulando’ where the loner is walking in the moonlight, choosing to solve the problem not by talking but by walking. Being a habitual walker myself, I know how walking heals a troubled mind and how one feels like forgiving the whole world after a long walk.

The sonnet sequence based on the area around the Bulawayo Dams is a must read. But once more, there are no people here, except for the aloes, the rocks and the insects. The persona takes in the world all by himself like John the Baptist- the hermit. It is when you are alone that you are able to place yourself within time. Here is John Eppel’s questing spirit.

I must also confess that I like some of Eppel's word combinations in Textures. Here are some: ‘The world is waiting, trembling like a mouse.’ Then there is: ‘There is something human about aloes.’ I also like: ‘Last night the blue moon brought you back to me.’ Sad. John Eppel is sad. But under that sadness there is the satisfaction that always come out of pining and suffering. Flogging the self in order to arrive at a certain purity and release.

Togara Muzanenhamo’s poems are dense. That is an honest warning! The constant allusions to characters in far away lands and in broad human history, is bound to challenge the uninitiated. He comes across as a very well read and travelled poet. He is always in control.

This poet is serious and unrelenting. And you feel that these poems were written and rewritten because they have deep links with humanity in various climes. You search for your own spot until you find it in his universe of feelings and thoughts. The other fortunate part is that  Muzanenhamo’s style is like the slow bold stroke of a brush. He cascades. He is long drawn. He goes for sounds that words make. He goes for the colour that certain word combinations make. Reading Muzanenhamo is like listening to a cat purring! Or, listening to a distant bulldozer ‘eating’ the terrain, constructing a dam or a leveling an ant heap.

In ‘Gondershe’ the story of the boy with a gun by the sea comes to one very gradually. The boy by the sea has to be seen and felt and he is here to feel and see the sea one last time. Will he shoot himself, you keep wondering. Will he go back home? Or, is the boy not your shadow? The sea is a powerful force in Muzanenhamo’s poems. The sea has a calming effect. The sea makes a useful backdrop to the poem ‘Desire’ where the persona ‘felt good being back on the water.’ It takes the sea for the man to see his woman for what she really is- an invitation to carnal and spiritual satiety. The turmoil is hidden underneath the style.

This takes me to the prose poem ‘Peruvian Sunsets’ where a woman is at one special moment of making love to both a shell shocked man and the old city, right there in a public park at sunset. We glimpse them just a few moments before they are consumed in their gradual but hungry passions. The power of flesh is deeply felt here.

I also enjoyed (but was also dazzled) by what happens to one Uzziah Chikambi in the other prose poem. A man with a ready gun walks towards both a ghost and his very own past. The edges of reality are so blunt that you realize that we often dream regardless of our wakefulness. I also felt the same with ‘Engine Philosophers’ because sometimes we are consumed in work and think about work and its history and the endless yet to be touched futures of those who work tools and engines with their hands and souls.

My favourite poem by Muzanenhamo is ‘Zvita’ because it terrifies me beyond explanation. I also am in the habit of constantly thinking about what happens to the body when it dies or after it is buried or when it is abandoned out there, unburied. Forbidden territory! How does it help you to think about a body’s condition after burial? That is why human bodies have to be buried...But you find yourself going in that direction. Maybe because the body is the only real terrain we have between ourselves and the world itself. ‘Zvita’is not a poem for the faint hearted. The body is a very fragile and temporary thing.

Textures is a collection with poems that speak about what we see and feel as we glimpse a world that is passing by. You come away with the feeling that the experience of the senses cannot be substituted with any other thing. This is a book about precious feelings.
++Memory Chirere, Harare

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

David Mungoshi returns to the source as Zimbabwe Independence day beckons!

Pic Tsvangirai Mukwazhi

Nhambwe Dzongosienda
   (NaDavid Mungoshi)
Muna Zvita mvura yanaya
taidya matufu nemashuku.
Kuzoti hute mugute mubani riya
raiva ‘jahwi,’ Changamire wangu.
Maroro kana aibva waizvinzwa mumhepo
Kungoti gare gare hedzo nzviro nenhunguru
Haiwa tsubvu hatitaure, tongomafura.
Nhasi uno changamire wangu
yangova nhorowondo.
Ndiani achaziva zhumwi kana n’ono?
Ndiani achiri kubvura nzungu mumunda
kana kukamira mukaka mudemhe redamba
achizoukodza pakarepo nemuto wematunduru?
Nhambwe dzongosienda, changamire wangu
Zvosvota semaonde kuona zvoita nyika
Mabasa aivava vokuuya ava!
Maitiro avo kuda kufumura zvinoera
Nhasi Mahomed Dada aripi
zvaakatsakatika mugomo tichazomuwana here?
Hamhenoka, zvichida tichasutswa nemasutso
 ati kudai kuswedera aya, idzo haya dzatiwo zii
Dai bere rikarutsa imvi tingazive zvakawira vatsakatiki.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

German (language) version of Bhuku Risina Basa... coming soon!

Magdalena Pfalzgraf is working on a German translation of the Nama Award winning Bhuku Risina Basa Nokuti Rakanyorwa Masikati. It will be called: 'Ein unnützes Buch, es wurde tagsüber geschrieben'
Read the German version of poem 'Muna Leopold Takawira' ( 21) below:

Auf der Leopold Takawira Straße
Ich war auf der Leopold Takawira unterwegs,

auf der Suche nach einem Paar bezahlbarer Schuhe.

Da sah ich diesen riesigen Polizisten,

er führte einen mageren Jungen in Handschellen davon.

So ein kleiner Taschendieb, dachte ich.

Mir gefielen die roten Augen des Jungen nicht,

und auch nicht die langen Hosen,

die bis zu seinen Schuhen mit den schiefen Sohlen gingen.

Aber ich schaute mir trotzdem die Handschellen an, denn

„Ich hasse, was den blinden Impuls des Menschen stört.“

Und:

„Ich weiß nur zu gut, wie sich ein eingesperrter Vogel fühlt.“

Und dann, als die beiden an mir vorbeigingen,

sagt der Junge zum Beamten;
„Ich wusste nicht, dass Du da um die Ecke stehst.

Hab mich wohl verschätzt!“

Den ganzen Tag bis in die Nacht fragte ich mich,

warum die beiden wie Freunde aussahen.

Auf dem Weg zurück,

in das Dorf ihrer Herkunft.