From Elke Ihnen's heart to Rabea

Someone lives,
Wings and Europlane wings away,
Somewhere over the soils and clay of Germany,
If ever there be something like German clay,
A land of hopes and 'if I weres' for many,
Who walk smiling,
Over the smatching October sun.

Sure knew Elke Ihnen,
When Mother January came,
And waited February, March, April, May, June, July, August
For Father September to chance:
That Rabea would up ward fly,
Towards a land hither to unknown.
Somewhere, beyond the blue borderless sky
Lies Malawi
The Lakeland,
Where stay some more,
Unknown brothers and sisters for Rabea.

Rabea and Elke Ihnen's sacrifice,
For the betterment of many,
Who live without more,
But hopeless hope.
The feet fear not the nagging Sun,
The little peaces of opposing colours of clothes,
Know not shame but smiles,
As Rabea and more together labour,
And communities, too
For a better tomorrow.

The Germans have a mighty heart,
And have come to love the Lake.
As Elke Ihnen back home,
Questions raised:
Rabea must be safe.
Is she safe?
The love of a parent,
Whose hug in anticipation waits,
For the warm hug,
Of a child on good mission.

One day in November,
Shaddows will take the place,
Where Rabea once stood,
And up brought some shapeless wall.
Now the wall,
Is the class room,
And Rabea's shaddow,
Whose beholder now rejoiceth in Germany,
Will be the school block,
And the Makanjira children's hopes.

One day, so the children will say
Rabea will back 'home' come,
To see the labour of her hands,
Perhaps with Elke Ihnen too,
To see the elephants crops devour,
And the Southerly winds Hippos push.
When Rabea will in Elke Ihnen's shoulders lie,
The Makanjira children's shoulders will be cold,
And dry,
Waiting for Rabea and Elke Ihnen's hug.

No more.