Rukurukuru tjinene ovandu kava ri nondjiviro. Ovo kaave tjiwa okukuna ovikunwa, poo okuungura ozombanda, poo okuungura oviṋa povitenda. Okutja mukuru wavo ngwa ri Nyame ongwa ri nondjiviro aihe kombanda meyuru. Eye ee i ṱizire monyungu yomunoko.
Long long ago people didn’t
know anything. They didn’t
know how to plant crops, or
how to weave cloth, or how to
make iron tools.
The god Nyame up in the sky
had all the wisdom of the world.
He kept it safe in a clay pot.
Eyuva rimwe, Nyame a munu kutja onyungu yondjiviro ma yandja ku Anansi. Otjikando atjihe Anansi tja natere monyungu, ee rihongo otjiṋa otjipe. Eye aa tjaterwa tjinene!
One day, Nyame decided that
he would give the pot of
wisdom to Anansi.
Every time Anansi looked in the
clay pot, he learned something
new. It was so exciting!
Anansi womunenetima we ripura, “Onyungu ndji me kahoreka nawa kombanda yomuti omure. Okutja oyo mai rire oyandje erike!” Eye wa tunga ongoze onde ne i manga monyungu yomunoko tjazumbo ei kutu mezumo re. Eye wa uta okuronda komuti. Nungwari kari oupupu okuronda komuti nonyungu ndji mai mu vete kozongoro.
Greedy Anansi thought, “I’ll
keep the pot safe at the top of a
tall tree. Then I can have it all
to myself!”
He spun a long thread, wound it
round the clay pot, and tied it to
his stomach.
He began to climb the tree. But
it was hard climbing the tree
with the pot bumping him in the
knees all the time.
Oruveze aruhe omuzandona wa Anansi aa kurama kehi yomuti nokumutarera. Eye arire tja tja, “Hapo ka i nokurira oupupu tji wa kutu indji onyungu ketambo roye?” Anansi arire tja kutu indji onyungu yomunoko ndje ura nondjiviro ketambo re, nu tjiri ai rire ombupu.
All the time Anansi’s young son
had been standing at the
bottom of the tree watching. He
said, “Wouldn’t it be easier to
climb if you tied the pot to your
back instead?”
Anansi tried tying the clay pot
full of wisdom to his back, and it
really was a lot easier.
Tjimanga eye wa kavaza kondomba yomuti. Kuzambo arire tja hirimana kaṱiṱi ne ripura, “Ami owami ngu mba sokukara nondjiviro aihe, nu nambano omuzandu wandje ongwa rire omuna ndjiviro pu ami!” Anansi wa pindika tjinene nu arire tja umbu indji onyungu yomunoko pehi.
In no time he reached the top of
the tree.
But then he stopped and
thought, “I’m supposed to be
the one with all the wisdom,
and here my son was cleverer
than me!”
Anansi was so angry about this
that he threw the clay pot down
out of the tree.
Oyo ai kanyanyaukira pehi. Ovandu avehe otji va haṋasana indji ondjiviro. Okutja ovandu otji ve rihonga ouṱuta nokukuna, okuungura ozombanda, okuungura oviṋa povitenda noviṋa vyarwe ngamwa ovandu mbi ve tjiwa oku ungura.
It smashed into pieces on the
ground. The wisdom was free
for everyone to share.
And that is how people learned
to farm, to weave cloth, to
make iron tools, and all the
other things that people know
how to do.
Ghanaian folktale
Wiehan de Jager
Angelika Tjoutuku & Asnath Mundjindjiri
Otjiherero
Level 3
The audio for this story is currently not available.
