The small bus stop in my village was busy with people and overloaded buses. On the ground were even more things to load. Touts were shouting the names where their buses were going.
The city bus was almost full, but more people were still pushing to get on. Some packed their luggage under the bus. Others put theirs on the racks inside.
Ovatwaalelwa vape ovali vakumatela outekete vavo efimbo tava kongo apa tava kala omutumba mobesa oyo yali iyadi. Ovakulukadi ava vali nounona ovali tava ningi nawa ounona ounona vevalongekidile olweendo.
New passengers clutched their tickets as they looked for somewhere to sit in the crowded bus. Women with young children made them comfortable for the long journey.
Onde lifininika ndikakale lwopekende. Omunhu ali popepi naame okwali a kwata adiinina onailona yaye itwima omafo. Okwali adjala eenghaku deesandala dakulupa, ondjafa yakulupa, yee okwali tamonika ambadapala.
I squeezed in next to a window. The person sitting next to me was holding tightly to a green plastic bag. He wore old sandals, a worn out coat, and he looked nervous.
Onda tala pondje yobesa nondamona kutya ondali handi ende , handi fiyepo omukunda, onhele omo ndakulila. Okwali ndayuka koshilando shinene.
I looked outside the bus and realised that I was leaving my village, the place where I had grown up. I was going to the big city.
The loading was completed and all passengers were seated. Hawkers still pushed their way into the bus to sell their goods to the passengers. Everyone was shouting the names of what was available for sale. The words sounded funny to me.
Ovatwaalelwa vomwaalu munini ova landa oikunwa, voo vamwe tava lande oukokotomwa ndele tava tameke tava taafina. Ava vali vehena oimaliwa ngaashi ame otwa kala ashike twa talako.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Elipyakidilo eli okwali lapiyaaanekwa kombeda yobesa, edidiliko lali tali ulike kutya okwali twafikama okuya. Ovalondeki ovaikida opo ovalandifi vadjemo vaye pondje.
These activities were interrupted by the hooting of the bus, a sign that we were ready to leave. The tout yelled at the hawkers to get out.
Hawkers pushed each other to make their way out of the bus. Some gave back change to the travellers. Others made last minute attempts to sell more items.
Eshi obesa yafiyapo okapale, onda tala mekende. Okwali ndalimbililwa ngeenge onandi kaalukileko tuu fiku limwe komukunda oku.
As the bus left the bus stop, I stared out of the window. I wondered if I would ever go back to my village again.
Eshi olweendo latwikila, meni lobesa omwali mwandjena neenghono. Onda fifikina nelineekelo ndikofe.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Omadilaadilo ange okwa shuna lwanima keumbo. Meme ota kala tuu eli meameno? Oundiba vange ota eta tuu oimaliwa? Omumwameme mati ota dimbuluka tuu atekele oumuti vange?
But my mind drifted back home. Will my mother be safe? Will my rabbits fetch any money? Will my brother remember to water my tree seedlings?
Mondjila, onda kendabala ndikoneke omadina eenhele oko tatekulu kwali hakala moshilando shinene. Okwali handi lipopile noku endulula omadina aa efimbo ndali handi kofa.
On the way, I memorised the name of the place where my uncle lived in the big city. I was still mumbling it when I fell asleep.
Konima yeevili omuowoi, onda penduka keweelelo nengwadjaulo oshoyo ovatwaalelwa tava ingida kutya ova hala okuya komukunda. Onda nyangulapo okandjato kange ndele handi helukamo mobesa.
Nine hours later, I woke up with loud banging and calling for passengers going back to my village. I grabbed my small bag and jumped out of the bus.
The return bus was filling up quickly. Soon it would make its way back east. The most important thing for me now, was to start looking for my uncle’s house.
Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula
Brian Wambi
Fritz David
Oshikwanyama
Level 3
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