Mama ǁxara koh nǂai area khoe ko ju ǂ’angsi, ka ǃ’aihn ǁa’aǃ’au, gǂu’u, kosin madika disin. Te ka sa koh kaice jan o ǁxukxam. Xabesin mama koh kxae ǃoma sin sa ǂhai, Mi koh sin ǃ’han tca mi hin te o jua ha kaice are ko ha ǃka nǃang khoea. ǁ’Ae wece ha ku ǃ’au ua mi ko ha ǃaoh. Ha xabe cete ge ka ǃoa mi ko tcimh sa o ǃka nǃang gasi. Te tci nǀe’e nǀui koh ge te ha ǀoa ǃoa mi: ko koa ha nǂai nǃoma ǁxukxam.
Grandma’s garden was wonderful, full of sorghum, millet, and cassava.
But best of all were the bananas.
Although Grandma had many grandchildren, I secretly knew that I was her favourite. She invited me often to her house. She also told me little secrets.
But there was one secret she did not share with me: where she ripened bananas.
ǀAm nǀui mi hoa ǃauh nǃa’an ǃxum ka ǀ’ae he nǃuan tzi ko mama ǃaoh. Te ka mi tsisa’a tca ka o, ǁoaqce nǀe’ea mi ho ce o, “nǀom ǃauha o mi ga.” ǃAuh ǃ’om, ǁ’akaa ǁxukxam nǃu’ubusi gea he o ka sa mama ku mania ǁ’ae koh ǁ’ae. Mi koh kare ǃ’han tca nǃu’ubu sa ke nǁa. “Nǃu’ubu sa ke re du hatce, Mama?” Mi tsisa’a. ǁOaqce nǀe’ea mi ho ǁ’akaa o, “ka o mi nǀom nǃu’ubuasi.”
One day I saw a big straw basket placed in the sun outside Grandma’s house. When I asked what it was for, the only answer I got was, “It’s my magic basket.”
Next to the basket, there were several banana leaves that Grandma turned from time to time. I was curious. “What are the leaves for, Grandma?” I asked. The only answer I got was, “They are my magic leaves.”
Ka koh o ǃka nǀ’ang ko ku se Mama, kosin ǁxukxam, ǁxukxam nǃu’ubusi kosin ǃauh nǃa’an. Te Mama ǁkoa ua mi ko mi taqe ko di’isi. “Mama, ǀxom nǀang kxoe mi se tca a oo totoa ka …” “Nǁau nǂai koara ǂ’ang a ǀ’ae, da’ama du tca a ǃoa a ǀ’ae,” ha zaihn. Mi ǃaah u.
It was so interesting watching Grandma, the bananas, the banana leaves and the big straw basket. But Grandma sent me off to my mother on an errand.
“Grandma, please, let me watch as you prepare…”
“Don’t be stubborn, child, do as you are told,” she insisted. I took off running.
ǁ’Aea mi ce, Mama nǀanga tzi te ǁae ǃauh, ǃkauasi te ǁxukxam koara. “Mama, kore ǃauh o, kore ǁxukxam o, kore o….” Te ǁoaq ce nǀe’ea mi ho o, “Ha gea mi marapa ǁ’a tcisi gǃam khoea.” Ka koh kaice o ǃka ta’am ǀkau!
When I returned, Grandma was sitting outside but with neither the basket nor the bananas.
“Grandma, where is the basket, where are all the bananas, and where…”
But the only answer I got was, “They are in my magic place.” It was so disappointing!
ǀAm tsaqn ǂaun, Mama ǁkoa mi te ko mi u gua ha nǂhao ǃaihan ko ha tza tjua nǃang. Te tcin to’a he mi oo ǃ’oa tjutzi, ǁxukxam sa nǃum ǁ’a ha ǂ’an gǃa’ama mi. Tju nǃang ǂaeh ke o koa kahin Mama marapa ǃauh nǃa’an gea. Ha ǁau te ǃxuma ha ǀ’ae ko nǂahm ǃ’an nǀui. Mi ǃ’oan ǁ’a nǂahm ǃ’an te ha nǂai nǂhai mi.
Two days later, Grandma sent me to fetch her walking stick from her bedroom.
As soon as I opened the door, I was welcomed by the strong smell of ripening bananas. In the inner room was grandma’s big magic straw basket. It was well hidden by an old blanket. I lifted it and sniffed that glorious smell.
Mama ǃ’au mi te ha dohm tsxana, “Hatce re a ku dua khuin to’a? Ko coa nǀang na mi nǂhao ǃaihn.” Mi sin di’i te gǀai ǀxoa ha nǂhao ǃaihan. “Hatce a zoma ǀ’an?” Mama tsisa’a mi. Tsisa’a o ha ga du te ka tama mi ciniha tsa’a ǁxukxam ǂ’an ko ha marapa nǃamsi tcisi khoea.
Grandma’s voice startled me when she called, “What are you doing? Hurry up and bring me the stick.”
I hurried out with her walking stick. “What are you smiling about?” Grandma asked.
Her question made me realise that I was still smiling at the discovery of her magic place.
Te nǀma ǁua mama ǀ’ho aia, Mi di’d te u gǃa’ama ha tju nǃang ǁ’a mi ce he ǁau se ǁxukxam. Ha ǂkuan nǀui ho ka ǀ’ae te nǃum. Mi gu ka nǀui te gǃama mi horokhoe nǃangsi. Ko ǁaea to’a he mi ǃxum ce ǃauh, Mi nǁhomi ua tju ǃ’o nǃang te gǀae di’i te ‘m ha. Ka o ǁxukxam sa koh kaice taqin he mi goaq ciniha ǀoa ‘m.
The following day when grandma came to visit my mother, I rushed to her house to check the bananas once more.
There was a bunch of very ripe ones. I picked one and hid it in my dress. After covering the basket again, I went behind the house and quickly ate it. It was the sweetest banana I had ever tasted.
Te ǀama ǁua, he mama koh gǃa’ama ǁxara nǃang he ǂhoe nǃu’ubu, ha ǂxaun ǂxaunua ǁxukxam nǀo. Ha woaqnsi ǁoeh nǃum. Mi ni koh nǁah nǀui tsaqn koh tsaqn. Ka mi to’oma gǀuia tjutzi, Mi tsa’a te mama gǃo’oa tzi. Te mi ka sin kare ha gǃama mi horokhoe nǃang ka etsa ǂhoa khoe.
The following day, when grandma was in the garden picking vegetables, I sneaked in and peered at the bananas.
Nearly all were ripe. I couldn’t help taking a bunch of four.
As I tiptoed towards the door, I heard grandma coughing outside. I just managed to hide the bananas under my dress and walked past her.
Te nǀama ǁua o nǂai ǁ’ama nǀama. Mama nǂuhn te tsau. Ha woaqnsi ha ǁae ǁxukxam sa nǃum kosin madik disin ka ua nǂai ǁ’ama khoea. ǁ’A nǀma mi ǀoa di’di nǀang ǀho ha. Te tia mi ǀoa ge ǂxan ha ko ǁ’aea gǂa’in.
The following day was market day. Grandma woke up early. She always took ripe bananas and cassava to sell at the market.
I did not hurry to visit her that day. But I could not avoid her for long.
ǀAma to’a ǁ’a gǃaoh aia sa mba ǃau mi, kosin Mama. Mi ǃ’han te ko hatce khoea re. Gǀua to’a mi cu te tza, Mi ǃ’han tca mi ǀoa ǂ’aun ciniha ku dcaa, ǀoa ceka dcaa mama, kana mi nǃausi, xabe o ju nǀui woaqnhe.
Later that evening I was called by my mother and father, and Grandma. I knew why.
That night as I lay down to sleep, I knew I could never steal again, not from grandma, not from my parents, and certainly not from anyone else.
Written by: Ursula Nafula
Illustrated by: Catherine Groenewald
Translated by: Gǂkao J. B. Kxao
Read by: Cwi Debe, Gǂkao J. B. Kxao, Kaqece Khallie N!ani, Kileni A. Fernando, Sylvia Fernandu, Tsemkxao Cwi
Ursula Nafula
Catherine Groenewald
Gǂkao J. B. Kxao
Cwi Debe, Gǂkao J. B. Kxao, Kaqece Khallie N!ani, Kileni A. Fernando, Sylvia Fernandu, Tsemkxao Cwi
Ju|’hoansi
Level 4
