Kombi ma nǀui nǃom tsaua e tjuǀho te ha sa nǃaoh gǀa’ain ge. Kxaǀho tcisa ǂ’hai gǁa ǀ’an ka ǀ’aesi nǃao. Nǃarikxaosi hin ku ǃ’au khoesa besisi ku nǂau ǁ’a ka ǃusi.
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.
“Doropa! Doropa! Nǃa’an ku nǂau ǁ’hanga!” Mi tsa’a ka nǃahrikxaosi ǃ’au. Ka toa koh o besi he mi koh nǂaun ǂxuru.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Doropa nǃa’an besi koh sin kare gǃa’in te tia ju ciniha nǁuri ǂxuru. Siǃa gesin ku paka siǃa tcisi ko besi ǂa’banǃang. Te siǃa gesin ku paka siǃa gasi ko rakasi ko besi nǃang.
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.
Ju zesiin sa kare ǂxuru ku ǂxabe siǃa karatasi ka ku u nǀang ǀxoa ju nǀui. Dshausa ǁae da’abi toto ǀ’an nǃama gǂa’in.
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.
Mi ǁama nǁoq’obe nǀui ka gǂka’in ǀ’u mi ǀ’ae. Jua nǀanga mi ǃ’om ǁae ǃkau tcoqtcoqra o nǃu’ubu ǀauhn. Ha gǁaba nǃang nǀo ǂ’angsi, ǁaqma jaa ǀxanǀxana te ha ǂ’angsi ǀoa gǁa taqm.
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.
Mi ǁama nǁoqobe te se tzi te ǂ’ang tca mi te nǁaah mi tjuǀho, he o koa mi ǃ’ama. Mi koh ua doropa nǃa’an.
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.
Tcisi nǃao toan ka ǀ’aesi te ju wece ǂxuru toan te gǃho. ǃAihndinsi nǂaiǁ’amakxaosi ciniha ǁama nǁoqbe ka nǂaiǁ’ama ju ko tcisi. Ju wece koh ǃ’au tcisa si ǁ’ama ǁ’a ka ǃusi. Ka nǂau kxuisi gǃa’an mi khoea.
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.
Jusa ǂxuru ǁ’a si sa ǀkoromh ǁ’ama tchi tciasi, si gesin ǁ’ama ǀkxomǀkxom te kua coa ka ǀ’om. Te si sa toa he ka koara mari, nǃana mi, ka sin se ju.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Te tcisi du nǃang ka sin kxuia ko ka besi ku pinpin ha ǀ’ae, nǂai sea ko tca eǃa te ka u. Nǃarikxao ka sin ǃ’au te ko ǃaihn dinsi nǂaiǁ’amakxaosi gǃai.
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.
ǃAihn dinsi nǂai ǁ’amakxaosi ku ǁahma khoe ǁ’a si gǃaia besi khoea. Si gesin ku ǀ’an cea ju ko si cintchisi. Te si gesin ko ka te o toansi te si ǂ’aun ǃaǃa ka ǁau ho mari.
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.
Te ǁ’aea besi ka nǁah hi gǁasi, Mi se ǁama nǁoqobe. Mi are mi ǂ’angsi te ko mi re koma ǀam nǀui ce tsia mi tjuǀho.
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.
Ka ǃauǃuh gǀai oka khoro nǃa’an nǂhaoa besi nǃang. Mi ǀu mi gǀa’asi te nǃobe gǃuu’h.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Te mi ǂ’angsi tia ce ua tjuǀho. Aia re ku jan woa? Mi ǃhai re gu mari nǀui? Mi dshin re nǃhae ku sin ǂ’ang mi tci ǁa’asi tcaq?
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?
Nǃama nǃang, mi koh ce ǂ’ang totoa doropa nǃa’an ǃu ko koa mi tsu ku ǃxoana. Mi sin ku nǂau tsa’a ka ǃu te sin u tza.
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.
Ka iri sa o nexe ǂaun, mi ǂxai te ku tsa’a tca ju ku oo ǂxubia he si gesin ce ua mi tjuǀho. Mi gu mi ǀ’hainma te khu gǀaia besi nǃang.
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.
Te besia ku ce kua nǃaoh gǃain. Te kua nǃari nǂau ǁ’hai. Tca kaa kaice o tci gǀaoha ko mi, o coa ka kxoa mi tsu tju.
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.
Written by: Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula
Illustrated by: Brian Wambi
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
Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula
Brian Wambi
Gǂkao J. B. Kxao
Cwi Debe, Gǂkao J. B. Kxao, Kaqece Khallie N!ani, Kileni A. Fernando, Sylvia Fernandu, Tsemkxao Cwi
Ju|’hoansi
Level 3
