The audio for this story is currently not available.
Evangogona lyokusikamekera nombesa lyopomukunda gwetu kwa kere lyoyiviyauka yoyinene yonombesa edi da zulire unene. Pevhu kwa kere po yininke yoyinzi yokuvhura kurondeka. Varondeki kwazigilire madina gomavango oku da tembe nombesa dawo.
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.
“Nkurumbara! Nkurumbara! Kuna ku za koutokero!” Ame nazuvhire murondeki ta zigire. Ezi kwa kere nye asi yizo ngano mbesa navhulire kuronda.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Mbesa zokonkurumbara kwa kere asi tazi hara kuzura, nye vantu simpe kwalisindayikire mokuronda. Vamwe kwarondekere nomurongero dawo monda zombesa. vamwe kwa di kambayikire moyitulikira monda.
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.
Vaperami wovape kwadoderere yimbapirapulisiro mombesa oku tava papara oku nava hingira mombesa zina zulilire unene. Vakadi va kere vanonagona kwa kevererere asi va kare monaruwa monzira zawo zonde.
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.
Ame kwalipaterekedere pepi nekende. Muntu ogu ga likundamene name kwa kere ana dodere kondjato zosipulasitika zosinamahako. Age kwa dwere yicapa yokukurupa, mbayikisa zokutavauka, ntani age kwamonekere ana kara noutjirwe.
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.
Ame kwa tere ponze zombesa ntani tani nongonona asi ame kuna kusiga mukunda gwange, evega eli nakulira. Ame kwa tembe konkurumbara zonene.
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.
Erondeko kwalimanesere ntani vaperami mo navenye kwa hingilire. Varandesi yuma simpe kwalipondangere mo ku wiza mombesa va ya randese yirandeswa yawo kovaperami mo. Nkenye gumwe kwa vhulire kuzigira mo ku tumbagura madina goyirandeswa eyi ya vhulire ku kara po. Nonkango odo kwa zuvhikilire nge ngoyininke yokuzoresa.
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.
Vaperami mo wongandi kwa rende yikunwa, vamwe kwa rende yikwamautovara ntani yipo va tamekere kutakina. Owo va dilire ku kara nosilinga, ngwendi nyame, kwa tere tupu.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Yiviyauka nayinye oyo kwa yidonganesere po epembeso lyombesa, esi kwa kere nye silikidiso asi mbesa kuna ku katuka. Varondeki kwa harukilire varandesi yirandeswa va umburuke mo mombesa usimbu.
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.
Varandesi kwalizundangwire mokulipondanga va pwage mombesa. Vamwe va geve tjindji kovarugendanzira. Vamwe va hetekerere ko kurandesa yirandeswa yoyinzi monominute dokuhulilira.
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.
Eyi zina ku katuka mbesa pevangosikameno, ame tani nokere pekende. Tani lipura nyamwange nsene ngani ka tengwira ko hena komukunda gwange.
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.
Eyi sina ku likoka sinano, mombesa ta mu kara upyu unene. Tani ferere komenho nositambo asi nize monompofu.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Nye magano gange ta ga tengwire kembo. Onane nava kara mekeverero lyewa? Ndimba gwange nga vhura kureta mo silinga? Mukurwange nga diworoka kutekera yimenogona yange?
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?
Monzira, ame tani kwata momutwe edina lyevango oku ga tunga hekurwange monkurumbara zonene. Ame simpe kwawowotere kuhamena ko nampili papa naponyokere.
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.
Konyima zonovili ntane, ame tani hasumuka komukumo gembombaguro nezigido lyovaperami mo wokutengure komukunda gwetu. Ame tani nyangura kandjatogona kange ntani tani vatuka mo mombesa.
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.
Mbesa zokutengura kwazidwilire maholi usimbu-usimbu. Mosiruwogona tupu tazi tengura korwaupumezuva. Yomulyo ko pwangesi kwange ko, kwa kere asi nipapare embo lyahekurwange.
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
Valentin Mpasi
Rukwangali
Level 3
The audio for this story is currently not available.
