Kokuyemelanga limbasi mwahae yaka ne kupatehile ni batu ni limbasi zenelitezi. Fafasi nekutezi ni lika zene lisalongwa. Bahuwi neba huwa mabizo a libaka konekuya mambasi.
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.
“Kwa bukuwa! Kwa bukuwa!” Kuliba kwa malikelelo! nautwa bahuwi bapunda. Kona mbasi yene nitokwa to kwela.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Mbasi ya kwa bukuwa ni asehitala, kono batu baban’ata nebasa kasha kukwela mwa mbasi. Baban’wi neba beile mikotani yabona mwatasi ya mbasi. Babamu nebabehile mwahali ya mbasi.
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.
Bazamai babanca nebaswalelezi ma tickets yabona anze babata fa kuina mwa mbasi yeneitezi. Basali ni limbututu zabona baina ka kuiketa mwa musipili womutelele.
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.
Seni ititinyaza kwa tuko ni lihaulo. Mutu yana inzi kwatuko nina naswalelezi sipepa sa mubala wa butala. Natinile mapatapata a kale, ni sweta ye katezi mi nabonahala kusaba.
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.
Seni talimela fande ya mbasi mi seni hupula kuli neni siya munzi waka, sibaka kuni nihulezi. Neniya kwa bukuwa.
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.
Kulonga nekufelile mi nibatu kaufela sebaina. Balekisi nebaifumanezi nzila ya mwa mbasi kulekisa lika ku mutu ni mutu. Mutu ni mutu na huwa lika zanabata zeneliteni zakuleka. Manzwi nea utwahala inge lisheya kuna.
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.
Babañwi nebalekile za kunwa, babañwi tuco totuinyani ni kukala kutafuna. Benebasina masheleñi, inge na, nebabuha feela.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Ze ezahala nezipumezwi ka milumo ya mbasi, sisupo sa kufunduka. Bahuwi babulelela balekisi ba mbasi ku zwela fande.
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.
Mbasi aseifunduka, senitalimela fande ya lihaulo. Seninahana haiba nitakuta kwa hae hape.
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.
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?
Mwanzila, nenipeta libizo la sibaka kone baina bomalume kwa bukukuwa. Nenisapeta ni mwabuloko.
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.
Hanze kufitile nako yetelele, nenizusizwe ki lilata ni bene babiza bazamai bene bakuta kwa hae. Seni shimba ka kotani kaka ni kutuluka mwa mbasi.
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.
Mbasi yeneikuta neitala kabubebe. Onafa tuha yaliba kwa lipazulelo. Sesibutokwa hahulu kuna, neli kukala kubabalela ndu ya bomalume.
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.
