Pakarekare hanu mbadi hadimukire kehe yino. Mbadi hadimukire kukuna mbuto, ngambi kufuma yitere, ngambi kufura yirughanitha yo yikuvo. Nyambi Nyame ghokuwiru gha karire no ghudimuki ghoghuhe mukaye. Gha turire ghudimuki ghu mukandimbe koghuma.
Long long ago people didn’t
know anything. They didn’t
know how to plant crops, or
how to weave cloth, or how to
make iron tools.
The god Nyame up in the sky
had all the wisdom of the world.
He kept it safe in a clay pot.
Diyuwa dimweya, Nyame gha tokore eshi gha kona kutapa kandimbe ko ghudimuki kwaAnansi. Kehe ruvedhe nga kenganga Anansi mukandimbe ka, aye nga dimukanga thinu thothipya. Nga yi mushambererithanga thikuma!
One day, Nyame decided that
he would give the pot of
wisdom to Anansi.
Every time Anansi looked in the
clay pot, he learned something
new. It was so exciting!
Anansi gho ghumu gha ghayarire, ” Ṅanyi niture kandimbe ka kuwiru dho thitondo tho thire. Podiyo eshi ka kukare kange pithange!” Gha dhingumutwedhire wanda gho ghure ku kandimbe, no gha kuwangerere kandimbe mudipumba dyendi. Gha dhinine thitondo. Ene ya mukarere ghukukutu kudhina thitondo no kandimbe ghu mugunda pa manwi ruvedhe roruhe.
Greedy Anansi thought, “I’ll
keep the pot safe at the top of a
tall tree. Then I can have it all
to myself!”
He spun a long thread, wound it
round the clay pot, and tied it to
his stomach.
He began to climb the tree. But
it was hard climbing the tree
with the pot bumping him in the
knees all the time.
Ruvedhe roruhe mwana Anonsi gho mungaghu ghemanine pamuve dho thitondo ghurorera. Gha ghambire, “Ngo mbadi ghuredhu ngo ghuna kuwangera kandimbe kumughongo ghoye?” Anansi gha yerekire ku kuwangera kandimbe ka kokuyara ghudimuki ku mughongo wendi, shemwa ya mukarere ghuredhu.
All the time Anansi’s young son
had been standing at the
bottom of the tree watching. He
said, “Wouldn’t it be easier to
climb if you tied the pot to your
back instead?”
Anansi tried tying the clay pot
full of wisdom to his back, and it
really was a lot easier.
Muruvedhe ro rufupi gha ka kumine kundaghandagha dho thitondo. Ene ghemane no gha ghayarire, “Yame naroghera kukara no ghudimuki ghoghuhe, ene mwanange pano ne ghana ghayara thikuma kunipitakana!” Anansi gha patire thikuma no gha vukumine kandimbe ka koghuma pamuve.
In no time he reached the top of
the tree.
But then he stopped and
thought, “I’m supposed to be
the one with all the wisdom,
and here my son was cleverer
than me!”
Anansi was so angry about this
that he threw the clay pot down
out of the tree.
Kandimbe ka koghuma kapayukire. Ghudimuki wa karire gho nyaranyara kwa kehe yu. No kengeyo dyo ha kuhongire hanu kudima, kufuma yitere, no kufura yirughanitha yo yikuvo no yinu yimweya eyi hadimuka kutenda hanu.
It smashed into pieces on the
ground. The wisdom was free
for everyone to share.
And that is how people learned
to farm, to weave cloth, to
make iron tools, and all the
other things that people know
how to do.
Ghanaian folktale
Wiehan de Jager
Ruthgela Shawanga
Thimbukushu
Level 3
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