Pakarekare hanu mbadi hadimukire keheyino. Mbadi hadimukire kukuna mbuto, ngambi kufuma yitere, ngambi kufura maghondo. Nyambi Nyame ghokuwiru ghakarire noutari ghoghuhe ghomukaye. Aye ghaghupungurire 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 ghatokorire eshi ghakona kutapa kandimbe koutari kwaAnansi. Kehe ruvedhe ngakenganga Anansi mukandimbe ‘ka, aye ngadimukanga thinu thothipya. Ngayimushambererithanga 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 ghokahoma ghaghayarire, “Ñanyi niture kandimbe ‘ka kuwiru dhothitondo thothire. Podigho eshi kakukare kange pithange!” Ghadhingumwetwedhire wanda ghoghure kukandimbe, noghakughangire kandimbe mudipumba dyendi. Ghatangire kudhina kuthitondo. Ene yamukarere ukukutu kudhina thitondo nokandimbe ‘ka kamugundagundire pamanwi nako dhodhihe.
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 ‘ru mwana Anansi ghomurumyana ghemanine mwimi dhothitondo ghurorera. Ghaghambire eshi, “Ngombadi shoyikare ghuredhu ngeshi ghukughangerere kandimbe kumughongo ghoye ndi?” Anansi ghayerekire kukughangerera kandimbe ‘ka kokuyara utari kumughongo wendi, noshemwa yamukarere 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.
Muthikandho, ghakakumine kundaghandagha dhothitondo. Ene ghemaniine noghaghayarire, “Yame naroghera kukara noutari ghoghuheya, ene mwanange pano ne ghanaghayara thikuma kunipitakana!” Yinu ‘yi yapatithire thikuma Anansi noghavukumine kandimbe 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 koghuma kapayukire. Utari wakarire keho ghonyaranyara kwakeheyu. Kemo dyohakuhongire hanu kudima, kufuma yitere, nokufura yirughanitha yomaghondo noyinu yimweya eyi hatwetha 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, Servasius M. Ndjunga
Servasius Ndjunga
Thimbukushu
Level 3
