The audio for this story is currently not available.
Kumbighana ghemanine mumukunda wetu noghakarire nohanu hohengi awa hadhinekire. Pamuve pakarire murongero dhodhingi thikuma dhokudhineka. Hadhineki hakuyererire ghutoya mena kukutha ku hana kuyenda makumbi ghagho.
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.
”Ñurumbara! ñurumbara! Kuna kuyenda kuditokera!” Na yuvire mudhineki ghana kukuyerera. Oya ne yokumbi nashana kutjaghera.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Kumbi ghomuñurumbara ghashanine kuyara, ene hengi hanu awa ha kuthindadhekire ha dhine. Hamwe haturire murongero dhawo mwishi dhokumbi. Hamwe haturire dhawo pawiru dhokumbi.
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.
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.
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.
Na nokere panunda dhokumbi no na ghayarire shi kuna kuthiya mukunda wange, dyango edi na kurera. Ame pakuyenda kuñurumbara.
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.
Yokudhinadheka nayo yapwire nohadhini wahe ghahungumanine. Hakakughuritha shime hengenenine mukumbi ha ghurithe yinu yagho kwawadhini. Kehe yu ghaghambire ghukuyerera yinu eyi ha karire nayo yo kughuritha. Mañando gha ghaniyuvekere yira ghodisheve.
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.
Hadhini hohapu ha ghurire yinwa, oku hamwe haghurire yindjakaghura yoyimbiru no ha tangire kundjakura. Awa ha pirire masherenyi, kenge yira me, kwa rorere vene.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Yipepa yi yayipire kumuyoyo ghokumbi, thineghedhitho eshi kuna kwimana. Mudhineki gha harukere haghurithi ha tundemo.
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.
Haghurithi ha kuthindadhekire mundhira dhawo dhokushwagha mukumbi. Hamwe ha tapire tjindji kwakaruyendo. Hamwe hayerekire kughuritha ro kuhurerera yinu yoyingi.
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.
Apa ghatundire kumbi po kwimekera, na no kere panunda dhodikende. nayedhekerire eshi mbona huka karo kumukunda wange.
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.
Apa twa twarire no ruyendo rwetu kughutho, mwishi dhokumbi mwa tangire kuyenya thikuma. Na ferere meho ghange ghughayara shi pamwe ñanyi ni rare.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Ene maghano ghange gha hukire kudighumbo. Nawe mboghana kara mumakungero mwene ndi? Tudimba twange mbotuna wana masherenyi ndi? Minange ghomungaghu mboghana vuruka kuvetera yitondo ndi?
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?
Mundhira, na kwatire dina dyodyango oku gha tungire mwedyange muñurumbara dhodhikuru. Shime na di vuradhokire opa na rarire.
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.
Munyima dhomaviri kwoko nomanne, nayakumukire ghukuyerera no kwitha hadhini awa ha yendire kumukunda wange. Natjombore ndjato dhange no na reghire ni shwaghe mukumbi.
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.
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
Maria M Dikuua
Thimbukushu
Level 3
The audio for this story is currently not available.
