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Hathighana nawo hanyanda ruhakitho Orphans need love too
Kandume Ruusa, Sennobia-Charon Katjiuongua, Eliaser Nghitewa
Jamanovandu Urike
Maria M. Dikuua, Servasius M. Ndjunga
Servasius Ndjunga
Thimbukushu
Level 5
Kehe mathikuthiku Hilifa ngapindukanga ghaterekere nyina mukuthuko. Ghano mayuwa ne kunakukorwakorwa, naHilifa ghakuhongire edi ghokukunga nyina, ghukukunga thinda. Apa ghakorwire thikuma nyina kare kukwanga kupinduka pathiraro, ngapindukanga nokukoñera mudiro ghayenyeke meyu ghatendere nyina tee. Ngatwareranga nyina tee nokumupondera dishirishiri dyomukuthuko. Parumweya nyina ghakashire thikuma nombadi ngakonanga kudya papendi thinda. Hilifa ngakudhekeranga yoghuparo wanyina. Wihe ghafire myaka dhiwadi dhinakapita, pano nyina naye ne kunakukorwa thikuma. Nyina ghayondire thikuma, dyodi ghayondire wihe Hilifa.
Every morning Hilifa woke up early to prepare breakfast for his mother. She had been sick a lot recently and Hilifa was learning how to look after his mother and himself. When his mother was too ill to get up he would make a fire to boil water to make tea. He would take tea to his mother and prepare porridge for breakfast. Sometimes his mother was too weak to eat it. Hilifa worried about his mother. His father had died two years ago, and now his mother was ill too. She was very thin, just like his father had been.
Mathikuthiku ghamweya ghepurire nyina eshi, “Nawe, ghukukutu munye napo ghukudi? Ruvedhe munye wakwiruka? Mbadi ghunakukona kutereka karo. Mbadi ghunakukona kurughana yirughana yomumapya endi kukenitha ndhugho. Mbadi ghunanirongereranga thihoweri thange thokushimba kushure, endi kuniyoghera yishupata yange yoshure…” “Hilifa ghomwanange, owene shime ghomwanuke, myaka dhoye ne kwokonne, ene owe kunikunga thiwana.” Aye ghanungurukerire murumyana ‘yu, ghukwipudhura eshi yinu munye shoghamutongwere. Ñanyi ghayitjwathane ndi? “Amene kunakukorwa. Wayuva kuradiyo yokuhatera kudihamba dyokuthenya edi hatoyanga eshi AIDS. Amene nadyo nakara,” dyoghamutongwerire. Hilifa ghakamumine minute dhongandji. “Eyi kunakutongora eshi nowe ñanyi wakufe dyodi ghafire Tate ndi?” “Mbadiko merukithero ghodihamba dyoAIDS.”
One morning he asked his mother, “What is wrong Mum? When will you be better? You don’t cook anymore. You can’t work in the field or clean the house. You don’t prepare my lunchbox, or wash my uniform…” “Hilifa my son, you are only nine years old and you take good care of me.” She looked at the young boy, wondering what she should tell him. Would he understand? “I am very ill. You have heard on the radio about the disease called AIDS. I have that disease,” she told him. Hilifa was quiet for a few minutes. “Does that mean you will die like Daddy?” “There is no cure for AIDS.”
Hilifa ghayendire kushure muyikundhundha. Mbadi ghakuhatitherire muyikuvureka noyipepaghura nawashere wendi mundhira dhawo. “Yinye karo?” Dyohamwipurire. Ene Hilifa mbadi ghawahuthere, mañando agha ghaghambire nyina shime kughayuverera mumatwi ghendi, “Mbadiko merukithero. Mbadiko merukithero.” Ngepi edi ghakukukunga thinda ngeshi ghakufe nyina, dyoghakudhekerire. Kupi oku ghakutunga? Kupi ghakuwananga masherenyi ghokughuritha yidya?
Hilifa walked to school thoughtfully. He couldn’t join in the chatter and games of his friends as they walked along. “What’s wrong?” they asked him. But Hilifa couldn’t answer, his mother’s words were ringing in his ears, “No cure. No cure.” How could he look after himself if his mother died, he worried. Where would he live? Where would he get money for food?
Hilifa ghahungumanine kutishi wendi. Gharandurire nomunwe wendi pamufa ghothipurangi thotishi ghokukurupara, “Mbadiko merukithero. Mbadiko merukithero.” “Hilifa? Hilifa, netu ghudi ndi?” Hilifa ghakapukire. Mukadikuto Nelao ghemanine pepi nendi. “Hilifa, wimane! Kupi dinahatera dipwero dyange?” Hilifa ghakurumanine nokukenga kumapadhi ghendi. “Mbadi showane dihuhero pamuve!” Dyoghamukughererire. “Magano, mutongwere Hilifa dihuthero.” Hilifa ghafire honyi thikuma, Mukadikuto Nelao mbadi ghamupatera rumweya.
Hilifa sat at his desk. He traced the worn wood markings with his finger, “No cure. No cure.” “Hilifa? Hilifa, are you with us?” Hilifa looked up. Ms. Nelao was standing over him. “Stand up Hilifa! What was my question?” Hilifa looked down at his feet. “You won’t find the answer down there!” she retorted. “Magano, tell Hilifa the answer.” Hilifa felt so ashamed, Ms. Nelao had never shouted at him before.
Hilifa ghakondjire mathikuthiku ghaya. Papoghuse ghahungumanine mungonda. “Tjitju mudipumba dyange,” dyoghangerekire hashere wendi. Mbadi wakarire ghumbango ghoghukuru, yoyishi ghushemwa ghayuvire tjitju, noyighayadhara yokukudhekera yamukarire thikuma mumutwi wendi nowe diwende dyokutokota. Mukadikuto Nelao ghamukengire thikuma muthipore. Ghamwipurire eshi nye napo ghukukutu wendi. “Mbadiko,” dyoghahuthire. Mumatwi ghendi ghanongononine kutwama noyikudhekera mudiywi dyamwanuke. Meho ghamuhongi ghanongonine woma oghu ghakondjire kuhoreka mwanuke.
Hilifa struggled through the morning. At break time he sat in the classroom. “I have a stomach ache,” he lied to his friends. It wasn’t a big lie, he did feel sick, and his worried thoughts buzzed inside his head like angry bees. Ms. Nelao watched him quietly. She asked him what was wrong. “Nothing,” he replied. Her ears heard the tiredness and worry in his voice. Her eyes saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.
Apa ghayerekire Hilifa kurughana yivarero, manomora ghakurungarungire mumutwi wendi. Mbadi ghakonine kugharongathana dyodi ghakurandanga pakughatara. Kapupikamanana ghoghakutapire. Ghatangire kughayara nyina. Munwe wendi watangire kufaneka yighayadhara yendi. Ghafanekire nyina mughudidi wendi. Ghakufanekire thinda ghanemana kumbadi dhombira dhanyina. “Hakevereri yivarero, mughongawedhe mambapira, namukanderera,” dyoghethire Mukadikuto Nelao. Hilifa ghanongononine eyi ghafanekire mumbapira dhendi noghakondjire kuyidjadjuramo, ene mbokapwe. Mukevereri ghatwarire mbapira dhendi kwaMukadikuto Nelao.
When Hilifa tried to do his maths the numbers jumped around in his head. He couldn’t keep them still long enough to count them. He soon gave up. He thought of his mother instead. His fingers began to draw his thoughts. He drew his mother in her bed. He drew himself standing beside his mother’s grave. “Maths monitors, collect all the books please,” called Ms. Nelao. Hilifa suddenly saw the drawings in his book and tried to tear out the page, but it was too late. The monitor took his book to Ms. Nelao.
Mukadikuto Nelao ghakengururire yifaneka yaHilifa. Apa hahukahukire hanuke kumaghumbo ghawo ghethire eshi, “Wiye kuno, Hilifa. Nashana nighambe noye.” “Nye ghukukutu ghoye?” Dyoghepurire nodiywi dyokughovoka. “Nawe ne kunakukorwa.” Ghanitongwere eshi ghadi noAIDS. Ñanyi ghakufe ndi?” “Mbadi shonidimuke, Hilifa, ene ayene yaghushemwa mutjitju ghadi ngeshi noAIDS ghadi. Mbadiko merukitho.” Ghogho mañando karo, “Mbadiko merukitho. Mbadiko merukitho.” Hilifa ghatangire kudira. “Yende kudighumbo, Hilifa,” dyoghaghambire Mukadikuto Nelao. “Ñanyi nakwiye nakamudhingureko nyoko.”
Ms. Nelao looked at Hilifa’s drawings. When the children were leaving to go home she called, “Come here Hilifa. I want to talk to you.” “What’s wrong?” she asked him gently. “My mother is ill. She told me she has AIDS. Will she die?” “I don’t know, Hilifa, but she is very ill if she has AIDS. There is no cure.” Those words again, “No cure. No cure.” Hilifa began to cry. “Go home, Hilifa,” she said. “I will come and visit your mother.”
Hilifa ghayendire kudighumbo noghakawanine nyina kunakutereka yidya yometaha. “Nakuterekera dyarero, Hilifa, ene naghaya shemwa pano. Kunge nyamo dhetu dhorwidhi notware matamati ghamweya kuthitora. Ñanyi hakaghatughuritherepo.” Munyima dhokudya metaha Hilifa ghayendire kuthinyamo. Gharondononine marudhi ghokevekeve ghorwidhi, matamati ghomakinhu nonandungu, makunde ghomare ghothinamahako nothipinatji ghothinamahako, rwidhi rothinamahako rokavandja nomathoto ghomare ghothinangorondo. Ghavetagherire thikwinino noghapokorire thikote thokuyara matamati ghopyu ghatware kuthitora. “Nye yakuhokoka kuthikwinino thetu ngeshi ghakufe nawe?” dyoghakwipudhurire.
Hilifa went home and found his mother preparing lunch. “I’ve cooked for you today, Hilifa, but now I am very tired. Look after the vegetable garden and take some tomatoes to the shop. They will sell them for us.” After lunch Hilifa went to the vegetable plot. He looked at the bright colours of the vegetables, bright red tomatoes and chillies, long green beans and dark green spinach, the green leaves of the sweet potato and tall golden maize. He watered the garden and picked a bag full of ripe red tomatoes to take to the shop. “What would happen to their garden if his mother died?” he wondered.
Mukadikuto Nelao ghanakumine munyima dhoruvedhe apa ghashwaghirepo Hilifa. Aye ghakakarireko rure ghuthimwetwedha nanyina Hilifa. Ghepurire nyina Hilifa eshi, “Nawe Ndapanda, munanwanga ghuwanga wenu ghoAIDS ndi?” “Munyima dhoyifa yakatughuru wange nafire honyi mukuyenda kwadokotere,” dyoghatongwere Mukadikuto Nelao. “Nganikuruperanga eshi mbadi ghayiniyambwereko. Apa nakorwire ghonayendire kwadokotere ghoghakanitongwerire eshi nahurerera. Ghuwanga mbadi wakunighamwena panako dhino.” Mukadikuto Nelao ghatongwerire nawe Ndapanda eyi shogharughane mukughamwena Hilifa.
Ms. Nelao arrived soon after Hilifa left. She spent a long time talking to his mother. She asked Hilifa’s mother, “Meme Ndapanda, are you taking the medicine for AIDS?” “After my husband died I was too ashamed to go to the doctor,” she told Ms. Nelao. “I kept hoping I wasn’t infected. When I became ill and went to the doctor she told me it was too late. The medicine would not help me.” Ms. Nelao told Meme Ndapanda what to do to help Hilifa.
Apa ghakahukire Hilifa kudighumbo nyina ghanamwipurire, “Hilifa mwanange ghomungaghu, nashana niyendaghurepo noye kamanana. Ñanyi ghunighamwene ndi?” Hilifa ghatumburire dyoko dyanyina noghamuyeghamenine. Hayendire oku yamena yitondo yoyire yomudjwa. Ghamwipurire, “Kunakuvuruka edi ngamunapeperanga kuno pari ghokuthita nowe nathiro thoye Kunuu? Wathitire pari muthitondo ghoghakakatere kumighunga. Wiho dhamunyanyaghurire mighunga apa ghamukurumunineko.”
When Hilifa came home his mother asked him, “Hilifa, my son, I want to take a walk with you. Will you help me?” Hilifa took his mother’s arm and she leaned on him. They walked to where the tall thorn trees grew. She asked him, “Do you remember playing football here with your cousin Kunuu? You kicked the ball into the tree and it got stuck on the thorns. Your father got scratched getting it down for you.”
“Mone, thimundu. Yende ghukakokoreko dhongandji ghushimbe kudighumbo.” Apa ghakokorire Hilifa mundu, nyina ghaghambire eshi, ” Yoyighuvuruka oku ‘we shime ghomwanuke wadire mundu nowaminine yisheka yadho. Washimbire thivike mbadi wakukutuma!” “Kemo, nayuvire tjitju shemwa mudipumba dyange,” dyoghavurukire Hilifa, ghuheka.
“Look, there’s an omandjembere bush. Go and pick some to take home.” When Hilifa was picking the sweet berries, she said, “Do you remember when you were small you ate the berries and the seed inside. You didn’t go to the toilet for a week!” “Yes, my stomach was sooo sore,” remembered Hilifa, laughing.
Apa hakakumine kudighumbo nyina Hilifa ghatwamine thikuma. Hilifa ghadhungire te. Nawe Ndapanda ghashimbire kambangughana kendi munahadidi. “Hilifa, ethine thoye. Mukambangu kano mudi yinu eyi mboyikughamwena ghuvuruke nunderero dhoye.”
When they got home Hilifa’s mother was very tired. Hilifa made some tea. Meme Ndapanda took a small box from under her bed. “Hilifa, this is for you. In this box are things that will help you remember where you come from.”
Ghashwaghithire yivurukitho mukambangu, thofotji kuthofotji. “Edine difano dyawiho oyu ghanakukwaterera. Yowe mwanendi ghomukafumughana ghombedi. Edi difano ne popa nakutwarire kwawanyakudyoye, hakashambererire shemwa. Edine diyegho dyokutanga edi wakukire. Yoyi ghuvuruka edi wadirire ghonakukuruperithire eshi ñanyi ghakuhukeremo ghomengi. Edi ne dincanu edi ghanipire wiho apa twarikanyithire mwaka ghofotji muyiyeka yetu.”
She took the mementos out of the box one by one. “This is a photo of your father holding you. You were his firstborn son. This photo is when I took you to see your grandparents, they were so happy. This is the first tooth you lost. Do you remember how you cried and I had to promise you that more would grow. This is the brooch your father gave me when we were married for one year.”
Hilifa ghakwatire kambughana nogha tangire kudira. Nyina ghamundhondherire nokughukukokera ghuraperera, “Nyambi ngoGhakukunge nokukughamwena.” Nyina ghamukwaterere oku aye pakughamba. “Hilifa, mwanage ghomungaghu, wayidikmuka eshi amene kunakukorwa, tambatamba nakukuthe wiho. Mbadi nashana ghukashe. Vuruke eshi ngepi nakuhaka. Vuruke eshi ngepi ghakuhakire wiho.”
Hilifa held the box and began to cry. His mother held him close by her side and said a prayer, “May the Lord protect you and keep you safe.” She held him as she spoke. “Hilifa, my son. You know that I am very ill, and soon I will be with your father. I don’t want you to be sad. Remember how much I love you. Remember how much your father loved you.”
Nyina gharundururire eshi, “Nyanu Kave ghokuOshakati kututumena masherenyi ngeshi ghanakono. Ghanitongwere eshi ñanyi ghakukukunge. Nakuvurekire nendi kare yokuhatera yinu yino. Ñanyi ghuyendange kushure naKunuu, mwanendi ghomukafumughana. Kunuu ne mungcara dhoghunne ghadi yira yowe. Ñanyi hakukukunge.” “Ame nahaka Nyanu Kave nangumwenyange Muzaa,” dyoghaghambire Hilifa. “Ame nahaka kupepaghura naKunuu. Ñanyi wakwiruke ngeshi hakukukunge hodigho ndi?” “Caa, mwanange. Mbadi nakwiruka. Yowe watwetha kunikunga thiwana. Ame nashamberera thikuma mukukara nomwanange ghomuwa yira yowe.”
His mother continued, “Uncle Kave from Oshakati sends us money when he can. He told me that he will care for you. I have talked to him about it. You’ll go to school with Kunuu, his son. Kunuu is in Grade 4 like you. They will take good care of you.” “I like Uncle Kave and Aunt Muzaa,” said Hilifa. “And I like playing with Kunuu. Would you become well if they look after you?” “No, my son. I won’t become well. You look after me very well. I am proud to have such a good son.”
Mathikuthiku ghokurandako kushure, Mukadikuto Nelao ghakawahongire yokuhatera kuHIV noAIDS. Hahongwa homapire. Hayuva kuradiyo yokuhatera kuyikorwa yino, ene mbadiko oyu ghayiwatongwera kumaghumbo ghawo. “Kupi dinashwaghereranga?” ghepure Magano. “Ngepi edi ghokudiwana?” ghepurire Hidipo. Mukadikuto Nelao ghatjwathanithire eshi HIV ne dina dyokime ghovirusi. Ngeshi munu ghadi novirusi ghoHIV mumanyinga ghendi aye shime kumoneka ndjewandjewa. “Atwe kughamba eshi ghadi noAIDS ngeshi ghanatanga keho kukorwa.”
The next morning at school Ms. Nelao taught them about HIV and AIDS. The learners looked afraid. They heard about this illness on the radio, but no-one spoke about it at home. “Where does it come from?” asked Magano. “How do we catch it?” asked Hidipo. Ms. Nelao explained that HIV is the name of a virus. When a person has the HIV virus in their blood they still look healthy. “We say they have AIDS when they become ill.”
Mukadikuto Nelao ghatjwathanithire mayira ghamweya ghokukona kukavura virusi ghoHIV. “Ngeshi munu ghumweya ghadi noHIV ngambi AIDS, atwe kukona kukavura virusi kumanyinga ghawo. Norofotjitemba eshi tukuyakaghure kurughanitha kavemba endi thikuputjitho thomayegho. “Ngeshi hatutuyura matwi ghetu, twakona kurughanitha tuvemba nomathonga ghokukushuka.” Ghatjwathanithire eshi ngepi ghokukushura tuvemba nomathonga. “Ngeshi hatukuremeka twathinda nokuva manyinga, twakona kwitha mukuru noghakenithe thitombo. Twakona kuthidhinga otho thitombo mukuthikongora,” dyoghawatongwerire.
Ms. Nelao explained some of the ways we can be infected with HIV. “If someone has HIV or AIDS we can catch the virus from their blood. We should never share razors or toothbrushes. If we get our ears pierced we must use sterilised blades and needles.” She explained how needles and blades should be sterilised. “If we hurt ourselves and there is blood we must ask an adult to clean the wound. We must cover the wound to protect it,” she told them.
Ghawaneghedhire dikarata. “Agha ne ghomayira ghokudhira kukavura virusi ghoHIV,” dyoghawatongwerire. “Mbadi wakukona ghuwane virusi ghoHIV pakukuyarekera kayugho, ngambi kuyoghana pofotji. Kukundhondhera, kukuncumita endi kukumorora munyara nomunu oyu ghakara noHIV ngambi AIDS napo thiwana vene. Thiwana vene mukukuyarekera makopi noturonga pofotji nomunu oyu ghakara noHIV ngambi AIDS. Mbadi wakukona ghudiwane kwamunu oyu ghanakukohora endi kuyathimitha. Thikadyo, mbadi wakukona ghudiwane kutumwe endi kehe thino thimbumburu thokuhuma, yira yina, yindjandu endi mahaghu.”
Then she showed them a chart. “These are all the ways you can’t catch HIV,” she told them. “You won’t get HIV from using the toilet, or sharing a bath. Hugging, kissing or shaking hands with someone with HIV or AIDS is also safe. It’s OK to share cups and plates with someone who has HIV or AIDS. And you can’t catch it from someone who is coughing or sneezing. Also, you can’t get it from mosquitoes or other biting insects like lice or bedbugs.”
“Nye shotende ngeshi ghunadiwana?” Dyoghepurire Magano. “Uhunga, wakona kukukongora ghothinda nokudya yidya yoyingi yondjewandjewa. Kenge kudikarata dyetu dyoyidya,” dyoghaghambire. “Yidye shoghavuruke eshi yidya munye yoyiwa kukoye?” dyoghepurire.
“What do you do if you’ve got it?” asked Magano. “Well, you must take care of yourself and eat lots of healthy food. Look at our food chart,” she said. “Who can remember what food is good for you?” she asked.
Apa ghakakumine Hilifa kudighumbo ghakatongwerireko nyina eyi ghakakuhongire kushure diyuwa diya. “Mukadikuto Nelao ghanakatuhonga yokuhatera kuHIV noAIDS nongepi edi ghokukunga munu ghotjitju. Magano naHidipo mbohananighamwena noyirughana yange yopadighumbo nokurughana pofotji yirughana yokudighumbo,” dyoghatongwerire nyina.
When Hilifa got home he told his mother what he had learned at school that day. “Ms. Nelao told us about HIV and AIDS and how to look after someone who’s ill. Magano and Hidipo are going to help me with my chores and we will do our homework together,” he told her.
Pathitengeyuwa diyuwa diya, Magano gheyire noghaghamwene Hilifa kuveta meyu. Hidipo ghamughamwenine katja yikunyi. Paghuhura hahungumanine harughane yirughana yawo yokudighumbo mumumvure ghoghumurwa.
That afternoon Magano came and helped Hilifa to fetch water. Hidipo helped him to gather firewood. Then they sat and did their homework in the shade of the marula tree.
Mukadikuto Nelao ghatongwerire hakamaparaghumbo waHilifa eshi ayene yodiye ghanakukunga nyina. Hakuruperithire eshi ñanyi hamughamwenange. Kehe runguro hakamaparaghumbo hokukutjakatjaka ngahawareteranga yidya yoyiyenyu nohadye. Kehepano Hilifa ngawapanga rwidhi romuthikwinino.
Ms. Nelao had also told Hilifa’s neighbours that he was looking after his mother. They had promised to help him. Every night a different neighbour came with hot food for them to eat. Hilifa always gave them some vegetables from the garden.
Mudiyuwa dyokuhurera dyothinema thoshure Hilifa ghashambererire thikuma. Ghatjirire kudighumbo ghakaneghedhe nyina yitundamo yendi yokushure. Ghatjirire muditete witha, “Nawe. Nawe. Mone kuyitundamo yange yoshure. Nawana ma ‘A’, ‘A’, noma’A’ ghomengi.” Hilifa ghakawanine nyina ghanarara paghudidi. “Nawe!” Dyoghethire. “Nawe! Pinduke” Ene mbadi ghapindukire.
On the last day of the school term Hilifa was very happy. He ran home to show his mother his report card. He ran into the yard calling, “Mum. Mum. Look at my report card. I have got ‘A’, ‘A’, and more ‘A’s’.” Hilifa found his mother lying in bed. “Mum!” he called. “Mum! Wake up!” She didn’t wake up.
Hilifa ghatjirere kwawakamaparaghumbo. “Nawe. Nawe. Mbadi ghanakupinduka,” dyoghadirire. Hakamaparaghumbo hayendire kudighumbo naHilifa nohakawanine Nawe Ndapanda mughudidi wendi. “Ghanafu, Hilifa” dyohaghambire muthidiro.
Hilifa ran to the neighbours. “My Mum. My Mum. She won’t wake up,” he cried. The neighbours went home with Hilifa and found Meme Ndapanda in her bed. “She is dead, Hilifa,” they said sadly.
Pawanguwangu mbudhi dhakutapathanine eshi Nawe Ndapanda ghanapiripo. Mudighumbo mwayarire hakadiko, hakamaparaghumbo nawashere. Harapererirepo nyina Hilifa nokumwimbera membo. Hakuyongire yinu yoyiheya yoyiwa eyi ngatendanga mufu.
Very quickly the news spread that Meme Ndapanda was dead. The house was full of family, neighbours and friends. They prayed for Hilifa’s mother and sang hymns. They talked about all the good things they knew about her.
Ngumweno Muzaa ghaterekerire hagenda waheya. Nyanu Kave ghatongwerire Hilifa eshi hanashana kumushimba kuOshakati munyima dhomahoreko. Nyakudyendi ghomukafumu ghamuthimwetwedhire edi ngakaranga nyina oku shime mukudhyana.
Aunt Muzaa cooked for all the visitors. Uncle Kave told Hilifa that they would take him back to Oshakati after the funeral. His Grandfather told him stories about his mother when she was a little girl.
Pamahoreko Hilifa ghayendire kughutho mungirishe noghatongwerire hanu waheya yokuhatera kwanyina. “Nawe ne ghanihakire noghanikungire thiwana shemwa. Ghanitongwerire eshi nakona kukuhonga thikuma podigho eshi nakawane yirughana mwene. Aye ghashanine eshi nishamberere. Ame ñanyi mbonikuhonge nokurughana thikuma podigho eshi nakumushambererithe.”
At the funeral Hilifa went to the front of the church and told everyone about his mother. “My mother loved me and looked after me very well. She told me to study hard so that I could get a good job. She wanted me to be happy. I will study hard and work hard so that she can be proud of me.”
Munyima dhomahoreko Nyanu Kave naNgumweno Muzaa haghamwenine Hilifa gharongere yinu yendi yokushimba kuOshakati. “Kunuu ghadi nodirura dyokuwana mushere wendi ghomupya,” dyohamutongwerire. “Ñanyi twakakukunge yira mwanetu ghokukwerekera twathinda.” Hilifa ghatapire dirumeritho dyokuhurera kudighumbo dyawo noghakadhinine nawo muthihaghuto.
After the funeral Uncle Kave and Aunt Muzaa helped Hilifa to pack his things to take to Oshakati. “Kunuu is looking forward to having a new friend,” they told him. “We will care for you like our own son.” Hilifa said goodbye to the house and got into the taxi with them.
Written by: Kandume Ruusa, Sennobia-Charon Katjiuongua, Eliaser Nghitewa
Illustrated by: Jamanovandu Urike
Translated by: Maria M. Dikuua, Servasius M. Ndjunga
Read by: Servasius Ndjunga
Language: Thimbukushu
Level: Level 5
Source: Orphans need love too from African Storybook
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.