Gaxu ǁaeb ǃkharu hâseb ge gâre ǀgiriba ge hâ i. ǁÎb ge ǁîb di kaira dadasab ǀkha Kalahari ǀgowadi ǃnâ ge ǁan hâ i.
Long ago, there was a foolish lazy jackal. He lived with his old father in the Kalahari bush.
ǀGui ǁgoagab ge kaira ǀgiriba ǂkhai, ob ge ǁîb ôasaba sores ǃnâb ǁom ǁgoe hîa ge hō. ǂÛ-i ge ǂhomisa tama ge hâ i, tsî piridi ge noxopa ǃharas ǃnâ ge mâ i!” ǂKham axa, sats ge kaise ǀopesa! Khâi, îts si tara-e ôa. Tita ge kaise kaira hâ satsa kōǃgâs ǃaroma,” tib ge ǀgirib dadaba ge mî. Ob ge ǀgiriba urikhâi tsî piride ǃharasa xu ge ūǂui î di si ǃû.
One morning Old Jackal woke up to find his son sleeping in the sun. The food was not ready and the goats were still in the kraal!
“Young man, you are so lazy! Go and find a wife. I am too old to look after you,” said Jackal’s father. So Jackal jumped up and took the goats out to graze.
ǃGarob ǃnâb ge ǂkhai ra xū-e ǀuis ai ra mû. ǁÎb ge ǀgūse ǀuis tawa ra sī. ǀGūb ra khami i ge nē xū-e îsase ra ǂkhai. ǀNîsis kom nēsa a ǁîb di tara ǁkhao?
In the bush, he saw something shining on a rock. He went closer and closer to the rock. The closer he got, the more beautiful the shine was. Perhaps this was the wife for him?!
“Kaises ge îsa,” tib ge ǀGiriba ǂkhairasa ǃoa ge mî. “Xawe sasa a tari? Tare-i ǃaromas ǀguri hâ?” “Tita ge a sore,” tis ge ǂkhairasa ge ǃeream. “Ti ǀaokhoen ge tita nēpa ge xu, doen ge o. ǁÎn ge ge tani te ǂgao tama hâ i. Tita ge kaise a ǀgamsa.”
“You are beautiful,” said Jackal to the shine. “But who are you? Why are you alone?”
“I am the sun,” the shine answered. “My family left me here when they moved on. They did not want to carry me. I am too hot.”
ǀGirib ge ge mî, “Xawe sas ge kaise a îsa! Tita ge nî tani si. Tita ge oms ǁga nî oa-ūsi îs ti dadaba sī mû. O i ge a ǃgâi, tani si ǁkhā ta ge a.” “Xawe tā ǃgae re kaise ta ga a ǀgam o,” tis ge soresa ge mî.
The jackal said, “But you are so beautiful! I will carry you. I will take you home to meet my father.”
“All right, you can carry me. But do not complain when I get too hot for you,” said the sun.
Ob ge ǀGiriba soresa ǁîb di ǁâb ai aba tsî oms ǁga ge ǃgû. Gaxu tamases ge soresa ǀGirib di ǀûna ge ǂhuwi tsoatsoa. “Toxopas aibe ti ǁâba xu a ǁgôa ǁkhā? Sâ ǂgao ta ge ra,” tib ge ǀGiriba ge mî. ǁÎb di ǁâb ge kaise ge tsûsa i, tsîb ge ǃgû ǁkhās tsîna ge hî ǁoa i. “ǃGûs ǀguisa hî!” tis ge soresa ge mî. “Tita ge ǀnai go mî tāts ge nî ǃgae ti.”
So Jackal put the sun on his back and started the journey home. Before long, the sun was burning Jackal’s fur.
“Will you please come down from my back? I need to rest,” said Jackal. His back was so sore that he could hardly walk.
“Just carry on!” said the sun. “I told you not to complain!”
ǁNātimis aib ge ǀGiriba haiba daob ǁaegu ge mû. ǁÎb ge ǁnā haib ǃnāka ge ǁharuǂgâ, îs soresa ǁîb ǁâba xu ǁnā ǁgôa.
Then Jackal saw a log across the path. He crawled under the log so that the sun would fall off.
Xaweb ge haiba ǁîb di khōb tsî ǀûn tsîna ge xoraǁnâ tsîn ge ǁîna ǁnāpa sores ǀkha ge hâǃgau.
But the log also scraped the skin and fur from his back and they were left behind with the sun.
ǀAsase ge ǂoaxa ǀûn ge ǀkharati ī ǀûba, ǀnai hâ ǀûna xu ge ūhâ i. ǁNā ǀkhara ǀûb ge hoaǁae ǀGiriba ge re ǃnāpeǃnāpe îb tā ǁkhaba ǁnāti kōse gâre.
The new fur was a different colour to the fur on the rest of his body. The different colours always reminded Jackal not to be so foolish again.
Traditional San story
Manyeka Arts Trust
Ngeve Shangombe
Khoekhoegowab
Level 3
