Back to stories list

Ouma se piesangs Grandma's bananas Inkonde shaba maama

Written by Ursula Nafula

Illustrated by Catherine Groenewald

Translated by Willemien Wannberg

Language Afrikaans

Level Level 4

Narrate full story The audio for this story is currently not available.


Ouma se tuin was wonderlik, vol van sorghum, gars en maniok. Die beste van alles was die piesangs. Alhoewel Ouma baie kleinkinders gehad het, het ek in die geheim geweet ek is haar gunsteling. Sy het my dikwels na haar huis genooi. Sy het vir my geheimpies vertel. Maar daar was een geheim wat sy nie met my gedeel het nie: waar sy haar piesangs rypgemaak het.

Grandma’s garden was wonderful, full of sorghum, millet, and cassava. But best of all were the bananas. Although Grandma had many grandchildren, I secretly knew that I was her favourite. She invited me often to her house. She also told me little secrets. But there was one secret she did not share with me: where she ripened bananas.

Ibala lyaba maama lyali ilisuma saana, mwali amasaka, amale, na tuute. Nomba ifyawamishe pali fyonse ni nkonde. Nangula bamaama bakwete abeshikulu abengi, nalishibe ukuti nine batemwishishe. Balenjita lyonse ku ŋanda ku mwabo. Baaleenshimikilako no twankama tumo-tumo. Nomba kwali inkama imo iyo bashanjebeleko: uko balefumbika inkonde.


Eendag het ek ‘n groot grasmandjie in die son buite Ouma se huis gesien. Toe ek gevra het waarvoor dit was, was die enigste antwoord wat ek gekry het, “Dit is my tower mandjie.” Langs die mandjie, was verskeie piesangblare wat Ouma kort-kort omgedraai het. Ek was nuuskierig. “Waarvoor is die blare, Ouma?” het ek gevra. Die enigste antwoord wat ek gekry het was: “Hulle is my tower blare.”

One day I saw a big straw basket placed in the sun outside Grandma’s house. When I asked what it was for, the only answer I got was, “It’s my magic basket.” Next to the basket, there were several banana leaves that Grandma turned from time to time. I was curious. “What are the leaves for, Grandma?” I asked. The only answer I got was, “They are my magic leaves.”

Bushiku bumo namwene bamaama nababika icimuseke pa kasuba panse ya ŋanda. Ilyo nabepwishe batiile “Muuseke wankama.” Mupepi no museke paali amabuula ya nkonde ayenji ayo bamaama baaleepilibula kashita-kashita. Naleefwaisha ukwishiba, efyo nabepwishe nati, “Mabuula yanshi aya maama?” Banjaswikefye abati “Mabuula ya nkama yandi.”


Dit was so interessant om na Ouma, die piesangs, die piesang blare en die groot grasmandjie te kyk. Maar Ouma het my na my ma toe gestuur om iets te doen. “Ouma, laat my asseblief toe om te kyk hoe u voorberei…” “Moenie hardkoppig wees nie, kind, maak soos ek sê, ” het sy aangedring. Ek het weggehardloop.

It was so interesting watching Grandma, the bananas, the banana leaves and the big straw basket. But Grandma sent me off to my mother on an errand. “Grandma, please, let me watch as you prepare…” “Don’t be stubborn, child, do as you are told,” she insisted. I took off running.

Caliweme ukutamba bamaama, inkonde, amabuula ya nkonde, no museke uukulu. Nomba bamaama epakuntuma ukuli bamaayo. Elyo nabeba nati, “Maama napaapaata lekeni imoneko ifyo mucita…” Bamaama epakuti, “We mwanawe uleumfwa, cita ifyo nakweba endesha.” Efyo naile ulubilo.


Toe ek terugkom, het Ouma buite gesit, maar daar was geen mandjie of piesangs nie. “Ouma waar is die mandjie, waar is al die piesangs en waar…” Maar die enigste antwoord wat ek gekry het, was “Hulle is in my geheime plek.” Dit was so ‘n teleurstelling!

When I returned, Grandma was sitting outside but with neither the basket nor the bananas. “Grandma, where is the basket, where are all the bananas, and where…” But the only answer I got was, “They are in my magic place.” It was so disappointing!

Ilyo nabwelele, nasangile bamaama nabekala panse, nomba tapaali inkonde nangu umuseke. “Maama, umuseke ulikwisa, ne nkonde shilikwi, nga …” Bamaama epakuti, “Fili kuncende yandi iyankama.” Nshatemenwe.


Twee dae later, het Ouma my gestuur om haar kierie in haar slaapkamer te gaan haal. Toe ek die deur oopmaak, is ek begroet deur die skerp geur van rypwordende piesangs. In die binnekamer was Ouma se groot tower grasmandjie. Dit was goed weggesteek onder ‘n ou kombers. Ek het dit opgelig en die heerlike reuk ingeasem.

Two days later, Grandma sent me to fetch her walking stick from her bedroom. As soon as I opened the door, I was welcomed by the strong smell of ripening bananas. In the inner room was grandma’s big magic straw basket. It was well hidden by an old blanket. I lifted it and sniffed that glorious smell.

Panuma ya nshiku shibili, bamaama bantumine mukusenda inkonto yabo ku muputule. Cilya naisulafye iciibi, akaceena kankonde ishapya kampokelela. Kukati ekwali umuseke wa nkaama. Ninshi nabafisa bwino-bwino mu bulangeti bwakale. Nafimbulapo nanunshako akaceena akasuma.


Ouma se stem het my laat skrik toe sy roep, “Wat maak jy? Maak gou en bring my kierie.” Ek het vinnig uitgegaan met haar kierie. “Waaroor glimlag jy?” het Ouma gevra. Haar vraag het my laat besef dat ek steeds geglimlag het omdat ek haar geheime plek ontdek het.

Grandma’s voice startled me when she called, “What are you doing? Hurry up and bring me the stick.” I hurried out with her walking stick. “What are you smiling about?” Grandma asked. Her question made me realise that I was still smiling at the discovery of her magic place.

Ishiwi lyaba maama epakuntinya lintu banjutile. “Finshi ulecita? Endesha ndetela inkonto.” Efyo naendeshe ukutwala inkoto. Bamaama epakunjipusha ati, “Finshi uleseka.” Cilya banjipusha elyo naibukisha ukuti ncili ndesekelela pa kusanga incende yankama yaba maama.


Die volgende dag toe Ouma by my ma kom kuier het, het ek na haar huis gehardloop om weer na die piesangs te kyk. Daar was ‘n paar wat baie ryp was. Ek het een afgepluk en dit in my rok weggesteek. Nadat ek die mandjie weer toegemaak het, het ek dit vinnig agter die huis gaan eet. Dit was die soetste piesang wat ek nog ooit geproe het.

The following day when grandma came to visit my mother, I rushed to her house to check the bananas once more. There was a bunch of very ripe ones. I picked one and hid it in my dress. After covering the basket again, I went behind the house and quickly ate it. It was the sweetest banana I had ever tasted.

Ubushiku bwakonkelepo, elyo bamaama baishile mukupempula bamaayo, nabutukile ku mwabo mukumona inkonde na kabili. Nasangile umusemo wa nkonde ishapya. Nasendako lumo nafisa mwilaya. Nasha nafimbapo bwino-bwino na kabili. Nabutukila ku lukungu lwa ŋanda no kulya ulukonde bwangu-bwangu. Iyi nkonde yali iyalowesha ukucila pa nkonde shonse isho nalilepo.


Die volgende dag terwyl Ouma in die tuin groente gepluk het, het ek weer ingesluip en na die piesangs geloer. Amper almal was ryp. Ek kon nie help om ‘n tros van vier te gryp nie. Toe ek op my tone deur toe sluip, hoor ek Ouma buite hoes. Ek het net betyds die piesangs onder my rok weggesteek en by haar verby geloop.

The following day, when grandma was in the garden picking vegetables, I sneaked in and peered at the bananas. Nearly all were ripe. I couldn’t help taking a bunch of four. As I tiptoed towards the door, I heard grandma coughing outside. I just managed to hide the bananas under my dress and walked past her.

Ubushiku bwakonkelepo, ilyo bamaama baile mwibala mu kuswa umusaalu, naile lushenshe mu kumona pa nkonde. Ninshi shonse shili mukupya. Efyo nasendelemo shine. Cilya ndebendelela ku ciibi, naumfwa bamaama baleekoola panse. Efyo nafishile inkonde mwilaya no kuya pita epobaali.


Die volgende dag was markdag. Ouma het vroeg opgestaan. Sy neem altyd piesangs en maniok om by die mark te verkoop. Ek was nie haastig om by haar te kuier die dag nie. Maar ek kon haar nie lank vermy nie.

The following day was market day. Grandma woke up early. She always took ripe bananas and cassava to sell at the market. I did not hurry to visit her that day. But I could not avoid her for long.

Ubushiku bwakonkelepo, bwali buushiku bwakushitisha ku maliketi. Bamaama babukile lucelocelo. Baaletwala inkonde ishapya na tute lyonse mu kushitisha ku maliketi. Nshaceleele mu kubamona ubo bushiku, nomba nalibafulwike.


Later die aand is ek deur my ma, pa en ouma geroep. Ek het geweet waarom. Daardie nag toe ek gaan slaap, het ek geweet dat ek nooit weer sou steel nie, nie van my ouma, of van my ouers en beslis nie van enige iemand anders nie.

Later that evening I was called by my mother and father, and Grandma. I knew why. That night as I lay down to sleep, I knew I could never steal again, not from grandma, not from my parents, and certainly not from anyone else.

Mu cungulo, bamaayo, bataata na bamaama balinjitile. Naishiba ne lyashi. Ubushiku bulya lintu naile mu kusendama, nasambilile ukuti nshakabwekeshepo ukwibila bamaama, abafyashi bandi nangu umuntu umbi na kabili.


Written by: Ursula Nafula
Illustrated by: Catherine Groenewald
Translated by: Willemien Wannberg
Language: Afrikaans
Level: Level 4
Source: Grandma's bananas from African Storybook
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 International License.
Options
Back to stories list Download PDF