Simu ya miloho ya bo kuku neeli yemakaza, neitezi mabele, mauza ni mwanja. Kono zende kufitisisa kaufela neli makonde. Nekekuli bo kuku babasali nebanani baikulu babang’ata, kwamukunda neniziba kuli nebalata na hahulu. Nebanimemanga kwa ndu yabona hang’atang’ata. Neba nibulelelanga nitukunutu. Kono nekunani kunutu ilimu yene basikanibulelela: kone babuzwisezanga makonde.
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.
Zazi lelimu, nabona sizuma sene sibeilwe fa lizazi fande andu ya bo kuku babasali. Aneni buzize bo kuku za musebezi wa sona, kalabo feela yeneni fumani kikuli, “ki kazuma kaka ka mabibo.” Kwatuko ya kazuma, nekunani matali a makonde amang’ata ao bo kuku babasali nebafetulanga nako ni nako. Neni bataluli kuziba. “Matali kiyang’i kuku?” Nabuza. Kalabo yene nifilwe fela neli, “Kimatali amabibo.”
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.”
Neku tabisa kubuha bo kuku, makonde, matali a makonde ni sizuma sesituna. Kono bo kuku baniluma ku bo ma kuyoeza sesimu. “Kuku, nakupa, munisiye ni buhe inge mulukisa…” “Usike waba mwanana wa mahanyi, eza zeu bulelelwa,” batundamela. Senifunduka inge ni mata.
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.
Hanenikutile, bo kuku nebainzi fande kusina sizuma kapa makonde. “Kuku, sizuma sikai, makonde kaufela akai mi likai…” Kono kalabo yeneni filwe feela neli, “liinzi mwa sibaka saka sa mabibo.” Neli nto yeneswabisa.
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.
Hase kufitile mazazi amabeli, bo kuku baniluma kuyo shimba mulamu wa bona kwa musiyo wa bona. Onafo hanikwaulula sikwalo, naamuhelwa ki munko wobuhali wa makonde abuzwa. Mwa musiyo nekunani sizuma sesituna sa bo kuku sa mabibo. Nesipatilwe hande ki kubo yakale. Seni iapula ni kununka munko womunde kufitisisa.
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.
Linzwi la bo kuku lani pundumuna hase banibiza, “Weza sikamani moo?” Uakufe unitiseze mulamu.” Seniakufela fande ni mulamu wa bona. “King’i zeumenya?” Bo kuku babuza. Puzo yabona yanilemusa kuli nisa menya kabaka la zeniboni mwa sibaka sabona sa mabibo.
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.
Lizazi leli tatami bo kuku habataha kutopotela bo ma, na matela kwandu yabona kuyobona makonde hape. Nekuna ni sikocela sa makonde abuzwize luli. Seninopa lilimu nikulipata mwa ndelesi. Hase nikwahezi sizuma hape, naya kwa mulaho wa ndu nikuyoca likonde kabubebe. Neli likonde lelimunati le nisamba nabe nice fateni.
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.
Lizazi lelitatama, bo kuku anebayanga miloho, seni ikuzwa ni nikukena kuyo nangela makonde. Kaufela ona nasabuzwize. Nenisakoni kutuwela kusashimba sing’ata sa makonde amane. Haninze niinyomela kwa munyako, nautwa bo kuku bahotola fande. Senikona fela kupata makonde mwa ndelesi ni kuba fitelela.
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.
Lizazi lenelitatami neli lizazi la musika. Bo kuku nebapakezi. Neba isanga makonde abuzwize ni mwanja kuyo lekisa kwa musika. Neni sikaitahanela kuyo bapotela zazi leo. Kono nenisakoni kuicanganisa bona ka nako yetelele.
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.
Nako yamanzibwani lizazi leo, nabizwa ki bo ma, bo ndate ni bo kuku. Nenizibile zene banibizeza. Busihu bo aninze nilobezi, naziba kuli anisakona kuuzwa hape, ising’i ku bo kuku, ising’i kwa bashemi baka mi hape sihuluhulu kwabatu basili.
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.
