Kowgol maamiyo debbo no beeginiingol heewu mbayeeri, gawri e
roogo. Ammaa ko ɓuri beegiinaade
woni bananaaje ɗen.
Baa ko tawa imo woodi taaniraaɓe
sanne, nder cuccukka, miɗo anndi
ko min o ɓuri haasaade e makko.
Ndegooɗom imo gansitoo kam nder
ɓaade makko. Imo senndida he am
ndabarewoy makka cuuɗiikoy.
Ammaa imo woodi go’otel ngel o
suuɗi: nokkuure to o muginta
bananaaje ɗen.
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.
Nyannde gooɗom, nji’u- mi kilaal
mawngal goodungal huɗo no resii
ley naange dammbugal ɓaade
maamiyo debbo. Ko ƴamumoo-mi
ko ngal heedani,dow nootannde, o
wi’i kam «kilaal am sirri non».
Hadde kilaal ngal, kaakooli
bananaahi no cankitii ɗon, ɗi
maamiyo debbo iirtata wakkati
yahde wakkati. Miɗo tawaa nder
kumpa. Ɗume kaakooli ɗii nafirta
maamiyo debbo? Ƴamu-mi. Ammaa
dow nootannde, o wi’i kam:
«Kaakooli am ɗi sirri non».
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.”
Iɗum wawnii daarol maamiyo
debbo, bananaaje ɗen, kaakooli
bananaahi ɗin e kilaal mawngal
tawraangal huɗo ngal. Ammaa
maamiyo debbo lili kam ta inna faa
mi tewtowa guɗɗum.
«Maama, se welii ma accu mi daara
ko ngonu-ɗaa aɗa siryo…»
«Uka debbo oo, accu tiiɗal
nyiindaaku, waɗu ko ƴamumaa-mi»
o sattini. Ndilu-mi jomkay miɗo
dagga.
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.
Ko ngartu-mi, tawumi maama no
jooɗii yaasn, ammaa nii kilaal ngal
e bananaaje ɗen fuu ngalaa ɗon.
«Maama, toye kilaal ngal, toye
bananaaje ɗen, e toye woni…»
Ammaa dow nootannde, o wi’i kam:
«Ikoy tawaa nder nokkuure am
sirri.» Ɗum metti kam sanne.
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!
Balɗe ɗiɗi gaɗa nden en, maama lili
kam nder suudu muuɗum mi
tefanowa mo tuugordu makko.
Gilla maɓɓitinnoo-mi dammbugal
ngal, uurngol bananaaje ɓennduɗe
jaɓɓitii kam. Kilaal sirri mawngal
ngal maama no tawaa hakkunde
suudu. Ingal suuɗaa faa no wooɗi
ley wudere hiinde gom. Ɓantu-mi
nde nden uurnii-mi uurngol belngol
sanne ngool.
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.
Sawto daande maama juwi kam nde
o noddunoo, «ɗume ngonu-ɗaa aɗa
waɗa?
Waɗu law ngaddanaa kam tuugordu
am» Nden karii-mi ngadu-mi
tuugordu makko. Maama ƴami.
«Ɗume waɗi ko aɗa moosa?»
Ƴamol makko ngol faamini kam ko
nder mooso ngonu-mi, miɗo miijoo
ji’tol nokkuure makko sirri.
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.
Jaangoore muudum ko maama wari
juuraade inna, karii-mi naatoy-mi
suudu makko faa mi daara
bananaaje ɗen kadenndan.
Keewɗe nder majje ɓinndii sanne.
Kooƴu-mi wo’otere nder majje
cuuɗu-mi nde ley robbuure am.
Gaɗa mi hippie kilaal ngal, njah-mi
gaɗa ɓaade faa mi nyaama nde law
law. Kayre woni bananaare ɓurunde
welde nde mi meeɗaay hano
muuɗum baa nde wo’otere.
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.
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.
Jahngoore muuɗum woni
nyallaande luumo.
Maama fini gilla hejjere. Roogo e
bananaaje ɓennduɗe kam o
soonnannoo nder luumo.
Nyannde muuɗum mi haraaki
juurowaade mo. Ammaa mi hisataa
mo fufuu.
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.
Laasara muuɗum daa, inna am,
abba am e maama noddi kam. Miɗo
anndi ngam ɗume non.
Jemma on daa ko pukkoyii mi, miɗo
anndani ko mi yeeƴataako mi wujja
kaden, walaa to maama am, halaa
to saarooɓe am, walaa to woɓɓe
duu.
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.
