Garkar kaka tana ban shawa, akwai
dawa, da hatsi kuma da rogo.
Amma ma fi mahimmanci shine
ayaba.
Koda yake kaka tana da jikoki da
yawa, na sani da ni ta fi ƙwauna.
Tana gayyata ta a gidanta. Tana
gaya mini abubuwa da dama.
Amma akwai abin ba ta gaya mini:
Wurin da take nana ayaba.
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.
Wata rana, na ga wani babban
kwando na haki ajiye cikin rana a
gaban gidan kaka.
Da na tambaye ta, mine ne amfanin
Kwandon,sai ta ba ni amsa kamar
haka: “Kwandon mamaki ne”. A
kusan kwandon, akwai ganyen
ayaba da kaka take jujjuyawa lokaci
suwa lokaci.
Na yi mamaki. “Mine ne amfanin
wannan ganyen kaka?” na tambaye
ta. Sai ta ba ni amsa kamar haka:
”Ganyen mamaki ne”.
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.”
Akwai shawa in kana kallon kaka,
ayaba, ganyen ayaba da kuma
babban kwandon na haki. Amma
kaka ta sanya ni in kiranyo
ma’aifiyata don nemo wani abu.
“Kaka,don Allah, bar ni in ga abin da
kike gyarawa…”
“Kar ki zama maras ji, jikata, ki yi
abin aka ce ki yi” kaka take faɗi. Sai
ni kuma in tafi da gudu.
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.
Bayan na komo, kaka tana zamne
waje, amma ba kwando, ba ayaba.
“Kaka, ina kwando, ina dukkan
ayabar, kuma ina…”
Sai ta ba ni amsa kamar haka:
“Suna wani wuri na mamaki”. Ban ji
daɗi ba.
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!
Bayan kwana biyu, kaka ta aike ni
cikin ɗakinta in ɗauko wata sanda
da take tokarawa ta yi tafiya.
Ko da na buɗe ƙofar sai ƙamshi
nunannan ayaba ta tarbo ni. Tsakar
ɗakin, akwai babban Kwandon
mamaki na kaka. An ɓoye shi cikin
wani babban bargo. Na ɗaka shi na
ji wannan ƙamshi mai daɗi.
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.
Sai na ji muryar kaka, na zabura,
“Mi kike yi? Ki yi maza ki kawo mini
sandar”.
Ni kuma na yi maza na ɗauko
sandar.
“Mi kike ma murmushi?” in ji kaka.
Tambayar tata, ta sanya na gano da
cewa, murmushina na gano wuri
mamakin da kaka take faɗi.
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.
Washe–gari, lokacin da kaka ta zo ta
ga ma’aifiyata, ni kuma sai na ruga
gidanta don in ƙara ganin ayabar.
Akwai da yawa da suka nina. Na
ɗauki ɗaya na ɓoye cikin rigata.
Bayan na gano kwando, sai na laɓe
bayan ɗaki na canye da sauri. Ban
taɓa cin ayaba mai daɗin wannan
ayabar.
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.
Washe–gari, lokacin da kaka take
cikin garkar tana tattara kayan
garka, na sake komawa cikin ɗakin
nata don in ga ayabar. Sun fara
nina.
Ban yi hanƙuri ba kuma na ɗauko
hudu. Ina fitowa sannu sannu sai na
ji kaka ta yi wani ɗan tari waje. Na
ɓoye ayabar cikin riga, kaka kuma
ya wuce.
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.
Washe-gari, ranar kasuwa ce. Kaka
ta tashi tun da safe.
Kullum tana kai ayaba da rogo don
ta saida a kasuwa.
Ranan nan, ban je ba na gaida
kaka. Amma zan je in iske ta.
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.
Can da maraice, babana da kaka
sun kiranyo ni. Ni san abin da na yi.
Daren nan, da na kwanta, na yi
tunanin da ba ni ƙara satar kakata
ko ma’aifina ko wani can daban.
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.
