Pokaruveze okaṱiṱi komakurameno wozombesi motjirongo tjetu aape nyangatara ovandu nozombesi nḓa turike okukapita etota. Pehi ngunda tjandje pe ura omitwaro omingi mbi sokuturikwa. Ovatjiukise tjandje mave ravaere omana wokoṋa ku maku i ozombesi zavo.
The small bus stop in my village was busy with people and overloaded buses. On the ground were even more things to load. Touts were shouting the names where their buses were going.
“Otjihuro otjinene! Otijhuro otjinene! Okuyenda koutokero!” Ami mba zuu omutjiukise ama ravaere. Ombesi ndjo omu me sokuronda mo.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Ombesi yokuyenda kotjihuro tjandje ape ye ura, nu ovandu ovengi ngunda mave ṋiṋikizasana kutja ve ronde. Tjiva va hitisa omitwaro vyawo mombesi kehi. Varwe va twa imbi ovyawo moviraka vyokombanda moukoto.
The city bus was almost full, but more people were still pushing to get on. Some packed their luggage under the bus. Others put theirs on the racks inside.
Ovaronde ovape va handa oukarata nawa, ngunda amave yevayeva pu mave haama mombesi ndja pama. Ovakazendu mbe na ounatje va haama oupore ava rongerere ouyenda oure.
New passengers clutched their tickets as they looked for somewhere to sit in the crowded bus. Women with young children made them comfortable for the long journey.
Ami mbe riṋeere keṋe yoruho. Omundu ngwa haama meṋe yandje wa handa otite ongirine oukukutu. Eye wa zara ovitjapwite mbya kurupa, ombaikiha ndja pita motjivara, nu eye ma munika aayo wa kurunga momwinyo.
I squeezed in next to a window. The person sitting next to me was holding tightly to a green plastic bag. He wore old sandals, a worn out coat, and he looked nervous.
Ami mba tara pendje ne munu kutja nangwari me zu mo motjirongo tjetu, motjirongo mu mbe ku rira. Nambano me i kotjihuro ihi otjinene povikwao.
I looked outside the bus and realised that I was leaving my village, the place where I had grown up. I was going to the big city.
Nambano ya turike okuyenena nu ovaronde avehe va haama. Ovarandise vomorupanda ngunda mave ṋiṋikiza okuhita mombesi okukarandisa oviṋa vyavo kovaronde. Auhe wavo ma ravaere ena rotjirandisiwa tje. Omana ngo maye ndji posire oukumise tjinene.
The loading was completed and all passengers were seated. Hawkers still pushed their way into the bus to sell their goods to the passengers. Everyone was shouting the names of what was available for sale. The words sounded funny to me.
Ovaronde tjiva va randa ounuwa, varwe va randa ouriwa pekepeke nu ave utu okuṱaṱuna. Imba mbe hi na ovimariva, tjimuna ami, mave tarere uriri.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Ovitjitwa mbi vya virurwa i ohupe yombesi, otjiraisiro tjokutja eṱe twa tye okukaenda. Omutjiukise wa tjenene movarandise kutja ngave heruke.
These activities were interrupted by the hooting of the bus, a sign that we were ready to leave. The tout yelled at the hawkers to get out.
Hawkers pushed each other to make their way out of the bus. Some gave back change to the travellers. Others made last minute attempts to sell more items.
Ombesi ngunda amai nana ami mba tara moruho. Ami me ripura kutja tjii nai mee kotoka kotjirongo tjetu rukwao.
As the bus left the bus stop, I stared out of the window. I wondered if I would ever go back to my village again.
Ngunda amatu kaenda komeho, moukoto wombesi mwa hara oupyu tjinene. Ami mba pata omeho ame zeri kutja naṋi me rara.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Nungwari imbwi ouruvi wandje tjandje wa yaruka konganda. Tjii mama nai ma tjeverwa nawa? Oupi wandje mape ya au kotora otjimariva? Omuangu wandje ma zemburuka okutjatja oumuti wandje?
But my mind drifted back home. Will my mother be safe? Will my rabbits fetch any money? Will my brother remember to water my tree seedlings?
Mondjira tjandje me yende ame rihongo ena ropoṋa pu pa tura ongundwandje motjihuro otjinene. Ngunda amba rara ee unauna ena ndo.
On the way, I memorised the name of the place where my uncle lived in the big city. I was still mumbling it when I fell asleep.
Kombunda yozoiri muvyu, mba pendurwa i omungunda omunene nomaisaneno wovandu mbu mave yaruka kotjirongo tjetu. Ami mba puku okaaṱu kandje ne tukire pehi.
Nine hours later, I woke up with loud banging and calling for passengers going back to my village. I grabbed my small bag and jumped out of the bus.
Ombesi indji ndji mai yaruka ya uta okuturika hakahana. Tjimanga nai mai tinyuka okuyaruka koutjiro. Otjiṋa otjinahepero ku ami nambano okukondja okupaha onganda yongundwandje.
The return bus was filling up quickly. Soon it would make its way back east. The most important thing for me now, was to start looking for my uncle’s house.
