Mashamba aba nkambo awamine bingi, mambo mwajinga mebele, luku ne makamba. Bino byawamishe pa byonse kemakonde. Nanchi nangwa ba nkambo bajinga na bankana baavula, nayukile namba yami batemwishishe kukila bonse. Bangitanga kunzubo yabo pa bimye byavula. Kabiji bambulangako ne bintu bikwabo byabufyamfya. Pano bino kwajinga kintu kimo kyabufyamfya kyobabujile kushilañena ne amiwa. Kuno kwajinga kufukika 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.
Juuba jimo, namwene musansa yebatula pamute pangye ya nzubo yaba nkambo. Byonebepwizhe pauno musansa, bankumbwiletu amba, “Awa kemusansa wami wa mijiki.” Kwipi namusansa, kwajinga mabula aavula amakonde ao ba nkambo obaalaulanga pakimye ne pakimye. Kino kyandengejile kusaka kuyuka. Nebepwizhe namba, “Nkambo nanchi mabula aka?” Bankumbwiletu amba, “Mabula ami amajiki.”
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.”
Kyajinga kyalusekelo bingi kumona ba nkambo, makonde, mabula a makonde ne musansa. Ba nkambo ba ntumine ku ba maama nakwingila mingilo. Nebabujile namba, “Nkambo, ndekai ngikale pa kuuba monenga byomubena kunengezha…” “Kukosama koobe obewa mwanyike, ubaatu byonka byonakubula,” bañambijile. Nanyamukile lubilo.
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.
Byonabwelele, ba nkambo baikele pangye kwakubula musansa nangwa makonde. Nebepwizhe ba nkambo namba, “Nkambo, musansa uji pi, ne makonde onse aji pi…” Bino ba nkambo bankumbwile amba, “Aji mumpuzha yami ya majiki.” Kyañumvwishishe bingi bibi.
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!
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.
Jiiwi ja ba nkambo jambazhimwine byobangichile. “Ubena kuuba ka? Pelawizha, ndetele mukombo kuno.” Napelawizhizhe kutwala mukombo. Ba nkambo bangipwizhe amba, “Ubena kumwemwesela ka?” Jipuzho jabo jandengejile kuvuluka amba nkimwemwesela pa byonamwene mumpuzha yabo yamajiki.
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.
Juuba jalondejilepo, ba nkambo byobaishile na kupempula ba maama, naile kunzubo yabo lubilo nakumona makonde jikwabo. Kwajinga kizanze kya makonde apya. Natolelemo jimo ne kwijifya mundeleshi. Panyuma yakutana musansa jikwabo, naile kunyuma ya nzubo ne kuja jikonde bukiji-bukiji. Jajinga jikonde jatobala kyakine kine jonkyangye kujapo kala.
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.
Juuba jalondejilepo, ba nkambo byobajinga mu mumashamba, nabombokele ne kuya nakutala pa makonde. Nataine amba onsetu makonde apile. Nakankelwe kwikanya kabiji natolelemo makonde ana. Byonaendejilenga kumana na kuya kukibelo, naumvwine ba nkambo bakopola pangye. Nalangulukile byakufya makonde mundeleshi ne kulupuka.
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.
Juuba jalondejilepo jajinga juuba jakisankanyi. Ba nkambo babukile lukeelo-keelo. Batwalanga makonde apya ne makamba nakupotesha kukisankanyi. Aja juuba kechi napelawizhizhe kuya nakwibapempula ne. Bino kechi nakonsheshe kwiba fyama kimye kyalepa ne.
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.
Pajonkaja juuba mabanga ba maama, ba taata ne ba nkambo bangichile. Nayukile kine kintu kyobangichijile. Abwa bufuku byonalaajile, nayukile namba kechi nkabwezhapo jibiji kwiba, kuba nkambo, ku banse nangwa kubantu bakwabotu ne.
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.
