Kateshini ka limbasi ka kwa hae yaluna ne kapatehile ni batu ni limbasi zenelilongilwe maswe. Fafasi nekusatezi lika zenelisaswanela kulongiwa. Bahuwi neba huwa mabizo a libaka konekuya limbasi.
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.
Tolopo! Tolopo! Kuliba kwa malikelelo! Nautwa bahuwi bapunda. Kona mbasi yenitokwa kukwela.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
Mbasi ya kwa tolopo neseitezi kono batu babañata nebasakashana ili kuli bakwele mwateñi. Babañwi neba beile mikotani yabona mwatasaa mbasi. Babañwi nebabeile mwahalaa mbasi luli.
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.
Bazamai babañwi babanca nebaswalelezi ma tiketi abona banze babata fa kuina mwa mbasi yeneitezi. Basali ni limbututu zabona baina ka kuiketa mwa musipili womutelele woo.
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.
Seni isineleketeza kwa tuko a windo. Mutu yanainzi kwatuko nina naswalelezi pepa ya pulasitiki ya mubala wa butala. Natinile ma patapataa kale ni cansi yecancaukile mi nabonahala kusaba.
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.
Hanitalimela fande a mbasi seni hupula kuli neni siya munzi wahesu, kwa sibaka koneni hulezi. Neniya kwa tolopo.
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.
Kulonga nesekufelile mi ni batu kaufela nesebainzi. Balekisi nebasaipumanela nzila yakukena mwa mbasi kulekisa lika kwa bazamai. Mutu ni mutu nahuweleza lika zananani za kulekisa. Manzwi nautwahala kusehisa kuna.
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.
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.
Mbasi aseifundukile, senilubukela fande a lihaulo. Seninahana haiba nikakona kukutela kwa hae hape.
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.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
Kono ngana yaka neinzi feela kwa ndu. Kuli bo ma bakasiyala hande? Tushakame twaka tukatisa masheleñi? Munyenaka wa mushimani ukahupula kuselaela tukota twaka?
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?
Mwanzila, nenipetile libizo la sibaka kone baina bo malume kwa potolo. Nenisalipeta ni mwabuloko.
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.
Anze kufitile lihola ze ketalizoho ka zene, senizusiwa ki lilata ni bene babiza bazamai bene bakuta kwa hae. Seni shimba kakotani kaka ni kutuluka mwa mbasi.
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.
Mbasi yeneikuta neitala kamaububebe. Cwanoñu, neitwa iliba kwa mapazulelo a lizazi. Senesili butokwa ahulo kuna, neeli kukala kubata ndu ya bo malume.
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.
Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula
Brian Wambi
Christabel Songiso
SiLozi (Zambia)
Level 3
The audio for this story is currently not available.
