Hawimanyino wawundende wama basi mu mbongi yami Mwapwilenga mwakukashika na vatu kaha cheka mwazalile nama basi. hamavu hapwilenga vyuma vyavivulu vyakulonga. Tuponya vatambakanyinenga oku kwayilenga ma basi.
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.
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.
Vatu vapwile hawungeji vakwachile mapepa avo aku basi hamwe omu vatondelenga kwa kutwamina mu basi mwazalile vatu. mapwevo navana vatwamina kanawa hawungeji wawusuku.
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.
ngwalifwachikile kwakamwihi na janena, mutu atwamine kwakamwihi Nayami akwachishile ku lipepa lenyi lyakumbachila lya mafo amatamba. avwalile ma sanda amyaka, avwalile chamashika chakufwa shikaho asolekele kulizakamina.
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.
Ngwatalile haweluka wa basi shikaho ngwashinganyekele vene ngwamimi ngwakuseza limbo lyami, limbo ngwakolela. ngwapwilenga nakuya kumbaka.
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.
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.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
Evi visekashano vyakulanjisa vaviluwanganyishile kuli kulila chamotoko, chinjikijilo cha kusolola ngwavo vanaliwahisa nakuya. Kaponya alwekele vakakulanjisa kufuma mumotoka.
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.
Vakakulanjisa valishinjikile mangana vafume mu basi. vakwavo vahanyine jichenji kuli vatu vapwile hawungeji. vakwavo vesekele kulanjisa mu lola lwamakumishilo.
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.
Omu basi yafumine hakusulukila vatu, ngwa nonokele ha njanena. ngwalikomokelelele nge nakahiluka cheka kwimbo.
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.
Omu wungeji watwalileho, mukachi ka motoka mwazumine. ngwasokele meso ami kushinganyeka nangusavala.
As the journey progressed, the inside of the bus got very hot. I closed my eyes hoping to sleep.
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.
