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Likumbi ngwafumine hembo kuya ku mbaka. The day I left home for the city

Written by Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula

Illustrated by Brian Wambi

Translated by masho kaloza

Language Luvale

Level Level 3

Narrate full story The audio for this story is currently not available.


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.


“mbaka!mbaka! kuya kumulawuko!” ngevwile kaponya kupunda. yize yikiko basi ngwatondanga kuya nayo.

“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.


Basi yaku mbaka yazalile, wunonyi vatu vavavulu vatwalilileho kulishinjika kwingila mukachi. vamwe valongejekele vitelo vyavo mwishi ya motoko. vamwe vahakile mukachi kamotoka.

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.


Kulonga kwakumine kaha nawa vatu vosena vapwilenga hawungeji vatwamine. vakakulanjisa chochimwe vengilile mumotoka nakulanjisa vyuma ku vatu vapwile hawungeji. vosena vapwilenga nakutambakana ovyo vapwilenga nakulanjisa. mazu evwakanyine akusehesa kuli yami.

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.


Vahawungeji vavandende valanjile vyakunwisa, vakwavo valanjile vyakulya vyavindende nakuputuka kutafunya. vaze kavapwile najimbongoko ngeyami, vatambile kaha.

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.


Wunonyi mangana ami aselumukile kuya kwimbo. mama yami mwapa kanawa? vambwanda vami navawanako mbongo? ushe vayayami navanuka kwichilila mbuto yamitondo yami?

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?


Hakuya mujila, ngwalilongesele lijina lya ngalila yava natu oku vechi kutwamanga mumbaka. ngwapwilenga nakumamachila omu ngwahezumukile mutulo.

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.


omu mwahichile shimbu, ngwahindukile na chongo kwivwa mitambi yakusanyika vatu vali hawungeji kukinduluka kwimbo. ngwanonele ka chola kami kakandende nakufumamo mumotoka.

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.


Basi yapwilenga nakuhiluka yazalilenga washi, kalinomu nayikinduluka. Chachilemu chikuma chasaleko hiku tonda zuvo yava natu.

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.


Written by: Lesley Koyi, Ursula Nafula
Illustrated by: Brian Wambi
Translated by: masho kaloza
Language: Luvale
Level: Level 3
Source: The day I left home for the city from African Storybook
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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