Nēs ge ǂhôas Ngedeb, daniǃkhōdao-ao anib tsî xūǃgunuxa ǂkham khoeb, Gingileb hâkha disa. ǀGui tsēb Gingileba ra ǃau hîa ge ǃaub Ngedeb diba ra ǁnâu. Gingileb ge ra ǂa-am dani-i turab xa. ǁÎb ge ǁūse mâ tsî ǂōrisase ra ǃgâ ôa rase, ǁîb ǂamǃnâ hâ hais di ǁnâub ai ǂnôa anibab nî mûs kōse. “Tsitik-tsitik-tsitik,” tib ge ǂkhari aniroba ra ǃau, tsî sao rahsisa ǃoa ra ǁkhana, tsî ǁkhaba nausa ǃoa. “Tsitik-tsitik-tsitik,” tib ge ra ǂgai, ǁaeba xu ǁaeb ǁga ra ǃâunǀkhāse îb Gingileba sao bi.
This is the story of Ngede, the Honeyguide, and a greedy young man named Gingile.
One day while Gingile was out hunting he heard the call of Ngede. Gingile’s mouth began to water at the thought of honey. He stopped and listened carefully, searching until he saw the bird in the branches above his head.
“Chitik-chitik-chitik,” the little bird rattled, as he flew to the next tree, and the next.
“Chitik, chitik, chitik,” he called, stopping from time to time to be sure that Gingile followed.
ǃKhare iri khaoǃgâ kha ge kai faia hais tawa ge sī. Ngedeb ge ǃhaeǃhaebese haiǁnâugu ǃnâ ra urimâ. ǁÎb ge ǀgui ǁnâub ai ǂnû tsî Gingileba ǃoa danasa ra ǀhōǂui, iseb ra mî, “Nē i ge a! Nēsi ǀkhī re! Tare-ets ra ǀhaweba?” Gingileb ge ǀGuis khami ī ǁhabu-e hais ǃnākaba xu mû tama, xaeb ge ǁîba Ngedeb ra ǂgom ǃgâ.
After half an hour, they reached a huge wild fig tree.
Ngede hopped about madly among the branches. He then settled on one branch and cocked his head at Gingile as if to say, “Here it is! Come now! What is taking you so long?”
Gingile couldn’t see any bees from under the tree, but he trusted Ngede.
Ob ge Gingileba ǁîb di ǁkhaba hais ǃnāka ra ǁgui, ǂkhari ǀaeroga ǀhaoǀhao tsî ǂkhari ǀaerosa ra khau. ǀAes ge ǃgâise a khau, ob ge gaxu ǂnâsa haiba ǀAes di ǁaegu ǃnâ ra ǃkhāǂgā. Nē haib ge ǃgōsase a ǂansa khauheb ra ob ǀgaisa lana ra
kuru ti. ǁÎb ge ǃnāpaxu hais ai ra ǂharo tsoatsoa, khau tama ǀkhāb haib diba ǁgûn ǀkha nâmâi hâse.
So Gingile put down his hunting spear under the tree, gathered some dry twigs and made a small fire.
When the fire was burning well, he put a long dry stick into the heart of the fire. This wood was especially known to make lots of smoke while it burned.
He began climbing, holding the cool end of the smoking stick in his teeth.
ǀAeǁaeb ge ǃhabugu ra summm ǀgaub ra ǁnâu. ǁÎgu ge hais ǃnâ ǂnôa āba xu ra ǂgâ ka ǂoa - ǃhabu omma xu. Gingileb ge ǃhabu ommab ge ǀgū o khau ra ǀkhāb haib diba ǁnāpa ra ǃkhāǂgā. ǃHabugu ge ǁaixa hâse ra ǁkhana ǂoaxa. ǁÎgu ge ra ǁkhanabē, ǀani xa gu ǃgâibahe tama xui-ao - xawegu aibe Gingileba tsûgase
ǃkhātoa tsî!
Soon he could hear the loud buzzing of the busy bees. They were coming in and out of a hollow in the tree trunk – their hive.
When Gingile reached the hive he pushed the smoking end of the stick into the hollow.
The bees came rushing out, angry and mean. They flew away because they didn’t like the smoke – but not before they had given Gingile some painful stings!
ǃHabugu ge ǂoatoa, ob ge Gingileba ǁîb di ǃomma ǃhabu-oms ǃnâ ǀhōǂgā tsî ǃomsǀoase ǃgom daniǂgoaba ra ūǂui, kausa ǃkhū hâ danib hîa ǃuri goaba ra ǂnâba. ǁÎb ge ǃamkuse daniǂgoaba ǁîb ǃhōb aib tani hâ ǁgarub ǃnâ ra ǂgā, tsî haisa xu ra ǁgôaxa.
When the bees were out, Gingile pushed his hands into the nest. He took out handfuls of the heavy comb, dripping with rich honey and full of fat, white grubs.
He put the comb carefully in the pouch he carried on his shoulder, and started to climb down the tree.
Ngedeb ge ǂhīnase Gingileb ra dī xūn hoa a ra kō. ǁÎb ge ge ǃâubasen hâ i Gingileb kausa daniǃâsa daniǃkhōdao-aoba nî mā gangans di ǁgauǁgaus ase ti. Ngedeb ge ǁnâub a xu ǁnâub ǁga ra uriǁgôa haisa xu ǃhūb aib nî sīs kōse. ǀUnilams aib ge Gingileba haisa xu ra ǁgôaxa. Ngedeb ge axab xōǀkhā ǂnôa ǀuis ai ǁîb di mātawasa ǃâuǂnû hâ.
Ngede eagerly watched everything that Gingile was doing. He was waiting for him to leave a fat piece of honeycomb as a thank-you offering to the Honeyguide.
Ngede flittered from branch to branch, closer and closer to the ground. Finally Gingile reached the bottom of the tree.
Ngede perched on a rock near the boy and waited for his reward.
Xaweb ge Gingileba ǀaesa ǀari, tsî ǁîb di ǁkhaba ūkhâi tsî anib ǀkha ǁae tamase oms ǁga ra ǃgû. Anib ge ǁaixa hâse, “Vik-torr! Vik-torrr!” ti ra ǃau. Gingileb ge ǁūse mâ tsî sîba kō tsî ǃgarise ra âi. “Dani-ets ra ǂhâba, ǂhâbats ra, ti hōre? Ha! Tita ge hoa sîsenni go dī tsî ǀguri hoa ǃkhāde go hō. Tare-i ǃaroma ta sats ǀkha nî ǀgoragu?” Ti mî tsîb ge ge ǃgûbē. Ngedeb ge kaise ge ǁaixa! Nē ǀgau tamab ǁîb nî hâ ūheba! ǁÎb xa nî ǀkhaohe.
But, Gingile put out the fire, picked up his spear and started walking home, ignoring the bird.
Ngede called out angrily, “VIC-torr! VIC-torrr!”
Gingile stopped, stared at the little bird and laughed aloud. “You want some honey, do you, my friend? Ha! But I did all the work, and got all the stings. Why should I share any of this lovely honey with you?” Then he walked off.
Ngede was furious! This was no way to treat him! But he would get his revenge.
ǀGui tsē, wekhega ǃkharu hâse ge Gingileba ǁkhaba Ngedeb di ǃauba ra ǁnâu. ǁÎb ge ǁkhoaxa Dani-ets ra ǂâihō tsî turaxase ǁkhaba aniba ra
sao-ai. Gaxu ǁaeba Gingileba ǃgarob di ǂnaob kōse nana hâs khaoǃgâ ge Ngedeb kaiǃgâ ǁkhūhais tawa ra mâ. “Ahh,” tib ge Gingileba ra ǂâi. “ǃHabu-oms ge nē hais ǃnâ hâ.” ǁÎb ge ǃHaese ǂkhai ǀaerosa ra khau tsî hais ai ra ǂharo, ǀan ra haiba ǁgûgu ǀkha nâ hâse. Ngedeb ge ǂnû tsî ra kō.
One day several weeks later Gingile again heard the honey call of Ngede. He remembered the delicious honey, and eagerly followed the bird once again.
After leading Gingile along the edge of the forest, Ngede stopped to rest in a great umbrella thorn. “Ahh,” thought Gingile. “The hive must be in this tree.” He quickly made his small fire and began to climb, the smoking branch in his teeth. Ngede sat and watched.
Gingileb ge ǃaruǀî ra ǂoa ǂhâ rase tare-i xa ǃhabugu ǀōba ǁnâu tama ǃkhaisa. “Tsâpes kom ǃhabu-omsa ǃgame hais ǃnâ ǂnôa o,” tib ge ǁîb ǃnâ ra ǂâi. ǁÎb ge noxopa ǀnî ǁnâub ǃoa ra ǂgaekhâisen. Xaweb ge ǃhabu-oms ǃâs ǃnâ ǂhûiseb ǀkha ra ǃomgu. ǂHûiseb ge ǁîb di ǂomsa xu ǂhanihes xa kaise ra ǁaixa. ǁÎb ge mûra ra ǂōǂō, tsî amǃnâba khora hîa kaiǃgâ tsî kaise ǀā ǁgûga ra ǁgauba.
Gingile climbed, wondering why he didn’t hear the usual buzzing. “Perhaps the hive is deep in the tree,” he thought to himself. He pulled himself up another branch. But instead of the hive, he was staring into the face of a leopard!
Leopard was very angry at having her sleep so rudely interrupted. She narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth to reveal her very large and very sharp teeth.
ǂHûiseb xa nî xorahes aiǃâ ge Gingileba ǃHaese haisa xu ra ǁgôaxa. ǃNoaǃnā tsîb ge ǀgui ǁnâuba dasā tsî tsûsase ǃhūb ai ra ǁnā tsî ǂaisa ra ǁkhuri. ǁÎb ge ǁkhā as kōse ǃhaese ra ǀībē. ǁÎb ǃGâi a ǃoab ge ǂhûiseb noxopa ǂoms ǃnâ ge hâ i tsî ge sauru tama ge i. Ngedeb, Daniǃkhōdao-aob ge ǁîb di ǀkhaoba ge hō. Tsî Gingileb ge ǁîb di ǁkhāǁkhāsa ge hō.
Before Leopard could take a swipe at Gingile, he rushed down the tree.
In his hurry he missed a branch, and landed with a heavy thud on the ground twisting his ankle. He hobbled off as fast as he could. Luckily for him, Leopard was still too sleepy to chase him. Ngede, the Honeyguide, had his revenge.
And Gingile learned his lesson.
Tsî ǁnāti, Gingileb di ôasan Ngedeb di ǂhôas xa ra ǁnâu on ge kai ǃgôasiba ǁnā ǂkhari aniroba ūba hâ. Dani-en ra xoa ǁaeb hoaban ge hoa xa kai ǃâsa daniǃkhōdao-aoba ra ǃgauba!
And so, when the children of Gingile hear the story of Ngede they have respect for the little bird. Whenever they harvest honey, they make sure to leave the biggest part of the comb for Honeyguide!
Zulu folktale
Wiehan de Jager
Ngeve Shangombe
Khoekhoegowab
Level 4
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