Ntanga wa kokwana wa xisati a wu xongile, wu tele hi mavele, mhungu na mitsumbula. Kambe leswi a swi navetisa ngopfu a ku ri mabanana. Hambileswi Kokwana a a ri ni vatukulu vo tala, a ndzi swi tiva exihundleni leswaku hi mina loyi andzi tsakela ngopfu. A a ndzi rhamba nkarhi na nkarhi endlwini yakwe. U tlhele a ndzi byela swihundla leswitsongo. Kambe a ku ri ni xihundla xin’we lexi a nga ndzi byeli xona.
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.
Siku rin’wana ndzi vone xirhundzu lexikulu xa byanyi xi vekiwile edyambyini ehandle ka yindlu ya Kokwana. Loko ndzi vutisa leswaku a yi endleriwe yini, nhlamulo leyi ndzi yi kumeke a ku ri, “I xirhundzu xa mina xa masalamusi.” Etlhelo ka xirhundzu, a ku ri na matluka yo hlayanyana ya mabanana lawa Kokwana a a ma hundzula nkarhi na nkarhi. A ndzi lava ku tiva. “Matluka i ya yini Kokwana?” Ndzi vutisile. Nhlamulo yin’we ntsena leyi ndzi yi kumeke a ku ri, “I matluka ya mina ya masalamusi.”
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.”
A swi tsakisa swinene ku langutisa Kokwana, mabanana, matluka ya mabanana na xirhundzu lexikulu xa byanyi. Kambe Kokwana wa xisati u ndzi rhumele eka manana hi ntirho wo karhi. “Kokwana, ndzi kombela, ndzi pfumelele ndzi ku langutisa loko u ri karhi u tilulamisela…” “U nga nonon’hwi n’wana, endla hilaha u byeriweke hakona” a sindzisa. Ndzi suke ndzi ri karhi ndzi tsutsuma.
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.
Loko ndzi vuya, Kokwana a tshamile ehandle kambe a nga ri na xirhundzu kumbe mabanana. “Kokwana, xirhundzu xi kwihi, mabanana hinkwawo ma kwihi, na kwihi…” Kambe nhlamulo leyi ndzi yi kumeke a ku ri, “Ma le ndzhawini ya mina ya masalamusi.” A swi khomisa tingana swinene!
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!
Endzhaku ka masiku mambirhi, Kokwana wa xisati u ndzi rhumile leswaku ndzi ya teka nyangwa, ndzi amukeriwe hi nun’hwelo ra matimba ra mabanana lama vupfeke. Ekamareni ra le ndzeni a ku ri na xirhundzu lexikulu xa magic straw xa kokwa wa xisati. A yi tumbetiwe kahle hi xiambalo xa khale. Ndzi yi tlakusile kutani ndzi nun’hwetela nun’hwelo ro vangama.
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.
Rito ra kokwani ri ndzi hlamarisile loko a vitana, “U endla yini? Hatlisa u ndzi tisela nhonga.” Ndzi humile hi ku hatlisa ndzi khome nhonga ya yena yo famba. “U n’wayitela hi yini?” Kokwana wa xisati u vutisile. Xivutiso xa yena xi ndzi endle ndzi swi vona leswaku ndza ha n’wayitela loko ndzi vona ndhawu ya yena ya masalamusi.
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.
Hi siku leri landzelaka loko kokwa wa xisati a ta endzela manana, ndzi tsutsumele endlwini ya yena ku ya kambela mabanana kan’we nakambe. A ku ri ni ntlhambi wa leti vupfeke swinene. Ndzi hlawurile yin’we kutani ndzi yi tumbeta eka nguvu ya mina. Endzhaku ko tlhela ndzi funengeta xirhundzu, ndzi ye endzhaku ka yindlu kutani ndzi hatlisa ndzi ri dya. A ku ri banana yo nandziha swinene leyi ndzi tshameke ndzi yi day.
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.
Hi siku leri landzelaka, loko kokwa wa xisati a ri entangeni a ri karhi a tshovela miroho, ndzi nghene hi ku tumbela ndzi languta mabanana. Kwalomu ka hinkwaswo a swi vupfile. A ndzi nga ha koti ku tikhoma ndzi teka ntlhambi wa mune. Loko ndzi ri karhi ndzi kongoma enyangweni, ndzi twe kokwani a khohlola ehandle. Ni lo vhe ni swi kota ku tumbeta mabanana ehansi ka dress ra mina ni hundza hi le ka yena.
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.
Siku leri landzelaka a ku ri siku ra makete. Kokwana wa xisati u pfukile ka ha ri mixo. Minkarhi hinkwayo a a teka mabanana lama vupfeke ni mitsumbula leswaku a ya xavisa emakete. A ndzi hatliseli ku n’wi endzela siku rero. Kambe a ndzi nga swi koti ku ka ndzi nga muvulavurisi nkarhi wo leha.
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.
Endzhakunyana madyambu wolawo ndzi vitaniwile hi manana na tatana, na Kokwana wa xisati. A ndzi swi tiva leswaku va ndzi vitela yini. Vusiku byebyo loko ndzi ya ehansi ndzi etlela, a ndzi swi tiva leswaku a ndzi nge he pfuki ndzi yivile, ku nga ri eka kokwa wa xisati, ku nga ri eka vatswari va mina, naswona a ndzi nga ha yivi eka munhu un’wana.
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.
