Dis a Kalaahi. Shi a sevn iez uol. Ar niem miin ‘di gud-wan’ inna fi ar langgwij, Lubukuusu.
This is Khalai.
She is seven years old.
Her name means ‘the
good one’ in her
language, Lubukusu.
Kalaahi wiek op an a taak tu di arinj chrii. “Du arinj, gruo big an gi wi uol iip a raip arinj.”
Khalai wakes up and
talks to the orange tree.
“Please orange tree,
grow big and give us
lots of ripe oranges.”
Kalaahi waak go a skuul. Pan ar wie shi taak tu di graas. “Du graas, gruo griin-griin an dohn jrai op.”
Khalai walks to school.
On the way she talks to
the grass. “Please
grass, grow greener
and don’t dry up.”
Kalaahi paas wail flowaz. “Du flowaz, gwaan blasom so mi kyan put yu ina mi ier.”
Khalai passes wild
flowers. “Please
flowers, keep blooming
so I can put you in my
hair.”
A skuul, Kalaahi taak tu di chrii inna di migl a di skuulyaad. “Du chrii, push out big lim so wi kyan get fi riid anda yu shied.”
At school, Khalai talks
to the tree in the
middle of the
compound. “Please
tree, put out big
branches so we can
read under your shade.”
Kalaahi taak tu di ejin roun ar skuul. “Du, gruo chrang an tap bad piipl fram kom iihn ya.”
Khalai talks to the
hedge around her school.
“Please grow strong
and stop bad people
from coming in.”
Wen Kalaahi go bak uom fram skuul, shi go luk pan di arinj chrii. “Yu arinj dem raip yet?” Kalaahi aks.
When Khalai returns
home from school, she
visits the orange tree.
“Are your oranges ripe
yet?” asks Khalai.
“Di arinj dem stil griin,” Kalaahi bieli se. “Mi wi si yu tumaro arinj chrii,” Kalaahi se. “Miebi dem taim de yu wi av wahn raip arinj fi me!”
“The oranges are still
green,” sighs Khalai.
“I will see you tomorrow
orange tree,” says
Khalai. “Perhaps then
you will have a ripe
orange for me!”