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.
“Magaala! Magaala! Gare dhihaa!” jedhe gargaran konkolachisa. Konkolaatan suni kana ani barbaadu ture.
“City! City! Going west!” I heard a tout shouting. That was the bus I needed to catch.
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.
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.
Ani immo dubarti abban mana irradu’ee tokko biran taa’e. Namni nabira taa’e tokko immo borsaa lasticaa hammatee qabateera. Qophee dulomaafi and kootii dulooma uffate waan aare fakkaata.
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.
Fodddaa konkolatatiin gara alaa yeroon qayee koo ittiguddadhe dhisee gara magaala deemuu koon qayyabadhe. Gara magaala gudda deeman jira.
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.
Namooni tokko tokko yeroo wandhugamu bitatan kuuni immo waandhugan bitatan. Namonni akka anaa kan mallaqaa hinqabne, cal jedhanituma ilaalan.
A few passengers bought drinks, others bought small snacks and began to chew. Those who did not have any money, like me, just watched.
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.
Akkuma atobisin bakka dhaabbate ka’ee, gara foddatin allatin ilaale. Akkam godheen gara gandaa kiyyaa deebi’aa jdheen yaadee ture.
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.
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.
