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Ayawa kakaye Grandma's bananas

Written by Ursula Nafula

Illustrated by Catherine Groenewald

Language Kanuri

Level Level 4

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Jurwu kakaye jauro shawa. Curonjun argǝm-a ngawuɍi-a doya-a kada. Ngalwonjadǝ ayawa. Kakadǝ diwuwanju ngǝwu yaye, asǝrnin wumaa sǝrawo. Ngǝwuro fanjuro bowosǝgǝna. Asǝrnju kada wulsǝgǝna. Amma awo fal gǝrasiyi. Na ayawanju cǝbbafidǝa.

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.


Yim laa jowo kura kajǝmba kausun fuwu fado kakayen gǝnagada kirukko. Tiro awi faida jowo adiye yekkiya, wuro jowoni sawowuye yeno. Gǝre jowodǝyen kalu ayawaye tǝrǝm sa sanin kaka sǝsǝwarji. Ndororo kakaa kiworǝkko: «Awi faida kalu ayawaye aniye wo? Awo jaawuro sinadǝ: «Kaluwani ayawaye sawowuye.» yeno.

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.”


Kaka-a kareyanju-a (Kalu ayawaye, jowo kura kajǝmba, ayawa) rumia, ajammǝmi. Kaka awo laa moworo yaniyero sinodo. «Kaka awo dimidǝa marne kolle rukke.» Feroma awo wullǝkkǝna de. Kakaye bare garda dimmi yenniya, ngǝrǝmbaro leyekko.

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.


Walgekkǝniya, kaka deyan napkada amma jowo-a ayawa-a nga bawo. «Kaka nda jowo-a kalu ayawa-a ayawa-a kareya gade-a?» Asǝrrammiro yadǝkkǝna yeno. Karwuni nga kuttu.

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!


Ngawo kawu yindiyen, kaka ngimnjuro sunode kanju njuttuwuyedǝa yukkukko yeno. Cinnadǝa kayekkǝniya kala ayawa bafǝna kamseyen. Dawu ngimbedǝn jowo kakaye kura sawowuyedǝ gǝnagada. Cidiya borwo dina laayen. Lennǝkke kala ajappa adǝa fanngekko.

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.


Kaka yilje bowosenniya, njǝrakkekko. Awi dimi kanidǝa sukkude duwan. Jǝkkǝkke kanjudǝa kikkadǝkko. Awi mǝmǝssmidǝ cǝne siworo. Koronjudǝ asǝrramnjudǝa nokkǝna gairo fanji.

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.


Wayenniya, sa kaka yaniyero kadinniya, jǝkkǝkke ayawadǝa ronjuro leyekko. Ayawa kada basafǝna nayeyekko. Fal ngokke kalwunin gǝrayekko. Jowodǝa jakkekkiya, duwan ngawo fadoyen lekke ayawadǝa gigǝrǝkko. Ayawa kǝji adǝ gaidǝa ngalte tambǝkkǝni.

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.


Wayenniya, Kaka jurwun kǝɍijuwo cuttuluwi duwon, laskkǝkke ngimnjudǝro ayawa roro kǝrgaakko. Tandi samma basafǝna. Kanadi tiyere ayawa dewu ngoyekko. Hangallayen luwo dikki duwon kaka taɍian casarai fangekko. Sadǝn ayawani kalwun gǝrakke fuwunjuyen koyekko.

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.


Wayenniya, kasuwu. Kaka sǝwa lǝp kǝnǝmmin ciyen. Kulum doya-a ayawa-a kasuwuro ladoro cadi. Yimdǝ duwan fanjuro lekkǝni. Amma yimbin kunden yaye sai sǝdaiya.

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.


Sa laa kajiri, yani-a bawani-a kaka-a bowonsera. Bowodudǝye curonju nokkǝna. Bune yimdiyedǝ, kǝnǝmbo boyekkiya, adǝ fuwun kare wunduyema ndallǝkkiwawo yekko. Yim adǝ tiyini ngar fanjǝna.

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.


Written by: Ursula Nafula
Illustrated by: Catherine Groenewald
Language: Kanuri
Level: Level 4
Source: Grandma's bananas from African Storybook
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 International License.
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