Vhuria vhu rotholaho ho fhira. Lutabvula lu khou swika hafha muvhunḓuni wa Nkanyezi. Hu si kale vhadzulapo vha ḓo kuvhangana vha takalela khalaṅwaha ntswa u fhirisa maṅwe maḓuvha a ṅwaha. Nkanyezi o takalela ḓuvha ḽa u pembelela luṱabvula u fhira zwithu zwoṱhe.
The Winter cold had passed.
Spring was coming to Nkanyezi’s village.
Soon the villagers would gather to celebrate the new season. Nkanyezi looked forward to the Spring festival more than any other day in the year.
Matsheloni maṅwe a dudelaho, Nkanyezi o pfa vhadzulapo vha vhili vha tshi amba nga u pembela uho. “Vhathu vha Ndlovu vho lata fulufhelo ḽa u pembela.” Muṅwe u a sea. “Ri ngavha hani na vhutambo ha u pembelela lutabvula muvhunḓuni une vhadzulapo a vha tsha ṱoḓa u pembela?” Muṅwe u a vhudzisa.
One warm morning, Nkanyezi overheard two village elders talking about the festival.”The people of Ndlovu have lost their spirit of celebration,” one sighed.”How can we have a Spring festival in a village that has forgotten how to celebrate?” asked another.
Nkanyezi o vha a khou vhilaela. “Ḓuvha ḽi ḓo dovha hani ḽa tavha ra sa imba ra ḽi karusa kha u kumedza ha vhuria?” U a vhudzisa. Nkanyezi u a elekanya lwa tshifhinga tshilapfu. “Ndi fanela u wana zwe nda xedza.” “Ndi fanela u ya nda ṱoḓa zwithu zwine zwa ḓo vhuisa fhulufhelo ḽa u pembela hafha muvhunḓuni wanga.”
Nkanyezi was worried.”How will the sun shine again unless we sing to wake it from its winter slumber?” she asked herself.
Nkanyezi thought for a long time.”I must find what we have lost,” she decided.”I must go in search of things that will bring back the spirit of celebration to my village.”
Vhahulwane vha fhululedza Nkanyezi uri a tshimbile zwavhuḓi. Vha mufha bege ya u fara zwine a ḓo zwi wana. Nkanyezi o vha a khou ofha fhedzi a vha na fhulufhelo urii u ḓo bvelela.
The elders gave Nkanyezi their blessing for the journey. They gave her a bag to carry the things she would find.
Nkanyezi was afraid, but she believed she would succeed.
Nkanyezi a tshimbila ḓuvha ḽoṱhe a gonya tshikwara a dovha a wela govha. A tala a wela mulambo muhulwane, u swika a tshi swika kha dunzi ḽa thavha tswuku.
Nkanyezi walked all day. She hiked up a hill, and down into a valley. She sailed across the great river, and climbed between sharp rocks. She marched across the plains until she reached the shadow of the red mountains.
Sa izwi ho vha hu khou vha madekwana, Nkanyezi a swika muvhunḓuni wa maitele na mivhala zwine o vha a sathu u zwi vhona. A vhudza vhahulwane vha henefho nga ha lwendo lwawe lwa u vhuisa u pembela vhathuni. Mme a lushaka lwonolwo a fha Nkanyezi mpho. A vhudza musidzana, “Nga lufuno ri u fha pennde hei ya vusulusa mivhala yo sudufhalaho ngei muvhundu wa hanu.” Nkanyezi a livhuwa vhahulwane a longa pennde begeni. Nga ḽi tevhelaho a bvela phanḓa na lwendo hu tshe matsheloni o takalela tshifhiwa tsha muvhala.
As night was closing in, Nkanyezi arrived at a village of patterns and colours as she had never seen before. She told the village elders about her journey to bring back the spirit of celebration to her people.
The mother of this tribe gave Nkanyezi a gift. She told the girl, “With love we give to you this paint to restore colour to a village that has gone dull.”
Nkanyezi thanked the elders and put the paint in her bag.
Early the next morning she went on her way, excited with this gift of colour.
Nkanyezi a tshimbila ḓuvha ḽoṱhe vhukati ha ḓaka ḽo pinzanaho ḽa miri milapfu lapfu. Musi ḽi tshi kovhela a sa tsha kona u vhona nga swiswi, a pfa muungo wa ngoma i lidzwaho. A ṱavhanya a livha hune ngoma ya khou lila hone a tshi vho pfa muya wa u tshina u tshi da milenzheni yawe yo netaho.
Nkanyezi walked all day, through a vast forest of giant trees. As the sky became too dark for her to see, she heard the sound of beating drums. She hurried towards the drumming, feeling the spirit of dance coming to her tired feet.
Nkanyezi a diwana o swika shangoni ḽa Bhubezi. Vhathu vho vha vho dzula mullion vha tshi khou vhuya a pfa nyambo dza vhuḓi nga u ralo. A vhudza vhahulwane vha henefho nga lwendo lwawe lwa u ṱoḓa u vhuisa muya wa u pembela kha vhathu vha hawe. Vho mbo mu ramba uri a awele a edele navho honovho vhusiku.
Nkanyezi found herself in the village of the Bhubezi. People were sitting around a fire, drumming and singing. She had never before heard such wonderful music.
She told the village elders about her journey to bring back the spirit of celebration to her people. The Bhubezi invited her to rest and stay the night.
Nga matsheloni khosi ya vhidza Nkanyezi. “Ṅwanaga,” ya ralo, “ngoma yo khetheaho khei, i bveledzaho luimbo luswa tshifhinga tshothe ni tshi i lidza.” Nkanyezi a livhuwa vhahulwane a longa ngoma begeni. A bvela phanḓa na lwendo o takadzwa nga ngoma ya u pembela na u tshina.
In the morning the chief called on Nkanyezi.”My child,” he said, “here is a special drum. It plays a new song every time you beat it.”
Nkanyezi thanked the elders and put the drum in her bag. She went on her way again, delighted with this gift of music and dance.
Nga ḓuvha ḽa vhuraru ḽa lwendo lwawe a tshi fhira muvhundu wa kholomo dzo nonaho, ningo ya thoma u fembedza. Munukhelelo wa vhuḓi wa pfala u tshi ḓa a thoma u rothisa nthe nga mulomo. A tevhela munukhelelo a mbo bvelela muvhunḓuni a wana vhathu vho ima vha tshi khou bika ṋama. Lushaka holu lwo vha lu tshi ḓivhelwa u pembelela vhuṱambo. Nkanyezi o vha a sa athu vhuya a tangana na zwiḽiwa zwo raloho. O no ḽa a fura a vhudza vhahuwane nga ha lwendo lwawe lwa u vhuisa muya wa u pembela kha vhadzulapo vha hawe.
On the third day of her journey, as she a passed a field of fat cows, her nose started to tingle. An aroma tickled her taste buds and her mouth started to water. She followed the scent, and arrived in a village to find people standing over steaming pots of stew.
This tribe was famous for its feasts and Nkanyezi had never before tasted such flavours. After she had eaten her fill, she told the village elders about her journey to bring back the spirit of celebration to her people.
Nga ḽi tevhelaho khoro ya henefho ya mufha tshipaisi tsha muvango wavhuḓi. “Ṅwana washu,” vha ralo, “nga hetshi tshipaisi thumbu dzo takalaho ndi muga! Ri ni ṋea mpho ya zwiḽiwa zwavhuḓi.” Nkanyezi a livhuwa vhahulwane a longa tshipaisi begeni. A ḓivha uri u na zwoṱhe zwi ṱoḓeaho u fha muthu wa nungo. A thoma lwendo lulapfu lwa u humela hayani.
The next day, the council of cooks gave her a secret spice blend.”Our daughter,” they said, “with these spices, happy tummies are guaranteed! We give you the gift of good food.”
Nkanyezi thanked the elders and put the spices in her bag.
She knew she had everything she needed. With new energy she started the long journey back to the village of Ndlovu.
A tshi swika vhathu vha mu kuvhanganela uri vha pfe uri o tshimbila hani. A vula bege uri a kovhe zwifhiwa kha havha vhathu. Vhathu vha takalela zwifhiwa izwo. Vhuthu ha vhaṅwe na ṱhuṱhuwedzo ya Nkanyezi zwa ḓisa muvhala, dzinyimbo na mitshino kha vhathu. Zwenezwo zwa amba uri muya wa u pembela wo vhuyedzedzwa kha vhathu vha muvhunḓuni wa Ndlovu.
When she arrived home the villagersgathered around her to hear of heradventures. She told them the talesof what she had seen, heard, andeaten.
Then she opened her bag toshare the gifts given. The villagersrejoiced to receive these treasures.
The generosity of others and the courage of Nkanyezi brought back colour,song and dance to the people.
And so the spirit of celebration was restored to the village of Ndlovu.
