Acoli
“Ah, Yat amunya ne tye en”, waya oloko kumeno ki yom cwiny inge yenyo kabat matye inget kitana ne. En oloro dogola kabat, ocung malo atir ka ocako tita ngo ma omyero atim kwed gi.
“Ka idok gang, mii omuny nyig yadi aryo cut cut. Abibino kunu kudiko ka nen-ne an kikoma’’.
Inge lok enoni, en omiya Box me yat amunya ne. Apwoye cii acako wot me cito.
Lamera onongo dong otyeko nino agwen ma kome lit. Abedo ka bako doga bot mama ni olwong waya ma obedo daktar nac, ento en okwero kun waco ni ‘jok-ke’obi ware kene. Ento lyeto ne dok omede ameda. I agiki ne Mama owinyo bako doga dok onongo dong angweco naka wa igang pa waya, anguke ma onongo tye ka yube me donyo ikabutu. Ikare ma abedo ka tite tyen kop ma okela en obedo ka yengo wiye calo onongo ngeyo gin mo iye, dok ikare mogo bene obedo ka ngolo lok-ka ki lapeny. Agiko lok-ka ki bako doga bote ni pe owek lamera oto. En odaa ni pingo pe abino con, ento ocuku cwinya ni two pa lamera ni pe rac tutwal kit ma Awaconi . En owaca ni yat amunya ne obikweyo lyeto ma en tye kwede. Abedo ki gen ni obikonyo, dok bene ageno lok pa waya. Ni cakke ikare ma en omiya lakodi yat acel-li pi cango lyeto ma abedo kwede ikare pa poto kot ma okato ni, dong ajuku bedo ki akalakala ikom Ngec ma en tye kwede.
Amako wot oyot oyot iyo kweyo me dok. Piny onongo col idye wor dok dwee bene onongo pe, ento awoto labongo lworo, pien onongo angeyo yo tyen enoni maber. Onongo atiko mede ki wot iyo enoni naka wang ma aoo iwang yo mukene ma oriine, ka aloke adok tung acam ka dok awoto maromo maiil acel naka wa idogola ot-ta. Iteng yo kono, lum ma boco ma obake obedo ka yenge ki yamo ma ngic ma obedo ka kodo iwang otyeno enoni. Ikare mogo abedo ka rwate ki olwango otit ma caaro mac ma obedo alum alum. Onongo atye ka neno lakodi otit egi ni cii awinyo dwon ma longo ma waco ni:
“MAKE! MAKE! Pe iwek ongweci!
Atuki pyee ilum cutcut, kun alego ni joo ma mito maka pe gu ononga. Awinyo kor tyen matye ka ngwec ka dong cok oo. Abutu piny ni bat ingom ki twon lworo kun ageno bwut kibot jo ma mito maka .Cut cut gin mo opoto cok kweda kun kom gin-ne obedo ka ngen-ne ingom. Tel-le obedo tye, med ki koko arem ki daa ikine. Ka dong piny oling nitik ikare ma kiloyo lamone acel.
“Mak tyene”, Dwon moni ma longo owaco.
Piny dok oling odoco, gin ma awinyo keken en aye yweyo matek ma aa kibot joo matye ka lweny. Onongo pwud pe angeyo wel dano adii matye. Dwon acel-li omede ki dwon me cik matek:
“In lababa ni, Pingo iweko tol enoni?”
“O…Obwut ki icinga”, Lawote ogamo ki mwolo.
“Ber”, dwon mukene ni ogamo, “Obedo gin maber tutwal ni inguke, ka onongo pe itimo kumeno kono dong itye ka winyo akemo na kumbedi.”.
Coo aryo ni guling doki. Abedo ka mito ni gu omede ki lok gi, pien abedo ki miti tutwal me ngeyo ne.
“Aieee”, ngat ma mwol ni okok, “Olayo ikoma”.
Lawote ni omwoc ki twon nyero. “cune bor tutwal”, en ogamo kumeno. Koko ma longo okatti ikare ma par tyen onyono del kome matut – “Ngwinycet pa meni”, Ngat ma ki nyono ni ogamo. En ocako monyo latim bal, ento lawote ongolo lok-ke macek.
“Mii dogi in lababa ni. Ngat mo twero winyi”.
Laco me aryo ni oling mot, pe omito loko gin mapat ki pa dwon me twero ni.
“Dong…Dong wa twero neke kumbedi?”, En openyo.
“Wek ming!”, Lawote ogamo ki kiniga, “Pe ineno ni watye iwang yo tyen dano?”
Koma omyel tutwal ki ika kanne na. Onongo pe atye ki kit gum mo keken me dok cen ki ngeya laling ling.
“Make matek”, En omede.
Lum obedo ka yenge ki woo ki ingeta, ci cal dano moo mabor macol ocung cok ingeta. Aumu wanga ingom, ki gen ni en pe obi winyo koko cwinya matye ka goone matek-ki. Myel kom oketa oo ka abedo ka kuru goc ma obibino. Me kaka enoni piny oling; Ka koko lac aye obedo ka ony ikom lum. En oomo cwinye ki yom cwiny ka odok cen iwang yo. Oloko ki lawote:
“Wek oaa malo. Wa tere igang-nga kama wa twero neke imung ma ngat mo pe ngeyo.”.
“Wabi neke idye wor matin ni?”, Laco me aryo ni openyo.
“Omyero watim kumeno. Ngat mo oneni ka mak-ke?”
“Ku. Atimo lalingling”, Laco me aryo ni obedo ka wak-ke kumeno.
“Ber tutwal, wacit wek wa tyek gin-ne oyot..”
Cal dano moni macol mabor-ri ocako wot me dok iwang yo. Laco me aryo ni olubo kore, kun ywayo tol. En oywayo oyot oyot ikare ma mabuc–ce otemo jemo. Awinyo kit ma kibedo ka ywayo ne kwede i kweyo mayom matye i yo, cii oaa malo, kun obedo kawot mot ki mwolo inge joo ma omake. Akuru naka wang ma piny macol oumo coo aryo ni ki dyel enoni ka dong adok cen iwot-ta.
English
“Ah here are the tablets”, my aunt cried out triumphantly after a moment’s rummage through the bed side cabinet. She shut the cabinet doors and, resuming her normal stature, began to explain what I was to do with them:
“When you return home give her two tablets immediately. I’ll come in the morning to check on her myself”.
With that she handed me a small grey cylindrical container. I thanked her and departed for home.
This visit to my aunt’s home had been occasioned by my sister’s illness. She had been ill for four days now, but though I had strongly urged my mother to contact our aunt she had refused, saying the ‘jok’ would soon wear itself out. Instead the fever had eaten away at my sister’s flesh. She lost all appetite and threw up whenever she ate anything. Sweat poured out of her body which felt hot at every touch. Tonight my sister’s condition had worsened. My mother at last relented to my pleas and I had run all the way to my aunt’s home, catching her just as she was preparing to go to bed. As I explained the purpose of my visit she nodded her head knowingly, occasionally interrupting to ask a question. I ended my narrative with a plea to her not to let my sister die. She admonished me for not having come earlier, but assured me that my sister’s condition was really not as bad as it looked. She said the tablets would allay the fever. I hoped they would. I trusted my aunt. Ever since she had given me the same kind of tablets to cure my fever during the last rainy season and I had stopped doubting her skill.
I walked away briskly along the sandy track. The night was dark and moonless, but I walked assuredly for I was familiar with the path. I would continue along this path until I reached the intersection, then I would turn left and walk for a further mile to my doorstep. It was as simple as that. At my sides the tall grass made gentle brushing sounds as they swayed in the night breeze. Occasionally I came upon a bright green night fly whistling hoarsely as it perched itself on a grass stalk. I was looking at one of these creatures when I heard the shout.
“Catch him! CATCH HIM! Don’t let him get away”.
Instinctively I dived into the grass, praying that my assailants might not be able to find me. I heard running feet making rapid progress towards me. I crouched closer to the earth in a last desperate bid to escape capture. Suddenly there was a thud ahead of me as bodies tumbled to the ground. A struggle ensued, punctuated by much groaning and whining. I looked up to see what was happening, but my view was obscured by a growth of vegetation which shook violently as bodies were hurled against it. Presently there was calm beyond as one of the adversaries was subdued.
“Hold his leg”, commanded a loud voice.
Again there was silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the strugglers. I was yet unsure of the number of people involved. The same voice continued in an admonishing tone:
“You stupid fool, why did you let go of the rope”?
“It… it slipped from my fingers”, muttered his companion meekly.
“Well”, said the other, “It’s a good thing you caught up with him, otherwise you would be feeling my anger now”.
The two men fell silent. Only the sound of their movement was audible. Silently I willed them to continue their conversation, my curiosity biting. I wanted to see who it was that they held captive. I moved my leg, but the rustle of the grass sounded loud in my ear. I wondered if they heard me beyond.
“Aieee”, cried the meek one, “he’s urinated on me”.
His companion broke into a throaty laugh. “He’s got a long penis”, he commented. There was a loud whine as foot dug into flesh:
“Ngyinchet pa meni”, shouted the offended one. He launched into abusive oaths against the offender, but was cut shot by his companion.
“Shut up you fool. Someone might hear you and find us out”.
The second man fell silent, not daring to contradict the authoritative voice.
“Shall… shall we kill him now”? He presently asked.
“Don’t be so stupid”, retorted the other angrily, “can’t you see what we’re on a footpath? What if someone comes and finds us cutting him up”?
I shuddered in my hiding place. I looked beyond the grass to the footpath. There was no chance of me making a silent retreat so I would have to dash and hopefully make up some headway before the killers could react. I measured my breathing in preparation for the dash and was about to spring up when I heard the loud voice close by.
“Hold him tight”, he said, “I’m just going behind this bush to relieve myself”.
There was a swish as the grass was parted and a tall, dark figure stood beside me. I dug my face into the ground, hoping that he would not hear the violent beating of my heart. He cleared his throat and spat out loudly. A tremor run through my body as I anticipated the coming blow. Instead there was silence, then a hissing sound as urine jetted through the grass, a few drops falling on my leg. He sighed contentedly and in a moment retreated beyond the vegetation. He addressed his companion.
“Get him up. Let’s take him to my home and there we can kill him without anyone finding out”.
“Shall I be having the thighs and intestines as you promised?” Asked the companion.
“Yes, yes”, answered the first man impatiently.
“And the skin as well. My mother would like that”, continued the second.
“Stop talking and hurry up”, returned the other, “we’ve already been too long on this footpath. “Someone’s bound to pass along soon”.
“Shall we kill him tonight”? Asked the second man.
“We have to if we don’t want anyone to fine out. Did anyone see you when you captured him”?
“No. I was very quiet”, boasted the second man, “They will only notice he’s missing tomorrow morning”.
“That’s why we have to kill him tonight before anyone finds out. By the time they wake up tomorrow he will be in my cooking pot. They can’t say anything then, can they”?
“That’s true”, agreed his companion.
“Well then, bring him along”. The tall, dark figure began to amble down the path. Presently the second man emerged from behind the vegetation pulling at a rope. He tugged at it impatiently when his prisoner appeared to resist. I heard the sound of a body dragging along the soft sand, then he bounded up, whining as his resistance was overcome. He trotted meekly behind his captors.
I waited until the two men and the goat had been enveloped by the darkness before resuming my journey.