Sample Translation: "Tafiti and the Journey to the End of the World"

Tafiti and the Journey to the End of the World

Julia Boehme

Illustrations by Julia Ginsbach

Translator: Chantal Wright chwright1@gmail.com Website: chantalwright.org

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Tafiti’s Dream

“Tafiti! What are you doing? Come back here!” squeaked a nervous Tutu, watching his brother move further away.

“Think of Mister Gogo!”

“He’s nowhere to be seen,” Tafiti murmured, creeping slightly further away from the burrow towards the big rock. From there he had a wonderful view over the wide open plain with its red earth, yellow grass and a few giant trees here and there. But what interested Tafiti most of all was the mysterious big hill far away on the horizon. What could possibly be behind it?

Tafiti made himself as tall as possible. As if that was any use! If you wanted to see what was behind the hill you would have to climb to the very top. But that was much too dangerous and long a journey for such a small meerkat.

Tafiti sighed.

“LOOK OUT! Mister Gogo’s coming!” Tutu shouted suddenly.

Quick as a flash all of the meerkats disappeared into their burrows. Well, all but one. Tafiti slid down off the rock and raced across the sand. Quick, into the next burrow!

“I’ve got you now,” Mister Gogo thought to himself happily and swooped down.

With a giant leap Tafiti somersaulted into a burrow. Phew, that was close!

“Bother! No lunch for me then,” Mister Gogo grumbled to himself outside the burrow.

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“Phew, you were lucky.” Tutu was white as a sheet.

“Yes, indeed,” Grandpapop nodded. “You should really be more careful, Tafiti!”

“Yes, yes,” Tafiti panted, still completely out of breath.

In the evenings, when it was cold and dark, all of the meerkats cuddled up together by the fire. Tutu would roast some nuts. And Grandpapop would tell stories from the old days, especially the one about Great-great-great-greatgreat-great-grandpapop who long long ago had set off on a dangerous journey and made his new home right here. Tafiti knew all these stories off by heart. But he still liked to listen to them.

“There was flood water everywhere,” Grandpapop explained.

“And not a dry patch of earth in sight. He and his family had no choice but to go and look for a new, dry home. And so off they went and had many, many adventures!”

Tafiti sighed. He would have so loved to have an adventure. Sometimes he almost wished that their burrow would flood too. Then they would have to go and look for a new home. Tafiti knew where they could go: to the big hill! Then he could finally find out what was behind it.

Tafiti thought for a moment. Did there really need to be a flood? Did something terrible have to happen before he could go off on an adventure? Couldn’t he just, well, go?

Out of curiosity? Tafiti scratched his ear. He would have to ask Grandpapop.

“Are you crazy?” Grandpapop gasped. “Weren’t you listening when I told the story of Great-great-great-great-great3

great-grandpapop? Because if you had been listening then you would know how dangerous it is!” Grandpapop looked around at his family. “What are the most dangerous things in the world?”

Tafiti sighed. He knew what was coming next. They all knew what the dangers were.

“The danger that comes from the air.” said Grandpapop.

“Oh yes,” Tutu nodded. “Think of Mister Gogo, Tafiti.”

“The dangers on land,” Grandpapop continued.

“The hissing snake,” murmured Grandmamop.

“And the deadly paws of King Kofi,” Tutu whispered, trembling. The very thought of the terrible lion made all his hairs stand on end.

“And don’t forget,” Grandpapop added, “the danger of the roaring water.”

“But Great-great-great-great-great-grandpapop survived it all,” Tafiti said, stubbornly.

“Yes, but he was special,” Grandpapop nodded thoughtfully.

“Very special indeed.”

“Perhaps I would survive it too,” Tafiti said quietly.

“And then I would find out what lies beyond the big hill!”

“Beyond the big hill? But Tafiti, you know what’s beyond the big hill.” Grandpapop peered at him over the top of his glasses. “There’s nothing beyond the big hill. That’s where the world ends!”

“No,” Tafiti whispered. “No, it doesn’t.”

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He was sure of this because that was where the gnus and the zebras and lots of other creatures came from. They couldn’t just pop up from nowhere.

“But of course it does,” Grandpapop laughed. “Everybody knows that. And now, good night!”

Tafiti was gasping for breath. The sun was beating down.

He was tired and thirsty. But incredibly happy. He had almost made it. Despite all the dangers he was here, at the bottom of the big hill!

He began to climb but slid back down the steep slope. He carried on tirelessly, climbing higher and higher. Soon he would reach the top. And then he would finally, finally see what was hidden behind the hill. Just a few more steps. Tafiti poked his head up expectantly – and woke up.

What a disappointment!

Even in his dreams he couldn’t see what was beyond the hill. He had had this dream a thousand times already. And he always woke up a few seconds too early.

The next day, instead of playing with his friends, Tafiti sat in the shade of the big acacia tree. He ran red sand through his fingers, lost in thought.

“Maybe I should just set off,” he thought. “Even if it’s true that the world comes to an end behind the hill – I want to know what the end looks like.”

Tafiti sighed. If only there weren’t so many dangers: the danger from the air, the dangers on land and the danger of the roaring water …

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But if Great-great-great-great-great-grandpapop had conquered them, why couldn’t he do the same?

Tafiti jumped up. He had no choice: he had to give it a try!

6

The Journey Begins

Tutu was the only one Tafiti told.

“Oh no. You can’t do that!” Tutu looked at him in horror.

“I have to,” Tafiti explained. He winked at his brother.

“But a major expedition like this requires supplies. Will you help me pack?”

When everybody was asleep, they crept to the pantry. The door creaked suspiciously. But nobody woke up.

They made a few sneaky sandwiches.

“Would you like some of Grandmamop’s cake too?” Tutu asked.

“Of course. A big piece, please,” Tafiti said.

Grandmamop’s cake was the best in the whole savannah.

They crept back into their bedroom.

“Not a word to anybody until I’m gone,” Tafiti whispered.

“Promise?”

Tutu nodded with a heavy heart.

Early the next morning Tafiti set off.

“Come back in one piece! And don’t be too long!” Tutu said, waving after him as Tafiti walked towards the rising sun carrying his large bundle of provisions.

Soon he had passed the large rock. His whiskers trembled a little. He had never been this far away from the burrow before.

He got further and further away with every step.

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Tafiti was careful of course. He made sure to walk under trees and bushes whenever he could. Or to scurry through the long grass. And he was always on the lookout, stopping to listen and sniff the air with his eyes fixed on the sky. But Mister Gogo appeared to be asleep.

“I hope he sleeps for a long long time,” Tafiti thought, when he reached a dangerous spot a little later on. It had no grass, no bushes and no trees. Only pebbles and driedup mud. There was nowhere for him to hide here. Nowhere at all.

Tafiti looked up at the sky anxiously. Nothing. Not even a cloud.

Tafiti set off at a run. After a short distance he slowed down. A narrow stream was trickling along in front of him.

Was that the danger of roaring water?

“How silly!” Tafiti laughed. “What’s so dangerous about a bit of water?”

He crossed the stream by leaping from stone to stone and didn’t even get wet feet.

Quick now! Tafiti dived into the patchy, prickly grass. He was safe again.

Tafiti didn’t stop until the sun was high in the sky. Then he took a break under a giant baobab tree where he could hide away in the shade between the roots.

He had a drink from his bottle and ate a sandwich and some cake. Mmm, the cake really was good. Grandmamop was the best baker in the world.

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When he had finished eating, Tafiti fell asleep. And dreamt for the thousandth and one time that he was climbing the big hill …

9

King Kofi

“Ha ha ha, I’ve got you!”

A horrible laugh woke Tafiti with a start. He got to his feet and had a good look around. There, not far from his tree, stood a lion. A big lion with an impressive mane and sharp, glistening teeth. Tafiti’s hairs stood on end. The lion was pinning a pig to the ground with one giant paw.

He must just have been caught him.

“You should be vewy happy”, the lion crooned, pleased with himself. He didn’t pronounce all of his words correctly.

“Why?” coughed the pig. He didn’t sound very happy.

“Because I, the king of the wions, King Kofi himthelf, the thwongest and handthomest wion far and wide, am going to eat you for my dinner.” King Kofi shook his mane proudly.

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” sighed the pig. “I must be the luckiest pig in the world.”

“Yeth, you are. And I’ll even wet you choothe whether I eat you with apple thauce or muthtard. Ho ho ho,” he laughed again and licked his lips.

The pig gulped. His throat was parched. He hated apple sauce and mustard was even worse.

“Hold on a minute, hold on a minute,” piped up a voice.

Tafiti couldn’t stay silent any longer. He had jumped out of his hiding place and run over to King Kofi.

“Wook what we’ve got here. Dethert!”

King Kofi beamed from ear to ear. “Come cwoser, my wittle dethert, come cwoser!”

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“No, no, I’m not your dessert.” Tafiti said firmly. “I’m here to deliver the main course, Your Majesty.”

“Main couwse?” asked the lion, confused.

“That’s right,” Tafiti said. “You see, Your Majesty, you can eat pork any old day of the week. But I’ve got something out of the ordinary. A meal fit for a king.”

Tafiti swung his bundle of provisions.

“And what might that be?” King Kofi asked suspiciously.

The wriggling pig was still pinned to the ground under his paw.

“I just happen to have a piece of the best cake in the entire world,” boasted Tafiti.

“Cake?” King Kofi growled. “Show me.”

Tafiti made a great show of unwrapping his bundle. “Take a look for yourself, Your Majesty.”

King Kofi bent over. He sniffed. He sniffed again.

“Mmmmmm, that doesn’t smell bad at all.”

“Not bad at all? Your Majesty, you’ve never tasted anything this good.”

“Then BWING IT HERE!” roared the lion.

At this Tafiti jumped back in fright. “Not so fast, not so fast,” he said to calm the lion. “You can only have the cake if you let me and the pork roast go.”

“Huh?” King Kofi’s jaw dropped open.

“Then and only then. Got it?” Tafiti said firmly. “Let the pig go or I’ll take the cake and be on my way.”

King Kofi squinted at the cake. Tafiti could see his mouth watering.

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“Doeth it tathte as good as it thmells?” the king asked.

“Better. Much, much better,” Tafiti said.

King Kofi thought for a moment. He didn’t want to choose.

He wanted all of it: the pig, the meerkat and the cake.

The only question was: how?

“Not interested?” Tafiti asked. “Then I’ll eat the cake all by myself.”

“NO!” roared the lion. “GIVE IT TO ME.” And just like that he pounced.

Quick as a flash the dazed and confused pig pulled himself together and vanished. Tafiti dropped the cake and took himself off to safety.

King Kofi looked around, confused. He didn’t know who to chase first. Luckily for the pig and the meerkat who both managed to get away.

“Wats,” cursed King Kofi.

But then he caught a whiff of the wonderful cake.

When Tafiti looked back from a distance, King Kofi was gobbling up Grandmamop’s cake. His tail was swinging happily from side to side. He seemed to be enjoying it.

Tafiti rushed to get out of the lion’s sight. Just in case King Kofi was still hungry after eating the cake.

Quickly he scurried through the high yellow grass. On towards the big hill.

“Hey, you there,” snuffled a voice from behind him.

“Wait a moment.”

Tafiti twirled around. It was the pig he had just saved.

It was trotting after him gasping for breath.

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“I wanted to say thank you,” it puffed. “You saved my life.”

“Well, I just happened to have some cake along with me,” Tafiti mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

The pig shook his head. “You are really very brave! Nobody else would have done that even if they’d had an entire cake shop along with them. Thank you very very much.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Tafiti mumbled. “We meerkats always help each other out. It’s the meerkat way!”

The pig turned red in the snout. “But I’m not a meerkat, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” he said. “By the way, my name’s Bristles.”

“And I’m Tafiti,” said Tafiti and held out his paw.

“Are you on a journey?” Bristles asked.

Tafiti nodded.

“So am I,” said Bristles. “I’m actually from the north. I wanted to see what the south looked like, and maybe paint a picture or two.”

“You’re a painter?” Tafiti asked curiously.

“Well, I don’t have bristles on my ears for nothing.”

Bristles wiggled his ears in delight. “And what sort of a journey are you on?”

“I’m going to the big hill over there,” Tafiti confessed.

“Grandpapop says it’s the end of the world,” he added in a whisper.

“The end of the world, eh?” grunted the pig. “I always did want to know what that looked like!”

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