Flash Fiction Translation (English + Igbo)

So today, I decided to do something a little different - translate one of my stories to my native dialect. The language is Igbo. It belongs to a tribe in the Eastern part of Nigeria. I haven't done a translation before, and I believe this is pretty decent. I included the English version too. I hope it finds you well.

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Kwa ụbọchị, m nọdụrụ ma na-ele anya. Ọ na-abụ ọ bụla Tuesday, ma ọ bụghị ọzọ. Anọ m na-ekiri ha kemgbe ụbọchị a mụrụ ya, afọ iri na isii gara aga. Ọ bụghị ihe dị mfe. Enwere m aka ya ma kpọọ ya agbụrụ, nke ọ kpọrọ asị, ma ọ rụrụ ọrụ. Aka ya na-adọrọ mmasị m mgbe nile. Ha bụ ihe dọọrọ mmasị m na nke Saturday n'abalị. Ọ nọ naanị ya n'ụlọ ndò maka mmadụ abụọ n'akụkụ ọwụwa anyanwụ nke ụlọ oriri na ọṅụṅụ, na-ejide aka mmanya abụọ. Achọpụtala m mkpịsị aka dị mkpịsị aka na ogwe aka dị nkpa tupu m ahụ ihe mwute na anya ya. Ọnwa abụọ ka e mesịrị, anyị lụrụ. Mgbe ahụ, ndụ mere. Ọrụ malitere ịkwakọba maka anyị abụọ. Anyị na-ahụkarị ibe anyị. Mmekọahụ ghọrọ ememe. Anyị kwụsịrị ịgbalị ịtụrụ ime. Otu ụbọchị, anara m akwụkwọ mpempe akwụkwọ na akwụkwọ edetu.

"Enweghị m ike ime nke a ọzọ," ihe ndekọ ahụ gụrụ.

Enweghị m ajụjụ ọ bụla. Naanị m bịanyere aka n'akwụkwọ. Ma nke ahụ abụghị ọgwụgwụ. Ozi olu mgbe izu abụọ gasịrị. Anyị ga - enwe nwa - nwa anyị. Obi tọrọ m ezigbo ụtọ. Enyere m aka ma nweta ikike nleta kwa izu. M ga-anọdụ ala na-ekiri ha - ya na nwa anyị nwoke. Ọ zuru okè. Ogige ndị ahụ na-emechi ihu ya gafee n'egedege ihu ya, nkedo ahụ na obere imi ya, nke na-etinye ya n'elu egbugbere ọnụ ya na akpụkpọ anụ ahụ niile nyere aka kpuchie ihu ya mara mma. Otú ọ dị, e mechiri anya ya.

Na mbụ, anyị gbalịrị ịgọnahụ ya. Anyị gwara onwe anyị na ụmụ ọhụrụ na-ewe oge niile ha kwesịrị ịgbanwe. Ma, a chọpụtara na anophthalmia. Ọ kwụsịrị na-amụmụ ọnụ ọchị. Kwa abalị, tupu ya ekpuo ya, ọ ga-ejide aka abụọ kpuchie ihu ya, mkpịsị aka ya na anya abụọ, ka ọ na-enyocha nku anya ya, ma bulie anya ya. Mgbe ahụ, ọ ga-echeta na anyaballs ahụghị, ọ gaghịkwa etolite, ọ ga-agbaghakwa ụzụ. Amalitere m igosi ya kwa ụbọchị. Ọ dịghị mgbe ọ jụrụ. Aga m agba ya n'ubu mgbe ọ gụrụ ya.

Taa, m nọdụrụ na ebe m na-ahụkarị n'okpuru ụkwụ, na-ele mkpịsị aka aka ya na-agba ọsọ ọsọ na ihu ya. Maka oge mbụ n'ime afọ iri na isii, ahụrụ m ọchị ọchị na egbugbere ọnụ ya.

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Everyday, I sat and watched. It used to be every Tuesday, but not anymore. I've been watching them since the day he was born, sixteen years ago. It wasn't an easy birth. I had held her hand and called her a champ, which she hated, but it worked. Her hands always fascinated me. They were what attracted me that warm Saturday night. She was sitting alone in a booth for two at the east side of the restaurant, holding a wine glass with both hands. I had noticed the long fingers and the short nails before I saw the sadness in her eyes. Two months later, we were married. Then life happened. Work began to pile up for both of us. We barely saw each other. Sex became a ritual. We stopped trying to conceive. And one day, I received the annulment papers and a note.

"I can't do this anymore," the note read.

I never questioned it. I just signed. But that wasn't the end. A voicemail came after two weeks. We were going to have a baby - our baby. I was thrilled. I pushed and got visitation rights once every week. I would sit and watch them - she and our son. He was perfect. The curly bangs across his forehead, the mole on his small upturned nose, the dip on his upper lip and the smooth skin all helped frame his beautiful face. His eyes, however, remained closed.

At first, we tried to deny it. We told ourselves that babies took all the time they needed to adjust. But anophthalmia was diagnosed. She stopped smiling. Every night, before putting him to bed, she would gently cup his face with both hands, her index fingers on both eyes, as she traced his eyebrows, and raised his eyelids. Then, she would remember the eyeballs didn't and wouldn't form, and she would stifle a sob. I began to show up everyday. She never objected. I would rub her shoulders while she read to him.

Today, I sat on my usual spot at the foot of the bed, watching her slender fingers run slowly across his face. For the first time in sixteen years, I saw a warm smile on her lips.

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