On results day, the principal announced her name: 89% — first in the region.
When she finally sat for the Grade 11 mock exam, the paper asked: “Tanga oshilalwamwiko tashi ti: ‘Oshindonga osho oshilonga shandje, oshinglizisa osho oshilandwa shandje.’” (“Write an essay: ‘Oshindonga is my tool, English is my merchandise.’”) oshindonga syllabus grade 10-11
“No. You see omugongo (the fruit), etungwa (the nut), and ombinae (the fiber). That’s noun class 4, 9, and 3. And see those three children chasing a chicken? That’s a proverb: Iikokolo itatu itashi ka kuta omwifi – ‘three cockerels cannot cool the porridge.’ Too many cooks. Now write that down.” On results day, the principal announced her name:
That evening, she placed the syllabus on her grandmother’s lap. “I finished it, Meme.” That’s noun class 4, 9, and 3
“Speaking it is easy, Meme. But writing it according to the syllabus? We have to know the seven classes of nouns. The omwa-, ova- prefixes. The e-, oma- plurals. The way okakwana becomes aakwana when they grow up. And the proverbs… Ondjiva yomunhu kayi na omukonda – ‘a person’s leg has no elbow.’ What does that even mean?”
Ndapanda wrote for two hours. She filled five pages. She used proverbs from her grandmother, noun classes from the palms, and a conclusion her teacher called “elegant and fierce.”
Her grandmother stood up slowly. “Come.”
