That familiar odour paraded my nostrills,
Sending through me a craving of no ease,
A craving tending to rip my stomach out,
A craving threatening to drive me crazy,
For walking by could not happen,
The odour not only pricked pangs of hunger,
But also left me running out of spatter.

Down sat my lovely grandmother,
On the three-legged stool bought by father,
On a closer look by a passer-by,
One could see how occupied she is,
Trying to make the delicacy we all knew of,
The one that grandfather usually enjoys,
The one that my aunt often calls 'matoke'.

My child,my child,
The journey ahead is a long one son,
And it is only the persevering heart that wins,
Take a look at this fire child,
What do you know about it in our land child,
Just as fierce as it is son,
So should children of this land be,
For children of Gunglu are known to be fearless and virtuous child.

Now go see your grandfather,
Let him tell you how our society values courage,
Let him tell you how the lion-hearted behave,
Let him tell you about the fearless mother,
How she made even the bravest men tremble,
Let him tell you about the coward king,
The one who led his people into misery,
For a chickened soul they say,
Harbours no heart at all.





© Grassland