Mwanga wa kwanza kijijini

Usiku wa manane, kijiji ni giza na kimya. Kila nyumba imelala. Barabara ni tupu, na madirisha ni meusi. Lakini kwenye barabara moja ndogo kuna mwanga mmoja. Unatoka kwenye dirisha la duka la mikate, mahali pekee palipoamka katika mji wote uliolala.

Late at night, the village is dark and quiet. Every house is asleep. The streets are empty, and the windows are black. But on one small street there is a single light. It comes from the window of the bakery, the only place awake in the whole sleeping town.

Ni saa tisa usiku, na mwokaji tayari yuko kazini. Anawasha jiko kubwa na kulilisha kuni mpaka lianze kung'aa. Unga unaruka hewani, na mvuke hupanda mikate ya kwanza inapoingizwa. Harufu ya joto ya mkate mpya huanza kujaza duka. Polepole, husambaa nje ya mlango na chini ya barabara tupu, ambako hakuna aliyeamka bado kuiona.

It is three in the morning, and the baker is already at work. He lights the big oven and feeds it wood until it glows. Flour floats in the air, and steam rises as the first loaves go in. The warm smell of fresh bread begins to fill the shop. Slowly, it drifts out the door and down the empty street, where no one is awake yet to notice it.

Kufikia saa kumi na mbili asubuhi, kijiji huanza kuamka. Watu hufungua macho yao kwa harufu ya mkate wa joto. Hutembea hadi dukani, ambapo mwanga umekuwa ukiwaka usiku kucha, na hukuta rafu zimejaa mikate mipya. Mwokaji huwapa mkate wao kwa macho yaliyochoka lakini yenye furaha. Usiku wake mrefu huwa mwanzo wa joto, laini wa siku ya kila mtu mwingine.

By six in the morning, the village starts to wake. People open their eyes to the smell of warm bread. They walk to the bakery, where the light has been on all night, and they find the shelves full of fresh loaves. The baker hands them their bread with tired, happy eyes. His long night becomes the warm, soft start of everyone else's day.