Die wrede, ou koning was dood. Oral deur die koningkryk was daar feesvieringe, want niemand was lief vir die koning nie. Sommige het gese hulle het hom geprys, uit vrees wat hy aan hulle mag doen. Die ou wrede koning was dood; hoop het soos 'n pilaar, stewig en sterk, gerys; dit het geklim, op, op, tot in die hoogste hemele. Daar sou weer goedheid in die land wees. Daar sou vir almal liefde en respek wees. Daar sou geluk in oorvloed wees; armoede, mishandeling en siekte sou daar nie meer wees nie. Of so het hulle gedink...

Long ago, the people of Gwadana lived simple, but happy, lives. They had found the secret of happiness. Their lives were very, very orderly. No one broke the rules. There were no police and no jails in that village. There were rules for just about anything and everything you care to think of, and everybody knew those rules well. Yes, they knew the rules very, very well indeed and happily obeyed them all. Until one day ...

In ’n land, nie ver hiervandaan nie, en nie so lank gelede nie, het Hlohlesakhe en sy familie gelukkig gewoon, totdat ’n vreeslike droogte oor die land gekom het. Mense was honger en het aan hongersnood gely totdat hulle so maer geword het dat jy die ribbebene van ’n volwasse man deur sy klere kon tel. Een dag, terwyl hy desperaat na iets gesoek het om huis toe te neem na sy familie, het Hlohlesake diep in die woud ingewandel opsoek na wortels en bessies ...

In a land not so far away and not that long ago, Hlohlesakhe and his family lived happily, until a terrible drought came to the land. People went hungry and starved until they got so thin you could count the ribs of a grown man through his clothes. One day, while he was desperately looking for something to take home to feed his family, Hlohlesakhe wandered deep into the forest in search of roots and berries ...

Nyaniso hates Sunday School. He knows all the Bible stories the Sunday School teacher tells them. He heard those stories long before he was big enough to go to Sunday School. Heard them from Makhulu, and many more stories besides. .He has attended Sunday School for many, many years and heard those stories over and over again. He used to like them. Used to like going to Sunday School, too. Then Lunga came.

Nyaniso hates Sunday School. He knows all the Bible stories the Sunday School teacher tells them. He heard those stories long before he was big enough to go to Sunday School. Heard them from Makhulu, and many more stories besides. .He has attended Sunday School for many, many years and heard those stories over and over again. He used to like them. Used to like going to Sunday School, too. Then Lunga came.

The old, cruel king was dead. All over the kingdom there were celebrations, for no one had loved the king. Some said they had praised him, fearing what he might do to them. The old, cruel king was dead; hope rose like a pillar, sturdy and strong; it climbed up, up, up to highest heavens. There would be kindness in the land. There would be love and honour for all. There would be happiness in abundance; poverty, abuse and disease would be no more. Or so they thought...

In a land far, far away, a long time ago, a certain town was suddenly beset by a plague of mice. And all were scared of nothing and no one. These mice chased dogs and firghtened cats and made them scuttle off, tails between their legs! The townspeople called a meeting. To the mayor, they said “We eleccted you to help solve our problems. Come on, then! Help us solve this problem before it is too late!” they did not pay him to grow fat and do nothing…

In a land not so far away and not that long ago, Hlohlesakhe and his family lived happily, until a terrible drought came to the land. People went hungry and starved until they got so thin you could count the ribs of a grown man through his clothes. One day, while he was desperately looking for something to take home to feed his family, Hlohlesakhe wandered deep into the forest in search of roots and berries...

Long ago, the people of Gwadana lived simple, but happy, lives. They had found the secret of happiness. Their lives were very, very orderly. No one broke the rules. There were no police and no jails in that village. There were rules for just about anything and everything you care to think of, and everybody knew those rules well. Yes, they knew the rules very, very well indeed and happily obeyed them all. Until one day…

In a land not so far away and not that long ago, Hlohlesakhe and his family lived happily, until a terrible drought came to the land. People went hungry and starved until they got so thin you could count the ribs of a grown man through his clothes. One day, while he was desperately looking for something to take home to feed his family, Hlohlesakhe wandered deep into the forest in search of roots and berries...

Nyaniso hates Sunday School. He knows all the Bible stories the Sunday School teacher tells them. He heard those stories long before he was big enough to go to Sunday School. Heard them from Makhulu, and many more stories besides. He has attended Sunday School for many, many years and heard those stories over and over again. He used to like them. Used to like going to Sunday School, too. Then Lunga came.

Long ago, the people of Gwadana lived simple, but happy, lives. They had found the secret of happiness. Their lives were very, very orderly. No one broke the rules. There were no police and no jails in that village. There were rules for just about anything and everything you care to think of, and everybody knew those rules well. Yes, they knew the rules very, very well indeed and happily obeyed them all. Until one day…

Nyaniso haat Sondagskool. Hy weet al Bybelverhale die die Sondagskool onderwyser vertel hulle. Hy hoor die stories lank voordat hy groot genoeg is om te gaan tot Sondag School was. Gehoor hoe hulle uit Makhulu, en nog vele meer stories behalwe. Hy bygewoon het Sondag Skool vir baie, baie jare en hoor die stories oor en oor weer. Hy gebruik om hulle te hou. Gebruik om te wil gaan Sondagskool ook. Toe kom Lunga.

The old, cruel king was dead. All over the kingdom there were celebrations, for no one had loved the king. Some said they had praised him, fearing what he might do to them. The old, cruel king was dead; hope rose like a pillar, sturdy and strong; it climbed up, up, up to highest heavens. There would be kindness in the land. There would be love and honour for all. There would be happiness in abundance; poverty, abuse and disease would be no more. Or so they thought ...