1. 1.
One Afro-Asian writer is NgugiwaThiong'o. His publications include "Dreams in a Time of War",
"Something Torn and Something New: An African Renaissance", "Wizard of the Crow"
"Decolonizing the Mind", "Devil on the Cross", "Matigari: A Novel", "Petals of Blood", "A Grain of
Wheat", "The River Between", "Weep Not Child" and "I Will Marry When I Want". Thiong'o has
also written a number of plays for the theater, including "The Black Hermit".
Another notable Afro-Asian writer is Nasra Al Adawi. Her publicationsinclude "Within Myself",
"Brave Faces: The Daring Stand Against Cancer", and "Collective Thoughts", which is a
collection of some of her earliest poems.
Perhaps one of the most influential Afro-Asian writers is Chinua Achebe. Achebe has written a
vast number of works, including, "Things Fall Apart," "No Longer at Ease", "Arrow of God", "A
Man of the People", "Anthills of the Savannah", "Chike and the River", and has given a number
of significant and fascinating lectures, including "An Image of Africa" in which he pronounces
Joseph Conrad's novel "Heart of Darkness", and the author himself, as "bloody racist".
Tahar Ben Jelloun is another significant Afro-Asian writer, whose works include "Solitaire", "The
Sand Child", "Silent Day in Tangiers", "With Downcast Eyes", "The Fruits of Hard Word",
"Racism Explained to My Daughter", "The Blinding Absence of Light", "Leaving Tangier" and
"The Rising of the Ashes".

2. 2.
“Mummy! Mummy!” shouted little Murna racing from the front door through to the kitchen.
“There’s a parcel. The postman’s brought a parcel!”
Her mother, Savni, looked at her in surprise. She had no idea who could have sent them a parcel.
Maybe it was a mistake. She hurried to the door to find out. Sure enough, the postman was there,
holding a parcel about the size of a small brick.
“From America, madam,” he said. “See! American stamps.”
It was true. In the top right-hand corner of the brown paper parcel were three strange-looking
stamps, showing a man’s head. The package was addressed to Savni, in big, clear black letters.
“Well, I suppose it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni,” said Savni to herself, as the postman went on
his way down the street, whistling. “Although it must be twenty years since we heard anything
from her. I thought she would have been dead by now.”
Savni’s husband Jornas and her son Arinas were just coming in from the garden, where Murna had
run to tell them about the parcel. “Well, open it then!” said Arinas impatiently. “Let’s see what’s
inside!”
Setting the parcel down in the middle of the table, Savni carefully began to tear open the paper.
Inside, there was a large silver container with a hinged lid, which was taped shut. There was also
a letter.
“What is it? What is it?” demanded Murna impatiently. “Is it a present?”
“I have no idea,” said Savni in confusion. “I think it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni. She went to
America almost thirty years ago now. But we haven’t heard from her in twenty years. Perhaps the
letter will tell us.” She opened the folded page cautiously, then looked up in dismay. “Well, this is
no help!” she said in annoyance. “It’s written in English! How does she expect us to read English?
We’re poor people, we have no education. Maybe Pasni has forgotten her native language, after
thirty years in America.”
“Well, open the pot, anyway,” said Jornas. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
Cautiously, Savni pulled the tape from the neck of the silver pot, and opened the lid. Four heads
touched over the top of the container, as their owners stared down inside.

3. “Strange,” said Arinas. “All I see is powder.” The pot was about one-third full of a kind of lightgrey powder.
“What is it?” asked Murna, mystified.
“We don’t know, darling,” said Savni, stroking her daughter’s hair. “What do you think?” Murna
stared again into the pot.
“I think it’s coffee,” she announced, finally. “American coffee.”
“It’s the wrong colour for coffee, darling,” said Jornas thoughtfully. “But maybe she’s on the right
track. It must be some kind of food.” Murna, by now, had her nose right down into the pot.
Suddenly, she lifted her head and sneezed loudly.
“Id god ub by doze,” she explained.
“That’s it!” said Arinas. “It must be pepper! Let me try some.” Dipping a finger into the powder,
he licked it. “Yes,” he said, “it’s pepper all right. Mild, but quite tasty. It’s American pepper.”
“All right,” said Savni, “we’ll try it on the stew tonight. We’ll have American-style stew!”
That evening, the whole family agreed that the American pepper had added a special extra taste
to their usual evening stew.They were delighted with it. By the end of the week, there was only a
teaspoonful of the grey powder
left in the silver container. Then Savni called a halt.
“We’re saving the last bit for Sunday. Dr. Haret is coming to dinner, and we’ll let him have some
as a special treat. Then it will be finished.”
The following Sunday, the whole family put on their best clothes, ready for dinner with Dr. Haret.
He was the local doctor, and he had become a friend of the family many years before, when he
had saved Arinas’s life after an accident. Once every couple of months, Savni invited the doctor
for dinner, and they all looked forward to his entertaining stories of his youth at the university in
the capital.
During dinner, Savni explained to the doctor about the mysterious American pepper, the last of
which she had put in the stew they were eating, and the letter they could not read.

4. “Well, give it to me, give it to me!” said the doctor briskly. “I speak English! I can translate it for
you.”
Savni brought the letter, and the family waited, fascinated, as the doctor began to translate.
“Dear Savni: you don’t know me, but I am the son of your old Great-Aunt Pasni. She never talked
much to us about the old country, but in her final illness earlier this year, she told us that after
her death, she wanted her ashes to be sent back home to you so that you could scatter them on
the hills of the country where she was born. My mother died two weeks ago, and her funeral and
cremation took place last week. I am sending her ashes to you in a silver casket. Please do as she
asked and spread them over the ground near where she was born. Your cousin, George Leary.”

5. 3.
AFRO ASIAN STORIES WITH ANALYSIS
Author: Yssa Marie Lopez
Title: The Fox and the Bear
Body of the story: Long ago, deep in the hills of Japan, there lived a fox and a bear. One
day, the fox came to the bear with a plan.
“I have a good idea, Mrs. Bear,” the fox said. “will you listen?”
“yes, of course,” answered the bear.
“well, at the edge of this forest there is a great, wide field,” the fox explained. “There’s
nothing growing in it now, but it could be full of cabbages and onions and good things to
eat.”
“How?” the bear asked.
“Why we’ll put them there,” the fox went on. “All we need to do is to till the soil and plant
some seeds.”
So the two of them went off to inspect the field at the edge of the forest, and to decide
what had to be done. Soon the bear was plowing the field. The fox went for the seeds
and then planted them. When they were finished, the fox sat down by the bear. “Let’s
decide who is going to get which half of the crop, so we won’t quarrel about it later,: he
suggested. “That’s good idea,” replied the bear.
Before she could say anything else, the fox quickly added, “I’ll take the half that grows
under the soil.”
The bear could say nothing except, “Very well I’ll take the half that grows on top of the
soil.”
Before long, tiny green shoots began to appear in even rows over the field. Finally, one
day the fox and the bear decided it was time to harvest their crops.
“Look, Mrs. Bear,” the fox said cheerfully, “you are going to get all that lovely green
that’s growing on top of the soil.” The bear nodded happily and lumbered out into the
field to harvest the crop.
While the bear was busy pulling up the crops, the fox was busy cutting off the roots for
himself. Soon, he filled his own baskets full and slipped away quietly. The bear gathered
her green and carried them to her cave.
But next morning, when the bear got up, she found the leaves had begun to wither and
die. She tried eating the few, but they were bitter.
“I wonder how the fox made out,” the bear thought to herself and hurried over to visit
him.
When she got to the fox’s home she found him lying in the sun, nibbling on a tender,
juicy carrot. And she saw that the fox had many baskets full of tender sweet carrots.
“Were those the roots I pulled up yesterday?” the bear asked in surprised.
“why, yes, Mrs. Bear,” the fox answered without even looking up. “How were your
greens?”
“They have already begun to dry. I couldn’t eat any this morning,” she said forlornly. “
Could I have a few of yours carrots, Mr. fox?”
The fox shook his head. “Remember we made a bargain. You got everything that grew

6. on top of the soil, and I got everything underneath. A bargain is a bargain.”
A few weeks later, just when the bear had begun to forget about the clever fox, he
appeared again in front of the bear’s cave.
“I admit I wasn’t very fair the last time,” said the fox. “let’s plant another crop and this
time,you choose which half of the crop you’d like. ”
The bear wasn’t going to be fooled again.
“very well,” she said, “this time , I want the half that grows beneath the soil. You take
that grows on top.”
“Anything you say,” the fox answered and again he trotted away to get the seeds while
the bear plowed ang dug up the field.
After a few weeks, the bear and the fox met look at their crop. There were rows and
rows of beautiful green leaves.
“Now, Mr. fox, you take what’s on top,” said the bear. “I’ll take what’s under the ground.”
The fox nodded and quickly got to work picking his crop. When his arms is full, he went
home.
When the bear dug up the roots, she found a few thin, scraggly things about an inch
long.
“why, these aren’t carrots!” she thought angrily. “I can’t eat these tiny roots.” She ran to
see what the fox had taken home. She found him with several baskets full of beautiful
red strawberries.
“Mr. fox, you’ve tricked me again,” the bear cried angrily. “let me at least taste one of
your strawberries.” But the fox shook his head. “you chose the bottom half. You can’t
have any of the top.” And so the bear wandered off sad and hungry.
One day as the bear was eating some meat, the fox strolled up. “good day, mrs. Bear”,
he said, bowing low . “my, that looks like a piece of meat. May I have just a taste.”
The bear suddenly had a plan. “go right ahead,” she said, “take all you want.”
The fox ate until he was full. “where did you get such good meat?”
The bear smile to herself. “It’s really very easy, especially for someone your size,” she
said.
“tell me,” the fox asked anxiously. “where do I go? What do I do?”
“well,” the bear went on, “I discovered that just beyond the mountain is a wide meadow.
The meadow is full of green grass, and you will see man horses grazing there.”
“yes, yes,” the fox said, listening carefully.
“pick out the biggest horse. Tie your tail to its tail, and then bite one of its hind legs as
hard as you can.”
“is it all?” asked the fox.
The bear nodded, “as soon as you bite, the horse will weaken and die. You will then
have all the meat you can eat.”
The fox ran quickly as he could to the meadow. He stole up behind a big, white horse
and tied his own tail securely to the horses. Then he bit one of its hind legs as hard as
he could. The horse gave a terrible cry, kicked up its hind legs , and run wildly over the
field, dragging the fox behind it.
“Help!Stop!” Shouted the fox, but the frightened horse just ran all the more. The fox
was kicked and dragged over all the stones and stumps that lay in the meadow, and

7. finally was thrown against a big tree. He was sitting there holding his aching head and
moaning to himself when the bear came along to see what had happened.
“ look at me!” the fox whimpered, licking his wounds. “look what that terrible horse did to
me!”
But the bear didn’t feel a bit sorry for the fox. “mr. fox,” she said quietly, “ you got exactly
what you deserved.” And she walked away into the forest without even looking back.