ONCE UPON A TIME humming in the background.
humming in the background. Intruders often time their robberies for when the alarms are
Nadine Gordimer
One of the apartheid era’s most prolific writers, Nadine Gordimer’s works powerfully
explore social, moral, and racial issues in a South Africa under apartheid rule. Despite winning a
Nobel Prize in Literature for her prodigious skills in portraying a society interwoven with racial
tensions, Gordimer’s most famous and controversial works were banned from South Africa for
daring to speak out against the oppressive governmental structures of the time. Her novel Burger’s
Daughter follows the struggles of a group of anti-apartheid activists, and was read in secret by
Nelson Mandela during his time on Robben Island.
The narrator, a writer, receives a letter from a man asking her to contribute a story to
an anthology for children. When she declines, explaining that she doesn’t write for children,
this man insists that all writers should write a children’s story. The narrator doesn’t feel like
“ought to” write anything. She then recalls the events of the previous night.
In the middle of the night, the narrator is awoken by the sound of footsteps on
creaking floorboards. Her heart racing, the narrator strains to hear if the footsteps are
approaching her bedroom. She already feels like the victim of a crime—she doesn’t have a
gun for self-defense or security bars on her windows, but she’s just as fearful as the people
who do. She recalls violent crimes that recently happened near her house.
The narrator soon realizes that the creaking sound isn’t from an intruder. Thousands
of miles below her home’s foundation is a series of mines, and occasionally the hollowed-out
rock walls collapse and crash down to the earth below, causing the narrator’s house to shift
and groan in response. She imagines that the mines are either out of use or that they’re now
a gravesite for all the miners—probably migrant workers—down below. Unable to fall back
asleep, the narrator resolves to tell herself a bedtime story.
Her story begins with a man and a woman who are happily married. They have a
little boy whom they love dearly, a trustworthy housemaid, a skilled gardener, a pool that’s
safely fenced in to prevent the little boy from falling in and drowning, a Neighborhood Watch
sign to deter intruders, and all sorts of prudent insurance policies. Even though the family is
insured against things like floods and fires, they aren’t insured against riots, which are
currently raging outside the city. To comfort his anxious wife—and because he knows how
violent the riots are—the husband installs electronic gates at the front of the house. The little
boy is mesmerized by the speaker system, which allows visitors to communicate with
someone inside. He and his friends use it as a walkie-talkie.
When burglaries begin happening in the family’s suburb, the couple installs security
bars on the doors and windows as well as an alarm system. The little boy’s cat sometimes
sets off the alarm, and the neighbors’ alarms are often set off by rodents or pets, too. The
shrill sirens become so commonplace that they begin to sound more like cicadas or frogs
going off so that their comings and goings won’t be heard.
Over time, unemployed black people begin looking for work in the suburbs. The
woman wants to send food out to them, but her husband and the housemaid firmly caution
her against it, insisting that the people outside are criminals. The family decides to make the
wall in their garden even higher. However, the robberies continue throughout the
neighborhood at all times of day and night. One day, watching the little boy’s cat deftly
scaling the wall of the house, the husband and wife decide to affix some sort of security
system to the walls, too. A stroll around the neighborhood reveals all sorts of options: lances,
spikes, and concrete walls studded with shards of broken glass. Meanwhile, the little boy
happily runs along with his dog.
The couple settles on the most threatening security system of them all: a series of
metal coils notched with razor blades that ascend the house’s exterior walls. Once an
intruder begins to climb through the coils, there is no way out—the jagged metal will rip the
intruder to shreds no matter which way they move. The security system, which looks fit for a
concentration camp, comes from a security called Dragon Teeth. The next day, workmen
install the coils on the couple’s house, and the metal shines aggressively in the sun. The
man assures his wife that it will weather over time, but his wife reminds him that the metal is
weather-proof. They hope the cat is smart enough to not scale the wall.
That night, the woman reads her son the story of Sleeping Beauty, wherein the brave
Prince must fight his way through a dense thicket of thorns in order to save Sleeping Beauty.
The next day, the little boy pretends to be the Prince and decides that the metal coils
encasing the house will be the thorns he must climb. But the second he wiggles his way into
a metal coil, the blades pierce his skin, and he writhes and screams in pain, ensnaring
himself deeper and deeper into the wire. The housemaid and gardener come running, and
the gardener tears up his hands trying to rescue the boy. The husband and wife run out in a
panic as the house alarm—likely set off by the cat—begins to blare. Eventually, the little
boy’s bleeding body is removed with heavy equipment. The man, the woman, the
housemaid, and the gardener are beside themselves as they carry the boy’s remains into the
house.
 AFRICA, MY AFRICA
David Diop
David Léon Mandessi Diop was born in 1927 in Bordeaux, France, to a
Senegalese father and a Cameroonian mother. During his literary career, he was a
proponent of Negritude. This was a political philosophy/literary movement whose
scholars included statesman-poet Leopold Sedar Senghor. Negritude was a reaction
to the French colonial administrative policy of assimilation; this policy was predicated
on the belief that Africans possessed neither culture nor history and therefore French
culture could be used to civilise them. Negritude desired a deep and almost
essentialist re-grounding of Africans in the history, values, cultures of the Black
people, while being open to friendship with other civilisations. The poem below by
Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral Savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is bent
This back that breaks under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun?
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.
THE LIFE ON A SLAVE SHIP
(Origins of Black Bondage)
Olaudah Equino (1945- 1797)
Olaudah Equiano (1745- 1797), was an extraordinary man who became a
prominent figure associated with the campaign to abolish the slave trade. He
was born in what is now Nigeria and sold into slavery at the age of 11. After
spells in Barbados and Virginia, he spent eight years travelling the world as slave
to a British Royal Navy officer, who renamed him Gustavus Vassa. His final
master, and English merchant, let him buy his freedom for Ƚ40- almost a year’s
salary for a teacher, but Equiano made it in three years of trading on the side.
Equiano, worked as an explorer and merchant for 20 years, and eventually
THE FIRST OBJECT WHICH SALUTED MY eyes when I arrived on the coast, was
the sea, and a slave ship, which was then riding at anchor, and waiting for its cargo. These
filled me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror, when I was carried on
board. I was immediately handled and tossed up to see if I were sound, by some of the crew;
and I was now persuaded that I had gotten into a world of bad spirits, and that they were
going to kill me. Their complexions, too, differing so much from ours, their long hair, and the
language they spoke (which was very different from any I had ever heard), united to confirm
me in this belief. Indeed, such were the horrors of my views and fears at the moment, that, if
ten thousand worlds had been my own, I would have freely parted with them all to have
exchanged my condition with that of the meanest slave in my own country. When I looked
round the ship too, and saw a large furnace of copper boiling, and a multitude of black
people of every description chained together, every one of their countenances expressing
dejection and sorrow, I no longer doubted of my fate; and, quite overpowered with horror and
anguish, I fell motionless on the deck and fainted. When I recovered a little, I found some
black people about me, who I believed were some of those who had brought me on board,
and had been receiving their pay; they talked to me in order to cheer me, but all in vain. I
asked them if we were not to be eaten by those white men with horrible looks, red faces, and
long hair. They told me I was not, and one of the crew brought me a small portion of
spirituous liquor in a wine glass; but, being afraid of him, I would not take it of his hand. One
of the blacks, therefore, took it from him and gave it to me, and I took a little down my palate,
which, instead of reviving me, as they thought it would, threw me into the greatest
consternation at the strange feeling it produced, having never tasted any such liquor before.
Soon after this, the blacks who brought me on board went off, and left me abandoned to
despair.
I now saw myself deprived of all chance of returning to my native country, or even
the least glimpse of hope of gaining the shore, which I now considered as friendly; and I
even wished for my former slavery in preference to my present situation, which was filled
with horrors of every kind, still heightened by my ignorance of what I was to undergo. I was
not long suffered to indulge my grief; I was soon put down under the decks, and there I
received such a salutation in my nostrils as I had never experienced in my life; so that, with
the loathsomeness of the stench, and crying together, I became so sick and low that I was
not able to eat, nor I had the least desire to taste anything. I now wished for the last friend,
death, to relieve me; but soon, to my grief, two of the white men offered me eatables; and, on
my refusing to eat, one of them held me fast by the hands, and laid me across, I think, the
windlass, and tied my feet, while the other flogged me severely. I had never experienced
anything of this kind before, and, although not being used to the water, I naturally feared the
element the first time I saw it, yet, nevertheless, could I have got over the nettings, I would
have jumped over the side, but I could not; and besides, the crew used to watch us very
closely who were not chained down to the decks, lest we should leap into the water; and I
have seen some of these poor African prisoners most severely cut, for attempting to do so,
and hourly whipped for not eating. This indeed was often the case with myself. In a little time
after, amongst the poor chained men, I found some of my own nation, which in a small
degree gave ease to my mind. I inquired of these was to be done with us? They gave me to
understand, we were to be carried to these white people’s country to work for them. I then
was a little revived, and thought, if it were no worse than working, my situation was not so
desperate; but still I feared I should be put to death, the white people looked and acted, as I
thought, in so savage a manner; for I had never seen among any people such instances of
brutal cruelty; and this not only shown towards us blacks, but also to some of the whites
themselves. One white man in particular I saw, when we were permitted to be on deck,
flogged so unmercifully with a large rope near the foremast, that he died in consequence of
it; and they tossed him over the side as they would have done a brute. This made me fear
these people the more; and I expected nothing less than to be treated in the same manner. I
could not help expressing my fears and apprehensions to some of my countrymen; I asked
them if these people had no country, but lived in this hollow place (the ship)? They told me
they did not, but came from a distant one. “Then,” said I, “how comes it in all our country we
never heard of them?” They told me because they lived so very far off. I then asked where
were their women? had they any like themselves? I was told they had. “And why,” said I, “do
we not see them?” They answered, because they were left behind. I asked how the vessel
could go? They told me they could not tell; but that there was cloth put upon the masts by the
help of the ropes I saw, and then the vessel went on; and the white men had some spell or
magic they put in the water when they liked, in order to stop the vessel. I was exceedingly
amazed at this account, and really thought they were spirits. I therefore wished much to be
from amongst them, for I expected they would sacrifice me; but my wishes were in vain—for
we were so quartered that it was impossible for any of us to make our escape.
While we stayed on the coast I was mostly on deck; and one day, to my great
astonishment, I saw one of these vessels coming in with the sails up. As soon as the whites
saw, they gave a great shout, at which we were amazed; and the more so, as the vessel
appeared larger by approaching nearer. At last, she came to an anchor in my sight, and
when the anchor was let go, I and my countrymen who saw it, were lost in astonishment to
observe the vessel stop – and were now convinced it was done by magic. Soon after this the
other ship got her boats out, and they came on board for us, and the people of both ships
seemed very glad to see each other. Several of the strangers also shook hands with us black
people, and millions with their hands, signifying, I suppose, we were to go to their country,
but we did not understand them.
At last, when the ship we were in, had got in all her cargo, they made ready with
many fearful noises, and we were all put under deck, so that we could not see how they
managed the vessel. But this disappointment was the least of my sorrow. The stench of the
hold while we were on the coast was so intolerably loathsome, that it was dangerous to
remain there for any time, and some of us had been permitted to stay on the deck for the
fresh air; but now that the whole ship’s cargo were confined together, it became absolutely
pestilential. The closeness of the place, and the heat of the climate, added to the number in
the ship, which was so crowded that each had scarcely room to turn himself, almost
suffocated us. This produced copious perspirations, so that the air soon became unfit for
respiration, from a variety of loathsome smells, and brought on a sickness among the slaves,
of which many died- thus falling victims to the improvident avarice, as I call it, of their
purchasers. This wretched situation was again aggravated by the galling of the chains, now
became insupportable; and the filth of the necessary tubs, into which children often fell, and
were almost suffocated. The shrieks of the women, and the groans of the dying, rendered the
whole a scene of horror almost inconceivable. Happily perhaps, for myself, I was soon
reduced so low here that it was thought necessary to keep me almost always on deck; and
from my extreme youth I was not put in fetters. In this situation I expected every hour to
share the fate of my companions, some of whom were almost daily brought upon deck at the
point of death, which I began to hope would soon put an end to my miseries. Often did I think
may of the inhabitants of the deep were much more happy than myself. I envied them to
freedom they enjoyed, and as often wished I could change my condition for theirs. Every
circumstance I met with, served only to render my state more painful, and heightened my
apprehensions, and my opinion of the cruelty of the whites.
We were not many days in the merchant’s custody, before we were sold after their
usual manner, which is this: On a signal given (as the beat of a drum), the buyers rush at
once into the yard where the slaves are confined, and make choice of that parcel they like
best. The noise and clamor with which this is attended, and the eagerness visible in the
countenances of the buyers, serve not a little to increase the apprehension of terrified
Africans, who may well be supposed to consider them as the ministers of that destruction to
which they think themselves devoted.
In this manner, without scruple, are relations and friends separated, most of them
never to see each other again. I remember, in the vessel in which I was brought over, in the
men’s apartment, there were several brothers, who, in the sale, were sold in different lots;
and it was very moving on this occasion, to see and hear their cries at parting. O ye nominal
Christians! might not an African ask you—Learned you this from your God, who says unto
you, Do unto all men as you would men should do unto you? Is it not enough that we are torn
from our country and friends, to toil for your luxury and lust of gain? Must every tender
feeling be likewise sacrificed to your avarice? Are the dearest friends and relations now
rendered dearer by their separation from their kindred, still to be parted from each other, and
thus prevented from cheering the gloom of slavery, with the small comfort of being together,
and mingling their sufferings and sorrows? Why are parents to lose their children, brothers
their sisters, or husbands their wives? Surely, this is a new refinement in cruelty; which thus,
aggravates distress, and adds fresh horrors even to the wretchedness of slavery.
THINGS FALL APART
Chinua Achebe
One of the world’s most widely recognized and praised writers, Chinua
Achebe wrote some of the most extraordinary works of the 20th century. His most
famous novel, Things Fall Apart (1958), is a devastating depiction of the clash
between traditional tribal values and the effects of colonial rule, as well as the
tension between masculinity and femininity in highly patriarchal societies. Achebe is
also a noted literary critic, particularly known for his passionate critique of Joseph
Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (1899), in which he accuses the popular novel of
Chapter 1:
Okonkwo is a wealthy and respected warrior of the Umuofia clan, a lower Nigerian
tribe that is part of a consortium of nine connected villages, including Okonkwo’s village,
Iguedo. In his youth, he brought honor to his village by beating Amalinze, the Cat in a
wrestling contest. Until his match with Okonkwo, the Cat had been undefeated for seven
years. Okonkwo is completely unlike his now deceased father, Unoka, who feared the sight
of blood and was always borrowing and losing money, which meant that his wife and children
often went hungry. Unoka was, however, a skilled flute player and had a gift for, and love of,
language.
Chapter 2:
One night, the town crier rings the ogene, or gong, and requests that all of the
clansmen gather in the market in the morning. At the gathering, Ogbuefi Ezeugo, a noted
orator, announces that someone from the village of Mbaino murdered the wife of an Umuofia
tribesman while she was in their market. The crowd expresses anger and indignation, and
Okonkwo travels to Mbaino to deliver the message that they must hand over to Umuofia a
virgin and a young man. Should Mbaino refuse to do so, the two villages must go to war, and
Umuofia has a fierce reputation for its skill in war and magic. Okonkwo is chosen to
represent his clan because he is its fiercest warrior.
Earlier in the chapter, as he remembers his past victories, we learn about the five human
heads that he has taken in battle. On important occasions, he drinks palm-wine from the first
head that he captured. Not surprisingly, Mbaino agrees to Umuofia’s terms. The elders give
the virgin to Ogbuefi Udo as his wife but are not sure what to do with the fifteen-year-old
boy, Ikemefuna. The elders decide to turn him over to Okonkwo for safekeeping and
instruction. Okonkwo, in turn, instructs his first wife to care for Ikemefuna.
In addition to being a skilled warrior, Okonkwo is quite wealthy. He supports three
wives and eight children, and each wife has her own hut. Okonkwo also has a barn full of
yams, a shrine for his ancestors, and his own hut, called an obi.
Okonkwo fears weakness, a trait that he associates with his father and with women. When
Okonkwo was a child, another boy called Unoka agbala, which is used to refer to women as
well as to men who have not taken a title. Because he dreads weakness, Okonkwo is
extremely demanding of his family. He finds his twelve-year-old son, Nwoye, to be lazy, so
he beats and nags the boy constantly.
Chapter 3:
Okonkwo built his fortune alone as a sharecropper because Unoka was never able
to have a successful harvest. When he visited the Oracle, Unoka was told that he failed
because of his laziness. Ill-fated, Unoka died of a shameful illness, “swelling which was an
abomination to the earth goddess.” Those suffering from swelling stomachs and limbs are
left in the Evil Forest to die so that they do not offend the earth by being buried. Unoka never
held any of the community’s four prestigious titles (because they must be paid for), and he
left numerous debts unpaid.
As a result, Okonkwo cannot count on Unoka’s help in building his own wealth and in
constructing his obi. What’s more, he has to work hard to make up for his father’s negative
strikes against him. Okonkwo succeeds in exceeding all the other clansmen as a warrior, a
farmer, and a family provider. He begins by asking a wealthy clansman, Nwakibie, to give
him 400 seed yams to start a farm. Because Nwakibie admired Okonkwo’s hard-working
nature, he gave him eight hundred. One of Unoka’s friends gave him another four hundred,
but because of horrible droughts and relentless downpours, Okonkwo could keep only one
third of the harvest.
Some farmers who were lazier than Okonkwo put off planting their yams and thus avoided
the grave losses suffered by Okonkwo and the other industrious farmers. That year’s
devastating harvest left a profound mark on Okonkwo, and for the rest of his life he considers
his survival during that difficult period proof of his fortitude and inner mettle. Although his
father tried to offer some words of comfort, Okonkwo felt only disgust for someone who
would turn to words at a time when either action or silence was called for.
Chapter 4:
The clan decides that Ikemefuna will stay with Okonkwo. Ikemefuna is homesick and
scared at first, but Nwoye’s mother treats him as one of her own, and he is immediately
popular with Okonkwo’s children. Ikemefuna knows many stories that the children have
never heard before and he possesses many impressive skills, such as making flutes out of
bamboo sticks and setting traps for little bush rodents. To Okonkwo’s delight, he also
becomes like an older brother to Nwoye. Okonkwo himself grows quite fond of Ikemefuna,
but he does not show any affection because he considers doing so a sign of weakness,
which he refuses to tolerate in himself or others. Ikemefuna soon begins to call Okonkwo
“father.”
During the Week of Peace, Okonkwo notices that his youngest wife, Ojiugo, has left
her hut to have her hair braided without having cooked dinner. He beats her for her
negligence, shamefully breaking the peace of the sacred week in a transgression known
as nso-ani. The priest demands that Okonkwo sacrifice a nanny goat and a hen and pay a
fine of one length of cloth and one hundred cowries (shells used as currency). Okonkwo truly
repents for his sin and follows the priest’s orders. Ogbuefi Ezeudu observes that the
punishment for breaking the Peace of Ani has become mild in Umuofia. He also criticizes
another clan’s practice of throwing the bodies of all who die during the Week of Peace into
the Evil Forest.
After the Week of Peace, the villagers begin to clear the land in preparation for
planting their farms. Nwoye and Ikemefuna help Okonkwo prepare the seed yams, but he
finds fault with their work. Even though he knows that they are too young to understand
farming completely, he hopes that criticism will drive his son to be a great man and farmer.
Ikemefuna settles into Okonkwo’s family and shares his large stock of folk tales.
Chapter 5:
Just before the harvest, the village holds the Feast of the New Yam to give thanks to
the earth goddess, Ani. Okonkwo doesn’t really care for feasts because he considers them
times of idleness. The women thoroughly scrub and decorate their huts, throw away all of
their unused yams from the previous year, and use cam wood to paint their skin and that of
their children with decorative designs. With nothing to do, Okonkwo becomes angry, and he
finally comes up with an excuse to beat his second wife, Ekwefi. He then decides to go
hunting with his gun. Okonkwo is not a good hunter, however, and Ekwefi mutters a snide
remark under her breath about “guns that never shot.” In a fit of fury, he shoots the gun at
her but misses.
The annual wrestling contest comes the day after the feast. Ekwefi, in particular,
enjoys the contest because Okonkwo won her heart when he defeated the Cat. He was too
poor to pay her bride-price then, but she later ran away from her husband to be with
him. Ezinma, Ekwefi’s only child, takes a bowl of food to Okonkwo’s hut. Okonkwo is very
fond of Ezinma but rarely demonstrates his affection. Obiageli, the daughter of Okonkwo’s
first wife, is already there, waiting for him to finish the meal that she has brought him. Nkechi,
the daughter of Okonkwo’s third wife, Ojiugo, then brings a meal to Okonkwo.
Chapter 6:
The wrestling match takes place on the village ilo, or common green. Drummers line
the field, and the spectators are so excited that they must be held back. The wrestling begins
with matches between boys ages fifteen and sixteen. Maduka, the son of Okonkwo’s friend
Obierika, wins one match within seconds. As the wrestling continues, Ekwefi speaks
with Chielo, the priestess of Agbala, the Oracle of the Hills and Caves. The two women are
good friends, and Chielo inquires about Ezinma, whom she calls “my daughter.” They
conclude that Ezinma seems to have “come to stay” because she has reached the age of
ten.
Chapter 7:
Ikemefuna stays with Okonkwo’s family for three years. He seems to have “kindled a
new fire” in Nwoye, who, much to Okonkwo’s pleasure, becomes more masculine in his
attitude. Okonkwo knows that his son’s development is a result of Ikemefuna’s influence. He
frequently invites the two into his obi to listen to violent, masculine stories. Although Nwoye
misses his mother’s stories, he knows that he pleases his father when he expresses disdain
for women and their concerns.
To the village’s surprise, locusts descend upon Umuofia. They come once in a
generation and will return every year for seven years before disappearing for another
lifetime. The village excitedly collects them because they are good to eat when
cooked. Ogbuefi Ezeudu pays Okonkwo a visit, but he will not enter the hut to share the
meal. Outside, he informs Okonkwo in private that the Oracle has decreed that Ikemefuna
must be killed. He tells Okonkwo not to take part in the boy’s death, as Ikemefuna calls him
“father.” Okonkwo lies to Ikemefuna, telling him that he will be returning to his home village.
Nwoye bursts into tears.
Chapter 8:
Okonkwo sinks into a depression. He feels weak, and he cannot sleep or eat. When
Ezinma brings him his evening meal three days later, she tells him that he must finish
everything. He repeatedly wishes that she were a boy, and he berates himself for acting like
a “shivering old woman.” He visits his friend Obierika and congratulates Maduka on his
successful wrestling. Obierika, in turn, requests that Okonkwo stay when his daughter’s
suitor arrives to determine a bride-price. Okonkwo complains to Obierika that his sons are
not manly enough and says that he would be happier if Ezinma were a boy because she has
“the right spirit.” He and Obierika then argue over whether it was right of Okonkwo to partake
in Ikemefuna’s death.
Okonkwo begins to feel revived a bit. He decides that his unhappiness was a
product of his idleness—if Ikemefuna had been murdered at a busier time of the year, he,
Okonkwo, would have been completely undisturbed. Someone arrives to report the death of
the oldest man in a neighboring village. Strangely, the old man’s wife died shortly thereafter.
Okonkwo questions the man’s reputed strength once he learns how attached he had been to
his wife.
Okonkwo sits with Obierika while Obierika bargains his daughter’s bride-price with
the family of her suitor. Afterward, Obierika and his future son-in-law’s relatives talk about the
differing customs in other villages. They discuss the practice of, and skill at, tapping palm
trees for palm-wine. Obierika talks about hearing stories of men with skin as white as chalk.
Another man, Machi, pipes in that such a man passes through the village frequently and that
his name is Amadi. Those who know Amadi, a leper, laugh—the polite term for leprosy is
“the white skin.”
Chapter 9:
Ekwefi awakes Okonkwo very early in the morning and tells him that Ezinma is
dying. Okonkwo ascertains that Ezinma has a fever and sets about collecting medicine.
Ezinma is Ekwefi’s only child and the “center of her world.” Ekwefi is very lenient with her:
Ezinma calls her by her first name and the dynamic of their relationship approaches equality.
Ekwefi’s nine other children died in infancy. She developed the habit of naming them
symbolic things such as “Onwumbiko,” which means, “Death, I implore you,” and
“Ozoemena,” which means, “May it not happen again.” Okonkwo consulted a medicine man
who told him that an ogbanje was tormenting them. An ogbanje is a “wicked” child who
continually re-enters its mother’s womb only to die again and again, causing its parents grief.
A medicine man mutilated the dead body of Ekwefi’s third child to discourage the ogbanje’s
return.
When Ezinma was born, like most ogbanje children, she suffered many illnesses, but
she recovered from all of them. A year before the start of the novel, when Ezinma was nine,
a medicine man named Okagbue Uyanwa found her iyi-uwa, the small, buried pebble that is
the ogbanje’s physical link to the spirit world. Although the discovery of the iyi-uwa ought to
have solved Ezinma’s problems, every illness that Ezinma catches still brings terror and
anxiety to Ekwefi.
Chapter 10:
The village holds a ceremonial gathering to administer justice. The clan’s ancestral
spirits, which are known as egwugwu, emerge from a secret house into which no woman is
allowed to step. The egwugwu take the form of masked men, and everyone suspects that
Okonkwo is among them. The women and children are filled with fear even though they
sense that the egwugwu are merely men impersonating spirits.
The first dispute that comes before the egwugwu involves an estranged husband
and wife. The husband, Uzowulu, states that the three brothers of his wife, Mgbafo, beat him
and took her and the children from his hut but would not return her bride-price. The woman’s
brothers state that he is a beastly man who beat their sister mercilessly, even causing her to
miscarry once. They argue that Uzowulu must beg Mgbafo to return to him. If she agrees,
the brothers declare, Uzowulu must understand that they will cut his genitals off if he ever
beats her again. The egwugwu decide in favor of Mgbafo. One village elder complains that
such a trifling matter should not be brought before them.
Chapter 11:
Ekwefi tells Ezinma a story about a greedy, cunning tortoise. All of the birds have
been invited to a feast in the sky and Tortoise persuades the birds to lend him feathers to
make wings so that he can attend the feast as well. As they travel to the feast, Tortoise also
persuades them to take new names for the feast according to custom. He tells the birds that
his name will be “All of you.” When they arrive, Tortoise asks his hosts for whom the feast is
prepared. They reply, “For all of you.” Tortoise proceeds to eat and drink the best parts of the
food and wine.
The birds, angry and disgruntled at receiving only scraps, take back the feathers that
they had given to Tortoise so that he is unable to fly home. Tortoise persuades Parrot to
deliver a message to his wife: he wants her to cover their compound with their soft things so
that he may jump from the sky without danger. Maliciously, Parrot tells Tortoise’s wife to
bring out all of the hard things. When Tortoise jumps, his shell breaks into pieces on impact.
A medicine man puts it together again, which is why Tortoise’s shell is not smooth.
Chielo, in her role as priestess, informs Ekwefi that Agbala, Oracle of the Hills and
Caves, wishes to see Ezinma. Frightened, Okonkwo and Ekwefi try to persuade Chielo to
wait until morning, but Chielo angrily reminds Okonkwo that he must not defy a god’s will.
Chielo takes Ezinma on her back and forbids anyone to follow. Ekwefi overcomes her fear of
divine punishment and follows anyway. Chielo, carrying Ezinma, makes her rounds of the
nine villages.
 When Chielo finally enters the Oracle’s cave, Ekwefi resolves that if she hears
Ezinma crying she will rush in to defend her—even against a god. Okonkwo startles her
when he arrives at the cave with a machete. He calms Ekwefi and sits with her. She
remembers when she ran away from her first husband to be Okonkwo’s wife. When he
answered her knock at his door, they exchanged no words. He led her to his bed and began
to undo her clothing.
Chapter 12:
At dawn, Chielo exits the shrine with Ezinma on her back. Without saying a word,
she takes Ezinma to Ekwefi’s hut and puts her to bed. It turns out that Okonkwo was
extremely worried the night before, although he did not show it. He forced himself to wait a
while before walking to the Oracle’s shrine. When he found it empty, he realized that Chielo
was making her rounds to the nine villages, so he returned home to wait. In all, he made four
trips to and from the caves. By the time he departed for the cave for the last
time, Okonkwo was “gravely worried.”
Okonkwo’s family begins to prepare for Obierika’s daughter’s uri, a betrothal
ceremony. The villagers contribute food to the festivities and Obierika buys a huge goat to
present to his future in-laws. The preparations are briefly interrupted when the women
retrieve an escaped cow and the cow’s owner pays a fine for setting his cows loose on his
neighbors’ farms. The suitor’s family members arrive and settle the clan’s doubts about their
generosity by bringing an impressive fifty pots of wine to the celebration. The women greet
the visitors and the men exchange ceremonial greetings. The feast is a success.
Chapter 13:
Ogbuefi Ezeudu’s death is announced to the surrounding villages with the ekwe, a
musical instrument. Okonkwo shudders. The last time Ezeudu visited him was to warn him
against taking part in Ikemefuna’s death. Since Ezeudu was a great warrior who took three of
the clan’s four titles, his funeral is large and elaborate. The men beat drums and fire their
guns. Okonkwo’s gun accidentally goes off and kills Ezeudu’s sixteen-year-old son.
Killing a clansman is a crime against the earth goddess, so Okonkwo must atone by
taking his family into exile for seven years. Okonkwo gathers his most valuable belongings
and takes his family to his mother’s natal village, Mbanta. According to the mandates of
tradition, the men from Ezeudu’s quarter burn Okonkwo’s buildings and kill his animals to
cleanse the village of his sin. Obierika questions why a man should suffer so much for an
accidental killing. He then mourns the deaths of his wife’s twins, whom he was forced to
throw away, wondering what crime they committed.
Chapter 14:
Okonkwo’s uncle, Uchendu, and the rest of his kinsmen receive him warmly. They
help him build a new compound of huts and lend him yam seeds to start a farm. Soon, the
rain that signals the beginning of the farming season arrives, in the unusual form of huge
drops of hail. Okonkwo works hard on his new farm but with less enthusiasm than he had the
first time around. He has toiled all his life because he wanted “to become one of the lords of
the clan,” but now that possibility is gone. Uchendu perceives Okonkwo’s disappointment but
waits to speak with him until after his son’s wedding. Okonkwo takes part in the ceremony.
The following day, Uchendu gathers together his entire family, including Okonkwo.
He points out that one of the most common names they give is Nneka, meaning “Mother is
Supreme”—a man belongs to his fatherland and stays there when life is good, but he seeks
refuge in his motherland when life is bitter and harsh. Uchendu uses the analogy of children,
who belong to their fathers but seek refuge in their mothers’ huts when their fathers beat
them. Uchendu advises Okonkwo to receive the comfort of the motherland gratefully. He
reminds Okonkwo that many have been worse off—Uchendu himself has lost all but one of
his six wives and buried twenty-two children. Even so, Uchendu tells Okonkwo, “I did not
hang myself, and I am still alive.”
Chapter 15:
During the second year of Okonkwo’s exile, Obierika brings several bags of cowries
to Okonkwo. He also brings bad news: a village named Abame has been destroyed. It
seems that a white man arrived in Abame on an “iron horse” (which we find out later is a
bicycle) during the planting season. The village elders consulted their oracle, which
prophesied that the white man would be followed by others, who would bring destruction to
Abame. The villagers killed the white man and tied his bicycle to their sacred tree to prevent
it from getting away and telling the white man’s friends. A while later, a group of white men
discovered the bicycle and guessed their comrade’s fate. Weeks later, a group of men
surrounded Abame’s market and destroyed almost everybody in the village. Uchendu asks
Obierika what the first white man said to the villagers. Obierika replies that he said nothing,
or rather, he said things that the villagers did not understand. Uchendu declares that Abame
was foolish to kill a man who said nothing. Okonkwo agrees that the villagers were fools, but
he believes that they should have heeded the oracle’s warning and armed themselves.
The reason for Obierika’s visit and for the bags of cowries that he brings Okonkwo is
business. Obierika has been selling the biggest of Okonkwo’s yams and also some of his
seed yams. He has given others to sharecroppers for planting. He plans to continue to bring
Okonkwo the money from his yams until Okonkwo returns to Iguedo.
Chapter 16
Two years after his first visit (and three years after Okonkwo’s exile), Obierika
returns to Mbanta. He has decided to visit Okonkwo because he has seen Nwoye with some
of the Christian missionaries who have arrived. Most of the other converts, Obierika finds,
have been efulefu, men who hold no status and who are generally ignored by the clan.
Okonkwo will not talk about Nwoye, but Nwoye’s mother tells Obierika some of the story.
The narrator tells the story of Nwoye’s conversion: six missionaries, headed by a
white man, travel to Mbanta. The white man speaks to the village through an interpreter,
who, we learn later, is named Mr. Kiaga. The interpreter’s dialect incites mirthful laughter
because he always uses Umuofia’s word for “my buttocks” when he means “myself.” He tells
the villagers that they are all brothers and sons of God. He accuses them of worshipping
false gods of wood and stone. The missionaries have come, he tells his audience, to
persuade the villagers to leave their false gods and accept the one true God.
The villagers, however, do not understand how the Holy Trinity can be accepted as
one God. They also cannot see how God can have a son and not a wife. Many of them laugh
and leave after the interpreter asserts that Umuofia’s gods are incapable of doing any harm.
The missionaries then burst into evangelical song. Okonkwo thinks that these newcomers
must be insane, but Nwoye is instantly captivated. The “poetry of the new religion” seems to
answer his questions about the deaths of Ikemefuna and the twin newborns, soothing him
“like the drops of frozen rain melting on the dry palate.”
Chapter 17
The missionaries request a piece of land on which to build a church. The village
leaders and elders offer them a plot in the Evil Forest, believing that the missionaries will not
accept it. To the elders’ amazement, the missionaries rejoice in the offer. But the elders are
certain that the forest’s sinister spirits and forces will kill the missionaries within days. To
their surprise, however, nothing happens, and the church soon wins its first three converts.
The villagers point out that sometimes their ancestral spirits will allow an offending man a
grace period of twenty-eight days before they punish his sins, but they are completely
astounded when nothing happens after twenty-eight days. The church thus wins more
converts, including a pregnant woman, Nneka. Her four previous pregnancies produced
twins, and her husband and his family are not sorry to see her go.
One of Okonkwo’s cousins notices Nwoye among the Christians and informs
Okonkwo. When Nwoye returns, Okonkwo chokes him by the neck, demanding to know
where he has been. Uchendu orders him to let go of the boy. Nwoye leaves his father’s
compound and travels to a school in Umuofia to learn reading and writing. Okonkwo wonders
how he could ever have fathered such an effeminate, weak son.
Chapter 18
The church wins many converts from the efulefu (titleless, worthless men). One day,
several osu, or outcasts, come to church. Many of the converts move away from them,
though they do not leave the service. Afterward, there is an uproar, but Mr. Kiaga firmly
refuses to deny the outcasts membership to the church. He argues that they will not die if
they cut their hair or break any of the other taboos that have been imposed upon them. Mr.
Kiaga’s steadfast conviction persuades most of the other converts not to reject their new faith
simply because the outcasts have joined them. The osu soon become the most zealous
members of the church.
To the clan’s disbelief, one boasts that he killed the sacred royal python. Okonkwo
urges Mbanta to drive the Christians out with violence, but the rulers and elders decide to
ostracize them instead. Okonkwo bitterly remarks that this is a “womanly” clan. After
announcing the new policy of ostracism, the elders learn that the man who boasted of killing
the snake has died of an illness. The villagers’ trust in their gods is thereby reaffirmed, and
they cease to ostracize the converts.
Chapter 19
Okonkwo’s seven years of exile in Mbanta are drawing to an end. Before he returns
to Umuofia, he provides a large feast for his mother’s kinsmen. He is grateful to them but
secretly regrets the missed opportunity to have further increased his status and influence
among his own clan. He also regrets having spent time with such un-masculine people. At
the feast, one man expresses surprise that Okonkwo has been so generous with his food
and another praises Okonkwo’s devotion to the kinship bond. He also expresses concern for
the younger generation, as Christianity is winning people away from their families and
traditions.
Chapter 20
Okonkwo has planned since his first year in exile to rebuild his compound on a larger
scale. He also wants to take two more wives and get titles for his sons. He has managed to
get over Nwoye’s disgraceful departure, but he still regrets that Ezinma is a girl. He asked
that she wait to marry in Umuofia, after his exile, to which she consented. She even
persuaded her sister, Obiageli, to do the same. Okonkwo hopes to attract interest when he
returns with two beautiful, marriageable daughters.
However, Umuofia is much changed after seven years. The church has grown in strength
and the white men subject the villagers to their judicial system and rules of government.
They are harsh and arrogant, and Okonkwo cannot believe that his clan has not driven the
white men and their church out. Sorrowfully, Obierika explains that the church has weakened
the ties of kinship and that it is too late to drive the white men out. Many of the clansmen are
now on the white man’s side.
Okonkwo observes that the white man is very shrewd because he came in peace
and appeared to have only benevolent interests in the Africans, who thus permitted him to
stay. They discuss the story of Aneto, who was hanged by the government after he killed a
man with whom he had a dispute. Aneto had been unsatisfied with the new court’s ruling on
the dispute because it ignored custom. Obierika and Okonkwo conclude their discussion on
a fatalistic note, sitting in silence together.
Chapter 21
Many people of Umuofia are not entirely unhappy with the white men’s influence on
their community. They have set up trading posts, and money is flowing into the village. Mr.
Brown, the white missionary, restrains his flock from antagonizing the clan. He and Akunna,
one of the clan’s leaders, meet often to debate and discuss their respective religious views.
Akunna explains that the clan also has just one god, Chukwu, who created the world and the
other gods. Mr. Brown replies that there are no other gods. He points to a carving and states
that it is not a god but a piece of wood. Akunna agrees that it is a piece of wood, but wood
created by Chukwu. Neither converts the other, but each leaves with a greater understanding
of the other’s faith.
Mr. Brown builds a hospital and a school. He begs the villagers to send their children
to school and warns them that if they do not, strangers who can read and write will come to
rule them. His arguments are fairly effective and his hospital wins praise for its treatments.
When Okonkwo first returns to Umuofia, Mr. Brown goes to tell him that Nwoye is in a
training college for teachers. Okonkwo chases him away with threats of violence. Not long
afterward, Mr. Brown’s health begins to fail, and, sad, he leaves his flock.
Okonkwo’s daughters attract many suitors, but to his grave disappointment, his clan
takes no particular interest in his return. The ozo initiation ceremony occurs only once in
three years, meaning that he must wait two years to initiate his sons. He deeply regrets the
changes in his once warlike people.
Chapter 22
Reverend James Smith, a strict and intolerant man, replaces Mr. Brown. He
demands the utmost obedience to the letter of the Bible and disapproves of Mr. Brown’s
tolerant and unorthodox policies. The more zealous converts are relieved to be free of Mr.
Brown’s policy of restraint. One such convert, Enoch, dares to unmask an egwugwu during
the annual ceremony to honor the earth deity, an act equivalent to killing an ancestral spirit.
The next day, the egwugwu burn Enoch’s compound to the ground.
They then gather in front of the church to confront Reverend Smith and his fellow
Christians. They tell the Christians that they only wish to destroy the church in order to
cleanse their village of Enoch’s horrible sin. Smith replies that he will stand his ground. He
forbids them to touch the church, but his interpreter alters Smith’s statement for fear that the
unvarnished truth will be too harsh and that he will suffer as the messenger of bad news. He
tells the egwugwu that Smith demands that they leave the matter in his hands. They ignore
Smith’s orders and burn the church.
Chapter 23
Okonkwo is almost happy again, despite the fact that his clan did not agree to kill the
Christians or drive them away. Even so, he and the rest of the villagers are on their guard,
and for the next two days they arm themselves with guns and machetes. The District
Commissioner returns from his tour and requests that the leaders of Umuofia meet with him.
They go, taking only their machetes because guns would be “unseemly.” The commissioner
talks to them in condescending terms and says that they should discuss the church’s burning
“as friends.”
No sooner have they put their machetes on the floor than a group of soldiers
surprises them. They are handcuffed and thrown in jail for several days, where they suffer
insults and physical abuse. A kind of bail is set at two hundred bags of cowries. The court
messengers tell the people of Umuofia that they must pay a fine of two hundred and fifty
bags of cowries or their leaders will be hanged—by upping the price these messengers will
make a profit as intermediaries. The town crier announces an emergency village meeting.
Even Ezinma returns home from her twenty-eight-day visit to her future in-laws. The next
morning they decide to collect the cowries necessary to pay the fine.
Chapter 24
After their release, the prisoners return to the village with such brooding looks that
the women and children from the village are afraid to greet them. The whole village is
overcome with a tense and unnatural silence. Ezinma takes Okonkwo some food, and she
and Obierika notice the whip marks on his back.
The village crier announces another meeting for the following morning, and the clan
is filled with a sense of foreboding. At sunrise, the villagers gather. Okonkwo has slept very
little out of excitement and anticipation. He has thought it over and decided on a course of
action to which he will stick no matter what the village decides as a whole. He takes out his
war dress and assesses his smoked raffia skirt, tall feather headgear, and shield as in
adequate condition. He remembers his former glories in battle and ponders that the nature of
man has changed. The meeting is packed with men from all of the clan’s nine villages.
The first speaker laments the damage that the white man and his church have done
to the clan and bewails the desecration of the gods and ancestral spirits. He reminds the clan
that it may have to spill clansmen’s blood if it enters into battle with the white men. In the
middle of the speech, five court messengers approach the crowd. Their leader orders the
meeting to end. No sooner have the words left the messenger’s mouth than Okonkwo kills
him with two strokes of his machete. A tumult rises in the crowd, but not the kind for which
Okonkwo hopes: the villagers allow the messengers to escape and bring the meeting to a
conclusion. Someone even asks why Okonkwo killed the messenger. Understanding that his
clan will not go to war, Okonkwo wipes his machete free of blood and departs.
Chapter 25
When the District Commissioner arrives at Okonkwo’s compound, he finds a small
group of men sitting outside. He asks for Okonkwo, and the men tell him that Okonkwo is not
at home. The commissioner asks a second time, and Obierika repeats his initial answer. The
commissioner starts to get angry and threatens to imprison them all if they do not cooperate.
Obierika agrees to lead him to Okonkwo in return for some assistance. Although the
commissioner does not understand the gist of the exchange, he follows Obierika and a group
of clansmen. They proceed to a small bush behind Okonkwo’s compound, where they
discover Okonkwo’s body dangling from a tree. He has hanged himself. FAMOUS THAI WRITERS
Obierika explains that suicide is a grave sin and his clansmen may not touch
Okonkwo’s body. Though they have sent for strangers from a distant village to help take the
body down, they also ask the commissioner for help. He asks why they cannot do it THE OPERATION
themselves, and they explain that his body is evil now and that only strangers may touch it. Pensri Kiengsiri
They are not allowed to bury it, but again, strangers can. Obierika displays an
uncharacteristic flash of temper and lashes out at the commissioner, blaming him for
Okonkwo’s death and praising his friend’s greatness. The commissioner decides to honor One morning, in the Bangkok Rehabilitation Centre for Crippled Children, Danu
the group’s request, but he leaves and orders his messengers to do the work. As he departs, Thamrongsakdi, an eight-year-old polio victim, pushed himself over the floor towards a ten-
he congratulates himself for having added to his store of knowledge of African customs. year0old friend. Using one wasted hand to arrange his limp legs and deformed feet more
The commissioner, who is in the middle of writing a book about Africa, imagines that
the circumstances of Okonkwo’s death will make an interesting paragraph or two, if not an comfortably, he said:
entire chapter. He has already chosen the title: The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the “ You know, I am going in for my operation on Monday!”
Lower Niger. “ Are you really?”
“ Yes, Miss Ubol told me.” He meant superintendent of the Centre.
“I have been waiting so long. But suddenly now it is my turn; I’m not a bit happy.”
THAI LITERATURE
“Why?” asked Pitak. His deformities were less severe. He had already learnt to walk
Introduction
on crutches.
The literature of Thailand goes back to the thirteenth century long before Thailand
“I’m scared.”
(formerly Siam) came in close contact with Western civilization. Imaginative writing appeared
“So are we all. But if you get your legs straightened, maybe you will be able to walk
in the form of songs and lyric poems, narrative poetry, and dance drama. Prose was used
with crutches like me; much better than having to push yourself along the floor on your
chiefly for recording history and promulgating laws.
arms.”
When Thailand was modernized during the Chulalongkorn period (1868- 1910) new
Before long, she was speaking to her mother on a long distance line. She left Sriprai
forms, techniques, subjects, ideas, and goals were introduced into literature.
cold with fear, anxiety, and foreboding!
Prince Vajiravudh, who later became king, introduced Western- style prose drama.
“ Maybe Kamjorn did not get off the train at Bangkok. Did he not realize how Danu
He encouraged translations and adaptations of European plays. He also wrote a number of
needs us? There was no time to think out these terrifying thoughts. She had to pack and get
original plays and started the movement of classical dance drama in the direction of musical
going right away!
drama and opera.
With trembling hands brushing back the tears, she threw a few pieces of clothing into
Modern Thai literature includes children’s literature and many forms of non-fictional
a suitcase. Kissing the baby, she promised him, in her heart, to return soon. She exhorted
prose: autobiographies, biographies, essays, diaries, letters, memoirs, travel books, and
the nursemaid to take good care of him. Then she rushed to the railway station, and boarded
literary criticisms.
the Express exactly three minutes before the whistle blew.
In the train, torn between anguish over Danu, and anxiety over the baby, she shed
many silent tears. In between, she prayed that Danu would undergo the operation. She
prayed fervently, madly.
That evening, Darunee was started when her father visited her at her boarding
school. She waited him, putting the palms of her hands up high and together and asked.
“ Father, when did you arrive?”
“Yesterday, about midday. Why?”
“ I thought you had not got here! Why didn’t you call me straight away, father?”
“ I met my old friend, and he took me off to the beach to relax a while. There is plenty
of time, isn’t there?”
“I … I think so. But Father, this morning Danu cried so much because he thought
neither you nor mother would come to see him. We know there is no train or plane coming in
today, but there is one leaving Lampang today. Danu said he would not let the surgeon touch
him, and I was so worried that I called Mother long distance.”
Kamjorn gave a little light- hearted laugh. “ Never mind, my dear. Your mother knows
I am here. Let’s go and see Danu.”
That night, Kamjorn slept comfortably in his hotel, feeling well pleased with himself.
He had seen Danu’s face light up when the boy saw him; in spite of the fact that he had
snatched a pleasant evening at Pattaya Beach, he was still in time for the operation.
“ A lot of fuss about nothing,” thought Kamjorn. “ Woman!”
Next morning, outside an operating theatre in one of the best hospitals in Bangkok,
Kamjorn held his little son on his arms. He was telling him how wonderful it would be for all of
them when the leg deformaties were corrected, and Danu could walk, even on crutches. He
told the boy that it would undoubtedly be painful after the anaesthetic had worn off, but that it
would be worth it all in the end.
“ Jjust think how happy Mother will be to be able to take your place! You know that
she wanted to come here to you. But I wished to come and see you too, and one of us had to
be with your baby brother.”
“Father, can I go home after this operation?” It is a year now since you brought me
here. I miss Mother very much. And I have not even seen the baby.”
“If it won’t hurt you, and the surgeon allows it, surely, my son.”
“ Mother might be here today,” Danu murmured hopefully. “ Do you know that
Darunee telephoned home yesterday? Darunee told me that Mother said she might come”.
Kamjorn stroked the small arm that hung limply on his lap. “ Well, she might,
although I doubt it, because of the baby. However, if she does come, the four of us will go to
a cowboy movie, eh. What do you say to that, little fellow, eh?”
“ O, Father, you are so kind! It will be so wonderful! I have a feeling that Mother will
be here, you know. I will be very happy if after the operation, I find her out here with you.”
Miss Ubol, the superintendent, and a hospital orderly approached them, the orderly
pushing a wheeled stretcher in front of him. Danu held his father’s hand a long while before
he allowed them to wheel him away on the stretcher. Kamjorn followed the boy as far as he
could, turning back only after Danu had disappeared around a private- looking corner.
Suddenly, his attention was caught by two young nurses, walking towards him. They
were talking about a train accident. The Northern Express, due to arrive in Bangkok at noon
that day! It seemed that the accident had happened the previous evening.
For some unknown reason, Kamjorn felt a sudden quickening of his heart. Swift as
lightning, his thoughts flew to his wife. He stepped up to the nurses and asked if there were
fatalities.
“Fatalities?” One of them asked politely. “ Oh, Yes! They said on the radio that fifty
people were killed. Twenty- three have already been identified. Get today’s papers and you
will see the names.”
“ Names? My wife- what if she was on that Express! What will I do if her name is one
of the twenty- three?” He was terrified. When the nurses told him that the newspaper they
had read was in a room nearby be dashed, full of fear, to read it.
A woman doctor spotted Kamjorn’s unconscious body. She had him taken to the
Emergency Room and treated for shock. When he came to, he wept shamelessly, and tried
to take his own life.
He was placed under the constant surveillance of a firm-lipped nurse and a stout
orderly.
Words spread throughout the hospital of the deranged man whose wife had died in
the train crash. Miss Ubol took one look at the man. She was horrified at Kamjorn’s
disheveled appearance. Suddenly, her heart contracted with pity for her little crippled boy. It Kamjorn broke down and buried his face in the boy’s hair. Danu was crying too. He
was not enough to be badly crippled; now Danu had lost his mother as well, just when he hugged his father and cried for joy. With the tears running down his cheeks, he sobbed
needed her most! joyfully.
Miss Ubol urged the raving Kamjorn to get a grip on himself and think of his son, “Thank God! Thank God, my mother is not dead!”
who would be coming out of the operating theatre any moment. Finally, she succeeded in
pacifying him, and at last, the news came that the boy’s operation had been successful.
Kamjorn endured agony, waiting for his son to regain conciuosness. As soon as INTRODUCTION TO ASIAN LITERATURE
Danu was wheeled out, pale and pathetically tiny on the trolley, one of his legs encased in a
plaster cast, Kamjorn ran over, and hugged him fiercely, crying. What is Asian Literature?
“ My baby! Oh, my baby!”
Tears were streaming down his face. Danu looked up, shocked and puzzled. Asian literature is diverse in that it showcases a selection of styles and themes, but
“ Whatever’s the matter, Father?” as it progressed over time, common ideas have been identified between the texts from the
“Nothing, son, nothing!” various regions of the Asian continent.
“Are you quite sure, Father?” Perhaps the most similar trait of all Asian texts is their religiosity and spirituality.
“ Sure, sure! How are you feeling, little fellow?” Asian literature is known to be a philosophical and contemplative art, pondering on major
Danu tried manfully to brave the raw nagging pain. matters in life such as our origins and our death: where we come from and where we go,
“It ..it isn’t so bad, Father. Really.” how we come alive and how we die, as well as how we should live in between.
Then he looked around, “ Where’s Mother? Didn’t she come?” Related to the spiritual feature, the involvement of nature is evident.
“ No!” Besides these, Asian literature greatly talks about race, injustice, power, nationalism,
“ Are you sure, Father?” struggles, love—and in all things at all times, there are morals to be learned.
“ Yes, dear, why do you ask?” The most common styles in this type of literature are poetry or verse and dramatic
“On my way out, I heard people talking about a train crash. They said this train was prose. Asian poetry is typically lyrical, as in it deals with the grand scheme of emotions. A
coming from the north, and that lots of people died in the crash. I was worried because sub-type of lyrical poetry is the ode, which we can see in some religious texts. Asian poetry is
Darunee said that Mother might be coming on that express train. also usually formed in narratives or story-telling verses like epics. As for the proses of Asia,
“But she did not! She did not!” there are collections of short stories, legends, orally transmitted sayings, and dramas.
“ Are you quite sure, Father?”
“ I checked, darling! I’ve just checked!” Importance of Asian Literature
“ Then Mother was not on that train?”
“ No, she was not.” The historical experiences of people in Asia have been interwoven for centuries if not
“Then Mother’s not dead?” millennia, owing to their close and vast geography as well as years of trade and conquests.
“ No, my darling No!” Naturally, while each Asian country has a unique literary style, their literature also
reflects the similarities in their customs and traditions, struggles and successes, even their
philosophies in life, giving the rest of the world a better understanding of Asian culture. This
is hugely important especially to Western people in the past since they did not know a lot of
Asia, much less its people’s ways of living, due to both their geographic and cultural
distances. The differences between Western and Eastern culture manifests even until today.
However, Asian literature brings their people’s lives straight from reality to the pages that
then take their stories into the hearts of others worldwide, where they somehow find a
common ground of shared experiences. Asian literature goes to show that despite the
distance and differences, we are all connected through the tales that we have in common
with each other.
Not only does Asian literature give us an original and fresh take on people’s
experiences, but it also contributes to our collective perception of life through the morals and
philosophies that their literary pieces embody. One Thousand and One Nights, a collection of
Arabian folk tales, is the epitome of the value-centered pieces of Asian literature. In its
hundreds of stories, just as many moral lessons can be gleaned. To name a few, Aladdin’s
Wonderful Lamp teaches us the meaning of identity and how it is based on merit, not wealth;
Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves characterizes loyalty, honesty, and generosity; The Tale of the
Hunchback calls out to the persistence of truth and our conscience.
Asian literature has also aided the spread of Asian spirituality, heightening the major
religions that we know and are a part of until today—all of which started in the continent
itself: Christianity, Judaism, and Islam having originated from West Asia, Hinduism and
Buddhism from the South, and Confucianism and Taoism from the East. Examples of literary
texts that support religions range from the Tao Te Ching that exemplifies Taoism, the
Analects that epitomizes Confucianism, to the Sanskrit epics of Ramayana and Mahabharata
that are important to Hinduism, amongst many others that knit the patchwork of Asian
religions.
Asian literature has impacted our lives, whether we know it or not. It is there in the
way that we view certain aspects of life—such as struggles, injustices, death—, and it is
there in the way that we treat life itself. Throughout the years and until today, all over the
world, Asian literature has helped shape our ideals and lifestyles. It is only right that we trace
the origins of such a powerful medium that has moved our minds.
Development of Asian Literature
In the general sense of literature, the oldest known written piece is the Epic of
Gilgamesh. This in fact originated in Asia, particularly in ancient Mesopotamia, which is now
found in the Western region of the continent. The Kesh Temple Hymn and the Instructions of
Shuruppak are two other examples of the earliest written literature that came from
Mesopotamia, brought about by their development of writing at around 3400 BC.
From these earliest writings, we can already see Asian literature taking shape. Its
defining traits have been present as early as in the first recorded literary pieces. For
instance, the Epic of Gilgamesh embodies the narrative feature of Asian literature; it is a tale
that explores the notions of life and death, love and loss, all of which are prevalent themes in
Asian literature. The Kesh Temple Hymn is an ancient manifestation of the Asian literature’s
lyrical nature, as it is an ode to the deities of Kesh Temple. Even the Instructions of
Shuruppak represents Asian literature in its wisdom literature style that contemplates and
gives advice.
As civilizations grew and developed—in the whole world and within Asia—, so have
literature.
In Asia, the literary pieces developed according to its various regions. And while
every country in these regions has their own unique style and story to offer, there are major
advancements in Asian literature that represent the continent. Typically, researchers of
literature classify Asian literary artworks into only three categories despite the many regions;
we have Chinese, Japanese, and Indian literature to characterize the growth of Asian
literature because they are the ones with withstanding influence and recognition.