Born more than 5,500 miles apart, the Booker prize winner Bernardine Evaristo, 65, and Brazil’s most celebrated living Black author, Conceição Evaristo, 77, share the same surname, though they are – as far as is known – unrelated.

But their surnames’ stories are somewhat connected, and shed light on aspects of the history of Brazil, the country that received the largest number of enslaved Africans during the transatlantic slave trade.

Bernardine’s grandfather Gregorio Bankole Evaristo was born in Brazil and around the year 1900 (the exact date is uncertain) was part of a wave of Africans or their descendants who returned to Africa – in Gregorio’s case, to Nigeria.

Conceição’s grandmother had the surname Pimentel. However, none of her seven children – Conceição’s uncles and aunts – had official documents, a sign of the state neglect that Black Brazilians faced after the abolition of slavery.

The eldest sister, Conceição’s aunt, went to the register office to register herself and her brothers and sisters. Nervous, she forgot her mother’s surname and instead gave the only name she could recall – that of a white neighbour whose first name was Evaristo. And that became the family name.

On Wednesday, the two writers met for the first time in Rio de Janeiro where they were the stars of one of the most eagerly awaited panels at Festa Literária das Periferias, a vibrant non-mainstream book festival where 90% of participants are Black women.

“People have been telling me about Conceição for years because we share the same surname,” Bernardine said. “People would say to me: ‘Oh, do you know about her? Have you read her?’ … So finally we met today, and she’s a total delight.”

Conceição, for her part, first called her British counterpart a “relative from a distant land” but then opted for “cousin”, prompting laughter and applause from an audience of about 1,600 at the Circo Voador, a concert venue turned literary stage in the heart of the bohemian Lapa district.

The panel’s theme was their shared surname. “It was my father’s surname,” said Bernardine. “We thought it was a Nigerian name … When I was about 26, I was asking him questions about his childhood because he really hadn’t told us anything … and he just casually told me: ‘Oh, yes, your grandfather was Brazilian.’”

According to the historian Carlos Fonseca, the author of a book on the subject, about 8,000 formerly enslaved people or their descendants left Brazil for Africa between the 1830s and the early 20th century. Most went to Benin or Nigeria, especially Lagos, Bernardine’s grandfather’s destination.

“When I first came to Brazil in 1992, I was trying to find my family, thinking that somehow I could find the Evaristos,” Bernardine said, recalling a trip to Bahia, Brazil’s Blackest state, where about 80% of the population is of African descent, compared with a national average of 55%. “Of course, that was a silly thing to do and I couldn’t find anything,” she said.

The main issue is that Evaristo, originally Portuguese, is much more common as a first name in Brazil. According to Fonseca, it was typical for returnees to use their first names as family surnames, which were then passed down through generations.

“But Bahia felt very much like Lagos,” Bernardine said. “You know, there were women wearing some of the traditional Yoruba clothes, they were selling Yoruba food on the street. It was so interesting to see that, over 100 years after people had sailed back, there was still a very strong west African influence in Bahia. And that’s the meaning of the name to me.”

Beyond the surname, the two authors share a commitment to placing Black protagonists at the heart of their stories. “When I write, it is always from the perspective and the reality of my own people, those closest to me,” Conceição said. “I want to place Black people at the centre of the scene based on our experiences.”

The writers are also united in their activism for the inclusion of Black authors. The journalist and writer Yasmin Santos, the author of a new book featuring a biographical essay on Conceição, said this was one of the reasons why Conceição was the “greatest living Black Brazilian author”.

“Not only because of the recognition she receives for her literature, but especially because of her political activism … which continually works to open doors for other Black writers,” Santos said.

At the close of the panel, the festival organisers announced that Conceição – whose books have been translated into English, French, Spanish, German and Arabic – would be the main honouree for the 2025 edition.

“I do not write to lull those in the Big House,” Conceição said, using a term that refers to the homes of slaveowners on plantation estates. “I write to wake them from their unjust dreams.”