Wole Soyinka - My favourite

Noble Laureate Wole Soyinka, a Nigerian poet, playwright, novelist is my favourite. "Telephone conversation" is one of his best poetry where he uses irony to show the absurdity of racisim...

Just a brief on this poem.

A dark African man searching for a new apartment, narrates his telephone conversation with a land lady, who outwardly looks well bred and polite, but a racist to the core. She questions the gentleman about his colour. Being an intelligent guy and quick witted he answers her question in a subtle and wry humour. Though outwardly the poetry makes you smile, one can find the pain behind those words. What is their in a skin colour after all?

"Telephone Conversation"

The price seemed reasonable, location

Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived

Off premises. Nothing remained

But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,

"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."

Silence. Silenced transmission of

Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,

Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled

Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.

"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT

OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A.* Stench

Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.

Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered

Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed

By ill-mannered silence, surrender

Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.

Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--

"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.

"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"

Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light

Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,

I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,

"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic

Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent

Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding

"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."

"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.

Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see

The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet

Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--

Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned

My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing

Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap

About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather

See for yourself?"

* Buttons to be pressed by caller who has inserted a coin into an old type of British public pay phone.

Let me complete this post by Soyinka's famous words from his play " The Road"... "...A guy is gorra have his principles. I'm a right guy. I mean you just look arrit this way. If you gonna be killed by a car, you don't wanna be killed by a Volkswagen. You wanre Limousine, a Ponriac or something like that. Well thas my principle..." :)