Telephone Conversation

    Telephone Conversation by
                Wole Soyinka 

            The price seemed reasonable, location 

            Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived 

            Off premises. Nothing remained 

            But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned, 

5      “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 

15         By ill-mannered silence, surrender 

            Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification. 

            Considerate she was, varying the emphasis— 

            “ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came. 

            “You mean—like plain or milk chocolate?” 

20         Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light 

            Impersonality. Rapidly, wavelength adjusted, 

            I chose. “West African sepia”—and as an afterthought, 

            “Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic 

            Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent 

25         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 

30         Are a peroxide blonde. 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 

35         See for yourself?”

Analysis

Written in first person narrative, summary of Telephone conversation by Wole Soyinka draws upon an unseen picture of humanity where it projects the innate difference that resides between individuals. Depicted through the conversation of a white lady and an African man, the poem is a mighty comment on racism coupled with prejudices that still exist like a millstone. The idea of Telephone conversation is how human beings are inclined to focus and sort out issues that are based on individual differences which seldom give us a chance to look into our souls and determine where and how far we have deteriorated within us.