Telegrams of the Soul

Conversation with Tíoko

“It’s cold and very damp out, Tíoko. Rain puddles everywhere. Your people are naked. What are these thin linen things?! Your hands are cold, Tíoko. I’ll warm them for you. At least they could give you cotton flannel, not these threadbare linen rags.”

“We’re not allowed to dress, Sir, no shoes, not even a head cloth. ‘Take it off,’ says the attendant, ‘take it off. What are you trying to be, some kind of society lady maybe?!’ ”

“Why doesn’t he let you dress?!”

“We’re supposed to represent savages, Sir, Africans. It’s completely crazy. We’d never go around like this in Africa. Everybody would laugh at us. Like ‘bushmen,’ that’s what they look like, that lot. Nobody lives in huts like these. Back home they’d be fit for dogs, gbé. Quite foolish. They want us to be like animals. What do you think, Sir? The attendant says: ‘Hey, we’ve got plenty of proper Europeans already. What do we need you for?! Of course you’ve got to be naked.’ ”

“You’ll all get sick, you’ll die—.”

“Oh, Sir, at night we set up little tin containers with glowing charcoal in our huts. Oh, it’s so nice and warm. And Manomba’s body is warm, I press up against her. And Akolé is warm, and little Dédé is very warm at night. Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow. Then things will be good for Tíoko.”

“Tíoko——!”

“Sir—?!”

“Tíoko——.”

“Do you think, Sir, that the sun will shine warm tomorrow?”

“I hope so.”