Telegrams of the Soul

Akolé

“She’s supposed to be the most beautiful,” the visitors remark, “a real dish where she comes from. Where the hell is Ashanti anyway?! Not bad for a Negress—. She’s a proud one, not very nice. What does she take herself for, the black girl?! Like it’s some kind of honor to buy her junk?! Won’t even look us in the face when she takes our money for LeTa Kotsa, tooth cleaning twig. It’s a swindle, I tell you. What are you, homesick or something? Our salesgirls wouldn’t earn a dime like that. Got to be friendly, sweetheart, nobody’s gonna bite you. She’s cold, the poor little hophead. Now, now, now, now, don’t get upset! Who do you think you are?! Some kind of highborn lady?! Bet you’ll give it to me for less. Arrogant slut. Adieu. Can’t get anything out of her. Good-bye, black girl, don’t go to any trouble now. You’re going to be just fine. So long.”

“Bènjo, bènjo——!” (The hell with you, get lost!)