The Telephone Conversation

Telephone Conversation 
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.
10         “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?”

The problem there is obviously how the landlady is being a racist. So far, I haven't experienced anything like that though I've witnessed some and probably the most horrid among those was when I was at the department store and an African woman approached one of the sales lady to ask for help but instead of helping, the lady ignored her and called one of her co workers to assist the woman. I pitied her because I saw how upset and offended she was because of what the sales lady did. My advice for people who is being discriminated because of their nationality, color, appearance, etc is; don't let it get to you. I know it's offensive, hurtful, upsetting and all that but don't let them define who and what you are. Just remember that they don't know who you really are because if they do, they wouldn't do that. 

Source:
http://www.nexuslearning.net/books/elements_of_lit_course6/20th%20Century/Collection%2015/TelephoneConversation.htm