The Race Question (Still)

Ron Singer

An old man at a guesthouse in Free State,
South Africa, previously called “Orange,”
and still a bastion of old-time Boer-dom,
asks me where I’m from. “New York,” I reply.
“Oh. A nigger and his wife from America stayed here once.
“She was white.” When he sees me unswallow my teeth,
he adds, “I had a nice talk with that black guy.
Good people.” Move (back) to the back of the bus, Rosa, dear.

Some other poems about South Africa on Poetry Atlas.

Main Location:

Free State, South Africa

Tourists in the Free State, South Africa