The Colonel Foreignness and the Other Quotes

What is this, some kind of Foursquare check-in? The speaker is letting everyone know she has entered the colonel's domain. Not only has she traveled to his country, but she is a guest in his house, her otherness the reason for both the invitation and her attention to the minutest detail.

You have to wonder, are they meant to keep folks out, or to trap guests in? With a line like that, you can feel the clampdown. A simile like this compares the odd to the familiar, and shows the quality of difference. In the speaker's experience, liquor stores at risk of being jacked have gratings on the windows, not somebody's house.

Who has a maid? Somebody rich, or powerful, or both. The speaker is clearly not either of these. After the meal, where most North Americans would expect dessert, the guests are served green mangoes, salt, and "a type" of bread. Without specifically saying so, the poet locates us in a tropical place, where they eat unripe fruit and even the bread is different.

This signals the end of the whole smile-and-play-nice act. The parrot repeats a fatuous pleasantry, but the colonel tells it to shut it. On this interchange, the welcome shifts to threat. (Check out "Theme: Language and Communication" for more about how this is crucial to the feeling of foreignness.)

"Your people"? What does the colonel mean? The North American public? The politicians? Her family? Journalists? Whoever he means, this is the line in the sand, with her and her friend on one side and the colonel and his cohorts in the death squads on the other. His language is as violent as he is. He means to shock and offend. He means to threaten. It works.