"Dear me, Brandon," she said breathlessly. "You are early tonight. I haven't had a chance to get ready for you. Why didn't you call first?" "Jeri, I d...n't have your number," I answered. "I wasn't about to ask my mother what it was, for obvious reasons. Besides, you never mentioned a good time to come over. Is this a bad time?" "Uh, er, no. No, Brandon, this is as good a time as any. Come on in." She seemed nervous, as though she were hiding something. I was about to find out what it might be.. As he squints in the direction of Kwame and Tanya, his facial expression is as contemptuous as that of a janitor disgusted by a pungent odor from a blocked urinal.A few women sit on the other side of the court arena floor, its dust, thankfully, suppressed by stagnant water. All wearing multi-coloured head coverings in a show of submission and obedience to tradition. Kwame’s mother, a beautiful, medium built woman in her early fifties, sits aloof on the left side of the arena. She couldn’t hold. More

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