Call and introduce myself.

I call my host family and arrange to meet them. They invite me to dinner that very evening. To be invited into the pantry right away is a good omen.

My manhood stirs as I look at the photo of the women of the household and imagine the possibilities. The wife is brunette and gorgeous despite the subtle marks of tension etched on her face. The oldest daughter, too, seems tense, perhaps unhappy, although likewise beautiful. Are the oldest daughter and mother at odds?

The twins, however, are the sunlight that shines from the photograph. They too have their sister and mother-in-law's pulchritude. But where the mother-in-law and the oldest daughter are brunettes, the twins are topped out with blond hair. Their smiles are infectious and relaxed. Perhaps...?

No, first the mother has to be brought to harness, obedient and complient. Yes, she will be the target of my first attempt to explore the terrain of a white woman. After all, Uncle Nkrumah once observed no one misses a slice off a cut loaf.