Who are you: Erica Louie
(11/13/14 11:19am)
Every morning at home, I woke up to the smell of aki and saltfish, as my mother swayed to the rhythmic melodies of Bob Marley's "Red Wine." There's comfort in her accented “good morning,” and I often say that she brought a piece of Jamaica's sunshine when she moved to America. In August, our family reunions are gatherings of smiling voices thickly speaking patois, a dialect only the trained ear is able to decipher. Laughter is echoed throughout the house when my uncles try teaching my brothers how to “rock ‘n roll” while my aunts pull my hand to “dutty–wine,” a complex Jamaican dance.