The Editor, Sir:This loss of Miss Lou is not an easy thing for me. It's not that I am related to Miss Lou, neither have I ever met Miss Lou. However, I feel like Miss Lou and I share a kindred spirit. You see, I am one of the many Jamaican children who was beaten as a child for speaking "that dirty broken English." This wasn't one 'deggeh-deggeh' beating either. These were repeated beatings for speaking the language of my peers, the language my parents often hypocritically spoke themselves. But, like the Maroons of old, even this could not break my spirit, and in purposeful, knowing rebellion against this Queens-English mentality, (at the ripe age of four), I continued to speak patois.
It was not until I reached the United States that I was forced to speak this English lest they send me off to foreign language class with the Chinese and Mexican students, because in America, my teacher would neither understand me nor my thick accent. So I reluctantly learned to speak that American tongue, an annoying nasal twang that hurts your throat if you speak with it too long.
And gradually I forgot my 'broken' identity as a child of a 'broken' country in the Caribbean sea. But one fateful day, mid-sentence, my words halted in my throat and I said, "Wait. How do you say that in patois again? Mommy, how do you say 'here' in patois again? Isn't it 'heh' or something like that?" My mother laughed me to scorn and told me, "No it's 'yah'" in between laughs. Now, a who tell har fi go mock me like dat? Because from that day forward, I was convinced that I would not lose my 'broken' identity. I had not succumbed to the beatings at the age of four. I had not succumbed to the prejudiced idea that whatever is tainted by African culture is bad. I would not submit to this Eurocentric cultural dictatorship. It may sound funny, but I taught myself patois a second time, hungrily researching lost words in whatever books and tapes I could get my hands on, and it was there that Miss Lou and I crossed paths.
Patois as a language
She was a professor in my Patois University. It was she that let me know that patois was not only a language but an art form. It continues to be she, along with copies of the Jamaican English Dictionary, and confirmation by many Africans I know, that words such as 'dutty"' 'unnu', 'dundus', 'putto-putto', 'nyam', 'bankra', 'seh' and 'chaka-chaka' are not bad English, but rather are legitimate words in Ghana or Nigeria.
So it is with a heavy heart and a deep appreciation that I thank Miss Lou for restoring the pride of a broken boy and ameliorating the self-hatred that is a legacy of our dark past with the balm of love and appreciation. A she staat open up wi yeye-dem and mek wi si seh nutt'n nuh wrang wid wi. Tru yu legacy naah lef wi, mi naah tell yu fi go walk nuh weh, Miss Lou. Yu fi tan good Miss Lou. Tan Good.
I am, etc.,
ANTON SHIM
anton.wilson@gmail.com
1560 Park Grove Drive
Lawrenceville, Georgia
Via Go-Jamaica
