When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Nine That’s Life Amber “You’re up! Let me pour you some coffee from this machine Naima got us for our 30th wedding anniversary,” Mrs. Almonte, Naima’s mother, says with a thick Haitian accent when I walk into the kitchen of her Queens’ duplex the next morning. The radio announcer quietly going over today’s headlines is soon drowned out by the talking push-button coffee machine as it grinds beans to produce a single serving of quality coffee. I hear the scoot of a chair underneath it all, and then Naima’s in front of me, saying, “Hey girl, the table’s over here.” I have my stick but let her guide me to a table that is clear of clutter or any of the other knick-knacks you might find in a fully-sighted family’s kitchen. From what Naima told me when she showed me to the couch last night,