A magic island, full of magic people
It’s been 19 years since I moved to Canada. It’s been 19 years of living in a different country, with a different culture, different behaviours. I’m happy that I moved — don’t misunderstand— and I was considering how I’ve changed in the time. Growing up in Trinidad, there were several things that were core to me, although I might not always express them overtly.
As a country, Trinidad and Tobago was always proud of being multi-ethnic and integrated. Bishop Desmond Tutu once referred to it as being a “rainbow country.” The blends of various ethnicities result in people in shades from deep blue-black to creamy white, with even siblings varying in their shades. I was accustomed to dealing with people at all levels who would be referred to in Canada as “visible minorities.” It is not, though, free from the evils of discrimination... I remember my grandmother talking about how she was looked down on for being a “dirty Indian” and that my aunts and mother were not accepted into schools because they were not white. I’ve written before of their strength and determination, so all I will say here is that my own experiences of racism came later, when I was an adult and had moved to Canada.
The first of these was when I was driving in Ridgeway, a small (300 people) town in southern Ontario. I was pulled over to be questioned about a robbery, where the (male) suspect was reportedly driving a black pickup. I was in a red Ford Escort, but I “matched the general description.” The other, which still sticks with me, was being told that the only reason that I had been hired was because of the colour of my skin, and that I was taking the job of a “real Canadian.” I was utterly shocked, mostly because the person who told me this didn’t come anywhere near my qualifications or experience and yet felt comfortable expressing their opinion. It was not long after that when I was invited to join the newly formed Visible Minorities Network, a group that I eventually lead in 2 departments, and worked to create training and awareness programs that are in use across the public service.
Trinidadians are known for their love of life. One of my friends joked once that as Trinis we’re likely to throw a party to open an envelope. It’s true that it takes a world war to cancel Carnival, and even then, smaller celebrations persisted. I remember all too well the “curfew parties” that were held during the 1990 insurrection— when curfew was in effect, we partied until it was lifted at dawn!
Religious diversity in Trinidad meant a mixture of Judaeo-Christian and non-Christian sects. Every Trinidadian child had a basic understanding of the principal tenets of Christianity, Hinduism and Islam, whether or not they practiced. It was hard to avoid... the TV and radio began each broadcast day with an “ecumenical” prayer that spoke to the divine. It’s hard to be frightened of another religion when your neighbours, with whom you celebrated everything, were practicing members. My Canadian friends tell of religious diversity being that there were Catholics and Protestants in the same town. We’re also well known for adopting the practices of others and incorporating them into our lives — I will make the observation that some of the most elaborate Christmas decorations (including Nativity scenes) are in the homes of prominent Hindus and Muslims. The concept of cultural appropriation is not one that’s well understood here, although hardliners could identify multiple instances.
I’m not pretending that this is a perfect culture. In many ways, it’s parochial and insular, suspicious of change and rigid in beliefs. I’d love to shake off some of the beliefs and practices that hold sway in some areas, and replace them with more liberal ones. There are many things wrong with the islands, as there are with any country. The core, though, is solid, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
It is a magic place, with magic people, who have helped to shape many who have gone into the wider world. My hope is that I, and my other expatriates, represent the best of our culture: the acceptance and inclusion of others, respect for differences, a love of life, celebration and joy, and a spirit of justice that leads to protecting the disenfranchised. That we, and our homes, will always be places where “every creed and race find an equal place.”
As a country, Trinidad and Tobago was always proud of being multi-ethnic and integrated. Bishop Desmond Tutu once referred to it as being a “rainbow country.” The blends of various ethnicities result in people in shades from deep blue-black to creamy white, with even siblings varying in their shades. I was accustomed to dealing with people at all levels who would be referred to in Canada as “visible minorities.” It is not, though, free from the evils of discrimination... I remember my grandmother talking about how she was looked down on for being a “dirty Indian” and that my aunts and mother were not accepted into schools because they were not white. I’ve written before of their strength and determination, so all I will say here is that my own experiences of racism came later, when I was an adult and had moved to Canada.
The first of these was when I was driving in Ridgeway, a small (300 people) town in southern Ontario. I was pulled over to be questioned about a robbery, where the (male) suspect was reportedly driving a black pickup. I was in a red Ford Escort, but I “matched the general description.” The other, which still sticks with me, was being told that the only reason that I had been hired was because of the colour of my skin, and that I was taking the job of a “real Canadian.” I was utterly shocked, mostly because the person who told me this didn’t come anywhere near my qualifications or experience and yet felt comfortable expressing their opinion. It was not long after that when I was invited to join the newly formed Visible Minorities Network, a group that I eventually lead in 2 departments, and worked to create training and awareness programs that are in use across the public service.
Trinidadians are known for their love of life. One of my friends joked once that as Trinis we’re likely to throw a party to open an envelope. It’s true that it takes a world war to cancel Carnival, and even then, smaller celebrations persisted. I remember all too well the “curfew parties” that were held during the 1990 insurrection— when curfew was in effect, we partied until it was lifted at dawn!
Religious diversity in Trinidad meant a mixture of Judaeo-Christian and non-Christian sects. Every Trinidadian child had a basic understanding of the principal tenets of Christianity, Hinduism and Islam, whether or not they practiced. It was hard to avoid... the TV and radio began each broadcast day with an “ecumenical” prayer that spoke to the divine. It’s hard to be frightened of another religion when your neighbours, with whom you celebrated everything, were practicing members. My Canadian friends tell of religious diversity being that there were Catholics and Protestants in the same town. We’re also well known for adopting the practices of others and incorporating them into our lives — I will make the observation that some of the most elaborate Christmas decorations (including Nativity scenes) are in the homes of prominent Hindus and Muslims. The concept of cultural appropriation is not one that’s well understood here, although hardliners could identify multiple instances.
I’m not pretending that this is a perfect culture. In many ways, it’s parochial and insular, suspicious of change and rigid in beliefs. I’d love to shake off some of the beliefs and practices that hold sway in some areas, and replace them with more liberal ones. There are many things wrong with the islands, as there are with any country. The core, though, is solid, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
It is a magic place, with magic people, who have helped to shape many who have gone into the wider world. My hope is that I, and my other expatriates, represent the best of our culture: the acceptance and inclusion of others, respect for differences, a love of life, celebration and joy, and a spirit of justice that leads to protecting the disenfranchised. That we, and our homes, will always be places where “every creed and race find an equal place.”
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