Joie de vivre

AS TOLD TO BC PIRES

A version of this feature appeared in August 2010. It is reprinted as a mark of respect for Tracy Hutchinson-Wallace, who died recently.

My name is Tracy Hutchinson-Wallace and I am president of the board of directors of a foreign language society.

I was born in Trinidad and grew up in Santa Cruz. My father is Trinidadian, my mother is Jamaican. She still has her accent, particularly when she’s angry.

They were a campus couple back in the 60s, when it was the University College of the West Indies. My father went to Jamaica and brought back a degree and a wife.

I’ve never had that eldest-child issue about being the person blazing the trails and feeling pressure to do brilliantly.

Not that I’m happy with mediocrity, but I don’t have that driving ambition you see in most eldest children. I’m happy with whatever successes I have.

I have two younger brothers. For me, that’s good, because I never really got along with women. Brothers fit right into my personality.

Myself and my first brother went to a very small primary school called St Gabriel’s. My parents were in the group that started the school.

I passed Common Entrance for St Joseph’s Convent, where my mother taught.

My brother Courtney had always had issues with being Tracy’s little brother so Mummy moved him to Newtown Boys’, where my youngest brother, Ryan, was starting. Courtney had a chance to be the person blazing the trail.

Mom was an eldest child, but there was 11 or 12 years between her and the other kids. So she always had to set the good example. She never used Jamaican swear words.

I did biochemistry at university.

But then I literally fell into media. That was back in the good old days when you didn’t have to know much to work in media.

My husband’s father is Jamaican, his mother is Trini, so he’s the opposite of what I am.

I took a very long time to start a family. My son Zachary is two and a half.

I’m one of those dysfunctional Catholics. Married in the church, everything, but we haven’t christened Zachary.

I’m not happy with my relationship with God and the church now and would rather he come to his own choice. I don’t want him to be indoctrinated.

Most of my life, during that Catholic indoctrination time, I didn’t believe most of what I was being taught.

The concept of birth control? All those middle-class Catholics who only have two children? Yeah, right! Things like that bothered me.

But I had to go through with it. I’ve tried since then to come to some sort of understanding and acceptance. But it hasn’t happened.

I believe firmly there is a God and take comfort in thinking somebody up there is looking out for us. Because the people down here certainly aren’t doing a good job.

I don’t like dancehall.

I have eclectic tastes in music. I like older soca. More melodic themes. I haven’t found anything to like in the last three years.

Up to 2007, I could have found at least one song I liked every year.

Palance was the worst song we’ve had in a very long time.

My favourite singers at the moment are all French. There’s a French-Canadian girl, Natasha St Pier. Also Pascal Obispo. He’s a David Ruddery kind of guy, he’s got a wide frame of reference.

I’m fluent in French. I taught myself. Around ’93, ’94, I just got it in my head I wanted to learn a language.

French was the easiest thing I could do in Trinidad. I couldn’t find time to do classes, was living away from home and didn’t have much money. So I taught myself from texts and from reading. I stopped reading anything in English, except for work. Even at work, I did my own research in French and then translated.

People tell me that, with a little more self-confidence, I’d have been fluent a lot earlier. What clicked for me is, I had to have emergency surgery and, when I woke up, I couldn’t speak English. I swore I was speaking English in my head, but French was coming out of my mouth!

They had to bring my French boyfriend into the recovery room to translate. They thought I had brain damage, but he said, “No, no, she’s just speaking French.”

I spoke only French for about two weeks. I eventually got my English back.

I wouldn’t say I’m very young to be president of a board of directors of a foreign language society.

The first time, ten years ago, yes, I was young to be one then.

While I was president the first time, we managed to buy our own property, instead of paying rent.

That was very good. We could invest in books and courses and so on.

I love the whole concept of making a link between cultures.

I generally trust everyone, until they screw me the first time. Once you’ve made that mistake, there’s no forgiving, no 11th-hour appeal from the governor.

Sometimes I don’t think I do enough for the foreign language society.

There’s no “best thing” about the job.

It’s weird but I’ve got so much, I just want to give something back. I just enjoy every part of it completely.

The bad part of the job is dealing with the indifference to languages generally in Trinidad. There’s a general incomprehension, a general feeling that learning languages is a luxury.

It’s not. It’s a necessity. If you didn’t learn English as a child, you’d be dead! Because none of your needs would have been met.

Trinidad and Tobago would be better off is people just decided to learn another language. It’s not difficult and doesn’t take any special skill or luck or character.

I wouldn’t say I was narrow-minded but I was blinkered in a lot of ways.

Learning to speak French changed me. They say, “It broadens your horizons,” but it really did open my mind up to other ways of thinking.

And other types of opinions. Even if I don’t agree with you, I have to be able to see you have a valid opinion in order to interact with you, to have a meaningful relationship, conversation, whatever, with you.

There are so many things about being Trinbagonian that I wouldn’t exchange for the world!

But, in my heart of hearts, I think of myself as French.

Not to say I don’t like Trinidad and Tobago and being Trinbagonian. But a lot of Trinidad and Tobago is French! The way we think, formulate our slang, the way we party, it’s very French.

That’s why a lot of the expats who come here feel very at home. They get it.

A Trini to me is not necessarily a good thing. I prefer to say I’m a Trinbagonian.

If more people thought of themselves that way, they could do much more than they imagine. The concept of “Trini” restricts us too much to the not so good aspects of our character. Trinbagonian as a name
is expansion and uplifting.

I’m glad my son is growing up in Trinidad and Tobago. We have so many cultural and ethnic influences, he can’t help but be wide open.

I’ve never lived anywhere else but here and I’m getting more and more happy here. I’m finding more people like me, who feel we could be doing better and are trying to make Trinbago better.

Read the full version of this feature on Friday evening at www.BCPires.com