'An old friend slowly dying'

Recently an acquaintance who lives part of every year in Tobago and part abroad, said to me: “Returning to Tobago is like seeing an old friend slowly dying.”

His statement struck me as poignant, and while I had never thought of it in that way, I understood what he meant.

He mentioned the obvious changes – the rise in crime, an increase in the number of bad car accidents, the closure of certain establishments which he and his wife and friends used to love visiting for leisure, entertainment and dining, the decrease in tourists, the migration of many resident foreigners, the loss of certain habitats with the increase in construction...and so on.

Since moving to Tobago in October 2012, I too have seen and felt many changes, just over a shorter span of time, compared to his decades-long relationship with the island.

These days I meet more residents who speak of "the changes" to Tobago and say they seem to have happened overnight.

However, they must have been creeping up over the years, becoming more visible and prevalent in recent times.

“Did you hear about that murder?”...“Did you hear about that dead body found at the roadside?”... “Did you hear about that bad accident?”...“Did you hear those gunshots?”

Many conversations start like this now.

Checking for news reports is now often like reading obituaries. Readers are confronted with information or live videos on another accident, another shooting, another chopping, another dead body found.

Someone asked me recently, if “with all that is happening now in Tobago,” I feel afraid.

I said no, I don’t feel fearful, but I feel aware of what happens around me and am generally vigilant.

On January 12, shortly after hearing that a body had been found on Jacamar Drive, I mentioned the news to a friend/fellow animal lover.

“What kind of body?” she asked. “Dog or human?”

“Human,” I responded, quickly noting that we are living in an era where one actually wonders what kind of body is related to a strong roadside stench. Gone are the days when we would naturally assume that the odour was emanating from a rotting canine corpse.

A friend and I were recently on a quiet back road, attending to some homeless dogs. A slow-moving car with heavily tinted windows approached. Through the dark glass, I could just make out the shape of a man’s head, turned and looking at us. He pulled to the side of the road, stopping behind my friend’s car, which was parked in front of my vehicle.

We both immediately felt on guard. Even though we had not finished with the dogs, I said to her “Let’s get into our cars.”

Without looking at him or appearing concerned that he had stopped, we got into our vehicles. We observed as the man got out, looked at us, said hello, crossed the road, stared up into the trees for a moment, and then bent and picked up a leaf. It could have been innocent, but seemed suspicious, especially when, as my friend and I started our engines, he returned to his vehicle and also drove off.

While driving away, I phoned my friend. We agreed that something had not felt right.

The man could really have been there just to stare up at trees, pick up one leaf and get back into his vehicle, but the fact that we both felt uneasy says a lot. We would not have thought like that until recently.

Of course, focused on sea, sand and festivals, and lost in vacation reverie, not all might see my acquaintance’s view of his "old friend," Tobago, slowly dying. The symptoms of that deeper malaise are the toxic, insidious elements (guns, drugs, gang culture) invading what was previously considered to be the island’s healthy body...the incoming strangers, settling into communities that once knew who each person was and to which family they belonged...the mass demolition of generational homes and displacement of people, creating refugees in their land of birth...the slow decline of various "organs" that traditionally generated and sustained life and livelihood – like culture, heritage and older generational treasures, possibly disappearing as the modern preference for the fast pace of social media and electronic evolution takes over.

What will keep that old friend alive?