Like yuhself, please

SO, what is it about ourselves we find so difficult to love and validate?

Last week there was a great wailing and gnashing of teeth about the way we hug up any foreigner who looks fondly upon an aloo pie and a scarlet ibis (hopefully not for the same reasons). We drive them around and behave as though, hark, never before had we ourselves truly appreciated these things.

We treat those outside looking in as though theirs are the eyes that matter. And for the life of me, I can’t see why.

I love our eyes. At our best, I love the way we see things about these islands no one else can. I love the way we love the savage coasts of Trinidad which are exactly nothing like the postcard versions of a tropical paradise. And the way each island treats the other like a vacation destination.

Of course, it’s more complicated than that, but we’re not always wringing our hands or thinking about elections. Sometimes we just want calmer waters. Sometimes we just want to lime somewhere else.

Loving ourselves is hard. When you grow up in a place that grew up in the shade of so much foreign influence and all of it suggested that most of us were not beautiful, talented, refined or that we could be people of consequence, it’s almost impossible. Almost.

We still haven’t cremated colonialism, but we know the inheritance of shaping, shading and stratifying continues to damage all of us. Writers of far greater knowledge than I can fill in the spaces if you need help.

I will say this though: if you read your cricket history, you’ll never be confused again.

No matter how difficult it is, we need to start taking a look at ourselves (that includes the country) and just loving it. Time to ­­– as Rudder would say – understand up and be counted.

We are stubborn, own-way, hilarious, witty, changeable, embracing. We like wildness and comess and maco and bacchanal. Though there be gentle souls in our midst, we could not honestly write a national report and say it was one of our prevailing characteristics.

As my sister would say, we are give-ists. This is a big one and it’s one of the things that truly sets us apart from tourist countries. Here you will get the worst service in stores or offices, but on the street, beach or general anywhere of the land, we are helpful to a fault.

If something is wrong with your car, you can be overwhelmed by the number of people who will try to help. People will try to feed you at the beach, at sporting events, or if the speeches are too long at a formal ceremony. People will ask for directions and be taken to where they’re going – a good 20 minutes out of the driver’s way.

I know I’m not selling any kind of paradise. I’m holding, at best, a small shard of mirror. But self-love starts with seeing ourselves.

The best thing is that we are still unjaded. We do not yet take everything for granted. Maybe it’s because we don’t live in a big city that’s lit up 24/7 or where you can get a banana from a vending machine.

We still have space to be impressed, to feel awe, to have hair-raising moments when we see something inspiring. Or when you hear the national anthem before a football match and you’re standing way-way-way up in the stands in the stadium. (That’s not personal at all, obviously.)

But something holds us back from seeing how gorgeous this is. How very hard won. We like ourselves twice a year: Carnival Monday and Carnival Tuesday.

The funny thing is, even if we want to treat with this on a purely superficial level, we are that – that thing self – all year long.

Bands, in the manner of political parties, may be separating us. This is an ugly thing. Not so long ago, it was possible to weave in and out of bands. And what you saw was our togetherness. Our joy. Our comfort in our own skin. And that seamless flow of people is what makes us more beautiful than anything else. Because it says that we own us.

It was the clearest statement of “we good right here.”

It seems it always comes down to a Carnival story. I can work with a cliché because this is all I’ve got.

We have to love ourselves because the alternative is erasure and negation. So please, don’t let anyone tell you you’re not lovable.