To report or to vacation, that is the question

Tobago is filled with sandy beaches and Trinis looking for an
escape from the hustle and bustle of the large island. (FTB)

When Mark and I first informed our friends and family about our potential project investigating environmental issues in Trinidad and Tobago, nearly everyone said, "Sounds like a vacation to me." For all the doubters of our "reporting project," our stay in Tobago was exactly what you thought we would be doing.

As soon as we arrived, we knew we had it made. Our air-conditioned hostel room sat right along the beach. Within the first few hours, we took part in Buccoo's weekly party, known as "Sunday School." Listening to the steel drum band play while eating shark for the first time, Mark and I began to realize this week would be unlike anything either of us had experienced before.

Lime’n

Lime: to hang out, chill, relax with friends, maybe have some drinks

The director (left) and EMA official (right) searching for the White-tailed Sabrewing. (MNO)

“We have some rum first. Then we have some chicken. Then some more rum,” the film crew’s boss commanded from the front of the converted school bus. Down the orange interior in the back row, Fritz and I laughed and/or flinched. I can’t be sure who did what or if we did both that fateful day in Tobago.

We had finished work. Also it was noon. However, to be fair, we had been up since 4am, and it was time for a good lunch of rum, chicken, and rum.

The we was an unlikely bunch: myself and Fritz, an official in the Environmental Management Authority (EMA), and a film crew. This is our story of ‘lime’n,’ and how to successfully be an international reporter. This is also the story of the mythical “fire water:” the only drink you’ll find with an alcohol content that starts with a guarantee of “not less than…”

The legend of Papa Bois

A white-fronted capuchin at the El Socorro Centre. (MNO)

Trinidadian forests are sacred places. Their animals are not meant for needless slaughter, their trees are not the fodder of the axe, their sacred calm is not to be butchered. If you dare to disrespect the natural splendor, be sure to watch your back for the rest of your life…Papa Bois does not forgive.

You may see a stag thundering through the forest. You may witness an even more incredible site: a pan-like figure, head and torso of a man, hoofed legs of an animal. Whether he strands you deep in the forest or merely scares your wits back into your muddled head, Papa Bois will protect his natural domain.

Papa Bois (pronounced: bwah) was the mythical guardian of Trinidadian forests. His legend was passed down as oral tradition, and children knew to be terrified of him from a young age. “They’re not afraid of Papa Bois anymore. There’s enough other stuff out there to be afraid of,” one of our sources explained as we made the 45-minute drive from Wa Samaki Permaculture, an environmentalist’s paradise in central Trinidad, back to Port of Spain where the ocean is near but good luck finding a beach.

They don’t call it the rainy season for nothing

After taking a walk through the Botanic Garden and passing the Prime Minister’s residence, it began to sink in: we were actually in Port of Spain, Trinidad. Street vendors selling drinks out of coconuts. Friendly people who laugh every time we ask them to repeat themselves. And more palm trees than this Iowa boy can handle.

Our first full day in the capital city delivered us our first cultural shock: there still are some places in the world where Sunday is considered a day of rest. Since every business was closed, we were forced to continue organizing our investigation and explore when the rain wasn’t pouring from the sky. When Monday came around, we immediately went to buy phones so we could finally start diving in and arranging times to meet with sources and confirm other interviews. To celebrate, we enjoyed a large breakfast at Trini Flavours. The main course: rice and pigs tail….

Touchdown

The more you travel, the bigger the world becomes. Guess I’ll just keep traveling.

View from the boardwalk near the Original Breakfast Shed. FTB/Medill

From the U.S. to South Africa through Nicaragua and somehow here to Trinidad and Tobago, I need adventure. My way of finding it is by spinning the globe in a marriage of investigative and shoe-leather, beat-the-street reporting. I've only been committed to reporting for about a year, and I've already seen a lot on those streets. Sometimes the red-brown dirt beside the street is spattered with the blood of your source, sometimes it’s turned to dust as thousands of feet toyi-toyi, sometimes it's simply Sheridan Road along campus late at night as you ponder the angle of your education story...and sometimes it's a beach overlooking Buccoo Reef. These are the streets that hold the best stories, and you never know what's waiting down the block or around the corner. You never know until you get walking, that is.