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| The director (left) and EMA official (right) searching for the White-tailed Sabrewing. (MNO) |
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…”
 |
| Three White-necked Jacobins find breakfast at the Cuffie River's bird feeder. (FTB) |
The
story of this band of merry men began the night before when Fritz and myself tagged
along as the film crew and official scoped out where they would shoot early the
next morning. The EMA—the equivalent of the American EPA—wanted an educational
documentary produced about threatened hummingbirds in the little island of
Tobago.
Only
about 55,000 of the dual-island nation’s 1.3 million people live in Tobago, and
Fritz and I won’t be here too long because most of the oil and gas companies
we’re reporting on are in Trinidad. So whether it was luck (good or bad) or destiny
that we ran into this group, we’ll never know.
 |
| Carmelized chicken, rice, and chow - the perfect lunch while limin' around. (FTB) |
That
night, we pumped soca—a calypso, hip-hop genre from Trinidad and Tobago—in the
bus as we drove through the night, passing around refreshments and just
talking. It’s simple. That’s how you report. Fast forward to the next day. I
got the photograph I needed to show the government doing environmental work.
They got their hummingbird footage after several hours’ rare display of seriousness.
It was time to relax. I leaned back in my hammock, accepted the cup that was
generously thrust my way, and started firing away with the questions.
Fritz
and I came into this story with the clear understanding that we did not know
what was happening in this new country until we got there and were able to talk
to people. It would be dangerously arrogant to believe Google was a worthy
substitute to that plan. Recognizing that attitude, our newfound sources and
lime’n partners opened up.
 |
| While on our trip to the film site the night before the shoot, we stopped for a little lesson on reptiles. (MNO) |
We learned about the history
of the Indo-Trinidadians (about half the country traces its lineage back to
Indian, about half to Africa, and a small assortment to other places such as
Syria and Great Britain). We
learned about LGBT culture across the Caribbean.
We learned why corruption acts as it does here. We
learned why and how garbage dumps are leaking into rivers that supply the
country’s largest urban area with drinking water. We learned dirty secrets of
top politicians.
Because
we approached all our interviews in the early going that same way, we received
back the most genuine information from our sources. And because of THAT, our
story is heating up. Take a look through our “Background Research” to see what
we’re looking into now. Patterns will emerge. We didn’t fully understand those
patterns when the blinding glow of the computer screen bombarded us with
information across the Sea. But, now that we had a random Trinidadian film crew
fit the pieces together, the story is beginning to take shape. And we hope to
help piece together the information for you—the reader—as we continue to
report.
With those
observations in mind, I swung confidently my hammock, content with both my
reporting skills AND my lime’n skills. “I could do the Caribbean,” I ventured.
“You
don’t do the Caribbean,” my newfound teachers immediately informed me with a
stern smile. “The Caribbean does you.”
--MO
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