Weird Times

The past couple of days have been a bit odd. I got moved from Pop’s house to my brother’s house, which incidentally is the house where I grew up. So I’m now in my old bedroom. It’s quite disconcerting because everything looks the same, but everything has changed.

Pops is frail, but still in reasonable health. While I’m here he’s undergoing radiation therapy to try and extend his quality of life. He’s not in any pain, or exhibiting any symptoms, so it’s become a kind of morbid holiday where I’m meeting up with relatives and going to the beach and discussing funeral rites, wills and inheritance tax.

Trinidad is a bit like my brother’s house, the same but different. I’m going to try and find some links to the local newspapers. It’s become a very violent and dangerous place filled with rumours of police corruption and political scandal vying for a place in the papers, next to kidnappings and murders on epic scales. Life here happens behind burglar proofing, high walls and security guards. It makes me claustrophobic. I can’t bear locked doors and guns. Any homesickness I might feel is quickly chased away by reality. Like all bouts of nostalgia, the Trinidad I knew while growing up, didn’t really exist because it was seen through the eyes of a self-centred teenager.

I’ve had a chance to finally meet my niece who is 18 months, named after one grandmother with the temperament of the other. With blonde curls and the cutest smile, she’s stolen the hearts of everyone around her, including mine. Broody? Me? I’ll never admit to it. Ever. I’m looking forward to grandchildren.

My nephew is about to take his SAEs, which is the equivalent to the old 11+ system. While primary school education needs to be paid for, secondary education is free and the competition is fierce for the handful of really good high schools. He spends his Saturday morning having extra tutorials, the afternoon doing his homework and Sunday evening revising fractions. My SIL (Sister in Law) looks at me strangely at my relaxed attitude to Boy’s learning.

The hardest part is being without my Boy. I keep thinking there’s something missing…the cuddles, his sense of humour. I’m taking loads of pictures to show him. I don’t have my USB cable, so I can’t transfer my pictures yet, but there will be some to make you envious. Blue skies, clear water and white sands. This is a beautiful but troubled country.