There are some things in Trinidad and Tobago that you never thought you had to worry about.
The doubles man.
The coconut vendor.
The snow-cone man. The oyster man.
Even the woman selling seasoning and pimento on the highway.
Of course also...is the nutsman.
For years when we travelled along the highway, we all remember, unbearable traffic and we sure to see two, three rastaman, head bound in Ice, Green and Gold headbands, some in Rasta-styled hats loaded with their bags of salt, fresh and cashew nuts. Satisfying many a motorist with a pass time Trinbagonian craving of nuts of their choice, to cushion them in the long bumper to bumper gridlocks across our highways.
These fellars had certain spots on the highway. You know, you bound to see them Sunday to Sunday. As a matter of fact, these fellars were markers, so you know how the traffic was flowing and where you reach, just when you spot these nutsmen.
You would slow down, throw up your hand, blink your lights, buy a bag, and continue your journey.
But something has been happening quietly. I wonder if anybody else noticing it. Look around the highways now, the intersections and the busy roadside spots.
The nutsmen slowly disappearing.
Who is in he place now?
Now is cassava chips, sweet potato chips and plantain chips. Now is arepas and cold pop corn.
We now seeing a growing number of Venezuelan vendors.
Now before somebody start shouting, “Like Heerah gone mad! He don’t want Venezuelans in Trinidad!”
Hold your fire. That is not what I saying.
We understand People migrate. People look for opportunity. People hustle. People trying to feed their families. This is a norm around the world. This...has been a norm throughout the region.
I understand that. The question that I asking is whether we are paying attention to the economic space being created, occupied and increasingly dominated by informal commerce and trade without any proper national strategy for managing it.
The face of Trinidad changing fast.
Because sometimes takeover does not come with soldiers.
It does not come with guns.
Sometimes takeover does come with a cooler bag, a tray of plantain chips and an ‘amigo’ walking down the centre of the highway in face masks shouting, “Cheeps, Cheeps!” (Chips, Chips)
The thing is, by the time you realise what happened, the old guard gone, disappear.
That is the part I want us to think about.
Because this is bigger than the rastaman, the nutsman. It is about economic territory.
Trinbagonians have always had to hustle.
We have a long tradition of informal entrepreneurship.
So if new populations arrive and quite naturally, begin establishing themselves in the same informal economic spaces, that is not necessarily a problem.
The problem is when there is no policy.
Because where there is no policy, there is no planning.
Where there is no planning, there is no balance.
Where there is no balance, resentment eventually starts cooking on a slow fire.
Xenophobia could start to creep in. Blame could start flying.
But here is the thing. We cannot blame the migrant for identifying an opportunity.
We must ask why the opportunity was left unmanaged in the first place.
You see, the same way we monitor crime patterns, traffic patterns and migration patterns, we should be watching economic patterns.
Are our local vendors being displaced? Are there opportunities for Trinbagonians to participate and most importantly,
What is the plan? Because the photo ops and our recent conversation about closer engagement with Venezuela rightly speaks about migration management, labour integration, energy sector agreements and social stability. That is good.
But we have to tread lightly, we have to be vigilant. We can’t throw caution to the wind.
Because migration management cannot only mean counting people at the border.
It must also mean understanding what happens after they cross the border.
Trinbagonians need to stop being afraid to have sensible conversations about these things because we don’t want to be called xenophobic.
We can embrace our Venezuelan neighbours while ensuring that migration is properly documented, regulated and integrated.
But please...
Don’t make me have to cross three highways to find a nutsman!
We have to think nation first!
Next thing we know, we asking, “Way de nutsman gone?” “Where Ras gone?”
Sometimes we don’t lose things because somebody deliberately takes them from us.
Sometimes we lose them because we weren’t paying attention while the landscape was changing. Be it over water or over land. We refuse to read the signs and symptoms.
So I am not calling for anybody to chase anybody. I am calling for us to wake up and look around.
Because if we don’t understand the changing economic landscape of Trinidad and Tobago, one day we may wake up and discover that the things we thought were permanently ours...were never permanently ours at all.
Somewhere on the highway, somebody will still be shouting, “Cheeps! Cheeps! Arepa!”
While somewhere on the side, a lone Rastaman looking at he bag of nuts saying, “Boy... allyuh better start watching wha happenin.”
So to all who have ears to hear and eyes to see, doh sell yuh country cheap for a bag of ‘cheeps’.
