My name is Tony Brereton and I design a souvenir magazine for a Carnival band.
I was born in Barataria. I'm an East boy. And I've limed in the West most of my life.
I went to St Joseph's College, where, even though it was in the East, a lot of West people came. I limed with for-real white boys, blonde hair, blue eyes kinda thing. We're all still real good friends today.
I have a son but I'm 100 per cent single. I talk cool like normal with my ex-wife. But there's no salvaging that!
I want to know what going on with these youths, and even the older crowd but Trinidad is like one big orgy now. Everybody just firetrucking with everybody. The gays and them come out like I don't know now. Is like no closet people any more. And they have plenty cougars, too. They are actually the easy prey.
I had the best of both worlds. I'd be smoking weed with the fellas in the park in Westmoorings. And then I'd be smoking weed in the savannah in Barataria with the guntas.
I'm not ashamed of smoking weed. EVERYBODY smokes weed in Trinidad. Who does hide about it and say they don't–they do! I have real lawyer pardners who come and check me and bring little hard weed.
You could get a grade of weed for $50 a gramme, which would be pretty decent, you get high off it. Then you have weed going for $200 and $300 a gramme. They call it, "cush". All you need is two pulls from that and you high as firetruck. You could out that and keep it for tomorrow.
Weed selling in grammes now. Weed went metric long time.
I was on cocaine for ten years. Me and my brother. That was the environment we grew up in: it was selling on every corner. It took me a decade to realise I was addicted. When I stopped, I cried for cocaine like I had tabanca, like was a girl leave me. I climbed back out of that hole and I'm 11 years clean now.
I've had some of the most ridiculous tests. Real hot women, half-naked, telling me, "Do a line with me, nuh!" I know exactly what it would do me if I did a line: it would take me to the ATM to cash out all my money. Any time I touch that again, that's the end of my life, and I have too much to live for now. I have a kid.
I'll do the layout a month or two before but I have about four days to put the Carnival band magazine together. From Carnival Monday night and whole day Tuesday, a guy will be dropping camera flashcards for me. There's hardly any text in the magazine at all. By Friday, the magazine will be printed. Foreigners will buy that out like I don't know.
My friends say, "Boy, you don't stare at all these women' pictures!" But I just looking at layout. I learn to blank it out. I guess it's the same thing that stems back from addiction: being in a room with that and not feeling for it kinda vibes. Is like a self-control that's very valuable in life.
The best part about the job is holding the magazine and watching it when it's actually finished. The bad part is when the band want the magazine right now.
My father have no heart problem, no cholesterol problem. His only problem is, he still like to lime! And my mother's go and lime with him. They moving together from ever since. That's how I see marriage.
My father is 70 now and still playing Carnival. All my uncles and aunts, all they life, they (harass) my father about smoking weed and liming. Now who have a cane and who can't see properly asking me, "What it is your father doing that he still so fit?" And I tell them, "All the same things you used to curse him about is what have him going real good today".
Being a Trini is being able to live any culture. There's nowhere else in the world Muslims light deyas for Divali.
There is no place like T&T. We live longer here than average people.
Read a longer version of this feature at www.BCRaw.com
