Mara­cas Bay and Mount St Bene­dict were two of my favourite places to find peace and tran­quil­li­ty. I am a firm be­liev­er in ecother­a­py, as ex­po­sure to green and blue spaces is linked to nu­mer­ous ben­e­fits—im­proved at­ten­tion, low­er stress, bet­ter mood, and a re­duced risk of psy­chi­atric dis­or­ders.

Sad­ly, the fear of crime, poor in­fra­struc­ture, and ha­rass­ment by drug ad­dicts and so­cial­ly dis­placed per­sons have kept me from get­ting the rec­om­mend­ed 120 min­utes of week­ly out­door time.

The Gov­ern­ment’s re­cent at­tempts to im­prove safe­ty at these lo­ca­tions are a step in the right di­rec­tion.

I of­ten looked for­ward to my vis­its to Mara­cas Bay. I usu­al­ly parked in front of the Mara­cas Bay Ho­tel and crossed the bridge to set up my fold­ing tent. My fam­i­ly and I even stayed at the ho­tel twice, just to awak­en to the sound of the ocean and en­joy an ear­ly morn­ing swim.

On one oc­ca­sion, af­ter set­ting up near a shad­ed co­conut tree, eight teenagers de­cid­ed to sit right next to us, de­spite the beach hav­ing am­ple space. They cursed loud­ly and blast­ed mu­sic from a boom­box. Our peace­ful time was shat­tered. That out­ing—ten years ago—was my last fam­i­ly vis­it to Mara­cas. Now, I watch the war of words be­tween cur­rent and for­mer gov­ern­ment min­is­ters over the state of Mara­cas Bay.

Footage of a re­cent fight on the beach sparked ac­cu­sa­tions of gang ac­tiv­i­ty and a loss of pub­lic safe­ty. A let­ter by Dex­ter Rigs­by de­scribed his ex­pe­ri­ence be­ing ha­rassed by ag­gres­sive, young men in­sist­ing he rent their tents, chairs, and um­brel­las. When he re­fused and laid out his tow­els, they erect­ed a tent mere inch­es be­hind him, clear­ly to in­tim­i­date.

He de­scribed how, on long week­ends, these ven­dors pre-emp­tive­ly set up tents in the best spots—ef­fec­tive­ly forc­ing beach­go­ers to pay to use them.

Beach op­er­a­tions fall un­der the Min­istry of Tourism and UDe­COTT. Yet both the ag­gres­sive be­hav­iour and un­reg­u­lat­ed fur­ni­ture rental seem unchecked. If Sen­a­tor Phillip Alexan­der can bring change, I would glad­ly re­turn.

Is­sues like the flood-prone car park, re­cur­ring sewage prob­lems, and fair pay for life­guards must al­so be ad­dressed.

Mount St Bene­dict, my oth­er refuge, has al­so faced de­cline. Min­is­ter of Pub­lic Util­i­ties Bar­ry Padarath must be thanked for ad­dress­ing over­grown trees rest­ing on pow­er lines—a dan­ger ig­nored for two years un­til re­cent­ly trimmed “in a sin­gle day.”

Padarath right­ful­ly said Mount St Bene­dict holds na­tion­al sig­nif­i­cance, of­fer­ing sup­port and so­lace to many.

While vis­it­ing on Tues­day, I wit­nessed the tree cut­ting. But I al­so saw a scant­i­ly clad in­di­vid­ual walk­ing in the mid­dle of St John’s Road. My in­stincts went on high alert. In­stead of re­lax­ing, I was men­tal­ly prepar­ing for “fight or flight.”

This is where I make my ap­peal.

In Sep­tem­ber 2022, dur­ing a sen­a­to­r­i­al de­bate, I urged the gov­ern­ment to in­vest in safe pub­lic spaces—Zones of Peace. I said: “Walk­ing, ex­er­cis­ing, spend­ing time in na­ture or on the beach of­fers ther­a­peu­tic heal­ing. We need safe spaces where peo­ple can re­lax with loved ones, with prop­er se­cu­ri­ty for both peo­ple and ve­hi­cles, and with­out un­ruly be­hav­iour or noise pol­lu­tion.”

We des­per­ate­ly need Zones of Peace in T&T—ar­eas where fam­i­lies can re­con­nect with na­ture and feel safe. Amidst grow­ing crime, these peace­ful zones can pro­vide phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal heal­ing for stressed com­mu­ni­ties. I sug­gest:

1. Des­ig­nat­ed Peace Parks: Con­vert or cre­ate green spaces where loud mu­sic, al­co­hol, and loi­ter­ing are pro­hib­it­ed. In­clude nat­ur­al land­scap­ing, bench­es, wa­ter fea­tures, and clear sig­nage pro­mot­ing tran­quil­li­ty.

2. Joint Po­lice/Mil­i­tary Pa­trols: Vis­i­ble pa­trols at en­try points, car parks, and beach­es.

Places like the Paramin Look­out and La­dy Young Road of­fer breath­tak­ing views. Ed­die Hart Grounds has great food stalls. Yet, all would ben­e­fit from a stronger se­cu­ri­ty pres­ence.

In Medel­lín, Colom­bia, “Li­brary Parks” were cre­at­ed—blend­ing na­ture, ed­u­ca­tion, and safe­ty—trans­form­ing the city’s im­age. Why not here?

Crime has forced me to seek peace abroad. In Fort Laud­erdale, my wife and I re­treat to the Hilton ho­tel bal­cony, spend­ing hours in si­lence, feel­ing safe, serene, and re­con­nect­ed.

Dolce far niente—the sweet­ness of do­ing noth­ing—is es­sen­tial to our mar­riage suc­cess. Just sit­ting canoodling in si­lence, with­out in­ter­act­ing with peo­ple, pa­tients, or chil­dren, gives us the space to recharge.

Per­sons de­serve sim­i­lar sanc­tu­ar­ies in T&T—places to feel safe, to re­lax, and to sim­ply breathe.

Let’s make Zones of Peace a na­tion­al pri­or­i­ty.