The sun was sitting low over the village as the evening breeze moved through the mango trees with a soft hush.
The smell of fry bake and smoked herring drifted out from Ma Dookie’s kitchen, while two little boys kicked an old, torn football near the standpipe.
Down by the roadside, on the pavement outside Lal’s shop, Old Man Hamilton, everyone called him Hammy, was perched on his usual sweet drink case, sipping his Guinness.
Amazingly, every time I saw Mr Hammy, he always had a Guinness sipping.
He was watching Trinidad move around him like a living, breathing story.
Lal’s shop was small, but it was the heartbeat of the neighbourhood. People passed through steady, steady, buying a pack of Crix, topping up their phone, asking Lal to trust them till month-end.
Every so often, a loud, colourful advertisement would blare from somebody’s car stereo, “SALE! SALE! FINAL SALE! Everything you never plan to buy… now on special!”
Hammy would raise his eyebrow every time. This evening, a young woman named Leanne passed by with two shopping bags stuffed full. She stopped to greet him.
“Evening, Mr Hammy! Yuh good?”
Hammy nodded.
“Ah alright, sweetheart. But you? That look like plenty spending?”
Leanne laughed.
“Just a few curtain deals I ketch in town. The ads was saying final sale, last chance, buy now before it gone!” Hammy tapped the side of his bottle.
“Hmm. Last chance, yes, but last chance for who?”
She looked puzzled. Hammy pointed to the village.
“Look around, darling. Everybody hustling, scraping, juggling. Bills rising like tide. Food price going up every month. People pockets shrinking like bhaji in the hot sun. But the ads and the big companies beating drum in we ears saying, ‘Buy! Buy! Buy!’”
He shook his head.
“Some of them things on sale, not even cheap. Is just the word ‘sale’ making people hand itchy.”
A maxi honked as it passed, blasting a fast-paced soca ad for a new phone, ‘Zero down! Zero interest!’, until you read the small print.
As Leanne shifted her bags, Hammy leaned forward, his voice dropping to a deeper caution.
“Leanne, hear this, plenty public servants in this country done mentally spend their whole backpay already. Money they didn’t get yet, for some, money they not even sure when they getting. They dreaming big dreams, planning big purchases, counting big dollars… but the dollar not even in their hand yet. That is dangerous. That is how people end up broke before the money touch their account. A promise is not a deposit. A mental budget is not real income. Tell them wise up.”
She nodded slowly, the excitement in her face settling into thought. Hammy exhaled softly.
“This is not about spoiling joy. This is about saving sense.”
Just then, Lal stepped outside to empty some cardboard boxes. He overheard and chuckled.
“Hammy preaching again, yes? But he right. People living in their head, spending in advance, then when the real money come, it disappearing like pholourie in a school recess!”
Hammy pointed his cane toward the shop.
“Look how people moving. Spending like we in a season of plenty. But plenty done gone. These companies know people tired, stressed, frustrated, they using that to make money. A pretty ad, a loud jingle, a sale sign… it luring people like fish to bait.”
A man passing by nodded.
“I nearly take a loan for a TV I doh need because the salesman say, ‘Boss, is the last one.’”
Hammy chuckled.
“Last one? That man have ten more in the back.”
The small crowd laughed, but Hammy’s voice grew serious once more.
“All jokes aside, this is not the time to move careless. Hard days ahead. We seeing signs already. Prices climbing like they in a race. Salaries not matching cost of living. The world itself shaky. If we not cautious now, we will feel it harder later.”
He raised his hand, emphasising each point.
“Being smart doh mean to be miserable. Being cautious not mean being fearful. Being frugal not mean being cheap. It just mean preparing wisely.”
The wind picked up a bit, carrying dust across the road. Hammy gazed at the dark cloud hanging over the mountains.
“You see that cloud? That is how the times looking. A lil dark. A lil heavy. Not to frighten people, but to warn them.”
He stood with the help of his cane and looked around at the villagers who had quietly gathered.
“Let me tell all yuh plain, when hard times come and they coming, those who overspend go bawl first. Those who plan, save, hold strain, and resist temptation go stand firm.”
He paused, letting the message sink in.
“Don’t let advertisement pressure you. Don’t let sale signs fool you. Don’t let dreams of backpay blind you. Don’t buy want and lose your need. Don’t ever show off for people who not paying your bills.”
A few people murmured, agreeing. A woman folded her arms and said, “True words.”
Hammy took one last sip of his Guinness, wiped his mouth, and smiled gently.
“Trinidad sweet, yes. But sweetness without sense does give bellyache. So all ah we, every creed and race, need to walk wise in these shifting times.”
He nodded to the small crowd.
“Spend on what matters. Save what you can. Move humble. Move smart. Because tough days doh send invitation, they just show up.”
With that, Old Man Hammy shuffled slowly down the road, leaving the evening breeze to carry his warning across the village.
“Be vigilant. Be wise. Be frugal. Bad weather coming.”
