There are some old Trin­ba­go say­ings that should nev­er be al­lowed to die.

They are crude enough to make you laugh, clever enough to make you think, and truth­ful enough to make you un­com­fort­able.

One of them is, “What sweet in goat mouth does sour in de bam bam!”

It is quin­tes­sen­tial­ly Trin­ba­go.

Some­thing looks good. It smells good. It tastes good. You bite. You chew. You swal­low. For a while, every­thing seems won­der­ful.

But wait un­til the body has to deal with what you have con­sumed.

That is when the sweet­ness can turn sour.

That old say­ing is re­al­ly a warn­ing about con­se­quences. Per­haps to­day, more than ever, we need to hear it.

The late great ca­lyp­son­ian Lord Pen­guin un­der­stood this par­tic­u­lar ge­nius of our cul­ture, the abil­i­ty to wrap se­ri­ous so­cial com­men­tary in­side hu­mour, dou­ble en­ten­dre and every­day lan­guage. Pen­guin was cel­e­brat­ed for us­ing fa­mil­iar lan­guage and folk wis­dom to ad­dress se­ri­ous is­sues and to make au­di­ences laugh while si­mul­ta­ne­ous­ly mak­ing them think.

So let us take the proverb be­yond the joke. Be­cause Trinidad and To­ba­go is con­sum­ing a lot of “sweet” things these days.

Some of them are go­ing to leave a very bit­ter taste.

Look at our young peo­ple.

The in­flu­ence of drugs, al­co­hol, so­cial me­dia, gangs and a cul­ture that in­creas­ing­ly glo­ri­fies quick mon­ey and reck­less be­hav­iour can be very sweet in the mouth.

The first ex­pe­ri­ence may feel ex­cit­ing. The ac­cep­tance from the crowd may feel good. The mon­ey may look at­trac­tive. The lifestyle may ap­pear glam­orous.

But even­tu­al­ly comes the bill.

Ad­dic­tion. Bro­ken fam­i­lies. Vi­o­lence.

Crim­i­nal records. Lost op­por­tu­ni­ties.

Prison. Some­times death.

The sweet­ness was tem­po­rary. The con­se­quences are per­ma­nent.

Then there are re­la­tion­ships.

Some peo­ple en­ter mar­riages and in­ti­mate re­la­tion­ships be­cause what they see ini­tial­ly is sweet.

Flow­ers. Ro­mance. At­ten­tion. Promis­es.

“This per­son loves me.”

“This per­son will take care of me.”

“This per­son would nev­er hurt me.”

Then the mask be­gins to slip.

Con­trol be­comes jeal­ousy. In­se­cu­ri­ty breeds con­flict.

Jeal­ousy be­comes in­tim­i­da­tion.

In­tim­i­da­tion be­comes emo­tion­al abuse.

Some­times emo­tion­al abuse be­comes phys­i­cal vi­o­lence. The sweet­ness has turned sour.

The les­son is not that we should dis­trust every­body. It is that we must learn to recog­nise what we are con­sum­ing be­fore we swal­low it.

Then there is pol­i­tics.

Ah yes … pol­i­tics.

Per­haps nowhere is the proverb more ap­pro­pri­ate.

Every elec­tion sea­son, the po­lit­i­cal menu gets very in­ter­est­ing.

Promis­es are served hot.

Bet­ter roads.

More jobs.

More hous­es.

More op­por­tu­ni­ties.

Bet­ter health­care.

More se­cu­ri­ty.

Low­er costs.

A brighter fu­ture.

Every­body gets a taste.

Some­times the pack­ag­ing is beau­ti­ful.

The po­lit­i­cal sales­man knows ex­act­ly what the cus­tomer wants to hear.

We bite.

We chew.

We swal­low.

Then we wait.

But pol­i­tics, like food, must even­tu­al­ly pass through the sys­tem. That is when we dis­cov­er whether what sound­ed sweet was ac­tu­al­ly nu­tri­tious or mere­ly sug­ar-coat­ed.

The prob­lem is not that politi­cians make promis­es. Promis­es are part of pol­i­tics.

The prob­lem be­gins when cit­i­zens con­sume promis­es with­out de­mand­ing ac­count­abil­i­ty.

We should not on­ly ask politi­cians what they in­tend to give us. We should ask, “How will you pay for it?”

When will it hap­pen? Who will im­ple­ment it? What mea­sur­able re­sults will we see? What hap­pens if you fail?

That is not cyn­i­cism. That is democ­ra­cy.

Po­lit­i­cal par­ties should not be al­lowed to feed the elec­torate un­lim­it­ed serv­ings of po­lit­i­cal con­fec­tionery and then com­plain when cit­i­zens de­vel­op po­lit­i­cal di­a­betes.

We have to be­come smarter con­sumers.

Be­cause every promise even­tu­al­ly has to be di­gest­ed by the na­tion­al econ­o­my.

Every pol­i­cy has con­se­quences.

Every de­ci­sion has a cost.

Every vote has con­se­quences.

Some­times the con­se­quences are not im­me­di­ate­ly vis­i­ble. That is the dan­ger.

The sweet­ness comes first. The sour­ness comes lat­er.

By the time we re­alise what we swal­lowed, it may al­ready be too late to spit it out.

This ap­plies to all of us.

Par­ents must be care­ful about what in­flu­ences they al­low in­to the lives of their chil­dren.

Young peo­ple must un­der­stand that not every­thing trend­ing on Tik­Tok, In­sta­gram or else­where de­serves to be copied.

Adults must recog­nise that not every re­la­tion­ship that starts sweet is healthy.

Vot­ers must un­der­stand that not every po­lit­i­cal promise de­serves their vote.

We must learn to look be­yond the taste.

Ask what is in­side. Ask where it came from. Ask what hap­pens af­ter we swal­low.

Be­cause the most dan­ger­ous things are not al­ways the things that taste bit­ter.

Some­times they are the things that taste very, very sweet.

That is why old say­ings mat­ter.

Our an­ces­tors may not have had smart­phones, ar­ti­fi­cial in­tel­li­gence, 24-hour news cy­cles or so­phis­ti­cat­ed po­lit­i­cal polling.

But they un­der­stood hu­man na­ture.

They un­der­stood temp­ta­tion.

They un­der­stood con­se­quences.

They un­der­stood that some­times the thing that makes you smile go­ing in can make you cry com­ing out.

So per­haps the old folks were re­al­ly giv­ing us a na­tion­al phi­los­o­phy in one hi­lar­i­ous sen­tence, “What sweet in goat mouth does sour in de bam bam!”

Trans­la­tion?

Be care­ful what you con­sume.

Be­cause whether it is drugs, al­co­hol, tox­ic re­la­tion­ships, po­lit­i­cal promis­es or any­thing else that looks too good to be true, the sweet­ness may on­ly be the be­gin­ning of the sto­ry.

When the con­se­quences fi­nal­ly ar­rive, there may be no laugh­ing mat­ter.

So be­fore we bite …

Be­fore we chew …

Be­fore we swal­low …

Maybe we should ask our­selves one sim­ple ques­tion, “How this thing go­ing and feel when it come out?”

That is not just a joke. That is a warn­ing.

Per­haps Trinidad and To­ba­go needs to wake up be­fore too many of us dis­cov­er that what tast­ed sweet go­ing in … was al­ready sour at the oth­er end.

As I fin­ished pen this week’s ar­ti­cle, I couldn’t help but lis­ten one more time to the leg­end Lord Pen­guin’s 1983 hit ... those words con­tin­ue to be a warn­ing sign for us, even up to to­day, “What sweet in goat mouth does sour in de bam bam!”