A Tourist, Home

A funny thing happened on the way to a PhD…

I came home.

Photographers, I have found, tend to fit into two general categories: Those who photograph, either their niche or everything under the sun, right in their own back yard, and those who yearn to explore. In many respects, I fall well within the latter category and I consider it an enormous privilege to do so. Though I routinely practice on things in Toronto, travel has been the main impetus for my foray into photography. Painting with the colours of the world has been my main motivator; the journey to far-off destinations has always been my calling. It is, then, with no small sense of irony, that I find myself re-tracing childhood paths and forging new ones in the country of my birth, a country I once assumed I knew as intimately as the back of my own hand.

Fear, it seemed, prevented us from exploring our own backyards.

There is something freeing about having the privilege of getting lost in a country you once thought you knew.  My time here has allowed me to dispel myths that I was raised with and, in some respects, it has meant that I have been able to see the country as I had always imagined it to be. When I lived in Trinidad, until the age of nine, we lived in the northern part of the country, surrounded by hills covered in lush forest. On the way to my house, in a very respectable neighborhood, was a signpost (which exists to this day) declaring a short jaunt to a waterfall trail. I spent much of my youth, and every family vacation back since, begging to see the waterfall which I assumed was in very close proximity to my childhood home. But, like many Trinidadians woefully out of touch with nature, my family was no different. “It’s too dangerous!”, I was told. “People will rob you there!” (or worse, was the implication).  “There are snakes and who knows what else… Oh geed!”

Fear, it seemed, prevented us from exploring our own back yards. It is a fear that I have seen replicated, to this day, in speaking with the friends I’ve made over my time here. We fear the great unknown. The same stories that were told to us, to keep us safe from wandering into swamps or venturing to the beach at night, are the same stories that keep us trapped, that prevent us from having the courage to explore.  In fairness, the only thing we have to fear is each other…though that is a point for a different entry altogether.

But photographers have been known to do stupid things for “the shot”.  Tourists, even more so. So perhaps it is this quixotic mix of art, wonder, and sheer stupidity, that has led me to adventure all over the islands. While not inherently reckless, I have been to parts of the country that many locals have not seen. And that, to me, is simultaneously the most surprising and saddest thing of all.  Trinidadians know of Maracas Beach. They may even know of Las Cuevas or Manzanilla.  But the beauty of the country, the truly compelling parts of the islands, exist off the beaten path.

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other places, other lives, other souls.

~ Anaïs Nin

As an academic, and as a nature photographer, I have, understandably, mixed feelings about sharing the beauty of the unfettered landscape. I have been to many places while traveling throughout Trinidad that, while incredibly beautiful, have been despoiled and perverted by locals who fail to appreciate the wonder at their doorstep. It is a beauty which travelers save their pennies for, in the hopes of experiencing it for but a brief week out of a year. But instead of celebrating this beauty, we destroy it. Garbage abounds, advancing and retreating from shorelines in an unending march to and from places like Scotland Bay where yachters frequent with party boats. Noise pollutes air, and refuse pollutes waterways. What is the point of sharing more beauty if only to see it carelessly eroded?

Despite this, I truly believe it is a privilege and a right of every Trinbagonian to know their country. There is so much to see and love here – so many reasons to be proud to call this country home. Pride would go a long way to desiring clean beaches and scenic waterfalls. Pride would go a long way to rebuilding the morale of a country plagued by a depreciating economy and a criminal element.

Do not leave it to tourists to know your home better than you do.

Chasing the light,