Zan - the final post for the A to Z Challenge

So it's a made-up word.

It was 1990, the height of Warhead's short career, Corey Wallace had made up this word - 'Zan'. Out of nowhere.

It really stood for anything, and we started using it in sentences - it was a noun, verb, adverb, pronoun, present participle, you name it.

Zan was it. A versatile word that fit every occasion.

And best of all, it was all ours.

Only we knew what it meant. It was code. Our code.

Andrew Moffat, Nick Nathaniel, Mark Dopson, Corey Wallace and myself - Cesco Emmanuel.

We were so young and naive, with no clue what life held in store, but we were playing heavy music, sometimes we loved it, sometimes we hated it. We were seeing other parts of the country. We played in some really messed up hell holes, hardly any money, terrible sound, one occasion I got electrocuted while performing.

But hey, we had fun didn't we?

Yes indeed, we zanned it.

Those were the days.

I hope to never forget those great, young, innocent 'Warhead' times.

Moving on

We've sold our family house and now we must leave the only place we've known all our lives.

Growing up here was a dream almost, we lived on a quiet street and rode our bikes all around the place.

Over the decades, things started to change on our street and even though we tried to ignore it at first there came a point where we just couldn't anymore.

Our neighbourhood is not the same, hasn't been for years. What was once a residential area became semi-commercial. Without any warning.

And even though I have written relevant government authorities over the years, no one can tell me what's the proper zoning mandate for St. James. No one is interested in establishing proper laws for residential and commercial property in Trinidad.

If you take a drive around St. James you will see a place that looks run down, unkempt, basically in ruins. The sad thing is that, no one really seems to care how decrepit St. James gets. There's garbage on the street next to dog faeces. There's the smell of stale urine everywhere. There's businesses next to houses, there's rum shops and food joints. It's a misguided place with no real order. It's falling apart in sections and that's just the way it's gonna stay.

And so, without warning, quiet, lovely, simple St. James became a dump. Not overnight, but gradually.

On my family's street alone, there's a roadside mechanic (directly opposite our house), a printer, a gym and an ice factory, all on one short side-street.

On that very street that I grew up on, a once peaceful place, there is now traffic, car fumes daily, running engines and without fail everyday there's always someone parked in front of our driveway.

Everyday.

That's why my family and I were left with no choice. We were forced to sell the only place we've ever called home.

This house was built in 1966. It's not the greatest, there's a few things that need repairs, but it's home.

And now we must leave here, because we cannot enjoy any peace, in our space, in our place.

We have no idea where we're going, so far we haven't found a suitable place that we can afford.

But, one thing is for sure, we have to move.

Life is a strange thing, if you refuse to move even in the face of uncomfortable circumstances, then life will force you to move.

We got an offer and we accepted.

What happens next, is anyone's guess.

But I have to believe that there's someplace out there that's perfect for my family.

I have to hope that we'll find a new home.

Ignorance

This doesn't relate to everyone, but sadly it does relate to most people in Trinidad, regardless of creed, race and income/social status:

I don't care if I'm come across as ignorant.

It doesn't impact on me so I don't care. I will do what I want. I will drive how I want, not observing road signals. I will pullover when I want, hold up traffic on the road. I will blare my radio loud to deafen all who hear my music in my car.

I will spit where I want, on the roadside, on the pavement. I will throw my garbage out of the car window while I'm driving.

I'll piss on your wall when I'm drunk. I'll throw my litter over your fence as I pass by your street.

I'll fix my car on the open road, in front your driveway. I will run the car engine for a long, long time. I will park in front of your driveway.

I'll cuss in front of children.

I'll disregard other people's culture. I will insult my own history. I don't care where my musical heritage came from, I only want it loud and fast. I'll blatantly use music samples from other genres and claim it as my own for my beloved soca and chutney 'art form'. I will give nothing its' due credit.

I'll degrade women as objects.

I'll spray paint on your wall during J'ouvert, because it's fun and it doesn't bother me that it's damaging your property.

I will not treat my customers with courtesy and respect because I hate what I do so why should I be pleasant to people, it's just a job and to be honest, it doesn't pay much.

I will say and do what I want, no law will touch me, I am a law unto myself.

Because I just don't care.

I am a Trinidadian and I don't give an damn about my country or my fellow countryman.

Pride of ownership

Sweden, Canada, Holland, Germany and Trinidad, just to name a few for my sample observation.

I've visited about twelve European countries, travelled all over the United States and Canada playing music, and what always struck me was how neat and orderly the cities ran. How neighbourhoods always seemed well maintained. How people knew to put their trash in garbage bins, how to recycle. In a nutshell, how to care for their surroundings, their town, city, country and by extension the environment.

Whenever I'm in Trinidad I'm always saddened how we take care of our country.

In many of the lower-income areas some houses are literally falling apart - no repaint jobs, derelict walls, crumbling roofs. In St. James and Woodbrook most of the pavements are broken, the drains smell stink and there's garbage strewn everywhere on weekends when there's no garbage pick up.

Whenever I take a drive throughout the country I see garbage thrown out of car windows as people drive on by, it's as if we get a kick out of being nasty.

Along the highways between the East, West, North and South, there's garbage along the roadways.

After carnival every year, taking a drive throughout St. James, Woodbrook, St. Clair and lower Maraval we can see signs of J'ouvert - many of the masqueraders splash paint on people's houses, even the walls of churches aren't spared, so much for the sacred spaces.

There's no respect, no law and order here.

St. James and Woodbrook once used to be residential areas and then slowly without warning and without proper paperwork and zoning bylaws, businesses started popping up everywhere. My family's historical home in St. James is now huddled on a street next to a roadside mechanic, a printery, an ice factory and a gym, in what was once a residential area.

Cars blare their music at all hours of the night for everyone to hear. People spit everywhere. Drunkards piss on innocent walls every weekend.

Trinidad is a lawless country, every corner, every crevice. Every person learns from a very young age by observing their parents how to be a reckless 'Trini'. Our only saving grace is our weather.

But it is sad and true, we have no pride of ownership here. We rather destroy and let everything decay around us, than to preserve our heritage buildings, than to preserve our nature sanctuaries, than to honour our sacred spaces, than to respect each others' homes and property.

Trinidad is a country in decay, and in years to come when everything is in shambles and we all look around clueless wondering how it all happened, what we should really be trying to find, is a mirror.