Senior Multimedia Reporter
radhica.sookraj@guardian.co.tt
In Icacos, residents have a saying about the village they call home.
"It is a place with nothing to do and all day to do it."
The phrase is repeated with a smile, but beneath the humour lies the frustration of living in one of Trinidad's most isolated communities, where breathtaking natural beauty exists alongside chronic unemployment, limited opportunities and a growing sense that the peninsula has been left behind.
The drive to Icacos is serene.
A few gingerbread houses still stand, while vast acreages of coconut trees provide a therapeutic backdrop. The road narrows between the Great Icacos saltwater lagoons, where scarlet ibises, herons and egrets feed in the shallows. Hawks perch in the trees, while the marshes are dotted with round crab holes. It is said that anacondas lurk beneath the swamps.
In Icacos village, wild cattle wander through centuries-old coconut estates, seemingly oblivious to passing vehicles.
At Columbus Bay, the Three Sisters rock formations rise from the sea, while the weathered chimney of an old coconut oil factory and remnants of estate buildings recall another era when the peninsula bustled with economic activity.
Today, residents say Icacos remains a place of remarkable tranquillity, but its isolation has also left it struggling for economic opportunities.
Beauty without opportunity
The community has also become home to Venezuelan families, with residents saying Venezuelans have been coming to the peninsula for decades. The Venezuelan mainland, just six miles away, can be seen in the distance.
During the day, Warao children and adults can be seen collecting dry coconuts for processing at the St Quintin and Constance Coconut Estates.
Residents, however, say the coastline takes on a different character at night, with the Columbus Channel and Gulf of Paria described as corridors for illicit activity, including smuggling, gun-running and human trafficking.
For businesswoman Delly Mohammed, however, the challenges have not diminished Icacos' appeal.
"I've been living here since 2006. I came here because of love," Mohammed said proudly.
Sitting outside her home while her 14-year-old daughter prepared stewed beef and cassava dumplings for lunch, Mohammed spoke passionately about a community she believes has enormous potential but has received little investment.
"In Icacos, people joke that this is a place where you have nothing to do and all day to do it," she said.
Mohammed said visitors often see only the beaches, lagoons and open coastline, overlooking the hidden coves, secluded wetlands and untouched landscapes that she believes could rival tourist attractions anywhere in the Caribbean.
But residents have heard promises before.
She said proposals for shrimp farms, fish farms, eco-parks and tourism projects had been discussed over the years.
"Nothing has materialised."
Mohammed believes the peninsula's location, rich birdlife and Grand Lagoons make it ideal for eco-tourism.
Birdwatching tours, kayaking, rafting and guided nature walks, she said, could create employment while protecting the environment.
But she believes economic development must begin with the people who live there.
"We need some kind of industry here," she said. "A trade school, a business centre, somewhere people could learn skills and get small grants to start businesses."
Without opportunities, she fears many young people lose direction.
"We have bright children here. We have athletic children," she said. "But some end up following the sea, farming or getting involved in illegal activities because there are so few opportunities."
A generation searching for a future
That concern is shared by 24-year-old Kadeem Jackie.
"There is no work in the peninsula," he said bluntly.
"The youths have nothing to do, and we cannot find work. Since CEPEP stopped, there have been no opportunities."
Jackie believes the community has talent but lacks investment.
His brother, Jerrin Jackie, is building a football career overseas, playing for Portuguese club CD Gouveia after representing Trinidad and Tobago.
Yet Kadeem says young footballers back home have nowhere suitable to train.
"The recreation ground in Cedros is overgrown," he said.
"There is no motivation. We have good people, but nobody is coming into the communities and helping us develop our talent."
Not far from the football field, another member of the Jackie family is preserving a disappearing tradition.
Erwin Jackie spends his days raising and training bullfinches for singing competitions, a pastime that was once common across south Trinidad but is now practised by only a handful of enthusiasts.
His carefully tended cages line his yard, offering a glimpse into a way of life that has endured despite the changes sweeping across the peninsula.
Another resident, Cindy Balchan, who lives near the beach, said Icacos' greatest strength is not its scenery but its people.
Balchan moved from Coromandel about a year ago, seeking a quieter life.
"Icacos is a nice, quiet place," she said.
"If you need a little work or a little hustle selling fish, people will help you."
Like many residents, however, she is unemployed.
"I don't like to sit down," she said.
"I'll clean houses or do anything. I just need a little something to do."
Balchan worries about the number of young people with little to occupy their time.
"They should have somewhere the youths can go to learn something," she said.
Skills training, she believes, would give young people alternatives and prepare them for employment outside the peninsula.
Between opportunity and insecurity
Along sections of the coastline, rows of plywood houses belonging to members of the Warao community have become a familiar sight.
Migration from neighbouring Venezuela has transformed parts of Icacos over the past decade.
Fisherman Vincent Edwards said that for decades Venezuelan fishermen and labourers crossed the narrow stretch of water to work in Trinidad before returning home.
But now, Edwards said, making a living from the sea has become increasingly difficult.
Rougher waters, rising fuel costs and declining catches have all affected the industry.
He said the dangers are no longer limited to the weather.
The waters that once carried fishermen and traders now carry greater risks, making the crossing increasingly hazardous.
Edwards said economic hardship in Venezuela has led many migrants to settle permanently along the peninsula.
However, some villagers, including 83-year-old Leslie Wight, said the changes have brought new challenges.
While he still feels safe enough to leave his doors open, Wight said some Venezuelans are violent.
He recalled an incident in which he had been helping a Venezuelan woman by providing food and accommodation. During an argument, he said, she allegedly wrapped an electrical cord around his neck and attempted to strangle him.
"I held the cord and held onto her until she let go," he recalled.
He said she later picked up a knife and tried to stab him before leaving with some of his belongings.
Despite the experience, Wight said he has not allowed it to change his willingness to help others.
For the people of Icacos, however, the question remains how the community can turn its natural assets into sustainable opportunities.
The peninsula has beaches, wetlands, wildlife, fishing grounds, historic estates and a location just six miles from Venezuela.
What it lacks, residents say, is not potential.
It is investment, opportunity and a reason for the next generation to believe it can build a future there.
