If you’ve felt stretched thin at work late­ly, you’re not alone. Across Trinidad and To­ba­go, em­ploy­ees in every sec­tor, from bank­ing to health­care to re­tail, are qui­et­ly car­ry­ing more than ever. Dead­lines are tighter, ex­pec­ta­tions high­er, and the line be­tween “at work” and “off du­ty” has al­most dis­ap­peared. For many, the dai­ly grind feels like a marathon that nev­er ends.

“As I con­tin­ue to re­new and re­vi­talise my spir­it, I be­lieve that women can rise above chal­lenges they face by wel­com­ing guid­ance that em­pow­ers and trans­forms their lives, build­ing a strong and pos­i­tive mind­set, and em­brac­ing in­de­pen­dence.” These are the sen­ti­ments of ad­vo­cate and be­liev­er of lo­cal and the go-green phi­los­o­phy, Hea­matie Bho­la-Gopaul.

Is­hana Edgar, an 18-year-old sec­ond-year Busi­ness Man­age­ment stu­dent at the Uni­ver­si­ty of the South­ern Caribbean, walked away with the pres­ti­gious ti­tle of Miss Cen­tral Trinidad when the Cou­va Car­ni­val Com­mit­tee (CCC) staged its mar­quee event at the Cou­va Car­ni­val Cen­tre on Sat­ur­day.

In the qui­et neigh­bour­hood of Fed­er­a­tion Park, the pul­sat­ing heart of Car­ni­val now beats from with­in the walls of the Art So­ci­ety of Trinidad and To­ba­go head­quar­ters. Cur­rent­ly on dis­play is Din­go­lay, an ex­hi­bi­tion that trans­forms the gallery space in­to a vi­brant trib­ute to the colour, ca­dence and cul­tur­al pow­er of Trin­ba­go Car­ni­val.

It’s show­time! That time when women par­tic­i­pat­ing in the Car­ni­val fes­tiv­i­ties get set to put their best faces for­ward for the glitz and glam of the Great­est Show on Earth. Over the years, make­up for the Pa­rade of the Bands has be­come part and par­cel of the cos­tumes them­selves, at a sep­a­rate cost, of course.

I watched your fu­ner­al on Zoom. Heard voic­es. Echoes of you. Dull pewter light. The cam­era was fixed high and slight­ly to one side. The priest moved in and out of range. The cof­fin crossed the screen once, a head shift­ing. I was in my kitchen in the Caribbean, the lap­top open, the light too bright around me.

The Car­ni­val sea­son usu­al­ly in­cludes al­co­hol con­sump­tion. Oc­ca­sion­al drink­ing may be part of cul­tur­al and so­cial events, but ex­cess al­co­hol in­take can neg­a­tive­ly im­pact women’s health. As women, we process al­co­hol dif­fer­ent­ly, which leads to stronger ef­fects with small­er amounts.

Aliya Ser­rette was one of two stu­dents to be award­ed the Pres­i­dent’s Medal for her per­for­mance in the 2025 Caribbean Ad­vanced Pro­fi­cien­cy Ex­am­i­na­tions (CAPE), and she is the first stu­dent to bring that pres­ti­gious ho­n­our to her school.

Long be­fore big stages, cap­tive crowds and blind­ing spot­lights, Sanell Demp­ster was singing. Well-loved for not on­ly her mon­ster hits, one of which cat­a­pult­ed her to the Road March Crown in 1999, mak­ing her the sec­ond-ever woman to win the ti­tle, she is a per­former at heart, now even more wide­ly known by the younger gen­er­a­tion for her raw, en­ter­tain­ing talks on Tik­Tok.

They may be get­ting down in age, but that didn’t stop res­i­dents of the Promise House fa­cil­i­ty in San­ta Cruz from tak­ing part in Car­ni­val cel­e­bra­tions.

Car­ni­val is one of the most vi­brant, joy­ful and cul­tur­al­ly rich cel­e­bra­tions in our na­tion. It is a time of mu­sic, free­dom, ex­pres­sion and uni­ty. As mas­quer­aders pre­pare to take to the road, I of­fer this mes­sage not to damp­en the spir­it of the sea­son, but to pro­tect the health and fu­ture of the women who cel­e­brate.