What be­gan as cher­ished child­hood mem­o­ries and a love for Christ­mas has blos­somed in­to one of Cen­tral Trinidad’s most unique her­itage at­trac­tions.

Love was in the air in Mo­ri­ah on Sat­ur­day as one of the most pop­u­lar To­ba­go Her­itage Fes­ti­val events at­tract­ed hun­dreds of peo­ple. Guests spilled out­side the Mo­ri­ah Mora­vian Church Hall for the re-en­act­ment of the tra­di­tion­al Ole Time Wed­ding.

T&T has earned its spot on the world stage through its im­pres­sive culi­nary her­itage. Our rich, flavour­ful melt­ing pot of cul­tur­al cook­ing prac­tices is un­like any oth­er. But our love af­fair with “sweet” Tri­ni food may come with a cost to our health.

Au­gust va­ca­tions are here and bumped heads and skinned knees are in­evitable. Many can be pre­vent­ed by su­per­vis­ing chil­dren and cre­at­ing a child-safe en­vi­ron­ment. But it’s im­pos­si­ble to pre­vent every scrape and bruise. Lit­tle boys and ad­ven­tur­ous girls will get in­to trou­ble, no mat­ter what you do.

For many pa­tients, the phrase is dis­cov­ered ac­ci­den­tal­ly. A rou­tine ul­tra­sound. A CT scan done for ab­dom­i­nal pain. A blood test show­ing mild­ly ab­nor­mal liv­er en­zymes. In some peo­ple, it re­mains sta­ble for years. In oth­ers, it be­comes the first qui­et chap­ter of a far more se­ri­ous sto­ry: in­flam­ma­tion, scar­ring, cir­rho­sis, liv­er fail­ure or liv­er can­cer.

Ad­mit it: check­ing your phone be­fore tuck­ing in has be­come a fa­mil­iar habit. You tell your­self it’s just one mes­sage, a quick glance at so­cial me­dia, or one last email.

French Am­bas­sador Guil­laume Pierre opened his of­fi­cial res­i­dence in St Clair on June 24 to host a net­work­ing re­cep­tion cel­e­brat­ing 50 young women from the Young Women Em­pow­ered to Serve (YES) Lead­er­ship Pro­gramme, de­clar­ing the space a haven for wor­thy caus­es.

“I am now the Arch­bish­op of a rav­aged city which looks like the cities of Eu­rope at the end of World War II,” Arch­bish­op of Port-of-Spain An­tho­ny Pan­tin said in a ser­mon days af­ter the 1990 coup at­tempt end­ed.

“Ye are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its savour, where­with shall it be salt­ed? It is hence­forth good for noth­ing but to be cast out and to be trod­den un­der­foot of men. Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill can­not be hid­den.  Nei­ther do men light a can­dle and put it un­der a bushel, but on a can­dle­stick, and it giveth light un­to all that are in the house.  Let your light so shine be­fore men that they may see your good works and glo­ri­fy your Fa­ther which is in heav­en.”

In­side the walls of the Car­rera Con­vict Prison, where he was serv­ing a five-year sen­tence af­ter be­com­ing in­volved in crime, an­oth­er pris­on­er told him: “Don’t make no buck­et jail.”

On the is­land of Cha­cachacare, Trinidad’s most west­er­ly gem, lies a nat­ur­al won­der: a hy­per-saline in­land pond.

Trinidad-born, At­lanta-based nat­ur­al hair­styl­ist Kim­ber­ly James works mag­ic with her hands—and we’re “hair” for it!