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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

Vul­val itch­ing, burn­ing, dry­ness and ir­ri­ta­tion are among the most com­mon rea­sons women vis­it a gy­nae­col­o­gist. One of the fre­quent—but of­ten over­looked—caus­es is vul­val con­tact der­mati­tis, an in­flam­ma­to­ry skin re­ac­tion trig­gered by ex­po­sure to ir­ri­tants or al­ler­gens.

Long be­fore street­lights il­lu­mi­nat­ed vil­lages or smart­phones re­placed sto­ry­telling, fear of­ten ar­rived with the night. It trav­elled on whis­pered warn­ings from grand­par­ents, flick­er­ing oil lamps and the rustling of silk cot­ton trees. At the cen­tre of many of those tales was one of the Caribbean’s most en­dur­ing su­per­nat­ur­al fig­ures—the Soucouyant.

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