This was once a lush valley, the lowest parts claimed by filling in swampland, a fact that the occupants of the valley become dreadfully reminded of during flash flooding in rainy season – when rainy season was more distinct from dry season.
The greying of that boundary speaks to a larger change in the global climate on this roughly 4,768 km2 (1,841 sq. miles) island, 10.5 degrees North of the Equator, or 5.5 degrees North of the doldrums.
It’s warmed up significantly over the years, so as I cast my eyes over the valley, sipping my coffee, my eyes catch something on the distant hill, something I had noticed before but this morning caught my fancy.
If I just used my binoculars, I would just write about what I saw, but because of the wonders of camera technology on phones, I zoomed in a bit closer.
Over the decades, the Diego Martin valley in Trinidad and Tobago has been home to an increasing population, though a read of the of the environmental report for an overpass project showed a decrease in population with an increase in traffic.
More people are driving now that the Four Roads Tram station, a part of a larger transportation grid that serviced the population (lovely history through that link). I don’t know that if the tramways were ever a part of the more official Trinidad Government Railway, which in 2008 seemed like it would see a resurrection of sorts but was canceled in 2010. I don’t know why.
It’s easy for me this morning to picture this lush valley becoming peopled over time. Galvanize roofs would have shown over time, then the rise of concrete, of infrastructure would have begun carving paths through the valley.
Thought of slowly enough, visualized in my mind I can almost see the concrete structures in the valley growing like some strange creatures in the valley, seemingly feeding off the valley’s flora and fauna as they grew, light pushing back the nocturnal creatures, noise of human progress clamoring through a once lush valley. The mosquitoes were likely quite happy before air conditioning.
Ever so slowly, the concrete crept up the hill, seemingly trying to escape, to overflow, but it has not yet. It is still a work in progress, with the clearing of the side of the hills being done sometimes for small agriculture, but more and more for housing, removing the roots of that which once held the hill together. Landslides are seemingly something that happen to other people who then clamor for government assistance. Economics, governance, it’s all related somehow – and the individuals just trying to get by are more interested in the current situation than even the near future.
I don’t know the story of that bare spot, who created it, whose land it’s on. I don’t know. I simply see it and wonder why it’s done. Some might think it short sighted, which of course it is, but when you need to survive, you find ways.
I can’t judge the individual. I won’t. We all need to get by, and the Trinidad and Tobago economy leaves much to be desired despite grand press briefings. There are people in poverty. I see people begging in the area, and young aspiring entrepreneurs were washing windshields at stoplights to buy their Kentucky Fried Chicken or sandwiches from the pharmacy nearby until the government put a roundabout where once there were lights.
I don’t know all the details, and I’m sure somewhere, some committee that takes no accountability (that’s what committees are for) decided to do as they do. As they do. But I watch now, removing the concrete in my mind and wondering what it was like long before – and I am part of the problem, drinking my coffee watching this. I cannot afford the luxury of not being a part of what is going on, though I can say I have no guilt. I simply wonder what it was like before.
We humans hate locusts, and yet, over a longer span, we seem to do the same thing. Curious, I find the mean temperature in Trinidad over the years (link through image below).
I’m pretty sure changes to the valley didn’t affect the temperature, but I remembered it because of an informal conversation regarding old pictures of Trinidad and Tobago, where people wore the trappings of the English and we wondered how they could, as warm as it is. It ends up, Trinidad and Tobago, 5.5 degrees North of the Doldrums, was significantly cooler 100 years ago.
It certainly could not be the fault of the people of Trinidad and Tobago, whose climate is determined by the winds heading to and from the equator, where the Saharan dust visits annually. It would have to be global in nature.
Does it really matter that patch being cleared in the grand scheme of things? Infinitesimal, but everything until added up seems that way. Yet the world is trying to make changes, and they’re sending consultants and technology at a steep price to the region to tell people what they need to do to roll things back, straining the economy with hybrid car batteries that are more expensive than the cars themselves. Landfills gobble up the circuit boards, and rain flash floods everything, seemingly, but the reservoirs.
I wonder what someone in the area will think about this in 100 years, with 100 more years of data. I don’t know, but I felt like writing it today because…
One patch caught my eye.