November felt like one of those months where Trinidad and Tobago kept reminding me that I still have plenty of home left to see.
Which is a strange thing to admit.
You can live in a country your whole life and still not know parts of it. You can drive the same routes, go to the same places, complain about the same traffic, and forget there are whole corners of home you have never touched.
And with 40 coming soon for all three of us, that started to feel extra loud.
Not in a panic way.
More like, “Wait. How are we reaching this age and still have not seen this part of our own country?”
So we went.
The Girls Drive to Icacos
Sparkle ran away from Texas for a little bit, and Kadija and I joined her for a country tour.
A proper girls drive.
Music, talking, stopping, looking around, taking in the parts of Trinidad that do not usually make it into everyday life.
We went down to Icacos, and it was beautiful.
There is something about that part of Trinidad that feels like the edge of something. The land stretches out, the sea opens up, and suddenly home feels bigger than the small routine you normally move inside.
It also felt strange.
Because from that location, you can actually see Venezuela.
And at the same time, there were warships on the water because of the whole Trump and Venezuela situation.
That is a weird sentence to write.
A beautiful country drive, blue water, laughter with friends, and then warships sitting in the same view like a reminder that the world is always doing too much.
Such a weird time to be existing.
But the strange political tension did not take away from the beauty of the location.
If anything, it made the beauty feel sharper.
There we were, three women nearing 40, standing in a part of our own country we had not really experienced before, looking across at another country while the world was carrying its own madness in the background.
And still, the sea was beautiful.
Still, the road was worth it.
Still, the day felt like a gift.
Finding a Coconut Oil Manufacturer on the Road
One of my favourite parts of the trip was finding a small coconut oil manufacturer along the way.
Of course I stopped.
Because apparently I cannot just go on a country drive like a normal person. Somewhere in between enjoying the scenery, I will find a producer, a process, a machine, a product, or a business owner to talk to.
That is just how my brain is wired at this point.
I ended up chatting with him, and it was truly awesome.
These are the kinds of conversations I love because they are not polished. They are not staged. They are not somebody speaking in business buzzwords because they think that is what entrepreneurship is supposed to sound like.
It is a real person making a real product.
A small operation. A local product. A process behind it. Questions. Challenges. Pride. Practical knowledge.
And honestly, those moments remind me why I care so much about small manufacturers and agro-processors.
Because behind every bottle, jar, packet, or container, there is somebody trying to figure out how to make something properly, sell it, package it, and keep going.
That is the part people miss when they only see the finished product.
They do not always see the labour, the trial and error, the space limitations, the equipment gaps, the packaging questions, or the decisions that small producers have to make every day.
So yes, the girls drive was beautiful.
But finding that small coconut oil manufacturer made it even better.
Because it reminded me that work and wonder can show up in the same place.
Even on a country road.
Tobago AgriTech Innovation Summit
Later in the month, I went to the Tobago AgriTech Innovation Summit.
I only found out about it a few days before the actual event, which annoyed me a little because I really wish it had been advertised better.
And I do not mean that in a petty way.
I mean that events like this matter.
They should be easier for farmers, agro-processors, suppliers, students, small business owners, and people in the food production space to find.
The summit was held from November 25 to 27, 2025, with sessions at Shaw Park Complex in Tobago, under the theme Journey to Sustainability in Food Security. The programme covered topics like aquaculture, youth in agriculture, waste management, climate-resilient farming, honey production, pollination, investment, and market access.
That is not small.
That is exactly the kind of event that should have stronger visibility.
Because agriculture and food security cannot stay as nice words on a flyer. They need rooms where people can meet, learn, ask questions, see technology, understand opportunities, and connect the dots between policy, production, equipment, markets, and survival.
And from what I saw, the event itself was pretty awesome.
Tobago has something special in this space.
There is land. There is food culture. There are producers. There is tourism. There is opportunity. There are also gaps, like everywhere else.
So when you put agriculture, technology, sustainability, and food security in the same room, it creates a useful conversation.
Not a perfect one.
But a necessary one.
I left thinking again about how much is happening in the region that people do not always know about because the visibility is weak.
Sometimes the work is there.
The people are there.
The event is there.
But the promotion is whispering when it needs to speak up.
And I say that with love and a little side eye.
Because if we want more participation, people have to actually know the thing exists.
The Grasshopper Situation
Then there were the grasshoppers.
I do not know what is happening, but I keep finding grasshoppers in my house.
One was on my bed.
Another was on the stove.
Green ones too, so maybe it is good luck.
That is what people say, right?
Green grasshopper, good luck, blessing, abundance, nature visiting, all of that.
Fine.
Beautiful.
But also, why are you on my bed?
Good luck can stay by the window.
Good luck does not need pillow access.
And the stove?
Absolutely not.
I am just a girl.
I can respect nature from a distance. I can admire the symbolism. I can even take the blessing. But I do not need surprise insects in places where I sleep and cook.
That is too much intimacy.
Still, it did make me laugh after I finished being horrified.
Because life has a way of balancing out the big serious moments with nonsense.
One minute you are thinking about food security, warships, local manufacturing, and turning 40.
Next minute you are negotiating boundaries with a grasshopper.
A Women’s Conference and Walking Back Into Church
My cousin is a pastor, and she had a women’s conference at church, so I attended.
That was interesting for me because I have not been in a church in quite some time.
Church is complicated for a lot of people.
Sometimes it is comfort. Sometimes it is memory. Sometimes it is community. Sometimes it is also questions, distance, and old feelings you do not always have neat language for.
So walking back into that space was not nothing.
It made me observe myself.
How I felt in the room.
What felt familiar.
What felt different.
What I missed.
What I did not miss.
What parts of me still respond to that environment.
What parts of me stand back and watch.
And being at a women’s conference added another layer.
Women in church spaces carry so much.
Faith. Family. Service. Expectations. Strength. Silence. Leadership. Care. Responsibility.
Sometimes all at once.
So I sat with that.
I listened.
I noticed.
I thought about womanhood, family, belief, responsibility, and how much of our lives are shaped by the rooms we grew up in, even when we step away from them for a while.
I do not have one grand conclusion.
I just know it was interesting to be there.
And sometimes that is enough.
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What November Was Really About
November was not a loud month, but it stayed with me.
It had friendship.
Country roads.
Parts of Trinidad I should have seen long ago.
A strange view of beauty and possible war in the same frame.
A small coconut oil producer reminding me why local manufacturing still matters.
An AgriTech summit in Tobago that deserved more visibility.
Grasshoppers acting like they pay rent.
And church, after a long time away.
Maybe that is what made the month meaningful.
It did not give me one clean lesson.
It gave me reminders.
That home is still bigger than my routine.
That 40 coming does not only mean age. It can also mean urgency. Not panic, but the good kind of urgency. The kind that says, “Go see the place. Call the friend. Take the drive. Ask the question. Stop by the roadside business. Attend the thing.”
That the Caribbean is beautiful and complicated at the same time.
That local producers are everywhere, quietly doing the work.
That important events need better visibility if we actually want people to show up.
That faith spaces can still stir something, even when you have been away.
And that good luck, if it is coming in grasshopper form, needs to respect my personal space.
November was a reminder that life at home is not one thing.
It is beauty, tension, business, memory, insects, faith, friendship, and the road opening up in front of you.
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