edge

​ITCZ in They Nen-nen Tonight

My name is Robin Maharaj and I changed weather reporting in Trinidad; I brought the Eye-Tee-Cee-Zee to Trinidad & Tobago.

I was born in Dades Trace in the unique cosmos of Rio Claro. I am a country boy at heart. Every weekday, we walked 3.5 miles to school, sometimes along the train line. When I was ten, and still barefoot, we moved to Rio Claro’s town centre.

My mother (Jasso) and father (Rambharat) had ten kids, eight boys, two girls. Ma died in 1973, Pa in 1980. My brothers all passed away, in a strange order: the eldest and the youngest lived, but all in-between left. Then the eldest died on January 23 this year, before his 93rd birthday. The youngest brother survives; with humility, that is me.

In 1959, at Skinners Park InterCol, I saw this beautiful Naparima Girls’ High School girl. We looked at each other for a brief moment. The next year, classmates dared me to tug the plaits of a girl walking alone in front of us along Harris Promenade. When she turned around with sad, questioning eyes, my heart sank: it was the same girl from Skinners Park! I apologized. In October 1960, my girlfriend begged me to meet her best school friend. Embarrassment! Same girl again!

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​ITCZ in They Nen-nen Tonight

My name is Robin Maharaj and I changed weather reporting in Trinidad; I brought the Eye-Tee-Cee-Zee to Trinidad & Tobago.

I was born in Dades Trace in the unique cosmos of Rio Claro. I am a country boy at heart. Every weekday, we walked 3.5 miles to school, sometimes along the train line. When I was ten, and still barefoot, we moved to Rio Claro’s town centre.

My mother (Jasso) and father (Rambharat) had ten kids, eight boys, two girls. Ma died in 1973, Pa in 1980. My brothers all passed away, in a strange order: the eldest and the youngest lived, but all in-between left. Then the eldest died on January 23 this year, before his 93rd birthday. The youngest brother survives; with humility, that is me.

In 1959, at Skinners Park InterCol, I saw this beautiful Naparima Girls’ High School girl. We looked at each other for a brief moment. The next year, classmates dared me to tug the plaits of a girl walking alone in front of us along Harris Promenade. When she turned around with sad, questioning eyes, my heart sank: it was the same girl from Skinners Park! I apologized. In October 1960, my girlfriend begged me to meet her best school friend. Embarrassment! Same girl again!

Read more

Show more posts