Icacos

Senior Multimedia Reporter

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In Icacos, residents have a saying about the village they call home.

“It is a place with nothing to do and all day to do it.”

It is a phrase repeated with a smile, but beneath the humour lies the frustration of living in one of Trinidad and Tobago’s most isolated communities, where breathtaking natural beauty exists alongside chronic unemployment, limited opportunities and a growing sense that the peninsula has been left behind.

The drive to Icacos feels almost like a journey into another country.

The road narrows between sprawling salt-water lagoons where scarlet ibis, herons and egrets feed in the shallows. Wild cattle wander through centuries-old coconut estates, seemingly oblivious to passing vehicles.

At Columbus Bay, the Three Sisters rock formations rise from the sea, while the weathered chimney of an old coconut oil factory and the remnants of estate buildings recall an era when the peninsula bustled with economic activity.

Beauty without opportunity

Today, however, residents say it is the Venezuelan mainland, just six miles away, that has become an important source of income for many families.

Venezuelans arrive in Icacos at night, usually around the change of shifts between 11pm and midnight.

During the day, Warao children and adults can be seen collecting dry coconuts for processing at the St Quintin and Constance Estates.

By night, however, residents say the Columbus Channel and Gulf of Paria have become corridors for illicit activity, with reports of smuggling, gun-running and human trafficking.

For businesswoman Delly Mohammed, the negatives have not erased the peace and tranquillity that drew her to Icacos.

“I living here since 2006, I came here because of love,” Mohammed said proudly.

Sitting outside her home while her 14-year-old daughter prepared stewed beef and cassava dumplings for lunch, Mohammed spoke passionately about a community she believes has enormous potential but has received too little investment.

“In Icacos people joke that here is a place where you have nothing to do and all day to do it,” she said.

Mohammed said visitors often see only the beaches, lagoons and open coastline.

Residents, however, know of hidden coves, secluded wetlands and untouched landscapes which she believes could rival tourist attractions anywhere in the Caribbean.

“There are places here only the people from Icacos know about,” she said.

For years, she added, residents have heard promises of shrimp farms, fish farms, eco-parks and tourism projects.

“Nothing has materialised.”

She believes the peninsula’s location, rich birdlife and Grand Lagoons make it ideal for eco-tourism.

Birdwatching tours, kayaking, rafting and guided nature walks, she said, could create jobs while protecting the environment.

But Mohammed believes development must go beyond tourism.

She wants vocational training brought into the community and believes residents need practical avenues to turn their skills into livelihoods.

“We need some kind of industry here,” she said. “A trade school, a business centre, somewhere people could learn skills and get small grants to start businesses.”

Without opportunities, she fears many young people lose direction.

“We have bright children here. We have athletic children,” she said. “But some end up following the sea, farming or getting involved in illegal activities because there are so few opportunities.”

That concern is shared by 24-year-old Kadeem Jackie.

“There is no work in the peninsula,” he said bluntly.

“The youths have nothing to do and we cannot find work. Since CEPEP stopped, there are no opportunities.”

Jackie believes the community is filled with talent but lacks the investment needed to develop it.

His brother, Jerrin Jackie, is building a football career overseas, playing for Portuguese club CD Gouveia after representing Trinidad and Tobago.

Yet, Kadeem said young footballers back home have nowhere suitable to train.

“The recreation ground in Cedros is overgrown,” he said.

“There is no motivation. We have good people, but nobody is coming into the communities and helping us develop our talent.”

Not far from the football field, another member of the Jackie family is preserving a disappearing tradition.

Erwin Jackie spends his days raising and training bullfinches for singing competitions, a pastime once common across south Trinidad but now practised by only a handful of enthusiasts.

His carefully tended cages line his yard, offering a glimpse into a way of life that has endured despite the changes sweeping across the peninsula.

For Cindy Balchan, the greatest strength of Icacos is not its scenery but its people.

Balchan moved from Coromandel about a year ago, seeking a quieter life.

“Icacos is a nice, quiet place,” she said.

“If you need a little work or a little hustle selling fish, people will help you.”

Like many residents, however, she is unemployed.

“I don’t like to sit down,” she said.

“I’ll clean houses or do anything. I just need a little something to do.”

Balchan worries about the number of young people with little to occupy their time.

“They should have somewhere the youths can go to learn something,” she said.

Skills training, she believes, would give young people alternatives and prepare them for employment outside the peninsula.

A changing community

Along sections of the coastline, rows of plywood houses belonging to members of the Warao community have become a familiar sight.

Migration from neighbouring Venezuela has transformed parts of Icacos over the past decade.

Fisherman Vincent Edwards said Venezuelan fishermen and labourers had crossed the narrow stretch of water for decades to work in Trinidad before returning home.

However, he said economic hardship in Venezuela has led many to settle permanently along the peninsula.

Some villagers believe the changes have brought new challenges.

Among them is 83-year-old Leslie Wight, who describes the village as peaceful enough to leave his home unlocked when he goes out.

But life, he said, has changed.

“The fishing is not like before,” he said.

Wight also recounted an incident that left him shaken.

He said he had been helping a Venezuelan woman by providing food and accommodation when, during an argument, she allegedly wrapped an electrical cord around his neck and attempted to strangle him.

“I held the cord and held onto her until she let go,” he recalled.

He said she later picked up a knife and tried to stab him before leaving with some of his belongings.

Despite the experience, Wight said he has not allowed it to change his willingness to help others.

His concern, he said, is that the Government needs to provide greater support for both residents and migrants to prevent similar situations.

Meanwhile, Edwards said making a living from the sea has become increasingly difficult.

Rougher waters, rising fuel costs and declining catches have all affected the fishing industry.

But he said the dangers are no longer limited to the weather.

The waters that once carried fishermen and traders now carry greater risks, making the crossing increasingly hazardous.

Preserving what Remains

Yet, despite the hardships, Mohammed said Icacos retains a character unlike anywhere else in Trinidad and Tobago.

Its gingerbread houses still stand, and the coconut estates continue producing oil.

Birds continue to flock to the wetlands that have made the peninsula one of the country’s richest ecological areas.

For Mohammed, the challenge is finding a way to develop Icacos without destroying what makes it special.

“Icacos residents are not asking for the community to lose its identity. All we simply want are opportunities that match our potential,” Mohammed said.