Paolo Kernahan
PAOLO KERNAHAN
WHEN THE cost of crime is tallied, it’s often done through the lens of lives lost. Then there’s the financial cost – money, valuables, vehicles and other material possessions taken during armed raids on our homes and businesses.
There are, though, consequences of unchallenged criminality with far deeper impacts. Consider the inches we’ve surrendered – leaving jewellery at home, self-imposed curfews, and reshuffling our lifestyles around insecurity.
Some among us struggle through insomniac nights because of ten million candlepower perimeter security lights blasting into our bedrooms. Being approached by someone in a car park, outside a bank or a grocery store asking for a “spare” $5 is anxiety fuel. Is this person with the tattered, sketchy raffle sheet in hand part of a tag team criminal operation bent on distraction to prey on the unsuspecting?
Nowadays, my willingness to give alms is directly proportional to the uncleanliness of the person asking; the dirtier you are, the better your chances of winning me over. The calculation here is that a conspicuously dishevelled, malodorous, fully-fledged “vagrunt” is less likely to have “associates” or pardners with whom to be in cahoots.
The single greatest personal cost crime has levied upon me has been life-changing. I was robbed at gunpoint, but the trauma of that experience is paltry compared to the everlasting footprint omnipresent criminality has had on my life. Crime has robbed me of the freedom to work outdoors; 90 per cent of the places I once frequented for work are now off limits.
Only a few years ago, the outdoors was my main place of work. Every week I’d be at some far-flung location shooting video. First it was for my television shows, then corporate gigs and eventually for my social media channels. I create content targeting audiences in the US, UK, and Canada.
Content marketing across social media platforms is fiercely competitive, particularly in my niche, which is video strategy and on-camera coaching. It helps to have a distinguishing competitive edge. My videos should ideally be infused with an unmistakable Caribbean aesthetic.
Naturally, millions of content creators in my professional backyard film videos outdoors. For the most part, though, theirs is an indoor studio vibe. On a tropical island, we have countless idyllic locations to shoot stand-out content, which is a key part of any strategy to build an effective online presence.
In the days of yore, I’d spend countless hours filming in the countryside and coastal locales. The criminal distribution system has, however, changed dramatically. With ne’er-do-wells fanning out across the country in search of new feeding grounds, areas once immune to their exploits are today just as risky as communities formerly designated as dicey.
On TikTok recently, there was a surge in content from Commonwealth nations. Creators posted videos giving browsers a window into their countries and cultures. I wanted to revisit some of my old haunts where I produced the television shows to share my homeland with the world, but the risk is greater than I can bear.
Coming down to my last days producing TV shows about TT, I had to pay armed security to go to a particular location to film birds; not gangsters, birds. The thought has crossed my mind that the only way I’d be able to shoot outdoors the way I once did is if I migrate as so many others have and continue to do.
A month has passed since the new government settled in. I’m worried about not having heard of a multi-faceted, holistic strategy for getting crime under control. Presumably, the outlines of a crime plan will soon be disclosed for eager ears.
Given that this was a major campaign plank it’s more than a little frustrating that, so far, all I’ve been hearing about is stand-your-ground laws and “load up de ’matic.” You can’t have spent ten years in opposition without coming to office with some methodology for fixing the failures you complained most about.
It’s too easy to lose sight of all the ground we’ve ceded to criminals. Raising children in today’s Trinidad must be doubly stressful; parents probably don’t want to keep their offspring on too short a leash, but you can’t have them devoured by society’s failures either. Children are the future – what country are we bequeathing them?
The toll of an ongoing war with no discernible victories is the loss of hope. When hope is extinguished, so too is the soul of the nation. That’s an incalculable cost.
Paolo Kernahan
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