Trinidad is my home yet I don't know much about it. It runs through my blood. My mother gave me America and my father gifted me with a Trinidad. The curve of my face was carved by the island, while my hair was kissed by the breeze. Sometimes Trini flows out of my mouth without me even realizing it.
I went there once when I was five years old. The heat and mosquitos ate me up as they do all people with foreign blood. The streets were flat and stretched for miles, but the hills were so large that they took a toll on my young legs. My granny lived on a tall hill in a little house. My cousins and brothers all crowded the tiny house on the hill, making it feel homey.
While walking in the sun you'll come across street vendors selling shave ice or doubles. You may not know what that is, but to me, it tastes like the home I never knew. My other home will never know snow the way I do in America. The U.S will never know carnival the way my 2nd home does. Animals and fruit trees fill the backyards in a way I've never known.
I don't know Trinidad, but Trinidad knows me. Red, black and white flows through my veins. I could speak the way they speak and eat the things they eat. I know that if I went back my country would welcome me with open arms. Being raised in America didn't make me forget where the other half of me came from.
If your parents are from two different places then I'm sure you can relate. Voicing your love for a country you don't seem like you're from can create hate. When I see a fellow Trini, I see no reason to hide. We get together to bond over our country's pride. I admit there's a lot about the place that I still need to learn, but the way of my country is the knowledge I yearn. I know that I am an American West Indi and I'll never forget the American or Trinidadian in me!
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