A Trinbago’s Right to Peace: A Crossroad Between Ramadan or Chaos

A Conversation That Changed My Perspective

There are moments when a single conversation shifts your perspective, forcing you to look at what’s happening around you with a fresh, unfiltered lens. That moment for me was when a doctor shared something that isn’t often acknowledged—the severe strain on Trinidad and Tobago’s healthcare system during this time of year. The influx of emergencies, the financial burden, the exhaustion of medical staff—it’s a side of Carnival that goes unnoticed, buried beneath the glamour and glorification of the season.

And as I listened, I started connecting the dots, seeing how this period—already unstable with election fever brewing—ushers in not just celebration, but consequences. And yet, amid all of this, another moment looms: Ramadan. A time where, despite our own unpreparedness, we find hope.

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The Return of a Dear Friend

It feels like just yesterday we bid farewell to Ramadan, like parting with a dear friend, unsure of when we’d meet again. Now, that friend is returning, and though its arrival brings a sense of unease—of not being ready, of not having prepared enough—it also brings an undeniable opportunity. A moment where we can invite Allah’s mercy into a nation that desperately needs it.

A Season of Political and Social Instability

But the weight of this season is undeniable. It’s an election year, and tensions are high. Instability grips the air as promises of change and whispers of uncertainty battle for space in people’s minds. And yet, at the same time, the revelry of Carnival takes center stage—a season wrapped in indulgence, vulgarity, and a staggering economic cost. Every year, we are told that Carnival brings in tourism, foreign exchange, and economic activity. But what about the whole picture?

The Unseen Cost of Carnival

I passed an accident today—another wreck on the road, another casualty of reckless celebrations. I didn’t need to hear the details to know how the story went. Drunken drivers, poor decisions, lives shattered in seconds. A doctor told me about the overflowing emergency rooms, the stress on hospitals stretched beyond their limits.

Nine months from now, we’ll see another consequence—the rise in births, teenage pregnancies, and the stories of regret and irreversible change. The financial and social burden left behind is real, yet ignored in the conversations about Carnival’s so-called “benefits.”

Is This Really Worth It?

Sometimes, this isn’t just about morality—it’s about practicality. The financial strain this period places on our country is immense, yet it is never included in the balance sheet when discussing its economic value. The medical care, the government assistance required in the aftermath, the resources drained—it is a weight our nation carries, whether we acknowledge it or not. And the worst part? Few seem to be asking if this is truly worth it.

Ramadan: A Different Perspective

As a Muslim, the contrast feels even sharper. While one part of the country prepares for a month of self-restraint, another is immersed in a season of immorality. And while I feel personally unprepared for Ramadan, there is also a strange sense of comfort in knowing that it comes at this exact moment.

Because Ramadan is not just about fasting—it’s about resetting, about seeing the world through a different lens, one not clouded by distractions. It is a reminder that in the middle of disorder, peace can still be found.

Are We Asking the Right Questions?

This is what we should all be asking right now. Not just whether Carnival is bringing in money, but whether it is bringing in good. Not just whether it is fun, but whether it is right for a country already struggling under the weight of economic hardship, crime, and instability.

It is easy to focus on the excitement of the season, to be blinded by the noise, but what happens when the music stops? What remains after the revelry is over?

A Chance for Reflection and Change

Ramadan offers an alternative perspective—one that doesn’t glorify destruction or excess, but instead calls for reflection, responsibility, and betterment. It is a month where we are given a rare opportunity to pull ourselves away from the illusions of the world and reconnect with what truly matters.

It teaches us to weigh our actions carefully, to see beyond the moment, and to consider the long-term impact of our choices.

A Nation at a Crossroads

So, as I reflect on everything unfolding around us—the elections, the chaos of Carnival, the burden on our healthcare, the moral and financial toll on our nation—I realize that the discomfort I feel is necessary.

Because when something doesn’t sit right, it is often a sign that something must change. And as Ramadan approaches, I hold onto the hope that this can be a time where we begin that change.

We may not all share the same beliefs, but surely we can agree on this: a country cannot prosper when it celebrates what ultimately destroys it.

And perhaps, this is the moment to ask ourselves—are we glorifying the right things? Are we investing in what truly builds our nation? Or have we, as a people, been sold an illusion?

Ramadan reminds us that change is possible, that mercy is near, and that even in the midst of instability, there is always a way to return to what is right.

And maybe, just maybe, this is the time to start re-evaluating—not just as individuals, but as a nation.