Hi TM, Sorry, yet more Vacation Chronicles. Just as people elsewhere are confusing gambling with investing, mistaking investing for saving, puzzling g over price vs. value, daily stock trends with economic direction, CNBC for television, in turn for entertainment, and other folks’ wives for own girlfriends, the people in Trinidad are confusing fantasy with life, and holidays for work.
The abovementioned slip-ups are of course more pardonable than calling GE an industrial company or naming JPMorgan a bank. Whereas, in my fantasy, the former should be valued at a PE more suitable for a financial institution, and the latter more like a go-go grab bag of paper securities, say 10 x earnings, and net asset value, respectively.
A relation, Tony (the 85-yr old coconut plantation owner operator whose grandmother was my grandmother’s half-sister), has revealed to me the secret to Trinidadian happiness. Apparently, the people here had taken up flex-time a few hundred years before the concept took off in progressive California, and subscribed to time multiplexing long before Maurice had gotten whiff of Globalstar. The manufacturing, farming, and physical labour oriented employees here work for a specific objective, say a new television, or an old car. They would work just enough to pay for whatever they thought they wanted, all quite modest, and then stop showing up at the job. They do not take a holiday, give notice, and are not fired. They simply show up at the company again when they feel like working some more, a few days, weeks or months later, for several months, weeks or days, replacing someone else who has similarly taken off on flex-time.
The system apparently works well, has stood up to the test of time. The scheme is arguably and demonstrably superior, from the employee’s point of view, to working 12-hour days in North America, 35-hour weeks in Europe, 4-seasons in Asia ex-Japan, or a lifetime in Japan.
May the gods have a kind compassion on my fellow countrymen and countrywomen :0)
Tony is almost white, with a smidgeon of black (grandmother’s father was black – one of those 30% events CB was talking about), was trained as a doctor and worked at one time in British colonial civil service in health services of neighboring islands. His father had gone to St. Mary’s College with my grandfather, and had last visited my father and uncle in 1928 in London (when he was a little kid). I had dinner with one of his SF based son’s cruising through HK back in November and again last week, and will visit his daughter’s family in Trinidad on the coming Friday. Tony was a good high-jump athlete when young. His daughter was in the 1972 Olympics (Munich) for swimming, and a 17-year old grandson is current No. 4 in swimming 200 m freestyle, trained by the daughter. The 15-yr old grandson is starting to make the rankings in the world. At 85, he and his wife Bunty (75-year old) are still working the plantation, and visiting their alternate country Canada for one month each year. The mango tree in their front yard is the size of a large banyan tree; they planted the tree from sapling in 1947.
I asked Tony about the race relations in Trinidad. He commented that, historically in the Caribbean, race mattered least in Trinidad and Tobago, and next least in Grenada. The kids from wealthier Indian, black, white and Chinese families all went to St Mary’s College. Girls attended St Joseph’s Convent, everyone made babies with everyone else, and each baby played with all other babies. He explained my strange lineage. My grandfather’s sister introduced her St. Joseph’s Convent classmate to grandpa. The marriage took place as soon as grandfather graduated from St. Joseph’s College. The Chinese and the French families were not thrilled, but no big deal oytherwise.
I entertained Tony and Bunty with my family’s adventure since the time my grandfather left the island. 80 years compressed into a few hours, filling them in on 95% of their knowledge gap.
The sugar mill building that serves as their living room was built in the mid-16th century. The construction of heavy volcanic rock had never required refurbishment or maintenance. The rest of the house is built like a ship, with brass fittings.
The music is now filtering through the surf sound to my veranda, and so it must be time for munchies. Have to amble. Diving is on the agenda starting at 9:30am.
Chugs, Jay
P.S. I have no clue now about what is happening in the financial markets anywhere, and get the news/analysis only via this thread and the Barrons over the weekend. Perfectly adequate. Of course, some would say we have no clue on this thread to begin with. |
