There was a place called CCA 7.

A place, a space, enormous and electic, of art, of music, of words, of film, of people who think, create, do. A part of the Trinidad that they hiding from yuh, apart from the scene that most know.

I went there for the first time last night, with L2T, DJ and bad_so. We took in the tail-end of a talk by Canadian/Kenyan/Indian visual artist Brendan Fernandes, imbibed some of the freely available (self-serve) coconut water and then headed to the Studio Film Club screening of a short flick called Barrel Children (Cara Elmslie Weir’s documentary of a uniquely Caribbean phenomenon) and the evening’s feature, Michael Haneke’s Caché.

I also finally met the esteemed Nicholas Laughlin, editor of Caribbean Beat and the woefully under-rated Caribbean Review of Books, bounced up TillahWillah and my favourite sexual health activist, Svenn Miki Grant. Such is the vibe at this warehouse in the Ferndandes Industrial Complex on Trinidad’s Eastern Main Road. [Aside: I must recount this story about Miki, because I am so fond of its retelling: back in 2003, Miki incensed Trinidad’s religious right by standing outside a secondary school and the National Library, handing out condoms and sexual health literature to teenagers. The uproar was deafening – because as usual, everyone was talking, no one was listening.]
bad_so and DJ were swiftly converted – “right, so this is the Thursday lime then” – but L2T was not quite convinced.

No scene.

(Precisely)