The silence is noticeably deafening. After all it’s very late Sunday, close to midnight, in a rather serious suburb in northern western Trinidad, when I hear the shout from down Upper Conaree, “Where my Warriors family…?.” Our cricket-mad friend, Guyanese and Basseterre-based accountant, Amar Gossai is on the prowl, seeking company. Uncharacteristically my husband and I are most inhospitable, we ponder the call from someone I consider a brother, and even try ignoring it, but since there is not a single response from the thousands of others who accept him as their relative simply because of his country of birth, we are forced to reconsider.
“At least they didn’t defect…” Tony eventually
