IT WAS remarkable the way the historymaking crowd of 18,000 at the Brian Lara stadium to see the Trinbago Knight Riders (TKR) against the Barbados Royals had their moment in time amidst a ‘sea of troubles’ (Shakespeare’s Hamlet: ‘To be or not to be…’, Act 3, Scene 1, 55-60), which they have been experiencing from day to day lately.

The latter seemed momentarily to dissipate. What mattered only was this singular moment, for everyone in their own individual way-some indifferent to the three-hour drive from Port of Spain-felt, at the end, the ‘sea of red’ which they wouldn’t miss for the world.

One indulged her vanity for being the repeated focus of the cameraman. The respectable looking spectator, all bow-tied and long-sleeved, was unable to resist the compulsion to jump up and wave with his raucous neighbour. Or the elderly lady in the hijab, screaming and waving her Trini flag wildly as muscle Andre Russell pulverised his opposite number.

Or the dancing girls giving the wine of their lives once they were on the big screen, and the now-inebriated old-timer, his Carib his flag, spilling on all those next to him, suddenly awakened from his reverie from the thunderous roar generated by Nicholas Pooran’s six. And the moko jumbies and the blue devils, finding a way to relive their Carnival fantasies, the first precariously moving to the infectious beat of the tassa boys drumming as if there were no tomorrow.

Having had my share of this music, I could only, drone-like, look at it from a distance on TV, but this vantage point enabled me to view the panorama of this unique collective in myriad moments of ecstacy, which would have eluded me if I were in the middle of it, and that seemed to trump, for the moment, all the worry that would bring you pain and misery, like the criminal stalking your home in your absence, or the dishonest politician exploiting your loyalty, or the greedy vendor digging out your eye, or the service professional manipulating you out of your last penny, but now having to retreat, for your cup now runneth over.

And this capacity to put our troubles behind us, even for a moment, in the face of the greatest odds is not being indifferent or irresponsible but is what makes us truly Trinbagonian: not to allow the troubles of the moment to dampen our spirits but to have faith that there will be a way out of the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ ( Hamlet, above) that beset us on a daily basis.

And that, like the phoenix rising out of the ashes, in suspended animation almost, to have a beer with the boys on a Friday, or bubble a pot at Caura, or treat the wife and children to a fun day out at the mall, or to take pride in your outdated Toyota, or have a great time at Brian Lara, as is the case now.

And all this against a background of peoples in many areas of the world, drowning in their ‘sea of troubles’, like the average Palestinian not knowing what tomorrow would bring-life or death, or the Venezuelans next door, once a happy people, now having to rummage through the garbage or find a new place to call home.

So whatever Colm Imbert has to bring, let it come on, for we would have survived the promises only before, and if it is our lot to be the victim of the rampant dishonesty that pervades this once beautiful land of milk and honey, now one of bitter gall, perhaps that is our karma, but for the moment, the only truth is the eternity of a moment as with the Brian Lara stadium in its myriad manifestations.

I am told that TKR lost the game against the Royals on Tuesday night in dubious circumstances, bringing on the pain, but the spectators at Brian Lara were winners in their individual moments of ecstacy, leaving their troubles behind…and this too shall pass.

The true Trini spirit is unconquerable, no matter what the odds.

Dr Errol Narine Benjamin