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Let me freely ad­mit: Amer­i­ca fright­ens me. These days. Not on­ly in my ca­pac­i­ty as a cit­i­zen of Trinidad and To­ba­go, but al­so as a cit­i­zen of the world. That coun­try has made me afraid to vis­it there be­cause of the dis­tinct fear that has built up in me that I could be set up­on by mem­bers of its po­lice and mil­i­tary forces as a re­sult of mis­tak­en iden­ti­ty or mis­char­ac­ter­i­sa­tion of my sta­tus as a vis­i­tor on its vi­o­lent streets.

I could be cart­ed off to jail or some oth­er god-for­sak­en evil hold­ing fa­cil­i­ty. Or my coun­try could be in­vad­ed by God’s Cho­sen One. Or my Prime Min­is­ter spir­it­ed away af­ter our cap­i­tal city is bombed in­to sub­mis­sion and pros­tra­tion. Or I could be bombed in­to shreds while fish­ing in my coastal wa­ters.

It’s hap­pen­ing un­der 45/47 these days. He is prac­tis­ing the old adage ‘Might is right’ or, as we say it in Trinidad and To­ba­go, ‘He’s wrong and strong.’ He is op­er­at­ing with­in the be­lief sys­tem where, if he wants a piece of re­al es­tate in Den­mark, he must have it; nev­er mind that Green­land is a part of Den­mark, which is a part of NA­TO. Nev­er mind ei­ther that Green­land lies with­in reach of Amer­i­ca’s dead­ly long-range mis­siles.