My docu-series Vecina: Nay-bah (Trinidadian Creole for the word neighbor), aims to foreground the unheard stories of Venezuelan migrants who strive to build a life in Trinidad while supporting family members in their home country.
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Clifton Hill beach - Anielvys plays along the shores of Clifton Hill beach, during a family outing.
A Warao woman at a health fair organized for members of the Warao community in Cedros, south Trinidad. . Many members of the indigenous migrant community living in Trinidad, do not speak English or Spanish. This has further affected their ability to integrate themselves within the Trinidadian community.
Sofia stands with her friends in the yard of the house rented by her family.
Young Warao men sit in conversation in Icacos, Trinidad.
Vetiver Grass grown in the yard where 10 Warao families live. The grass is grown and used to make baskets and other grafts.
A young boy sits in his hammock made from a re-purposed fishing net, having a meal. The Warao – whose name means “boat people”, have also fled to Trinidad to seek a better life. Most of the community makes a living doing odd jobs, or utilizing their craft skills to make and sell, baskets and hammocks.
A young Warao woman with her daughters, at a Medical outreach program in Cedros, South Trinidad. Pregnant migrant women can obtain their antenatal care freely within the public health care system. Within the Warao community, some have barriers to accessing health care due to cultural differences and language.
Portrait of Yoshua taken at his home in Point Fortin, Trinidad. Education among migrant children remains one of the biggest issues in the community, which was worsened by the COVID-19 pandemic. Recent attempts are being made to facilitate entrance of the migrant children into the public school system, through private sponsorship, however, the majority remain without formal education.
Pedro stands with a generator that is no longer working, which was the families only source of electricity.
There are many Venezuelan migrants who live in these make shift homes, made of plywood and galvanize.
Children play in the sea at the Gulf of Paria, Point Fortin, with the faint outline of Venezuela in the background. The reality of playing in Trinidad waters, with home (Venezuela) visible in the background, highlights the complexity of their existence.
Icacos beach, South Trinidad, with fishing boats lining the beach. These are common vessels used by migrants trying to enter the country illegally. To get to Trinidadian shores they must cross the Bocas del Dragón (Mouths of the Dragon), a maritime route that is highly dangerous and littered with pirate activity and human trafficking.
A group of children (Venezuelan and Trinidadian) go through exercises before beginning their Burroquite dance at an outreach program in Belmont. El Puente features two traditional characters, the “Burroquite” derived from Spanish heritage to depict our Venezuelan neighbors, and the “Moko Jumbie” rooted in our West African lineage to represent Trinidad and the link between the two countries. The pr
Genesis, Icacos Coral point, South Trinidad. Genesis is a lawyer and pastor, who runs the Venezuelan arm of a church in Point Fortin Trinidad. She is involved in many projects which aim to meet the need of the migrant community. She has been instrumental in introducing me and allowing me to enter the migrant community in South Trinidad.
