Easter in T&T: Kites, Goat Races, and Childhood Magic

 Easter in Trinidad and Tobago has always felt a little enchanted. There’s a kind of joy woven into the season—school's out, the sun is hot, and tradition comes alive in ways that are deeply local and family oriented.

As a child, those two or three weeks of Easter break felt full of activity. Many years, my siblings and I would head to Tobago with our mom. On Good Friday, we’d go swimming at the beach, unconcerned by the old superstition that we’d turn into fish—though I admit the idea added a bit of thrill to the water.

Mom would also do the egg-in-water tradition, cracking an egg into a glass the night before and letting it rest till morning. The next day, we’d gather around to see what design had formed—half science experiment, half magic show.

No Tobago trip was complete without a visit to the goat and crab races, a staple of Easter celebrations there. We’d also need to wander through Crown Point Hotel, to see the brightly coloured chicks and bunnies that every child wanted to pet. We soaked in the Tobago sun without a care in the world.

Back in Trinidad, my grandfather, who somehow carved out time from his demanding job as a doctor, would make the best hot cross buns from scratch. They were soft, fragrant, and perfectly spiced. I still think of him every time I see a hot cross bun, and I know I’ll probably never taste a bun quite like his again.

Mom also used to take us kite flying at the Savannah. I can still see those moments—our kites catching the wind, our excitement turning to alarm as they broke free and flew straight into the President’s House. Or maybe it was one of the Magnificent Seven. Or both. I don’t remember exactly, but the drama was real.

This Year’s Kite Flying: A New Generation in the Savannah

Today, I went to a kite flying lime with my nephews, hosted by their school in the Queen’s Park Savannah. And just like that, the memories looped back.

They ran around, launched their kites, watched one get stuck in a tree and another blow away, their mom and a good Samaritan sprinting after it like pros. They played in the grass—and the dirt—with their toy cars, surrounded by school friends and doting teachers.

They enjoyed the snacks their mom packed, which included juicy watermelon slices that I happily partook in. There was even a mini adventure when we had to dash over to QRC for a bathroom break. (Potty training is in full effect.)

The afternoon felt like a full day—so much activity, so much laughter, so much light.

What We Keep

When I got home, I was tired. Tired in the best way.

This was my second year in a row kite flying in the Savannah—probably only the fourth time I’ve gone to any kite flying since childhood—but it’s already becoming a cherished ritual.

As I cooked dinner, stomach empty from running with them (and after them), I found myself wondering: Will they remember this?

Will this be part of their memory of Easter—the way it is for me? Will they one day smile at the thought of running across the Savannah in the April heat, chasing their kites and sneaking bites of watermelon while surrounded by family?

I hope so.

I hope they remember the traditions. The fun with family at Easter time. I hope that no matter where life takes them, they’ll come back to T&T at some point for Easter, drawn not just by nostalgia but by the richness of these uniquely Trinbagonian celebrations.

Next year, I hope we’re in Tobago. I want them to see the goat races, spend their days swimming in the sea, and feel the quiet thrill of stepping into the water on Good Friday—secretly wondering if the old superstition might just be true. Would we really turn into fish?