My name is Ram Sahadeo and I worked 24 years in Caroni Ltd, starting as an apprentice welder and became chief engineer. I’m a sugar man. I born in sugar and have been in sugar all my life. I plant cane, grow cane, cut cane, trash cane. I eat in the best restaurant in the world every day: at home. My wife is a great cook and can cook everything—everything!
I went to Mon Repos RC School. A teacher—Anthony Robinson, I consider to be an angel in my life—he made me feel like I was somebody. Coming out of the sugar estates in Tarouba, I was the only Indian boy in a mainly African school. Roti is a big thing now, but you had to hide the roti back then! I’ve been to a Catholic school, a Presbyterian school and a Hindu school in Debe, too. I believe God would not give anybody a monopoly on him.
I don’t know if there is an afterlife. I think this one is the real thing. Make the best out of this. Try not to hurt anybody. Do not rob anybody of their labour. My mother was a cane-cutter like my father. A very hard worker. She’s done too much for one person in one life and robbed too often. It’s a pity they have not recognised people like them, to give them their due pension, as well as their NIS.
I’m quite happy. I haven’t achieved all the things I wanted but, if I look back from where I came, I’m quite content. If I had to go back again through this life, I would ask for the same.
The oil and the riches of Trinidad are being taken from certain places. If the pipeline is behind my house, although it’s the country’s oil, the first person who should benefit from that is me. You can’t have a nice road going to collect the oil and I still living in a poor shelter, dirt track coming to me and pit latrine. You got to admire the people who endure this foolishness. If was me, they can’t come for that oil. I’d cut the line every time.
I have six brothers and six sisters. I was number four. I have three beautiful girls. Two are married, one has two little boys. So my wife and I don’t think about children any more. We think about grandchildren. My son is 17. He is more or less Bajan because we moved to Barbados when he was seven months old. Sheila, my wife, is the love of my life. We’re going 34 years now and she brings me so much happiness. Every day, you know: every day.
My father was given three months to live, prostate cancer. He came to Barbados and lived nine years. My mother is still with us. I’m a proud and hardworking person and feel I should be able to give direction to things I work hard for. In the Caroni scenario, I was not able to take it where it should have been. And I wanted to do something with my life, in my lifetime, in sugar. I moved to Barbados to be chief engineer of a sugar cane factory. I’ve been on my own, my own company, for two years now.
I work night and day but I don’t think my job is like work. My eldest daughter is 32, my son is 17. He was what they call the taytar-baytar—either very good or very bad luck. I think he brought very good luck to me! I am a loner and you can’t beat a loner. A loner thinks 24 hours a day. I like my Indian songs. In Barbados, now, I listen to them on YouTube. I was born with hearing in only one ear. Which is good, too, because, if the wife start in a different way, I could turn the other ear, not the other cheek.
I’ve visited too many factories where everybody is very busy in meetings but the factory itself is falling apart. When I go to work, for anybody I work for, I work 500 minutes a day. That’s the difference between someone who will get something done and someone who will just exist for eight hours every day. A Trini is somebody who will land in Trinidad and look for doubles first thing.
Read a longer version of this feature at www.BCRaw.com