djacob@isps.edu.tt

A TRUE-TRUE CHAMPION

This is the story that I always thought I would save for a book about my experiences as a journalist in Trinidad. For 21 years it has been in the back of my mind, always ranking as one of those indelible moments of my career. I have only ever told this story to one person. 

One day, 21 years ago, I was on my way to an assignment. I was pregnant with my daughter, Ijanaya. It was a very hot day—steaming hot. I can still remember the steam rising from the asphalt. 

I didn’t know exactly where I was headed. As it turns out, I got lost and ended up having to walk a great distance. When I got to my destination, the scene was bustling. It was a big, informal press conference of sorts, for a big event. There was a long table for journalists to sit and talk to different officials.

I remember feeling faint from the heat when I sat down. All I could concentrate on was the steady flow of cold drinks in sweating glasses sitting on silver trays ready to be served. The people around me had two, three—even four—empty glasses in front of them. 

No one refused any drinks being offered by a very recognisable person who was involved in this monumental media effort. I couldn’t wait for the tray to come to me and when it did, the person serving the drinks skipped me. I thought it was an oversight. I was young and mousy in those days; so I said nothing.

Every time the tray passed, Coke, juice and water were offered to everyone on the table but me. I began to feel uncomfortable as well as sick. I wondered if I were experiencing prejudice for the first time in Trinidad. I couldn’t understand the oversight. I was so obviously pregnant and I felt my physical discomfort must be equally obvious.

After awhile I talked myself out of feeling that this treatment was deliberate. No one could be so cruel, I convinced myself, to deny a pregnant woman something to drink in that horribly hot environment.

By then my head was bent and I was nearly in tears. I looked up when I heard someone say, “Would you like something to drink?”

It was Hasely Crawford. He had been sitting on a small table by himself in the far corner of the room away from all the media efforts. A hush filled the room as he stood there with the tray of drinks he had picked up. 

I said, “Yes, thank you,” and I took a drink. Someone laughed nervously and said, “Oh how didn’t we realise she had never received anything to drink?”

Endless excuses were made, and the well known person who was doling out drinks turned in a noticeable huff and left.  

During that time, Hasely had walked over and got the tray of food that had also been passed around numerous times, always magically skipping me. He offered me something to eat and I said, “No thank you, I was just thirsty.”

He smiled reassuringly, turned, went back to his corner and resumed working. I realised then that he had seen what had been going on. It was as obvious as I thought it was. 

When I left that interview, I thought about walking up to Hasely and thanking him again, but I decided not to make a big deal out of everyone’s discomfort. I was determined not to feel like the victim of someone’s prejudice. I decided to tell Hasely “thank you” the next time I saw him. 

When I went home, I called David Rudder and told him about what had happened. David paused and said, “That sounds like Crawfie.”

Four years later, in the Express parking lot, I finally saw Hasely for the first time after that incident. I thanked him again and told him how I had never forgotten what he did. He paused, looked off in the distance, finally smiled at me and said, “I don’t remember anything.”   

I said, “Well, I do and I will never forget it.”

It is difficult to convey the discomfort of that day or the utter feeling of gratitude I felt when Hasely was a big enough person to right a wrong, as simple as it might seem. It’s difficult to convey just how much prejudice was involved that day without offering more details that would identify people.    

Every Olympics I think about Hasely and what he represents to this country. He has been a hero and a model citizen. In my books, he has always deserved much more than he was ever given.    

At a time when I felt like nobody, he lifted my spirits and proved that one good person always outweighs a pack of misguided people. Silently and courageously, he stood up for me in one of the most uncomfortable moments I ever experienced in my life—let alone my career.

Hasely Crawford is a kind and decent man. In my book, he is a true-true champion who doesn’t need a spotlight to shine.