Memories of childhood often resurface at unexpected moments, and one particularly cherished recollection involves The Little Pink House, a home that transformed holidays into enchanting experiences. Contrary to popular belief, this was not a gingerbread house; it was a haven where dreams flourished amidst life’s simplicity.
The journey began when we migrated from Picton Street to the corner of Adventist and Ramdass Streets in Sangre Grande, where The Little Pink House stood—a one-bedroom adobe sanctuary that my great grandmother, Isabelle Moreau, once called home. Adventist Street earned its name from the presence of the Seventh Day Adventist Church, built back in 1939.
Nearly 65 years ago, I vividly recall the muddy path as I held my Aunty Emelda’s hand, navigating through darkness at just four years old. Although unaware of our destination, I felt secure with my kind-hearted aunty. Our lives in that small house with eight siblings and an overworked mother were eventful, often marked by lively sibling rivalries.
During those formative years, I was baptized in the pristine waters of Valencia River. Even today, memories of being submerged in water, declaring my commitment to serve God, remain vivid. Rising from the river, a scripture echoed in my mind: ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you’ (Matthew 6:33). That Sunday morning baptism symbolized clarity amidst life’s challenges, even as the river has transformed over the decades.
Experiences in The Little Pink House illuminated human nature’s unpredictability. Some who welcomed me into the church community later became sources of negativity. However, I learned to embrace a philosophy of giving, avoiding bitterness, and managing expectations—a lesson in resilience through disappointments, which I came to view as blessings.
Achieving success in the Common Entrance Examination marked a pivotal moment in my journey, paving the way for my education at Northeastern College, Sangre Grande, where I prepared for the Cambridge University General Certificate Examination.
Food played a central role in our daily lives; from coconut bake sandwiches to the delicious scent of my mother’s sancoche, a perfect blend of ground provisions and seasoned meat, the meals were more than just sustenance—they were a testament to resilience and love. My mother worked tirelessly to ensure we had enough, even as I sought ways to contribute financially, working various jobs and selling items to support our family.
The true magic of The Little Pink House came alive during Christmas. Despite facing hard economic times after my father left, we embraced the holiday spirit with open hearts. The love and care from my older siblings created a joyful atmosphere despite our circumstances.
The tradition of leepaying (plastering) the house each Christmas was a cherished family activity. Mixing cow dung, tapia grass, and white clay to repair our home became a fun bonding experience, and the vibrant pink paint would soon adorn our beloved house, making it come alive.
As Christmas approached, an air of mystery surrounded where gifts and food would come from. Good-hearted individuals often appeared to lend support, and the scent of freshly baked bread and black fruitcake filled the air, marking the season’s arrival. I can still recall the vibrant flavors of sorrel drink that accompanied our festive meals.
The highlight was the melodious arrival of paranderos, serenading us in the early hours of Christmas morning. Their joyous music celebrated the story of the Virgin Mary and the miracle of salvation, filling our home with warmth and happiness, accompanied by homemade treats shared with our visitors.
Every Christmas brought us blessings, highlighting the essence of love, cheer, and contentment, regardless of our material circumstances. The memories created within The Little Pink House truly encapsulate the spirit of togetherness and joy, a cherished chapter in our family’s story. (Excerpt from an upcoming publication).
