At the conclusion of the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival which ran from September 05-08, NYC Mayor Eric Adams awarded a special citation, the City of New York Certificate of Recognition to journalist Dominic Kalipersad.
At the end of the festival, Kalipersad made the following speech.
I’m always slightly bewildered when people refer to me as an archivist or an historian. I’m also nearly always in a state of shock when I see that 60,000 people on Instagram follow my posts and the information I share. Instagram??!! Allyuh see my age?
But when I read the comments and realise how much people, especially young people, appreciate the knowledge and the analysis, it hits me that this sharing of history is a tremendous responsibility.
And, truth be told, if I’m really honest, I might admit that sometimes, shouldering this responsibility of information sharing can be absolutely terrifying!
“Love your content.”
“Thank you for encouraging us to love and stand up for ourselves.”
“I love the short stories you drop.”
“Thanks for educating me. They didn’t teach me this in school.”
“You need to open a museum!”
“The GOAT. What a legend of Trinidad and Tobago.”
On social media, sometimes people use expressions and turns of phrase that, well… let’s just say, are not from my era. But what always comes through is their thirst for knowledge and their desire to connect the history of Trinidad and Tobago with their own lives.
In many ways, the information helps to ground the people who receive it, in the complex and unpredictable space we call T&T. Not only does it give them context for the present, but it offers a road map of sorts, to the future.
So, those quirky, heartfelt comments – from as far away as Japan and Yugoslavia – fuel my drive to keep sharing. Those words of encouragement help to ease any moments of uncertainty or doubt that I may feel.
But my passion for what I do is really fuelled by my love of storytelling and my desire to impact humanity in everything I do.
As a teacher, I insisted on being placed in schools where my talents as a communicator and an educator would be most appreciated.
I was therefore assigned to schools in East Port of Spain and Belmont – mainly underprivileged areas of our capital city – but I thrived! And so did the children. They responded to me. They inspired me to be better.
You may not be aware that for a time, I was an actor, a member of the avant garde Trinidad Theatre Guild. It was led by the venerable Slade Hopkinson, who pushed us young thespians to deliver theatre to our audiences in ways that were authentic and grounded in our culture.
In the absence of elaborate sets, or plush performance spaces, we were forced to use our bodies and our voices to tell the stories that mattered.
I didn’t know it at the time, but all of these experiences prepared me for my career as a journalist. I usually say that I fell into journalism quite by accident – but then, in life nothing is really an accident is it?
TTT, Trinidad and Tobago Television, was a place of magic! It opened one week before we attained independence from Britain in 1962. The station was integral to our identity as a young nation.
From magazine-style talk shows, to children’s programmes, live broadcasts and soap operas, TTT reflected the hopes and aspirations of a people discovering their purpose.
I could scarcely believe I was part of this movement for change. I began as a technical operator – man I could work the cameras, edit, fix equipment, you name it – but my destiny was to be a newsreader. This was where I found my calling.
The news is powerful. As journalists, we tell the stories of people in our communities every day. We have a duty to be fair, accurate and respectful to the people who let us into their homes and lives. We are responsible for safeguarding their stories.
I took my responsibility seriously, and this approach literally resulted in saving my life. As a journalist, I’ve had confrontations with politicians, I have been subjected to death threats and my family was threatened. On many occasions, the infamous “they” tried to break me.
During the attempted coup in 1990, I was labelled a troublemaker by the insurgents who had taken control of TTT, because I insisted on saying on air that ‘I was told’ to make certain statements.
Many years later, I found out that the leader of the coup had given an order to kill me if I left the room where the TTT staff (and a bomb) were being held.
However, I refused to leave my colleagues. Because of that act of defiance, I am alive to have this conversation with you today.
I believe in committing fully to whatever you do, but I also recognise that sometimes resistance is necessary to achieve our higher calling. Certainly, our enslaved and indentured ancestors understood that. We are here because they refused to have their story written in a way that denied their humanity.
I suppose I’ve always been a quiet rebel, defending my right to share the news and the stories of my community honestly and with respect.
Now, in my ‘alleged’ retirement, storytelling is how I continue the journey I began many decades ago in a little school in Rose Hill, East Port of Spain. Teaching, learning from others and sharing stories gives me purpose.
Soon, I will have the honour of being the longest serving on-air news anchor in Trinidad and Tobago – 50 years (I know I don’t look it!). After the awards, accolades and recognition, the stories and their impact are what motivate me still. They have taught me that I am unbreakable. I am here.
Always chasing the next story.