Most fathers and mothers face the difficult situation of coping with the burden of so-called “social adjustments” that our children face. Much of what I’m referring to are cultural impositions carrying beliefs contrary to what we collectively know has worked for us and what we hold sacrosanct as core values. These adjustments often conflict with our preferences, challenging what we know is right in favor of what will help us fit in with the local group.

An elder who knew my family well once repeated a phrase to me several times: “The troublemakers scream the longest and the loudest. » He often told this to the biblical hecklers, paid by the priests, whose heckling ultimately led to the crucifixion of Christ. In today’s world, choices often revolve around group accommodation, which may seem beneficial for material gains but can result in the loss of valuable individuality. This individuality can be replaced without immediately recognizing the vague, untrustworthy personality that emerges – an identity shrouded in whispers of doubt, replacing the once solid character traits and interactive tattoos of proven personality.

We believe in lineage, but it is not always accurately recorded. A father may have been a hero to his family members, but he may fail to advocate for his own offspring, leaving a void. In such cases, the most popular peers in the community become influential voices. What do these peers, themselves survivors of a society that only pays partial attention to it, teach? Often they confer survival mechanisms. These mechanisms are not always criminal but are rarely altruistic and often selfish. This dynamic permeates all levels of society, making it crucial that dialogues engaging children’s consciences begin at home.

The difficult conversations many of us had were not always guided by religious figures but by survivors of life’s struggles. These people, often family friends, believed that being a friend’s child gave you the right to speak. Interestingly, their advice often drew on both scripture and classical literature. They were traders, not academics, but they read novels, hardbacks, and magazines. I remember buying illustrated classics from Latchman Singh on Camp Street. I have passed this method of engaging with books onto my children. Even in today’s age of unimaginable platforms of influence, we must navigate the freedoms they offer, many of which are disguised traps that prey on our choices.

One of these mirages today is the overwhelming temptation of gambling. Be careful: what seem to be current needs can increase due to bad decisions. Gambling is not an investment. Many years ago I heard a piece of wisdom from a player known as “Tum-bay” or “Sparrow” from Lodge. Sparrow said: “A gambler doesn’t make money; he only recovers part of what he lost. I remember an Old Year’s Eve party on Punch Trench Road, Bar Street, where I witnessed a gambling duel between Loui and the late Acka Tiger. My attention, however, was on the sister-in-law of a Roots businessman, patiently waiting for Loui to win so they could attend the ball. This never happened: Loui lost. As the old people say: “Sometimes you have to learn from other people’s mistakes.”

The times we live in present more challenges, but references from the past still hold valuable lessons. Examine the road you are traveling. Explore all the strange suggestions that promise huge rewards, especially when the cost seems to be just “a little thing.” Don’t envy how quickly you think your neighbor is taking advantage. You might learn the real story the hard way.