My first coup was at age 10
When History Happens to You
Some of you have asked why I'm so calm during crises, or why I always seem prepared for the unexpected (my trusty medical pouch is the stuff of legend amongst my laissez-faire playground co-madres, don’t worry she’s got bandages, wet wipes, a rescue inhaler and EpiPens). Or as a once-close family member once chastised me, “you’re so negative.” Well, here's a story I haven't shared widely before.
When I was 10 years old, I witnessed my first coup d'état.
It was July 27, 1990, in Trinidad and Tobago where I was born and raised. A group called Jamaat al Muslimeen stormed the Parliament building and the television station, taking the Prime Minister and other government officials hostage. For six days, our nation held its collective breath.
I remember the confusion more than fear. As a child, I didn't fully grasp the significance - only that something serious was happening. The adults whispered in corners. Regular TV programming was replaced by men with guns making announcements. The streets, usually vibrant with life, fell eerily quiet.
My memories come in fragments: The sound of distant gunfire. My mother's hushed phone calls to family as they traded nonperishable food and supplies. The way adults would suddenly stop talking when the children entered a room. I recall playing Monopoly with my siblings by candlelight during power outages and the unusual quiet that settled over our neighborhood during the curfew.
What I understood then: Something had broken in the adult world, and no one knew how to fix it.
What I understand now: Systems we take for granted - democracy, governance, safety, normalcy - can collapse with startling speed.
Yet I've come to recognize something even more troubling than sudden collapse. What's perhaps more insidious is the slow erosion of democratic norms we're witnessing in America today. Unlike the dramatic events of my childhood, the dismantling of American democracy in 2025 isn't happening through a rapid onslaught but through methodical desensitization. Small violations of democratic principles accumulate gradually, each one normalized before the next begins. The temperature rises so incrementally that many don't notice they're in boiling water until it's too late. We have become the proverbial frogs in the frying pan.
This pattern - making the extraordinary seem ordinary through repetition - is arguably more dangerous than a coup. When dramatic change happens overnight, people resist. When it happens through a thousand tiny compromises spread over months and years, the will to fight dissipates as each new reality becomes "just the way things are now."
Both scenarios - whether sudden upheaval or gradual erosion - demand awareness and preparation. My childhood experience embedded something in me that I've carried into adulthood. A certain readiness. A recognition that stability is never guaranteed. One minute you’re watching the evening news, and the next, there are people with guns pointed at the anchorman.
Fast forward to 2020. While others were shocked by the pandemic's sudden arrival, I found myself strangely prepared. Not just mentally, but practically - My garage freezer was stocked. I already had N95 masks in my tornado emergency kit. (Don't ask - remember the Ebola scare? I certainly did.)
This isn't about paranoia or living in fear. Quite the opposite. Understanding fragility brings a peculiar kind of peace. When you've seen how quickly things can change, you develop a certain flexibility of mind. You learn to navigate uncertainty rather than resist it.
I'm reminded of our Depression-era grandparents who carried their survival habits like permanent shadows - meticulously saving tin foil, storing cash in coffee cans, growing victory gardens long after the war ended, and finding ingenious uses for every scrap and leftover, not from choice but from a bone-deep knowing that abundance is merely a temporary visitor. What others saw as quirky frugality was actually lived wisdom. They weren't stuck in the past; they were carrying forward lessons the rest of us hadn't yet learned.
Living through a coup at the tender age of ten taught me:
The value of preparation without anxiety
The strength found in community during crisis
The impermanence of what we consider "normal"
The resilience of the human spirit to adapt and rebuild
These lessons aren't unique to me. They're written into the experiences of anyone who's lived through societal disruption. I remember a conversation with my Colombian-born friend shortly after our children were born. She chastised me for not having applied for my son's passport when he was just two months old. She had given birth a few weeks before me and thought it was insane that I would wait so long (To be clear, we had his first passport in hand in time for international travel at five months old).
We never explicitly discussed why this mattered so much to her – she had lived through Colombia's turbulent 1980s and 1990s – but we shared an unspoken understanding. We both knew that one of the first things you have on hand is your documentation. Get your child's passport. Get your passport. These aren't just travel documents for all-inclusive vacations in sunny locales; they're lifelines when stability crumbles. It’s your exit strategy.
For reference, consider that “Forty-eight percent of Americans have a passport (in 2024), up from 3% in 1989”.
As we look toward our potential new lives in Panama, I carry these lessons with me. Not as baggage, but as wisdom. Stay prepared. The ability to face change - even dramatic change - with clear eyes and steady hands is perhaps the most valuable skill for anyone embarking on an expatriate journey.
I'd love to hear about your formative experiences with uncertainty or rapid change. What moments shaped your approach to the unexpected?
Until next time,
P.S. For those joining our Panama Relocation Roadmap program next month, we'll discuss practical preparedness as part of our emotional readiness module. There's a balance between reasonable preparation and enjoying the present moment - and we'll help you find it.
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