Dut­ty Jab Rid­dim is a jab-dri­ven, mul­ti-artiste project root­ed in the rit­u­al, move­ment and raw ex­pres­sion of J’Ou­vert. Pro­duced by Ne­gus En­ter­tain­ment (NE), the project is in­tend­ed to sig­nal the start of mud and oil mas, draw­ing lis­ten­ers straight in­to the heart of Car­ni­val’s most pri­mal ex­pe­ri­ence.

Mas band Pa­parazzi has is­sued a call for hope, uni­ty and con­nec­tion for Car­ni­val 2026, as the coun­try con­tin­ues to nav­i­gate a pe­ri­od of so­cial and eco­nom­ic un­cer­tain­ty.

PRES­tige Car­ni­val 2026, themed IS­SHŌ, con­tin­ues its tra­di­tion of de­liv­er­ing a pre­mi­um, all-in­clu­sive Car­ni­val ex­pe­ri­ence while gen­er­at­ing vi­tal fund­ing for up­grades at Pre­sen­ta­tion Col­lege San Fer­nan­do.

The stage is set for a night of wit, rhythm and so­cial com­men­tary as the fi­nals of the Cou­va Ju­nior and Se­nior Ca­lyp­so Monarch com­pe­ti­tions draw near. Fol­low­ing an in­tense screen­ing process held last week­end at the Bal­main Com­mu­ni­ty Cen­tre, the best young and sea­soned voic­es in ca­lyp­so have earned their places in the spot­light.

“She Come To Jam,” held at the John Cu­pid Car­ni­val Vil­lage on Fri­day, brought to­geth­er an ex­tra­or­di­nary line­up of fe­male so­ca pow­er­hous­es—Nailah Black­man, Na­dia Bat­son, Patrice Roberts, Ter­ri Lyons, De­stra Gar­cia, Fay-Ann Lyons, Nes­sa Prep­py, Jadel, Dru­patee and Nisha B.

Cer­vi­cal can­cer is of­ten called a “silent” dis­ease—and for good rea­son. In its ear­li­est stages, it usu­al­ly caus­es no symp­toms at all. You may feel per­fect­ly well, but mean­while, ab­nor­mal cells are qui­et­ly de­vel­op­ing on your cervix. By the time warn­ing signs ap­pear, the dis­ease may al­ready be more ad­vanced and hard­er to treat. This si­lence is what makes cer­vi­cal can­cer es­pe­cial­ly dan­ger­ous—and why wait­ing for symp­toms can be cost­lier than many peo­ple re­alise.

That sim­ple prin­ci­ple has guid­ed Adam Bartholomew from a child­hood pi­ano bench in Trinidad and To­ba­go to the glob­al stage of Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty and now, back home, as he pre­pares to bring Har­vard’s Col­lege Steel Pan En­sem­ble to Trinidad for a land­mark cul­tur­al ex­change con­cert lat­er this month.

Dr Juli­et Jones’ ca­reer in ed­u­ca­tion did not un­fold overnight, nor was it dri­ven by am­bi­tion alone. It was built pa­tient­ly—step by step—through class­rooms, cur­ricu­lum rooms and count­less learn­ing mo­ments. To­day, that jour­ney has po­si­tioned her as both a schol­ar and a men­tor to ed­u­ca­tors and oth­ers at home and abroad, gen­er­ous­ly shar­ing her knowl­edge.

In a cel­e­bra­tion filled with joy, laugh­ter, and heart­felt mo­ments, Guardian Me­dia’s own Em­manuel Downes, the Elec­tri­cal Tech­ni­cian from the Sup­port Ser­vices De­part­ment, and Jen­nifer Nor­ton, the Clas­si­fieds Sub­scrip­tions Su­per­vi­sor, ex­changed vows on De­cem­ber 26, 2025, sur­round­ed by cher­ished fam­i­ly and friends.

“I in­sist­ed on as­sert­ing my In­di­an iden­ti­ty.” Nan­di­ta Hak­sar. The Colours of Na­tion­al­ism: A Mem­oir of Dreams, Hopes and Be­tray­als (Speak­ing Tiger Books, 2024).

You are a woman be­fore you are a moth­er. I’ll say that again: you are a woman be­fore you are a moth­er; there­fore, hav­ing a child does not make you a woman. This dis­tinc­tion is im­por­tant be­cause we live in a world where — and some so­ci­eties are worse than oth­ers — for a woman to be con­sid­ered a woman, apart from the phys­i­cal qual­i­fi­ca­tions, she must meet the qual­i­fi­ca­tion of hav­ing had a child. We al­so live in a world that dic­tates to a woman that in or­der for her to be com­plete, con­tent­ed, and ful­filled, she must have a child. But this is prob­lem­at­ic.

Bed­time is usu­al­ly a fun time for Suzette Smith and her six-year-old son, Kay­den. That’s the time when the sto­ries about her child­hood pets would come to life. A year ago, Smith pub­lished one of those sto­ries, The Ad­ven­tures of Skeezy and Num Num—the first in what she ex­pects to be a se­ries.