Ever so tenderly, euphoria has given way to anxiety as a country fearful of itself and its own capacity for destruction begins to radiate a wall of protection around its newly discovered son and take him to its bosom.
How instructive that last weekend's outpouring of celebratory awe should have turned so quickly to the fear that this innocent from Toco, fresh from the world of pelting mango and throwing javelin, might be oblivious to the traps so carefully set to circumscribe and compromise.
We applaud but still tremble at the price that might have to be paid and hope that this youngster, his head cleared by the Toco breeze, will somehow manage to keep his feet on the ground, head in the clouds and his distance from our compulsion to own, control and consume.
Perhaps he has heard about the DC-9 legends of Hasely Crawford and Janelle Penny Commissiong, consigned to the dung heap of history to join the bulldozed ruins of Carlisle Chang's airport mural, "The Inherent Nobility of Man".
Maybe Brian Lara has whispered a thing or two about protecting one's name from prospective infamy.
And perhaps, after all, there might be something to be said about the convenience of a condo between two malls on those days when the drive to lush Toco is far too much of a luxury.
Ironic, isn't it, how a Government that emerged out of rural Trinidad could be so quick to validate Federation Park as an address worthy of the best that State money can offer; how ironic, too, that it should so easily fall prey to the old instinct of the centre to appropriate the value of the periphery.
On this Eid morning, perfumed by the sound of Qaseedas and fragrant sawine, decorated with almonds and raisins, and still missing the voices of brothers Moean and Sham, the mind turns again to the cultural tapestry of this place, woven with such complexity that it seems far easier to declare "all ah we is one" and done widdat!
But watching this Olympics, did you not notice the socio-cultural resemblance between Toco and Tobago, Walcott and Lalonde? Has it reminded you of that time when two Tobago brothers, Arthur and Lionel Robinson, could easily and simultaneously represent Tobago and Toco in Parliament? Ah, the intriguing complexity!
Naturally, Trinidad is anxious to seize the moment of Keshorn Walcott's triumph to put itself on the global stage. But what of Toco? Is this not the opportunity for Toco to find its voice and insist on a space on the stage of Trinidad and Tobago?
Even before Keshorn, Toco had secured a place in global history. As the subject of A Trinidad Village and source material for The Myth of the Negro Past by American anthropologists Melville and Frances Herskovits, Toco is part of the research foundation on which the entire US Afro-American studies programme has been built.
Like so much of the intellectual capital residing in the stories about ourselves, the field notes and diaries from the Herskovits' three-month study of Toco culture are in libraries outside Trinidad and Tobago, in this case, at the Schomburg Center in New York, USA.
For their own purposes, and pursuing their academic hypothesis, the Herskovits dedicated three months in 1939 to living among the people of Toco in order to understand their lives, their survival strategies drawn from memories of Africa, their diet, their songs, their relationships.
Good for them. But we of Trinidad and Tobago have a lot more at stake in Toco than mere intellectual research. For us, what is at stake is our very future: we all need to know, engage, understand and involve Toco—like every other community of this land—as an imperative in building the nation of Trinidad and Tobago.
And so, yes, Keshorn Walcott has provided us with priceless joy and expensive prime-time minutes in the fickle spotlight of the global media. But more importantly, he has opened up a channel between Toco and the rest of Trinidad and Tobago, with the possibility for a fresh initiative in the process of national integration.
Here is Toco's chance to speak to us and our chance to listen and to speak to Toco. Already, we have stumbled, adopting the old autocratic habit of announcing, declaring and substituting the opportunity for consultation with bread and circuses.
Before the charade goes further, the ministries of Sustainable Development and Social Integration should seize the opening provided by young Walcott to step forward and change the conversation about Toco and us.
Here is the perfect moment to discuss the development plan for Toco in the context of the Draft National Physical Development Plan and to prove that the Ministry of Social Integration is more than just a ghost portfolio invented by an insecure leader.
When school opens next month, it must not be enough to bus all our little ones to the Savannah for an Olympic rally. Bus them instead on outings to Toco, to discover new friends there, children just like themselves, and let their Toco friends tell them the story again of how their new hero outran his dreams across the wide, open spaces; show them the Atlantic and tell them the story of the people who were brought across the ocean, and let them imagine the flight of a javelin, streaming across the sky like an arrow in search of a village in the continent; show them the yam that helped power Keshorn and Bolt, explain the value of its complex carbohydrates and why they must wean themselves off hydrogenated oils and trans fats.
Take them to the sea and let the fishermen tell them about the big one they caught one day, and how the currents move between that north-east tip and Tobago, and watch their eyes open wide in the recognition that all of this is part of their heritage—to know, to love and to protect. This could be the beginning of their belonging.
Repeatedly, we have been told about the unexpected weight of the Olympic gold medal. In response, we cannot afford to offer lightweight. At a time when we emphasise innovation, we remain stuck in a crisis of the imagination, unable to see further than the same old template of house, land, money and airplane christening. We are happy to have the resources to reward the youngster. But he has given us so very much more, transforming our world one rainy Saturday. In return, let us try to transform his.
Eid Mubarak to all.