Roland Travas rolandtra...@gmail.com The winds of change were sweeping colonial Africa in the 1960s. The Europeans were awarding independence to their former territories, although there were problems for France in Algeria, for Belgium in the Congo and for the British in Southern Rhodesia. White South Africa with its Apartheid policies was another complex issue altogether. The British-administered lands of Kenya, Tanganyika, Uganda and Zanzibar were given self-determination in the early sixties -- Tanganyika in 1961, Uganda in 1962, Kenya and Zanzibar towards the latter part of 1963.
The colonial administration in Kenya had its problems during the Kikuyu rebellion earlier on, but at the time of independence there was a relative peaceful transition for all of British East Africa. Zanzibar and its sister island of Pemba where my family lived was a Protectorate ruled by a Resident who represented the Queen of England. The majority of inhabitants were Africans at the bottom of the political, economic and social levels. The land-owning Arab minority had a Sultan whose origins lay in Oman in the Gulf. The Asians, predominately Indians, Pakistanis and small number of Chinese, controlled the trade in the islands. The Goans who numbered in the hundreds fitted somewhere in between. Because of their Catholic upbring and on account of their being Portuguese citizens, they were classified differently by the British. Many Goans worked in government, banking and in the private sector. Others were tailors or craftsmen. Political power was solely in the hands of the Europeans with the Sultan serving their interests. Each community lived within its sphere. Each went to its place of worship, formed cultural and social and economic alliances. Non-Africans had it relatively good in all areas of life. One needs to understand this reality to follow what happened next. The British handed the political reins to the Arab-minority Zanzibar Nationalist Party, and left. The Africans were disenfranchised and the status quo remained. Within a month, a violent African-led revolution occurred, toppling the new government and changing the entire dynamic of the small, two island nation state. On Sunday, January 12, 1964 we awoke to the news of fighting taking place in Zanzibar. Then it became apparent that a major change was in the making. The government had been overthrown and a revolutionary one was in the process of replacing it. Fighting was still going on. My first thoughts were of my father who had gone to Zanzibar to enroll me in high school there. There was no communication between the two islands as all services had been disrupted. What little we could learn was from the radio stations on the mainland and via the BBC. In a few days what became increasingly clear was the grim details of killings, violence and chaos including the brutal shootings of five Goans who had been returning from church services. The revolutionary junta took over and consolidated its hold on power. Some sort of normality returned between two islands. Shipping, transportation and other services resumed and my father returned. These were trying times to say the least. There were all sorts of shortages and food and basics were almost unavailable. There were reprisals against members of the elite, former government officials and supporters. Many others were arrested for no apparent reasons. There were open-air trials, flogging and incarceration. Some were never heard off again from reports one read later. People lived in a constant state of fear. At the onset of the revolution, the Sultan had fled into exile in Britain; right afterwards, in the ensuing melee, the Arab land owning class and politicians lost their lands and were either killed or imprisoned. The Asians had their businesses and their properties nationalized and were told to leave. An extreme form of cleansing and Africanization began to take hold. My parents' businesses were taken over and it became clear that foreigners were no longer wanted here. It is in predicament that my parents booked a berth for us to move to Goa. We were all eager to leave although we were apprehensive. On the one hand, we had to forsake the life that we had known and, on the other hand, we were also unsure of what lay ahead. The ship docked at Mombasa, Kenya. The sea was calm and the journey peaceful but the time was clouded by the terrible events we had gone through. When we landed in April of 1964, Goa was itself in a transition state. The Portuguese had left -- rather, made to leave -- in 1961 and it became part of the Indian Union. I was a mere boy of school age; many of us were here for the first time in a new land with a language, culture and traditions that were different. This was true even for some of the older folks who had never been to Goa before. Many Goans had left Goa during the earlier part of the century. They had put up their stakes in East Africa and never foresaw this new reality. Many had no homes and had little or no resources to start life anew in their ancestral land. The term 'Africander' -- meaning 'someone from Africa' -- gained prominence as more and more Goans came back. Conditions at that time were pretty much basic, especially in the villages. There was no electricity, many food items were unavailable and transportation sparse. An observation: Goans from Zanzibar and Pemba came practically as refugees with little of what they could carry. Many were stateless and in limbo. Later on, in 1972 Goans in Uganda would face a similar dilemma under the dictator Idi Amin. As Africanization took hold in parts of Africa many left, some to India and others to Britain and elsewhere. However, most of these Goans fared economically a little better as they were allowed to repatriate at least some of their belongings. Some Goans did remain in East Africa, opting for citizenship of the new nations. Some simply had no one in Goa or some feared having to start all over again. The Indian administration offered little help or no help in resettlement. There was chaos in the new independent countries, as the basic infrastructure was broken and qualified persons left and the new leadership was inept in nation building. In this scenario, Zanzibar joined with Tanganyika to form the United Republic of Tanzania. For me, I went to an all-boys schools, making friends as boys and girls of that age do. The Principal was a strict disciplinarian and infringement of rules was not tolerated. However I got to know and like some of the teachers. I need to pay tribute to my Science and Geography teacher, Mr. Albuquerque. He was old and stern but fair. He was a very good teacher and had this amazing gift of getting students interested in the world around us. All these years later, his name stuck in my mind as it was synonymous with that of a place in New Mexico, US, and which I got to visit in 2001. Somehow, I always seemed to have had teachers who made a lasting impression on me. Another was Fr. Byrne, an Irish priest in Africa. He installed in me the love of international relations. He would talk of world news to thrilled students and somehow he made the events seem alive. With so many world happenings in the earlier 1960s, there was no shortages of topics to discuss in class. He also had the uncanny ability to speak Swahili like a native. He installed in me the love of languages. Zanzibar and Pemba had multi-racial communities. Aside from English, the language of officialdom, there were Swahili, Arabic and a host of Indian languages spoken. Most schools also taught French as a second language. In Goa, I got to be better acquainted with Konkani, Hindi and Portuguese. The next few years in my life were hard with what the adjustments I had to endure; but with a young boy's joie de vivre, I moved on. There was school as I mentioned, learning the ropes, going to new places and meeting with new people. One of my joys was walking through the fields of Saligao to go to the beach. I learned swimming, going to Salmona Spring known for its healing waters. During the summers, there was Calangute beach in the evenings. Music would blare from strategically placed speakers. There was the standard English music of the time but Konkani as well. The films 'Amche Noxib' and 'Nirmon' were popular at this time. There would be hundreds of people on the beach, especially during the weekends. They were predominately Goans. This was before the 'hippie invasion' and the tourists from the rest of India who came later on. Here we would meet old friends or make new ones, buy tempting food from the stalls, build sand castles, play games or simply enjoy the natural surrondings. Another pastime was going to the Tinto. Here I would occasionally buy 'The Navhind Times', an English-language daily, or the 'O Globo', where I could ameliorate my Portuguese. At this venue the young and old could exchange news and gossip or simply catch up with 'what's what.' Other times, I would go with the village boys to Mapusa for the Friday market days or on other days to watch movies. 'Mutiny on the Bounty' with Marlon Brando and 'Come September' were stuck in my mind as those that I saw during this time. Once during the novenas for St. Francis Xavier in 1964 some boys and I walked to Betim from Saligao and then took the ferry to Old Goa. If memory serves me right, we started at 4 am. Throughout the years, I have relived that trip in my mind. I also remember going to Candolim from Saligao. I went behind the Mater Dei Institute and then across the hill coming down near the church. Does anyone do that anymore? This was the Goa of yesteryears. By today's standards the life style of the 1960s would seem pretty tame but those were the reality of the times as is with every generation. TV, cable, the Internet were non-existent. The technology of the day was the transistor radio. We listened to the BBC and to the Western songs on Radio Ceylon. This helped me improve my English. In this regard, I felt that I had an advantage as I had more exposure to the language thanks to the Irish missionaries in Zanzibar. Also, at this time, the education system in Goa was changing from the Portuguese to English. This along with Hindi and Marathi created a period of adjustment and some difficulty for the average local student. I learned to watch and play football, which was and is an important sport in Goa. We boys followed the legendary Pele and his exploits in the World Cups and internationally. Church life and the various feasts became an integral part of our lives. During the monsoons, I watched in awe as the harsh rainy and squally conditions came every June through August affecting agriculture, fishing and life in general. I got to see the extent of the whole of Goa and some parts of India during my five years here. I must mention the 1967 Opinion Poll that Goans fought for to keep Goa from becoming part of another state. Older folks will remember the work of Dr. Jack Sequeira in this regard. That was an important deal for the people then as this would later contribute to Goa becoming a state in its own right. I did my high school here and then was admitted to further my studies in the United States. As with the time before, this opened an entire new avenue and adventure for me in a new land continents away. -- With his roots in Saligao, Goa, Roland Travas has later been in the US, and subsequently in Jamaica. In recent weeks, he has been travelling to Costa Rica. He visited Goa recently, where the Goanet Reader convinced him to pen some of his remembrances of life in Goa and Africa. He can be contacted at rolandtra...@gmail.com Goanet Reader is compiled and edited by Frederick Noronha.