AFRICA HERE WE COME... WE ARE DRIVING TO OUR FATHERS' LAND
By Sonia Gomes
rgso...@gmail.com
Flick, flick, flick flick, she flicks off a fly? An imaginary
moth? Her mgwisho never pauses.
My Uncle looks at her with well concealed
irritation tinged with admiration. He wants her to
leave this group of men, this adda that meets every
evening at the Adro da Capela to discuss politics,
the exact time of the season to sow paddy, the
latest gossip and of course women.
And here she is uninvited... In a well-modulated voice, full
of laughter, she says, 'I hear you gentlemen meet here in the
evenings for conversation and I thought you could use some
company...'
You cannot call her beautiful; she is tall, on the darker
side, long hair flowing down her shoulders and purplish
lipstick which should have looked garish but on her strangely
doesn't. She has a long elegant dress of some vibrantly
coloured material.
At home the wives, mothers, sisters ask, 'What is this type
of clothes she wears, uhmm? Tchii, tchii, such loud colours
and the designs baba rê baba'.
Much later after much prodding, they learn it's a kitenge.
No, no she is not beautiful in the conventional sort of a
way, in the chocolate-box sort of a way, but oh the style,
the poise, the confidence and the oomph she exudes makes her
terribly desirable.
The men breathe in deeply, willing to make all sorts of
concessions and all sorts of excuses...
https://zorotmorotgoesmyvillage.blogspot.com
All her stories, pleasant enough are woven around the theme
'when we were in Kenya'... She the Africa returned,
Africander.
Sometime in the Sixties and early Seventies, we in
Goa were swamped by Africanders from various parts
of British Africa. They returned to Goa, home of
their ancestors, primarily because many African
nations were on the verge of being Independent from
Britain and rather than stay in these New Nations
with different governments that might not bode so
well for them, they took a breather... 'Let us see
what we do now.'
We were pleasantly surprised by this new breed of people,
they were polished, spoke so well, danced divinely and most
of all, to my eternal delight, read and had masses of books
and Comic Papers, the trips I have made to Aida's place to
raid her stash of June and Schoolfriend are innumerable.
These were Goans, well settled in Africa, some of them much
before the Second World War. They even fought the War. A
persistent question however niggles, nudges me....
Why did people from all walks of life go to all parts of
British Africa in droves? What motivated them to leave their
families, their parents, their homes and their culture to go
to a strange Continent that was so alien to them and whose
Colonisers were unknown to them?
The truth, the exceedingly bitter truth is that Goa
had nothing for the middle class. The unpleasant
reality was that there were hardly any jobs in Goa.
The only jobs to be had were government jobs and
maybe one or two at some fledgeling private
companies.
'João, oh João,' says Ilda to her husband, 'did you go and
meet Advogado Fortunato de Pinho?'
'Não querida', replies João tremulously and sadly.
'But why...,' insists Ilda, 'you know Zecas has been waiting
for that job as a typist in the Obras Públicas.'
'Oh João, what are we to do?' she asks in a desperate
entreaty, 'Tonecas, Dona Maria's son has already been lined
up for that job...'
'Really?', João murmurs tiredly.
Of course, João is aware that Tonecas’ father, Jose de
Miranda, is good pals with the Desembargador, Matias das
Dores Furtado.
The Desembargador is undeniably going to push the lout
Tonecas into the Obras Públicas, after being swamped with
Uisky and Genebra not to mention the feni and urak distilled
by Jose de Miranda in his properties at Paroda. Never forget
the fish, those out-of-world oysters. People wondered has the
Desembargador at any point of time in his career bought any
fish?
Desembargador Matias das Dores Furtado could open a bar if he
so desired, he did possess an amazing collection of all types
of whiskies, gins, liqueurs as well as the choicest urak and
feni, courtesy grateful fathers whose sons he had, well,
pushed into the right jobs.
Actually, João, had knocked on every imposing door, cajoled
every person of importance, just for Zecas. But there was
always someone richer, always someone with more clout, always
something or someone he João, did not have access to.
João was saddened to his soul. Think of it, as a boy he had
been a brilliant student, be it in School as well as in Liceu
and now he worked as the Escrivão das Comunidades.
Liceu, that bastion of higher learning. João
thought of that place with sadness, and anger
mingled with disgust, that place riddled with class
and caste, that place that worked only in favour of
the rich and the powerful.
João, dreamt of being a huge landowner, it was not a mirage,
it was not a dream, there were so many landowners possessing
huge coconut plantations, vast paddy fields, properties in
Damão, even factories. They did not want for anything....
'Bai Ermelinda, Dotor Babak, aiz almosak, costletas de vak ou
nusteacho gizad zai?'
Querido, Mari quere saber si queres comer costeletas de vaca
ou guisado do peixe?
Não sei Ermelinda, não sei, estou atarefado. Deus me livre...
Mari vac khor ghô ani tem salad. Pudim de caramelo cholta
sobremezak...
Bai Ermelinda, Vitol eila Ambelim son, calvam geun, calvachem
empad khorchem bai....?
Oh, yes João had these dreams of 'If I were a huge
landowner'. Not that he did not own land, oh yes he did, but
his were not acres upon acres with thousands of coconut trees.
Luis de Mascarenhas, plucked around fifty thousand coconuts
every pluck, now that was life... Sigh.
His family, on the other hand, were parsimonious, they had to
be. His Tia Urminda walked miles meeting every coconut
merchant just to get a tiny increase.
Were these hard times? No, they were just inherently frugal.
They had to be.
'Mandri choi ani paim sôd'.
Food was good and plenty but not gourmet...
Oh to be in the same league as Luis de Mascarenhas he dreamt;
whilst Ilda sleeping next to him dreamt about Edó the coconut
merchant giving her a better price than Shéddo....
To each his own dream.
These super rich, whose sons breezed through Liceu, at times
medical school, maybe even Coimbra the favourite for Law.
And all that was required from the f@#$%^ b#$%^s were
middling marks and an f@$%^& amazing bank balance.
Things did look extremely bleak for Zecas, until their
neighbour Bosteão said, ‘João Bab tum Zec Babak Afrikak
kiteak dadnai?'
* * *
Glossary:
Mgwisho -- Fly swatter -- (Swahili)
Adda -- a form of intellectual exchange among members -- (Hindi)
Kitenge -- an East African cotton fabric printed in various
colours and designs with distinctive borders, used especially
for women's clothing -- (Swahili).
Bai Ermelinda, Dotor Babak, aiz almosak costeletas de vak ou
nusteacho gizad zai? -- (Konkani)
Madam Ermelinda, would Dotor Bab like beef cutlets or a fish
casserole for his lunch?
Querido, Mari quere saber si queres comer costeletas de vaca
ou guisado do peixe? -- (Portuguese)
Dear, Mari, wants to know if you would like beef cutlets or a
fish casserole for your lunch?
Não sei Ermelinda, não sei, estou atarefado. Deus me livre...
-- (Portuguese)
I do not know Ermelinda, I really do not know. I am terribly
busy. God help me.
Mari vac khor ghô ani tem salad. Pudim de caramelo cholta
sobremezak... --(Konkani)
Mari cook the beef and a salad, for dessert a Caramel pudding
would do.
Bai Ermelinda, Vitol eila Ambelim son calvam geun, calvachem
empad khorchem....? -- (Konkani)
Madam Ermelinda, Vital from Ambelim has come with oysters,
shall I make an oyster pie?
'Mandri choi ani paim sôd'. – (Konkani Proverb)
Stretch your legs according to the mat you sleep on.
'João Bab tum Zec Babak Afrikak kiteak dadnai?' -- (Konkani)
Mr. João, why don’t you send Mr. Zecas to Africa?
Africa here we come... We are driving to our fathers land.
The music to the title is got from the stirring song
@https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TQ4axG7ArY
--
Send feedback to Sonia Gomes in Verna [rgso...@gmail.com] and
cc to goa...@goanet.org This is an extract from the blog
https://zorotmorotgoesmyvillage.blogspot.com
Goanet Reader is compiled and edited by Frederick Noronha.
Well-written submissions that reflect the diversity of Goa
and her diaspora are welcome and may be submitted to
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