Feet firmly on the ground We may not swim, but we will not drown By Cecil Pinto
I was thrown into a crowded well as a young boy. Now that sure sounded dramatic, no? But drama aside, like most Goans who grew up in the village, that is indeed the way we learnt to be unafraid of large water bodies. No, we didn’t learn swimming. Most Goans don’t know how to swim. Our language reflects this. The Konkani word for ‘swimming’ is ‘piyunk’ which is also the word for ‘drink water’. Basically conveying that if you attempt to swim you will drink water and die. Rewind to my childhood. I was nine years old at the time. It was the annual festival of Saint John the Baptist on 24th June. After suitable prayers, fruits and beverages we marched off to the default Sao Joao household well at the time, Persu Aunty’s, which abutted a corner of her house and hence had many levels from which one could access the water. At one level you could practically step into the water whereas the highest point, the window from where water was drawn for the house, was at a ten meter height at least. Or maybe everything looks much deeper when you’re young and afraid. For many earlier years I had been a thrilled observer of the inebriated menfolk doing the ‘sui-muddi’, needle and splash dive. This year I would be one of them - albeit sober. My friend Marico, two years older than me and already a Sao Joao jumping veteran, prepared the ground - or rather the water. About ten men jumped in and encircled the well. I stood at the lowest level, holding my nose shut, petrified as everyone shouted at me to jump. Jump! Jump! Marico provided me the final shove and I did jump to find myself submerged in cold swirling waters for what seemed like hours - but was probably three seconds. I broke the surface out of breath to find helping hands help and guide me to the well wall where there were many niches to grab on to. A rope was hanging to help divers climb out, which I did. This first dive was easily one of the most exhilarating experiences in my life. After a few more such ‘protected’ dives the older revelers realized I wouldn’t drown and they went back to their boisterous tomfoolery in and out of the water. Taking advantage of the confusion, Marico and me went to the well window, the highest point where no youngsters were allowed to jump from, and executed a perfect sui-muddi combined dive - stunning everyone into silence. We were admonished for it later, but it was worth the thrill. >From that first experience I progressed to field wells that were full to the brim in the monsoons. Easy to climb out of, but too shallow for adventurous deep diving. And of course lots of summer afternoons were spent at the deeper end of the ‘manos’, riverside sluice gates, which was great fun as long as you made sure you were always within a couple of meters of a grab-able surface to stop from drowning or being swept away by currents. Not to say that there weren’t actual swimmers among us. There were the few guys who would swim across the river to Corjuem or to Tivim or wherever. But they were the exception rather than the rule among us jumpers, waders and surface grabbers. The average Goan female does not know how to swim and has no problems to admitting this. The average Goan male has never learnt swimming proper, with the correct strokes and the correct breathing. He has only learnt to propel himself to the nearest graspable object. He hasn’t learnt swimming. He has learnt not-drowning. Observe at a Goan beach. The males will wade into shoulder deep water at most and will remain at that level with a steadfast eye on the beach and the kids playing in the shallower waters. Their backs will take on the most massive waves and they will even ride the waves down sometimes. A little show swimming will be attempted, but never, ever will they go to a point where their feet don’t firmly rest on sand – with their head above water. Some say it could be an inherited Goan trait that knows just how dangerous the rip tides can be. That’s why mostly drowning deaths are among domestic tourists, who with a few pegs of alcohol feel they can venture where most Goans don’t – into water where your feet don’t touch down. Even in swimming pools you will see Goan males quite happy to be in the not-so-deep section. If they do venture into the above-my-head section it will be only for a few seconds to show that they can actually tread water but notice even for those few moments how they are always within reach of a graspable surface. I too have never really learnt the correct technique of breathing while swimming and so have to keep my head above water at all times. This causes early exhaustion and a pain in the neck. My outstretched neck makes me look like a noisy submarine periscope, or a mini Loch Ness monster. Most of my male Goan friends are that way. We are very good waders and amateur divers and very short distance swimmers; basically experts at not-drowning. If we can’t feel something solid beneath our feet we need something to hold on to – maybe even a inflated tube. In pools we will pretend to swim when in fact we could have walked faster, or maybe actually walked with nobody knowing. Unless very drunk we will not venture anywhere beyond the five feet mark. Although we Goan males cannot swim properly we are expert swimming coaches. We can tell our wives, children and sundry relatives and friends exactly how to go about learning to swim. And if a sexy enthusiastic female is involved we will all lend a helping hand in teaching her to swim, or at least keep afloat. As many hands as are required - and more. ----------- The column above appeared in Gomantak Times dated 7th May 2009 ======