Re: [Goanet] Goan Names
* * * * * * * * * ANNUAL GOANETTERS MEET * * * * * * * * * Goanetters in Goa and visiting meet Jan 6, 2009 at 3.30 pm at Hotel Mandovi (prior to the Goa Sudharop event, which you're also welcome to). Join in for a Dutch dinner -- if we can agree on a venue after the meet. RSVP (confirmations only) 9822122436 or 2409490 or f...@goa-india.org Valmiki Faleiro's articles on Goan names in the Herald Mirror bristle under the surface with all sorts of politics, although I admire the way he has managed to keep the story good humoured. He was not born yesterday however, and I'm sure he knows what his project is - so I suspect he will be upset by the jaundiced and prejudiced comments of mine which follow. Faleiro writes,Catholic surnames, from Fernandes to Souza, are ... egalitarian. [They cut ] across social divides. A Fernandes or Souza could be a converted Hindu Brahmin or one from the lowest in the social pecking order. What he says is true. I do not know whether this was done consciously or not by the Portuguese. But in effect, it was a brilliant move by them because it was one of the means of changing the identity of the convert. [Although of course other means were used as well. They demanded a change in dress; in food habits (eating beef and pork and drinking feni in the house was made normal and chewing beetlenut and spitting out the remnants of the paan was frowned upon); hairstyles (xenndis were taxed!!) and perhaps most importantly, in language - (everyone was supposed to speak Portuguese.) The last measure failed, but at a tremendous cost to Konkani. I suspect that in those times the identity of the Goan was not to the 'Hindu' religion as such, but more to the family and to the family deity and caste, and the name of the person was a marker of this. By changing a Saraswat name like Kamat to a de Souza or a Fernandes, which could very well belong to a Sudhir or a Mahar, they hit at one of the cores of the pre-converted Goans' identity. But this does not mean that the Portuguese succeeded in this enterprise. Lucio Rodrigues in his brilliant essay 'To Kon'nallo' documented how Goans managed to circumvent this little obstacle. Read: www.mail-archive.com/*goan*et-n...@*goan*et.org/msg00367.html - 19k The local Goan aristocracy however was not satisfied with this arrangement and came up with a little subterfuge to make clear their ascendency over the rest. To understand how, read Faleiro from where he writes, Another feature in many Catholic family names is double (even triple) surnames ... I know what I say is annoying especially to the Bamons and Chaddes of today, but I think Catholics should learn to rationally confront the ghosts of their forbears, for unless they do, they will have to be resigned to bear the torments of the Hindutva baiter. Looking forward to a more happy year, Cheers Augusto -- Augusto Pinto 40, Novo Portugal, Moira, Bardez, Goa, India E pinto...@gmail.com or ypinto...@yahoo.co.in P 0832-2470336 M 9881126350
Re: [Goanet] GOAN NAMES
Augusto: I was born much before 1961. My father worked as a doctor in the Indian Army (not a Portuguese army, if I must add to clear your jaundiced view.) I have never felt my first name to be a millstone -- indeed, as I've already said publicly, I am proud of it. Why do you think I will have to manoeuvre through the rest of my pieces on *Goan names, surnames and nicknames*? Do you imagine I share your conflict or prejudice with the past -- as goes between the lines you write below? I will tell the story as it is, as mellifluously as I can. I sure knew your elder brother, Tertuliano -- Tate -- Antonio -- Tony, and told you how I could not attend his funeral from your home in Moira. I also know the estate problems his only child by his first marriage is in. Chuck the old prejudices and the old trash, friend. Charity must start at home. Rgds, v - Original Message - From: augusto pinto To: goanet@lists.goanet.org Cc: Valmiki Faleiro Sent: Tuesday, December 23, 2008 10:28 AM Subject: [Goanet] GOAN NAMES Dears I think Valmiki Faleiro's Herald Sunday Mirror article series on Goan names is quite hilarious. But underlying the humour is the fact that giving a name to a child is a political act. An act whereby the identity of the child is sought to be defined. Somewhere after India's independence and around the time of Goa's Liberation one can find many Goan Catholics were given Indian names by their parents - Valmiki is one, but also Rabindranath, Gandhi, Aurobindo ... and among girls Sunita, Anita and so on - obviously the parents were announcing their sympathy to Indian nationalism. However some of the names that were given were given to children during Portuguese times were truly millstones around their necks. Often it was done to honour an ancestor. My brother was named Tertuliano, after a grandfather, whom someone had named after someone who was named after some obscure Christian writer. It was a name which my brother detested and so it was made more tolerable by shortening it to Tate, But that too became unacceptable after he went to England where he discovered that there Tate was a surname, and to be addressed by one's surname as in,Hello Tate was demeaning. So he switched to using his second name Antonio, which he further shortened to Tony! Now all these name changing shenanigans may create problems for his child in legal affairs as his documents bear different names. Of late there seems to be a trend of creating hybrid names from the names of the father and mother. But sometimes one wishes that the parents were a bit careful when they did this - I'm pretty sure it was a couple named Felicity and Abdon who stupidly decided to name their child Felon. I hope that a Mervin and a Dion don't decide to name their child Melon and a Donald and a Cornelia don't make their son a Con or worse Corny. Surnames are a bit more difficult to manipulate, but here too politics enters. A.K Priolkar exploited this in his clever attack on Goan Christians in 'Who is a Goan?' in Goa Re-Discovered, 1967, when he suggested that they should abandon the Portuguese surnames that came to them after conversion, and either revert to their original pre-conversion names or take up a suitably Goan Hindu sounding one by adopting the name of the village one happens to reside in - like Lotlikar, Calangutkar etc - in order that they appear more nationalised. Anyway, looking forward to see how Valmiki manages to manoeuvre his way through the treacherous minefield of names in his future articles. Cheers Augusto -- Augusto Pinto 40, Novo Portugal, Moira, Bardez, Goa, India E pinto...@gmail.com or ypinto...@yahoo.co.in P 0832-2470336 M 9881126350
[Goanet] GOAN NAMES
Dears I think Valmiki Faleiro's Herald Sunday Mirror article series on Goan names is quite hilarious. But underlying the humour is the fact that giving a name to a child is a political act. An act whereby the identity of the child is sought to be defined. Somewhere after India's independence and around the time of Goa's Liberation one can find many Goan Catholics were given Indian names by their parents - Valmiki is one, but also Rabindranath, Gandhi, Aurobindo ... and among girls Sunita, Anita and so on - obviously the parents were announcing their sympathy to Indian nationalism. However some of the names that were given were given to children during Portuguese times were truly millstones around their necks. Often it was done to honour an ancestor. My brother was named Tertuliano, after a grandfather, whom someone had named after someone who was named after some obscure Christian writer. It was a name which my brother detested and so it was made more tolerable by shortening it to Tate, But that too became unacceptable after he went to England where he discovered that there Tate was a surname, and to be addressed by one's surname as in,Hello Tate was demeaning. So he switched to using his second name Antonio, which he further shortened to Tony! Now all these name changing shenanigans may create problems for his child in legal affairs as his documents bear different names. Of late there seems to be a trend of creating hybrid names from the names of the father and mother. But sometimes one wishes that the parents were a bit careful when they did this - I'm pretty sure it was a couple named Felicity and Abdon who stupidly decided to name their child Felon. I hope that a Mervin and a Dion don't decide to name their child Melon and a Donald and a Cornelia don't make their son a Con or worse Corny. Surnames are a bit more difficult to manipulate, but here too politics enters. A.K Priolkar exploited this in his clever attack on Goan Christians in 'Who is a Goan?' in Goa Re-Discovered, 1967, when he suggested that they should abandon the Portuguese surnames that came to them after conversion, and either revert to their original pre-conversion names or take up a suitably Goan Hindu sounding one by adopting the name of the village one happens to reside in - like Lotlikar, Calangutkar etc - in order that they appear more nationalised. Anyway, looking forward to see how Valmiki manages to manoeuvre his way through the treacherous minefield of names in his future articles. Cheers Augusto -- Augusto Pinto 40, Novo Portugal, Moira, Bardez, Goa, India E pinto...@gmail.com or ypinto...@yahoo.co.in P 0832-2470336 M 9881126350
[Goanet] GOAN NAMES
Dear Valmiki, Interesting how there are different spellings for Hedwig (German) in Portuguese, as from the French and German forms -- Edviges / Edwiges and Hedviges. Neat piece. Thanks. venantius __ From: Valmiki Faleiro valmi...@gmail.com GOAN NAMES By Valmiki Faleiro. Then came Maria Henriqueta Purificacao Auta Hedviges de Noronha.
[Goanet] Goan names: HERALD(Goa), Dec 21, 2008
GOAN NAMES By Valmiki Faleiro Heard of a famous contemporary Goan named Filipe Antonio Sebastiao do Rosario Ferrao? Or Shivaji da Silveira Faleiro? Or Ubaldo Antonio Delton Arquimedes Alemao? (I’ve omitted one giveaway name in each case.) Do I hear you ask, “Filipe, Shivaji, Ubaldo, who?” Suffix ‘Neri’ to ‘Filipe’ and you have Goa’s Archbishop. Prefix ‘Shivaji’ with ‘Eduardo’ – he’s the first Goan in history to serve as minister in India’s Union government. Add a first name in the third example and you have Goa’s current best money machine: Churchill Alemao! Long, litany like, names, were common with Goan Catholics in bygone times. Perhaps inspired, in the case of women, by Mother Mary: her Loreto Litany runs into 51 names. ‘Maria’ is arguably the most common name. In the case of men, inspiration must have come from the galaxy of saints – from Antonio, the Portuguese national saint, to Xavier, Goa’s patron saint. I didn’t have to look afar to understand this marvel of long names… I am a great-grandson of Maria Lucia Prisca Eulalia Estefania Mesquita e Noronha. Hailing from Consua of Cortalim, she was married to Cosme Damiao de Noronha of Carona, Aldona. Their daughter, my grandmother, was Maximiana Romelina Quiteria Clotildes Isabel Filomena Santana Salvacao dos Martires Noronha e Sa. Her daughter (my mother) is Maria Olga Augusta Joaquina Teresa de Jesus da Sa e Faleiro. It doesn’t end there. Estefania and Cosme Damiao had eight girls. The first was Epifania Paula Claudiana de Noronha. Then came Maria Henriqueta Purificacao Auta Hedviges de Noronha. Next was my grandmother, with the longest name in the brood. After her came Exiquiela Leovegilda Agripinia Conceicao das Dores Alleluia de Noronha, then Ursula Maria Aninha Rita Robertina Deodita de Noronha, followed by Ida Isabel Veronica Ana Paula do Rosario Santa Rita Basta de Noronha. Note that Santa Rita is the patroness of Carona and ‘Basta’ in Portuguese is “enough.” Despite the appeal to the patroness, two more girls were born. These were named Maria Jesuina Joaosita Paulina Bernadete de Noronha, and the last, Quiteria Carmela da Piedade de Noronha. The last had the shortest name. The parents by then must have been exhausted of ferreting out names! Yet… Forty-five names, not counting the prepositions … an average of six names per child, covering almost the entire alphabet from A to Z. It must have been difficult to keep track of the names already given, so we find ‘Isabel,’ ‘Paula’ and ‘Quiteria’ featuring twice – and ‘Maria’ occurring thrice. There’s another angle. The second oldest, Henriqueta, married Francisco Xavier Santana Joaquim Roque Necessidade do Rosario Rego of Verna, had seven children, named in alphabetical order … Alvito, Berta, Cosme, Diogenes, Elvira, Francisco and Genoveva. The second youngest, Joaosita, married Manuel Joaquim Roque Valladares of Margao, also had seven children, the “7Rs”: Raul, Rui, Rita, Ruth, Remo, Rolanda and Rene. Goan Catholics generally took the surname from the priest who baptized the first family ancestor. Given names were conventionally after saints. The phenomenon of long names, I think, owed its roots to a harsh reality of the times. Childbirth was perilous those days – both for the mother and the new born, often still born. There was no surgery or anesthesia, no Caesarians or blood banks, no antibiotics, and not a shadow of today’s quick-fix allopathic medicines. Gynaecology, as a medical speciality, did not exist. Deliveries were conducted by the village midwifes, trained only by experience. Hardly surprising that to-be-parents armed themselves with all kinds of vows, to several forms of divine intercession through an assortment of saints. For a safe passage from womb to world, each successive saint was assured that his or her name would also be given to the newborn. There evidently was an abundance of free counsel floating in the village. Of people who testified to the efficacy of prayer to a particular saint. Perplexed would-be parents played safe, made multiple vows, regardless of the length of the litany of names every vow would contribute to, when the child was baptized. Times were different. There also were enough government clerks with insufficient work, to write in longhand such long names, with plumes dipped in ink every few words. There also were no pro-formats with just three spaces for name, father’s name and surname. But then, we change with the times, don’t we? PS: Goa has six ‘Valmikis’ per the local phone directory. Reader response, however, indicates many more Valmikis, most – again – Catholics. Like Valmiki and Rishi Mascarenhas, both engineers, from Sarzora-Salcete. And Valmiki Xavier, uncle of Constantino, of the Department of Political Studies, Portuguese Institute of International Relations, Lisbon. Great going, Valmikis! (ENDS.) The Valmiki Faleiro weekly column at:
[Goanet] Goan names-Valmiki: HERALD(Goa), Dec 14, 2008
GOAN NAMES – VALMIKI By Valmiki Faleiro Goa, as we saw last Sunday, has only six ‘Valmikis’ … per the local phone directory, that is. Five of them are Catholics. Of these, one is the well-known diocesan priest, Fr. Valmiki Dias Gonsalves, the other is the irreverent chap you’re presently reading. Yet, the two – friends personally – are often mixed. Around 1977. Pop star Remo performs in Margao. Fr. Valmiki has painstakingly organized the show. In his acknowledgements, Remo thunders, “… and, in a very special way, I thank Rev. Fr. Valmiki Faleiro.” I had just subscribed to Goanet. Responding to one of my first posts on the forum, an old chum of Fr. Valmiki responds, from the Americas, “Hi reverend”! This time, it was Fr. Valmiki all right, talking to a mutual friend from Chinchinim, now in the US, at a wedding reception at Benaulim’s Taj Exotica. Her hubby, a medical specialist I never met, greets, “Glad to meet you, Valmiki Faleiro!” Talking of the Taj, a former Taj-Aguada boss, over the public address at the Loutulim church, thanks “Fr. Valmiki Faleiro” … even as the Rev. Valmiki Gonsalves is at the altar. Tongue slips on just six Valmikis in Goa! Why, when Fr. Valmiki served at the next- door Holy Spirit church, even the postman mixed identities, and our letters. Of the six Valmikis, only one is Hindu. (An internet search yields Valmikis with surnames like Bankay, Biswas, Mukherjee, Raghunathan, Ramsewak, Rao, Raj, Rengadhar...) Which brings up the question: why don’t Goan Hindus name their sons after the great Indian sage? For a plausible answer, let us pan back in time … to about the year 1000 BC. Story goes that a Brahmin, Prachetas, begot his tenth child, a son. For reasons unknown, he entrusted the child for upbringing to a man who lived in the forests – and waylaid and killed travelers for a livelihood. The man raised the child in his ‘profession’. The boy became the merciless bandit ‘Valya Koli’. One day, as Valya was about to strike his next victim, the aged wayfarer turned and asked Valya, “Why do you do this?” Valya replied, “To provide for my family.” The old man asked Valya that while his family shared his earnings, would they share his guilt of sin? Would they partake of the punishment? The traveler told Valya to ask his family, promising to wait at that spot until Valya returned. He was Naradamuni. Back at his forest hideout, Valya’s wife and children shot back, “why should we share the guilt of your sins? It’s your duty to provide for us, how you do it is your concern.” Valya, as if thunderstruck, returned to Narada. Valya was contrite. Narada told him, “All your life you’ve known only killing (“mar”). Your lips are not pure to utter god’s name. Sit here and utter just that word, ‘Mar, mar, mar…’ in atonement, until I return.” Valya sat under a tree and began reciting “Mar, mar…” Hours turned to days, months, and years. Gradually, the chant of “Mar, mar…” reversed in alphabetical order and turned to “Ram, Ram…,” god’s name! Eleven years had passed. An anthill (“valmik”) had grown over him. Narada finally returned, to find “Valmiki Prabhavo Vasya” (one who emerged from an anthill.) Killer Valya, now Valmiki, led an ascetic’s life. One day that too changed. Returning from bath in the river, he noticed, on a nearby tree, two birds making love. Just then, a hunter’s arrow hit the male bird, throwing it to the ground. The female cried bitterly by the side of her dead mate. An anguished Valmiki uttered a curse, the ‘Ma Nishad.’ Its verse was so creative that Brahma, the Creator, ordained Valmiki to compose an epic. The “world’s greatest story” – as veteran theatre director, Aamir Raza Husain, producer of ‘The Legend of Ram’, described the timeless ‘Ramayana.’ 24,000 lucid verses, four times the length of the Iliad. No controversy brewed by politicians, like over the ‘Ram Setu’ navigation channel or over Prof. AK Ramanujan’s essay, “300 Ramayanas,” can steal from the Ramayana. Its richness lies in its hundreds of versions and interpretations – even by Buddhists and Jains. Why, Valmiki himself is seen in ancient scriptures from three different facets: in the ‘Mahabharat’ he is Rishi, in ‘Taittiriya Pratishakya’ he is the philologist, while ‘Kalidasa’ and ‘Bhavbhuti’ refer to him as the poet/writer. Why, then, don’t Goan Hindus name their sons after this sage? The obvious answer: what if he turns out to be ‘Valya’ and not Valmiki? PS. From an e-mail: “An Olympic shooter wins gold, Govt. gives him Rs. three crore. A commando shooter dies, fighting terrorists, Govt. gives his family Rs. five lakhs.” (ENDS.) The Valmiki Faleiro weekly column at: http://www.goanet.org/index.php?name=Newsfile=articlesid=330 == The above article appeared in the December 14, 2008 edition of the Herald, Goa
[Goanet] Goan names, surnames and … : HERA LD(Goa), Dec 7, 2008
GOAN NAMES, SURNAMES AND … By Valmiki Faleiro Goan names are often interesting. Even surnames. And, best of all, our nicknames! Let us delve a bit into this delightful subject over the next few Sundays. Permit me to talk with no particular reverence. But, before I’m accused of poking fun at others, let me start today with my own peculiarities. I’ll begin with my family nickname, ‘Sulço.‘ Meaning, one from the south. Most Goan nicknames, we must remember, were born out of derision. But, this rather innocuous one carried a bit of history. Down ages, whenever Goans had to flee – from wars, pestilence or persecution – Tiswadkars and Bardezkars generally fled eastwards or north. Folks from today’s Salcete and Mormugao (‘Sasaxtikars’) invariably fled south. Some never returned: the coastal Karnataka/Kerala Konknnis. An ancestor was treasurer of the local Comunidade, repository of the village wealth. Margao was a wealthy village. Her treasury was prime target in an enemy attack. In the face of a Maratha attack, my ancestor fled. Naturally, southwards … possibly to Mangalore. He either was a funk or fell in love with something in that balmy coastal town. Because, despite reminders that things were safe, our hero was not returning. Angry Margaoites christened him ‘Sulço‘ when he eventually did. Understandably. How ‘Sulço‘ got morphed to ‘Sulço Combo’ (southern rooster), in the 20th century, is something I’m trying to find out. No one seems to know. About an answer came from an elderly man, now in Australia, who spent his boyhood years in my neighbourhood. Alluding to my long-gone paternal uncle, he said, “I was not perceptive enough to observe whether he was a Don Juan, or whether it was a sobriquet assigned to him out of sour grapes by women who secretly craved for his virile looks, as I remember them.” From smiles that ‘Sulço Combo’ still evoke, to my family name: Faleiro. ‘de Souza’ is arguably the most common Goan surname. There is a whole township called Souza in Mozambique, inhabited only by de Souzas. ‘Faleiro’ ranks among the rarest of Goan Catholic surnames, which originated from missionaries who gave their own surnames to the new converts. The trend continued with local ‘bhatkars’ thrusting their surnames upon their ‘mundkars.’ That’s how the few Goan Faleiros turned into slightly noticeable numbers. Goa’s first native Faleiros emerged in the Salcete village of Raia. They still form the bulk of Goan Faleiros, though now dispersed all over the world. Raia’s neighbouring village of Loutolim had a sparse sprinkling. Margao had only two. One was the Borda Faleiros. The other was my own ancestry – traditionally uni-linear by male descent, hence even fewer in number. Despite microscopic numbers, ‘Faleiro’ is a well-known surname. Perhaps because, as a wag once said, they ‘talk’ (after “fala” in Portuguese) more, and get elected to public office! One spent half a lifetime as minister in India’s union government, another at the State level (this pen pusher himself was, though briefly, a Municipal President) and a dear schoolmate, Quintiliano, Sarpanch of Loutulim. TJ Faleiro, whose relatives owned Daman’s downtown ‘Hotel Paradise’, was with the Goa Civil Service. Heitor, another schoolmate, is currently director of Goa’s veterinary services. From surname to name, I’m often asked how I bear a ‘Hindu’ name. “Ask my parents,” I say to escape a protracted explanation. I am, of course, proud of my Indian name. The story in brief: mother’s first cousin, married to Dr. Constancio Roque Monteiro of Nagoa-Verna, had a child baptized Valmiki. The boy died in early childhood. I was born some time later. Dr. Constancio Roque and my dad, both doctors, were also abreast with Indian traditions. Another strange rarity in Goa… Valmiki, here, is not so much a ‘Hindu’ name as it is a Catholic one. An internet search of the telephone directory yielded six ‘Valmikis’ in Goa – five Catholics … a Menezes (son of Goa’s last Judicial Commissioner, Justice Tito Menezes) of Goa Velha, a Braganza from Chimbel, a Costa from Margao, the well- known diocesan priest, Fr. Valmiki Dias Gonsalves, and yours sincerely. Two queer questions arise from the handful in Goa named after one of India’s greatest Maha Rishis. Why are the last two from just six Valmikis listed in the telephone directory – one a Catholic priest, the other far from any religious illusions – so often mistaken with one another? The second, and more pertinent, of the two questions that I shall try to answer in the fewest possible words next Sunday: of six Valmikis in Goa, only one was Hindu, a Naik from Panjim. Why do Hindus in Goa fight shy of naming their sons after the great Indian sage? By its most plausible answer, hangs a tale… (ENDS.) The Valmiki Faleiro weekly column at: http://www.goanet.org/index.php?name=Newsfile=articlesid=330 ==
