THOSE WERE THE DAYS
A Nostalgic View of a Bygone Era
Author: Silviano Barbosa
Source:The PULSE
Magazine of the Goan Overseas Association of Ontario
March,
1996
Recently I was going through real rough period in my life. My heart was
throbbing harder, there was a big lump in my throat. I was getting dizzy and all
kind of things unimaginable happened to me. I began to develop all kinds of
phobia. I did all kinds of tests, all negative. I went to emergency 6 or 7
times. I took some medicine that gave me hallucinations. My soul seemed to have
jumped out of my heart, I was levitating while half asleep, seeing things like
Almas do Outro Mundo. Every one gave up on me. Finally a doctor concluded
I was having stress related problems and suggested I do some kind of Eastern
therapy of meditation. So one Sunday early morning, I went to Scarborough
Bluffs, overlooking Lake Ontario in search for a good spot for a deep
meditation. The ambiance and atmosphere was almost like at a seaside spot in
Goa. I closed my eyes and went into a deep meditation remembering Goa of my
youth in late fifties. And now before your very own wide open eyes, I present
the imagination from my meditation.
Goa in the fifties was a real gem of
a place. Secluded, pure, fresh, natural, unadulterated idyllic spot you could
call home. Serene, quiet, unpolluted, innocent, crime-free, romantic Goa was not
known to many in the outside world except the Portuguese wh o colonized it for
450 years. And for us, Goans it was a real paradise.
Goa tuzo ugddas
ieta
Tambddi mati, mollob, doria-vell, xetam,
Dongor, nhoiom, ranam,
zonvaram,
Ponnos,ambe, madd, igorzo,ghoram
Nixtem, lonchem, fennim ani
chourissam
Life in Goa in the fifties was sucegado (Don't worry, be happy
credo).
People well-versed in Portuguese had nice paying jobs in the civil
service. Doctors and lawyers did great business. Military personnel had great
incomes. Mining business boomed in Goa and made millionaires out of Chowgules,
the Dhempos, the Salgaoncars an d the Timblos along with the medicine man Cosme
Matias Menezes. The kunnbis who laboured in the mines also flourished. German
cars like Volkswagon and BMWs were quite affordable for the well-heeled Goans.
The tarvottis eked out their living sailing on hig h seas as butlers, cooks and
saloon personnel. English educated Goans went to Bombay, Karachi and East Africa
for employment. The rest of the local occupational workers like farmers,
toddy-tappers, and labourers barely made their living on low pay. But ev ery one
had a swell of a time.
Primary education was in Portuguese. The escola
primaria had 4 grades. After the 4th grade, you could go to Lyceum for secondary
education. Some went to English schools and tried to complete their matric exams
in Bombay or Poona. The village professora ta ught in Portuguese phrases like:
"O sangue que corre nas veias e' Portugues", "Papagaio canta-berra, diz papagaio
real ,Nossa Terra , Linda Terra, e' Filha de Portugal" made you really feel like
you are a part of Portugal.
Konkani language was spoken all over Goa and
the elite Goan families spoke Portuguese at home. Even the criada spoke tambddi
Portugues. Konkani Tiatro was the only entertainment for the masses. Carnaval or
Intruz brought three days of unending frenzy to t he joyful teenagers who
adorned young girls with powder and perfume. Some mean boys used plastic guns to
spray coloured water laced with banana juice or cashew juice to stain their
colourful dresses. Khells paraded with live bands through the villages wit h the
drag queen Shali Bai and comedian Shempia Miguel in Salcete vying for the
coveted trophy in the Khell competition. This form of Khell combined with Tiatro
later gave way to a new genre on stage called Khell-Tiatro. Konkani stage
artists like Jacinto Vaz, C. Alvares, Miguel Rod, Remmie Colaco, M. Boyer,
Airistides, Nelson-Conception-Anthony, Young Menezes and many others kept
people's spirits high.
The village feast was a time of the year to
remember. First came the Fama then nine days of novena with a powerful pregador
at the evening salves. Then came fireworks of gornado and foznem and pauss with
kombie tantem at the vespera followed by pig killi ng and cooking of sannam and
sorpatel. On the feast day, early in the morning the loud village church bells,
the foznem and the eerie alvorada band woke everyone up. Children, adults,
senior citizens, all dressed in colourful dresses and in suits (no kaxt ti
today), most with brand new shoes and new dresses specially for the feast,
brought a touch of class to the village feast. Then you go to the church, buy
wax candles, give esmola to the beggars, go to the fair, young girls pinning
paper flowers on your lapel for some donation of a few paise. Then you go to the
fair for khajim-bjojim or chonnem, where you get fistfuls of free samples
"Chonnem vhor" or you go to the kermess for some cerveja. Gamblers going to the
dice table, losing some money. You also m et and wished "Boas Festas" to some
long lost friends or relatives visiting you or your neighbours. Parents giving 4
annem pocket money to the kids to buy some sweets, candies or aiscrot (icefruit)
or xarope or lemon soda. Once you come home, you drink a nd load up on two or
three dishes of pork sorpotel, booch or vindaloo, sannam, fennim or St. Pauli
Girl cerveja. Then you share the chonnem from the feet of the patron saint. And
in the evening you go to Tiatro or for a dance. (You don't think of mortgage and
bills, No mortgage in Goa, even for beggars, the hut is free and esmola is
enough, no welfare needed, thank you!).
A perfectly normal day in Goa
starts this way: Early in the morning, the church bell tolls, but who cares at 6
a.m. Later the chirping of early birds wakes you up. As if this was not enough,
the villager poder wakes you up with his jingle bells and then I have to go to
buy 3 kanknnam, two paoms (undde) and three kunddia bhakrios. So my sleep-walk
is over and I go brush my teeth with charcoal or with that erronda tallo branch
in my teeth followed by the rinsing with warm well water. Then I go you know
wher e with my tambio and pigs come running mad as hell racing each other
attracted in the direction of freshly exhuded morning perfume. After that it is
time for a nice jug of hot tea brewed in a charcoal laced mud burkulo. The tea
comes with sugar and milk a nd some chapattis. After a couple hours it is time
for pez with lonchem and khollantlem tor or if nothing else is available, my
favourite kalchi koddi which comes with a warranty of a sure-fire guarantee of a
heavy down-pour on your wedding day (And I can personally vouch for this).
Later I go to the market to buy fish. There are bangdde (4 for 1 eskuz,
escudo), tarle, peddve and sungttam. While coming home I buy bhoje, boram,
morondd, canddam and jagmam. Then I come home, eat rice and curry and all bones
and remnants go to chicken, cat and dog. The hot nis water from rice goes to the
pig with cunddo from rice husks. Nothing gets wasted in Goa. (we have no garbage
collection, so we do not pay taxes).
In the afternoon we have tea again
with manddoss or dalli or rice bhakri with coconut chunn baked in banana leaves
In the evening we go to Margao, for a nice football match between Vasco Sports
Club and M.C.C. Then we come back on that familiar Ford carr eira, with the
professor or Padre Tio sitting in front and driver stops every where when
someone shouts "Rau re" and the kilindor (cleaner) takes money without issuing
ticket
We had to be home to recite Aimori before the Ave Maria church
bells toll, then at 8 p.m. the rosary starts. Maim shouts in the midst of rosary
"Arey dar damplam mure? Noman Mure, kurpen bhorlole....". After that we eat our
supper and go to sleep on the m at on the floor, which was recently covered with
disinfected cowdung (What?, you can't believe it?) The we pray again (God must
be tired of hearing these Konkani prayers all day long) before we go to mat (not
bed). We don't sleep right away. Now it is gr anny's turn to tell us a story of
a Raja and Rani and kunvor and wealth, after which we go to sleep without
hearing the end.
And in our sleep, we dream about Africa, America and
London, where the streets are paved with gold and happiness.
And just at
that time, I am awakened from my deep slumber by this stupid cellular phone at
the Scarborough Bluffs.
My meditation was over and in a couple days my
stress disappeared.
Silviano Barbosa is a writer and a poet and lives
in Woodbridge,
Ontario Canada with his wife and three children.
He is
working on a novel entitled "Lusindia" to be published soon.
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