Many years ago, a young man named Felix D’Souza, from Mudd’davaddi in the village of Saligao, was prone to question just about everything he encountered, using a single  Portuguese word — porquê (why). After a while, his entire family was nicknamed Porque – pronounced ‘poorkhe’, although Saligao folk prefer to say ‘porkey’.

The Porque house is very easy to find, for it is today the residence of the former Chief Minister of Goa, Dr Wilfred D’Souza. His Aunt Prisca from Anjuna married a D’Souza from Saligao – the Porque of this story. Eventually Prisca gifted their house to her nephew Dr Willy. Of course there was no question of porque in this matter.

The late Armando D’Souza of Cotula told the story of Porque quite graphically: “My neighbour Felix D’Souza, known as Porke, was a hulk of a youth in his late twenties, 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighing almost 300 lb, cut out to be more of a heavyweight wrestler than a football player. Nevertheless, Felix’s physical attributes strengthened the Saligao football team. In the 1930s, the Portuguese rulers sponsored a team of Portuguese military personnel and mesticos. Clubo Desportivo, as it was named, carried the day in every tournament held in Goa by sheer brute force and bravado, backed by the military, who mustered strong at every game. What it lacked in ability was made up for by intimidation. But the mere presence of Felix in the goal ensured that things would be different when the bully boys of Clubo Desportivo of Panjim played against the Saligao team. Felix’s services were specifically tailored to “crush” the opponents. He dealt adequately with the onrushing forward line, leaving aside the ball. His tactics brought rich dividends to the Saligao team and the trophies began finding their way to Saligao instead of Panjim.”

Of course, these days, if any goalkeeper runs after the players instead of protecting the goal, the coach would surely shout, “Porque, why are you leaving the goal open?!!”

One of the residents of the Porque house was Fr. Faustino de Sousa (uncle of Dr Willy). Fr Faustino founded an order of nuns, the Congregation of the Sacred Family of Nazareth, Sancoale. Some may have had questioned, “Porque? – why did he found a nun’s order?”  Now, Dr Willy is residing in the same house. And in politics everybody questions him – porque?

Thus the Porque tradition that began in the D’Souza mansion in the late 18^th century continues till today. Indeed, it’s unthinkable that anyone today would even remotely adhere to the credo “Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die”, to paraphrase Lord Tennyson’s description of the British cavalry in The Charge of the Light Brigade way back in 1854!

by Fr. Nascimento Mascarenhas

In the old days there were few mendicants in the villages of Goa. Those that did exist were neither professional beggars of the type one encounters in the cities of India today nor were they unknown vagrants. They were persons from the village, mainly from the labour class. Due to disability or old age, and having no close kin to support them, they were forced to seek alms for a living. Some of them had been rich, but after squandering their wealth in vice or due to some misfortune, were reduced to penury and begging.

There was a day appointed for begging on which the beggars went round houses singly or in groups – in Saligao this happened every Thursday. Each household gave each of them a handful of rice, some eatables and articles they needed. On receiving their alms, the beggars prayed aloud for the welfare of their benefactors and for the departed souls of the house. The Christian mendicants would recite the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary”, and the Hindu mendicants would say “Bessaum ghal Saiba he ghorabeacher” (God bless the members of this household). On occasions such as engagements and weddings, the beggars were served a ‘Bikareanchem Jevonn’, a sumptuous meal of pork, rice, sambarrachi or samarachi koddi (curry made with aromatic spices, thick and brown, with dried mango pickle to enliven it), feni, and also gifts of utensils and clothes.

On feast days – Christmas, Easter and the village patron saint’s day – the Christian beggars went round with ol’li (a small container made of bamboo strips) in hand for collecting handouts on the festive occasion. On such feasts every housewife planning the festive meal had in mind the number of village beggars (they did not exceed a dozen) and provided them with a share of san’na (rice cakes), vodde, sorpotel and, at Christmas, the sweet savoury known as neureô.

Some beggars came from other villages. One of the colourful ones was Artimiz (Artemisia). In his book Feasts, Feni and Firecrackers, Canada-based Saligao writer and artist Mel D’Souza vividly describes Artimiz: “She was from Assagao and quite a colourful character. In fact she was always very cheerful. Artemisia wore a hat of dried flowers resembling that of Hollywood’s Carmen Miranda in the 1940s. She always wore a dress. Her earthly belongings were wrapped in a bundle carried over her hip on which perched her scrawny cat. Tied around the cat’s neck was a thin leash of coir, the other end of which was tied around the wrist of Artemisia’s left hand. The right hand held a bamboo staff about four feet long. Artemisia was slightly bowlegged and wore canvas runners with no laces. Artemisia was a very sprightly woman with a brisk walk. She would signal her approach with the rasping sound of her voice as she’d wave her right arm in the Sign of the Cross and blurt out blessings in Latin. It was very easy to strike up a conversation with Artemisia. If she wanted to take a break, she’d sit on the steps of the balcony, put down the bundle containing her belongings, and let her cat step off for a little stroll. When she was ready to leave she would put the bundle of belongings on her hip, pull sharply on the leash, and flip the cat from the ground right on to its perch on the bundle. It was sheer poetry in motion.”

Another character that visited Saligao frequently was Jeron (Jeronimo) from Mapusa. I don’t recall ever giving him rice; rather it was always some money, slipped into my hands by my aunties. He gave me his blessing, muttering something in broken Latin. You could ask him to sing and he composed songs that he alone understood, although he did have a good voice. Like the other beggars of that era, he too was very honest and never stole anything though in the daylight hours the doors of our houses were wide open.

I remember another beggar. He was a Sasthikar (a man from Salcete) who resided in Socorro.  His name was Jose Maria.  He was nicknamed Juz Mari.  He had a 12-year-old son. He sang his way through the village, with his son too joining in for good measure. One song I remember was, “Ami bikari fore rezra bore amkam sodanch podd’tai chirnge” (We are beggars no doubt, good at prayers too but we always receive a ‘mug’ as alms). His son was taught the violin by Fr. Albano D’Souza (then on the staff at Socorro church). The boy earned a bit by playing the violin and later got a job as a tarvotti (seafarer) and did pretty well for himself; people began to refer to him as Accionista (Commune shareholder). He’s one enterprising gentleman who well and truly bid a firm farewell to alms!

Nonetheless, in Saligao no beggar was ever turned away.  They were matter-of-factly treated as distressed members of society who were deserving of our compassion.

Our forefathers in the villages of Goa lived for the day, occupying themselves mainly with fishing and farming. Not having any water bodies of significance during the last couple of centuries, the village of Saligao was not witness to much fishing activity. However, fishing was a significant occupation for the neighbouring villages of Calangute and Sirula, and it was from these villages that Saligao obtained its fish. We had salt-water fish from Calangute and fresh-water fish from Salvador do Mundo and Britona. At times we went to Pilerne during the rainy season to fish with makeshift fishing rods and bait; it was an exhilirating experience for us youngsters.

Like other Goans, Saligaokars too were agriculturists in the past. They tilled the fields and filled the barns with rice, and later on with sugarcane too. Some possessed private fields of their own, but at the end of the paddy season were required to give some portion of the yield to the Comunidade. The money obtained from the sale of this rice was distributed in cash as zon (dividend) to those ganvkars and zonnkars who were registered that year to receive zon. Nowadays very few register their names with the Comunidade to collect the yearly dividend. It would be interesting to know the latest list of zonnkars from Saligao who collect zon.

Xitt Koddi Dav

In Saligao, besides paddy and sugarcane, the villagers grew sweet potatoes, maize, vegetables, onions, chillies and ginger. Some nurtured mango and coconut sapplings. Others grew tamarind and moxing as well as ananas, toronja and rozanvle trees along with curry pat’ta. So the villagers had ample paddy for rice and coconut and other ingredients for the curry. In some households there was also dhal or dav. Hence the song “Ami Goenkar bhav, xitt, koddi, dav…”!

As my friend Domnic Peter Francis Fernandes from Anjuna and one-time student of the famous Monte de Guirim school, says, “In those simple, waste-free and need-based days, the only shortage was that of fish; and that the farmer got that from the fisherman. Thus the farmer and fisherman bartered grains and fish and helped each other to survive. Their exchange was not business-oriented. This is how ‘fish curry rice’ came to be Goa’s staple food. Since Goans were primarily farmers, they also owned cattle, goats and fowl. This is how our ancestors lived off the land in the past and brought up their children through hard work and toil.”

Education and Culture

Formal education arrived in Saligao in the 18^th century, if not before. A good number of boys from Saligao studied at the Chorao and Rachol seminaries and several of them later opened schools in the village. It was a great blessing. They realised the value of education and consequently saw that it was key to their future. Thus the desire to study only increased by the day. Incidentally this year, 2010, Rachol Seminary is celebrating the 400th anniversary of its foundation, on November 1^st.

Even if our ancestors focused mainly on farming and fishing, they also took a special interest in cooking and food. Due to their expertise, several were employed in palaces and this increased their status. Similarly, Saligaokars were good at music. In those days, the kings and rulers in India invited dancers to perform at their palaces, and they needed musicians too. Here again our villagers obliged and filled up the vacancies. Gradually these hobbies turned into their professions, and became means of sustenance for their families. Thus, our ancestors established themselves as expert cooks, butlers and musicians.

The hard-earned money was put to good use in the education of the children, who, over time, became high-ranking officers, priests and bishops, doctors and other professionals, and occupied top positions in society. We should never forget that all this was made possible by the farmer, the fisherman, cook, butler and musician.

Our ancestors went out of their way, sacrificed everything for us, and provided us with a good education. This made us what we are today. We must recognise the hardships our forefathers went through and salute them. When they realised that they couldn’t do much for their families with the meager salaries they earned in Saligao, they left for foreign shores. There, they excelled in their professions and were able to provide a better life for their families in their native village.

Progress

During the same period, the world itself underwent rapid changes. People saw airplanes in the skies. Man created history by setting foot on the moon in 1969. Back in our village, news of this historic event was met with disbelief and then followed with awe. Even C Alvares’ immortal verses like Chani Mama kekem dita… began to lose meaning. The march of science was inexorable, bringing about improvements that eventually reached Saligao too.

Until the late sixties, there were neither tarred roads nor electricity in Saligao. The exception was the road that went from Peggie’s Corner to the Calangute seashore. Suddenly, in the early seventies, mud paths in the village were replaced by tarred roads. We noticed all kinds of vehicles running smoothly on them. Homes received electricity. With that the Petromax and kerosene lamps, which had been our night vision, were gradually confined to a corner or thrown away. Water began to gush through pipes into our kitchens. All of this happened so quickly that we hardly realised the magnitude and seriousness of the changes. The world kept moving ahead at a very fast pace and our tiny society too fell in line behind.

Of course things have changed much today and the world order now is vastly different. The present era belongs to technology, and the whole world depends on it now. Soft-spoken Herman Carneiro, son of Jules Carneiro (Navelim) and Hilda Pinto Carneiro (Cotula, Saligao), set up Goanet in 1994 when he was just 17, providing a way for Goans in Goa and around the world to interact with each other and share their views and experiences through the Internet. And Frederick Noronha, from Sonarbhatt in Saligao, an independent journalist and publisher, and very active in cyberspace, supported Herman Carneiro and Goanet, and also started SaligaoNet, building community and social capital for more than a decade. Tanch Fudde Mar.

During my last two years in high school, I had a new friend – Gerry Lopes.

Gerry had done all his early schooling at the Portuguese Liceum College in Go’s capital Panjim until his dad, Aquino Lopes, decided to move him to the English medium. As a result, Gerry was enrolled in Mater Dei Institution in Saligao, and was assigned a seat in class next to me. Since Gerry was not very fluent in English, it was felt that I could help him under the buddy system.

During our school holidays, we would have sleep-ins at our respective homes. When Gerry slept over at my place, it wasn’t that much fun because my home was very small; small rooms, floor of dried cow dung, and nothing to amuse us other than our mutual interest in whittling models of airplanes and sailing ships. However, sleeping over at Gerry’s was a great experience for several reasons.

Gerry lived in a large house with a large sala (living room), tiled floors, spacious bedrooms, and all the other comforts of an old-style Portuguese home. He had two charming sisters, Gloria and Amanda (the latter just about my age), and wonderful parents.

The house of Aquino Lopes in Saligao, Goa

His mother was a very gentle, soft-spoken lady with an angelic smile. His dad was an outgoing individual, who did everything unhurriedly and with great confidence. He was short in stature, and always had a smile on his face. But under that genial exterior was a man of steel who blended his toughness with great compassion.

During the day, Gerry and I would spend most of our time whittling models of airplanes and sailing ships which we would then paint and mount on stands.

In the evening, Gerry’s dad would gather us around the piano that was in a study across from the sala, and he would then get us to sing along as he played the piano. Sometimes he’d wince as he sang – or hit a wrong note – uncharacteristic of a person who otherwise played the piano flawlessly. When I commented about this to Gerry many years later, I was told that his father had a serious stomach ailment that would bring on spasms of great pain, but he wouldn’t tell anyone about it. His way of coping with the pain was to get his family around the piano and have a rousing sing-along. Mr. Lopes eventually succumbed to his ailment. 

Before retiring in Saligao, Aquino Lopes lived in Pemba, the island north of Zanzibar on the East African coast. His pet was a full-grown wild boar, and he once showed me a photograph of himself in a striped sports jacket and cream-coloured slacks, kneeling next to the animal with his arm over its shoulder.

Soft heart

Despite that macho image, Mr Lopes had a very soft heart. I remember the first time I saw him take his daily stroll with a two-year-old neighbour along the bund (raised causeway) that ran through paddy fields to the Mae de Deus Church. The little boy wore only a tattered vest that came down to his buttocks, his legs covered in dust, and his right hand in the clasp of Mr. Lopes’ left hand. The picture didn’t seem right; a neatly dressed gentleman with a scruffy urchin!

When Mr. Lopes came home, I asked him why he strolled with that kid every evening. His reply: “Mel, I don’t know what that boy will be like when he grows up. If he turns out to be good, I will have a good neighbour. But if he turns out to be evil, he will remember the days I held his hand, and will, hopefully, not harm me.” He then added a word of advice: “Remember,” he said, “It costs nothing to offer somebody your hand.”

Prankster

Aquino Lopes was also a practical joker in his teens.  He once told me about a prank he played on a neighbour, an elderly woman who pretended to have had a good schooling although she was in fact illiterate. At church, she would pull out a prayer book with illustrations of various stages of the mass facing pages of prayers and responses that would be read at a particular stage. She’d flip a page of the prayer book, and when the scene at the altar matched the illustration, she would twitch her lips and pretend to read the text so as to impress those around her.

Well, one Saturday, young Aquino decided to let the cat out of the bag. He sneaked into her home and set the stage for the joke that was to be played out the next day. 

Come Sunday morning, the old lady sat in her usual prominent spot in church, waiting for the mass to begin. When the priest came up to the altar, she glanced at the women sitting next to her to draw their attention. She then reached into her purse, pulled out her prayer book and held it open in front of her. But there were no illustrations. Instead, folded to the exact shape of the prayer book, was a chapati (unleavened bread). The lady was so embarrassed that she never used her prayer book again. From then on, she went back to the ubiquitous rosary.

Shortly after this prank, Aquino was nearly killed by lightning. He was walking to a friend’s place along a palm-fringed causeway through open paddy fields when lightning struck a nearby coconut tree. The shock knocked him off his feet into a pool of water where he lay on his back stunned for a few minutes. When he came round, he was so scared that he ran as fast as he could to his friend’s home. When he got there, soaked to his skin, he discovered that he was missing some of his precious pocket money. He turned around and ran back in the raging thunderstorm to the site of the lightning strike and recovered every missing coin.

Feast dance

Another story that Gerry’s dad Aquino told me was of the only time he threw a punch in anger. It all started when Aquino decided to host the Mae de Deus Feast’s gala dance at his spacious home, and booked Goa’s finest dance band, Johnson and His Jolly Boys.

This upset a well-known local dance promoter, a bachelor named Vincent de Souza, who had earned himself the nickname “dans addi” (bringer of dances) and who began to spread falsehoods about the upcoming gala dance. But it wasn’t long before Aquino struck a blow, literally, putting an end to the rumours.

One Friday, around noon, when the bar in the neigbouring town of Mapuca was crowded with retirees (who had dropped in for a beer after cashing their pension cheques at the nearby Banco Naçional), Aquino Lopes walked up slowly to the table where Vincent was seated. The bar room went silent. Then, in a voice that was clearly heard across the room, he asked Vincent to repeat the lies he had been telling the villagers about the gala dance. The unconvincing denial that was met with snickers from the patrons is all that Aquino wanted to hear. “I threw a punch,” he said, “that sent Vincent sprawling across the floor. I then signaled the barman to bring Vincent a beer on my account, and I walked out of the bar.”  

As I said earlier, although Aquino Lopes was small in stature, he stood tall, and was a man who combined immense toughness with immense compassion!

Many Christians dream of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land someday. For some the dream actually becomes a reality. My school companion and friend Salvador Isidoro Mascarenhas from Mollebhatt, counts himself among those fortunate ones, when, about a year ago in April 2009, he, along with another couple from Saligao (Epifanio and Perpetua Fernandes from Tabravaddo/Bairro Alto) and twenty other Goans flew to Israel for a pilgrimage tour of the Holy Land.        

A few days before the pilgrimage, Salvador paid me a visit at the Holy Spirit Church in Margao. During the conversation I reminded him that Marie Dantas and her husband from Saligao/UK had placed a marble plaque, with the Our Father inscribed on it Konkani, in the Church of the Pater Noster (also called Church of Eleona – Mount of Olives, in Greek),  which Queen Helena, mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine, built in the fourth century.

I suggested to Salvador that a picture of the Saligao Church with the image of Mae de Deus could be installed in one of the churches in the Holy Land after obtaining the requisite permission. He took up my suggestion, and with the help of their tourist guide Antonio, the group was introduced to the Capuchin Friar at the Basilica of Our Lady of the Annunciation in Nazareth. The Friar agreed to keep the framed picture of the Mae de Deus Church in the Basilica. Goans visiting this church in future will be able to see the picture and remember Goa and Saligao.    

On his return, Salvador visited me again and handed me a copy of the picture he had given to the Capuchin Friar in Nazareth, along with a photo of the group and a crucifix, as a remembrance of his pilgrimage.

Salvador Isidoro Mascarenhas worked as sacristan of St Anne’s Chapel in Saligao even while he was still a schoolboy a boy at school. He has fond memories of this chapel, its activities, and especially the chaplains – Fr. Paulo Arcanjo de Menezes and Fr. Inacio Lourenco Pereira (both Portuguese priests) and a host of other ward priests such as Monsenhor Valentim Chagas Fernandes (Mudd’davaddi); Fr. Faustino de Sousa (Anjuna/Mudd’davaddi); Fr. Jose Remedios (Vice-Rector of Daman Seminary);  Fr. Naziazeno (Victor) dos Remedios (Tabravaddo); the twin-brother priests Monsenhor Cosme and Fr. Tome Cordeiro from Mollebhatt; and, Fr. Manuel Lobo and Fr. Francis Sequeira, s.f.x (Fr. Fanchy, twice Superior General of the Society of Pilar) from Donvaddo. 

Salvador remembers that the salary he earned as sacristan was a mere Rs. 5/- per month, which was later increased to Rs. 7/- . He remembers the other sacristans of St. Anne, such as Bit’ta Titiv, Paulo Mascarenhas, both from Tabravaddo; Hipolito D’Silva, Napoleao Fernandes, and the Fernandes (Fogo) brothers, all from Mudd’davaddi. He also told me that Patru Vaz from Donvaddo did serve as sacristan for St Anne’s in the forties.

Salvador joined the Indian Navy in 1962 at INS Gomantak in Vasco da Gama. He served in the war with Pakistan in 1965, off Karachi (INS Ranjit), and in 1971 in Chittagong, East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) on the aircraft carrier INS Vikrant. He worked for 15 years with  the Indian Navy.

Salvador Isidoro Mascarenhas is the son of Bartolomeu Liberato Mascarenhas (Salvador do Mundo) and Maria Hortencia Pinto e Mascarenhas (Saligao). The couple had three children  Serafina Pascoela, Salvador Isidoro and Mary Magdalena. They lived in Mudd’davaddi, near Mannichem Bhett after their marriage. Salvador studied at the Mater Dei Institution up to Class VII, and completed the rest of his studies at Don Bosco High School in Panjim.

He married Rodilfina Casmira (Mira) Viegas (from Utorda, Salcete) and has four children:  Michelle, Jeniffer, Adolph Eusiberito and Hansen Roque. In 1974 he shifted from Mudd’davaddi to Mollebhatt. Salvador has made a number of models of the Mae de Deus Church in Saligao. He carves them himself, by hand, without the use of any machinery. He  made 15 models, which he exhibited in the past. By May 2010 he would have carved another two dozen and will hold an exhibition again. 

Salvador spends his free time making these models, and also collecting data for Saligao Serenade, as he has a deep interest in the history and affairs of the village. He is a silent worker and friendly person; his captivating smile reveals his love for Saligao and the people around him. Floreat!

 “Baba” was a universal term of affection used in Goa to address a little boy or an adult male who was in good standing in the community. The term would also be used, somewhat grudgingly, when addressing the odd individual who was an embarrassment to his family, but whose misdeeds were not serious enough for him to be thrown out of the house. I suppose he could be called the ‘baba’ black sheep of the family.

Black sheep were few and far between, but we had one in our family. He was my granduncle and his name was Galdinho D’Souza.

Galdinho was the brother of my paternal grandmother. He was born and raised in our village of Saligao, before moving to East Africa after World War I, as many Goans did, in search of employment in the British colonies. But although it was virtually impossible for a Goan not to find employment almost anywhere in Tanganyika, Kenya and Uganda at that time, Galdinho never held a job. He spent most of his time fishing, visiting the Goan Institute clubhouse in Dar es Salaam, and freeloading off his friends and relatives.

Galdinho’s sole possessions were a few items of casual clothing, a white suit, an old bicycle, and a bamboo fishing rod. When I was a young boy during World War II (the fighting did not come to East Africa), Galdinho would visit us once a month, on dad’s payday, and then treat me to jugu (roasted peanuts) or an ice cream at Pandya’s. Naturally, I considered myself lucky to have such a generous granduncle, not knowing that he was treating me all along with my dad’s money!

In the afternoon on weekends – or weekdays, if the tides were right – Galdinho would be seen on his bicycle, his fishing rod over his left shoulder like a radio antenna, heading for Kinondoni Beach where he would fish in the surf for the silvery “lady fish”. On his way home, he’d give the fish to his friends who, I’m sure, gave him a few shillings in return.

Galdinho was present at every wedding, funeral, and dance wearing his ubiquitous white suit. And, at the Goan Institute, he’d never be seen without a beer in hand although he was never known to buy a drink at the bar. I’m sure he never said “No” to any Goan club members who would have greeted his entrance into the bar with the traditional “Hello Galdinho, have a drink?”

When I went to Goa in 1947 to continue my schooling in the village of Saligao, my grandmother told me that Galdinho was a notorious prankster in his teens, and kept getting into all kinds of trouble. The most audacious prank, she said, was when he climbed unassisted to the top of the steeple of the Mae de Deus church (the only old church in Goa with a steeple) – something that was never done before, and never accomplished since. Apparently, he placed his feet in a loop of coir rope for traction, with another rope around the steeple in a garrote-like grip, and scaled the steeple as would a coconut-tree climber.

When I returned to Dar es Salaam after graduating from high school, it never occurred to me to ask Galdinho for details of this episode. He died a few years later and I didn’t bother to pursue the story any further.

However, it was only recently that I was able to learn more about Galdinho when I met with Lena Remedios-Nunes in Toronto, Canada. Lena not only confirmed that Galdinho had indeed climbed the church steeple, but went on to tell me the story behind the episode.

It so happened that when Galdinho was a teenager in school, he fell madly in love with a schoolgirl named Rosalinda Raymond, from the village of Siolim. Rosalinda was a very pretty girl whose affluent parents had enrolled her in St. Mary’s School in Saligao. Apparently, she didn’t seem to care for Galdinho, and perhaps didn’t even know of his crush on her. On the other hand, Galdinho’s infatuation with Rosalinda was so intense that he used every opportunity to try to gain her attention, evidently without much success. To add to his frustration, his friends would taunt him about the futility of his pursuit saying that Rosalinda considered him a ‘sissy’. One day they suggested that if he really wanted to impress Rosalinda and win her heart, he should perform a spectacular feat that would prove to her that he was the bravest and worthiest of all the boys in the village. And this he did by scaling the church steeple and placing a piece of his clothing on the crucifix as proof that it was he who accomplished a feat that is now part of Saligao legend.

Lena also told me about a romantic ballad – a mando – that Galdinho had written for Rosalinda. Lena recalled all the four verses and sang them for me as I recorded the poignant lyrics on tape.

The sad ending to this story is that Galdinho never won Rosalinda’s heart. Could it be that the impact of his shattered love was so devastating that he never married?

The revelations about my granduncle, Galdinho, make me wonder how many other notable black sheep of the past harboured secrets which, if made public, would make us look upon them sympathetically as romantics instead of rakes.

How did the ward Mollebhatt in Saligao get its name? One version is that the place known as Diulacho Sorvo (property of the temple) was a sacred place dedicated to Lord Vetal in the Pre-Portuguese era. In order to have sufficient flowers for the daily morning puja, every house had a flower garden known as fulancho mollo, hence the name Mollebhatt. Some people refer to the ward as Mollembhatt or Mollembatta. There is a traditional dulpod sung in this ward and it goes as follows:

1. Amcho Santulo gheun pantullo

fulam punzaitalo (twice).

2. Amchea Vaddeant, Mollebhattant

fulam ful’leant mollenat (twice)

(Our Santan, with basket in hand used to gather flowers.

That have appeared in the bushes of the ward, Mollebhatt)

This property, Diulacho Pato, was bought by a Christian after the conversion when the deity of Lord Vetal was shifted to Advalpale in Bicholim taluka in the sixteenth century. 

There is however also another version of the origin of the ward’s name. During business trips to the border, the Saligaokars’ sharp eyes fell on the rich sugarcane cultivation across the ghats. Sugarcane cultivation in Saligao was pioneered by Mollebhatkars. The name of the ward is itself derived from the stumps of the reaped sugarcane. Though this trade did take place, the theory of the “stump” does not seem plausible, as sugarcane came into existence in Saligao in the late 18^th century, while the Saligao Comunidade records of the year 1759 already enumerate nine wards including Molle Bata.

Mollebhatt borders with Sangolda and there is a tradition that there was a long standing dispute between the Mollebhattkars and Sangoddkars regarding the delimitation of the boundary between the two villages. According to legend, a unique method of settling the dispute was adopted by mutual agreement. A buffalo was let loose from the top of the hill to seek its way home—according to one version, to Guirim; according to another, to Parra. This exercise took place just after the monsoon, when the ground was still soft and slushy. The zigzag path of the animal was taken as the line of demarcation, which accounted for the designation of the boundary between Saligao and Sangolda as Reddeachi Xim.

One of the small wards in which the first inhabitants lived in Saligao was Marodd in Mollebhatt. The dwellers were called Madd’de in ancient times. After the Gaud Saraswat Brahmins made inroads into Saligao around the 11^th century AD, they subjugated the ‘mahars’ (madd’de), who were then asked to move from this ward and other wards to Mhar-vaddo on the outskirts of Saligao near the Calangute border, in the proximity of the famous Mater Dei Institution. Today this ward is known as Bairro Alto.

A part of the place Marodd in Mollebhatt was converted into the Saligao Comunidade playground, which was inaugurated on 23 April 1990 by Dr. Wilfred de Souza, (who was deputy chief minister of Goa at the time), in the presence of Rufino Moniz, then President of Saligao Comunidade.

According to Indice Real de Saligao, Book I No. 125 of 4 April, 1883, “Predio Marodd” once belonged to a certain Caetano Rosario Francisco de Borges Cordeiro.

At the extreme end of the ground there stands a temple dedicated to Lord Vetal. Every Monday, devotees gather to sing bhajans and kirtans. There is an annual festival, with plays and dances staged at the playground.

In the proximity of this playground lived Joao Michael Mascarenhas (nicknamed Moskon) and his family. He owned two caminhoes (buses), which made regular trips between Saligao and Betim; a car; and, a ghano – a contraption to crush sugarcane in order to extract the juice. Such machines were very rare in Goa at the time, around the early 1900s.

Saligao had large sugarcane plantations in those days. Sugarcane juice was extracted using the ghano, by passing the canes between two heavy, tightly pressing metal cylinders and gathering the juice in a vessel below. From sugarcane juice, dempichem godd (jaggery) was manufactured by the locals. But the best known product was belios, which were finger-length, tapering pieces of candy, made by passing the boiled juice treated with some binding agents into wooden blocks with rectangular-shaped holes. Belios from Saligao was a delicacy that was distributed all over Goa, and especially at the Reis Magos (Verem) fair in January during the feast of the Three Kings.

Joao Michael Mascarenhas undertook the construction of the ceiling and extension of the St. Anne’s chapel [vide Minute Book of St. Anne’s Chapel, of 20 March 1902; and, Souvenir: St. Anne Chapel Saligao (1843-1993),  pages 20 and 21]. This restored chapel was blessed by the Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Goa, Rt. Rev. Monsenhor Joaquim Joao de Abreu, hailing from Abreuvaddo, Saligao, on 2 February 1910, feast of the Presentation of the Lord. At that time it was called the Feast of the Purification of Our Lady. St. Anne’s Chapel caters to the spiritual needs of the people of the wards of Mudd’davaddi, Tabravaddo, Mollebhatt and Donvaddo.

During the monsoons, and especially on Sao Joao day, the Buddugeli Baim – the traditional well for bathers of Mollebhatt and Tabravaddo – becomes a centre of activity, with the youngsters learning to swim under the guidance of the elders. Although there are swimming pools now, Buddugeli Baim still remains a symbol of solidarity and brotherhood for the people of the wards of Mollebhatt and Tabravaddo. With the onset of the monsoon, everyone thinks of Buddugeli Baim – Sao Joao and Buddugeli Baim are almost synonymous. Hence the rhyme:

“Sam Juanv konkari, Buddugele Baint re natali!”.

For those who could not make it to the Buddugeli Baim there was a khonn at the foot of the hill and quite a few had a dip into it. The nearby stream provided ample opportunity for children to sail their paper boats and catch fish and even play in its cool and crystal-clear waters.

Elders taking a walk down memory lane would remember the makeshift cricket ground near Lucy Cordeiro’s house; the area now has houses constructed all along the hilly terrain.  The boys from the ward at that time were inspired to play cricket by the famous Saligaokar, Anthony Stanislaus D’Mello, builder of the CCI Pavilion and Brabourne Stadium in Bombay. While some played cricket, others flew kites on the hill, and others took a tyre or iron loop called atto to the top of the hill and released it on the slope, happily running after it and watching it racing downward. Oh, the pleasures of childhood!

At the foot of the hill, in the property known as Diular or Aquem, there is a spring called  Akhenchi Zhor. The spring emerges from hard and compact rocks and people used to bathe in its waters with the strong belief that it had medicinal properties. In a book written by Filipe Nery Xavier entitled Bosquejo Historico das Comunidades das Aldeias dos Concelhos das Ilhas, Salcette e Bardez, published in 1852, on page 467, mention has been made of the Aquem spring as well as the Salmona spring of Saligao. The flow of the Aquem spring has reduced considerably over the years and is now just a trickle. Several houses have been built in this area and the locality is now known as Aquem Mollebhatt  ward.

The cross at Mollebhatt is traditionally known as Cordeirancho Khuris. The members celebrate the feast of the cross annually in May, preceded by daily recitation of the Rosary and litany and culminating in the feast. This cross was built with contributions from the villagers. The cross has been renovated with glazed tiles donated by Mr. and Mrs. Antonio Jose Cordeiro, and a tiny canopy donated by the people of the ward.

A school known as Collegio de Mae de Deus was started as a coed school by M. Gabriel da Costa from Curtorim in the house of Bernardo Cordeiro in 1932. Costa’s School, as it was popularly known, had a preparatory section, and secondary classes from 4^th to 7^th standard (at that time 8th Std was Matric or SSC). English, Maths, Science, History, Geography, Latin and Portuguese were part of the curriculum. There were catechism and Bible study classes as well. This school had a branch functioning in Tabravaddo, at Salvador (Salu) Cordeiro’s house (the residence of the famous singer Lorna Lui Cordeiro). Preparatory and 1^st to 3^rd standards were conducted here and admission was open only to girls. Once the girls finished Std III they went to Costa’s school at Mollebhatt or some other school. This school continued until 1934, when it joined hands with St. Mary’s School and later amalgamated into a new school under the aegis of the Saligao Union of Bombay in 1946.

Mollebhatt’s contribution to the priestly and religious life is also substantial. The priests and nuns of the ward are: Fr. Pedro Cordeiro, Fr. Lourenco Cordeiro, Fr. Pedro Caetano Cordeiro, Fr. Vicente Manuel Cordeiro, Fr. Pedro Joao Cordeiro, Fr. Caetano Antonio Cordeiro, Fr. Antonio Filipe Cordeiro, Fr. Joaquim Jose da Conceicao Cordeiro, Fr. Lourenco Remedios, Fr. Joao Benjamin Cordeiro, Fr. Tome Damiao Nicolau Jose Cordeiro, Mons. Cosme Jose Feliciano Cordeiro, Fr. S D S J Souza. Fr. N Machado, Fr. Augustine Cordeiro S J, Fr. Rui Cordeiro S J, Fr. Joseph Cordeiro, Fr. Godion Cordeiro, Fr. Leslie Rego, Fr. Pio Rego, Bro. Archie Cordeiro, and nuns Sr. Terezita Cordeiro, Sr. Dominica Cordeiro, Sr. Ivy Cordeiro and Sr. Claudina.

This essay describes my walk through the famous Cotula ward in the village of Saligao, Goa, in the month of April 2008. A document of the Saligao Communidade dated 27 March 1759 gives the names of the nine wards originally existing at that time in the village: Salmona, Arady, Sto. António, Dondo-vaddo, Mollebata, Murdavady, Cotella, Vaddlem Marada and Dacutem Marada. The other wards, with which we are familiar nowadays, had their origin much later.  

As you might have noticed, the document I specified mentions the ward “Cotella”. This was later lusitanised into Cotula. In Konkani it is written as  Kotula or Khotla. The chauri or chauddi (that is, the Communidade House of Saligao) was located at Cotula, which was the seat of the village administration. Here was the residence of the Khot, from which the name of the ward ‘Khotla’ is probably derived. According to some, however, the name is derived from Kotwal, the village patil, the forerunner of the regedor of the Portuguese era, who had his office there. The post office and later the telegraph office as well as the first Latin Portuguese school and the Lourdes Convent school were initially set up in Cotula.

Adjacent to this ward and exactly opposite the present tinttó (market), the Panchayat Office, (as well as the Communidade hall and post office, which are in Mudd’davaddi), lies the Vinan vaddo.  Originally the carpenters (sutar  or vinani or thovoi) occupied this area, hence the name of this ward, which is actually an extension of the Khotla ward. Vinan derives from vin’nem or irnem i.e. chisel. This ward has its own small chapel dedicated to St. Joseph, more or less opposite the present post office. It takes about eight minutes to walk from the chapel to the main Saligao church, and the road going towards the Church from this locality is known as the Vinan-vaddo-Cotula Road. As I stand on the road named after D. Pedro V, I am joined on this walk by my friend and Mater Dei School colleague Salvador Mascarenhas. Salvador   was residing earlier in Mudd’davaddi near Marques mansion, but now has his own house in Mollebhatt at the foot of Mollebhatt-Aquem hill.

As we began exploring the Vinan-vaddo-Cotula wards, Salvador asked me who D. Pedro V was. I told him the story of the 30^th king of Portugal, son of Queen Dona Maria and King Fernando. D. Pedro V was born in Lisbon in 1837 and reigned in Portugal from 1853 to 1861. During his short reign Portugal made notable progress. During this period the first railway line and aerial telegraphs were inaugurated there. Cholera and yellow fever epidemics in 1856 and 1857 resulted in thousands of victims being hospitalised, especially in Lisbon. D. Pedro V visited the victims in the hospitals, comforting and consoling them, and the people regarded this visit as a very good gesture by the king. He was a very noble character, erudite, and a deep thinker. After his death, notes and letters written by him were published, which clearly attested to his generous intentions.  He left behind his wife,  princess D. Estefânia de Hohenzollern-Sigmarigen, who herself died the following year. The Betim-Pilerne-Saligao-Parra-Mapuça was named in memory of the good king D. Pedro V.

“Look to the left,” said Salvador, and pointed to the famous aula, the Portuguese school. Many boys and girls completed their primary education in Portuguese through this school. “Once, it was presided over by a well-known pedagogue named Antoninho Cordeiro,” I added.

At this point we were at the small shed that serves as a bus stop. It was built by Vincente de Saligao, whose house was in the vicinity. Vincente was one of the famous Konkani dramatists (“tiatrists”), and he excelled in playing female roles. We moved slowly ahead along the D. Pedro V road. As we passed the  coconut grove in Vinan-vaddo Salvador reminded me of the times when, for the feasts of Mae de Deus and St Anne’s, we would collect toddy from the   .  render mama (toddy-tapper) who lived there.

Then he pointed to the house of Punaji Achrekar, the first MLA representing Saligao, during the term of Dayanand Bandodkar, Goa’s first Chief Minister.  Achrekar’s father was an important man for Saligaokars when they returned to Saligao from Africa. They used to alight from the steamer at Mormugao Harbour. The father of MLA Achrekar used to meet them and transport their luggage via voddém-cart to their destination.

We next came upon the house of  Aleixinho and Luis, our school colleagues. Their father was the xirô-marpi of Saligao. In those days it was believed that blood-letting was the best treatment for high blood pressure. He had a small box with different sharp instruments that he used to draw out blood by cutting a vein in the patient’s foot. The blood oozed out from the cut and collected in an earthernware utensil called koddém.  He would also attach leeches to the cut, which then sucked out the blood.

At this point we met Stephen Rodrigues, the ex-Attorney of the Saligao Church Fabrica Committee, who was standing at the window of his house. A little further on we met the present Attorney, John Machado, and the Treasurer of the same Fabrica Committee of the church and discussed a bit about the renovation work of the church.  He told us the names of other committed parishioners and consultants in this project, such as Fr. Carlisto Coelho, architect Dean D’Cruz, senior structural engineers Sylvester D’Souza and Rajendra Palyekar, civil contractors Darryl Pereira and Austin D’Gama (who was also the coordinator of the entire major renovation of the neo-gothic church. Then there were fabricators Jude Fernandes and Arnold Sequeira.  The fund raising drive carried out by the Fabrica members until that point was around Rs.75 lakh, they said.  The church would be thrown open to the public by 16^th July, 2008 by the new Parish Priest, Fr. Luciano Fernandes.

When the Portuguese set out on their mission to convert the local population in Goa to Christianity in the sixteenth century, they offered first class citizenship to the converts. My ancestors had the choice of retaining their Hindu religion or becoming Catholic. Although their attachment to Hinduism was strong, they gave in. With all the privileges that were offered by the Portuguese, I suppose it became a case of the spirit being weak, and the flesh willing.

Now, when the converts got their new names at baptism, they were told that they would also have to switch to a Portuguese surname. Not having much of a choice, most of them reportedly picked the last name of a Portuguese dignitary at the time, or a member of the military who would have been assigned to maintain law and order in the village. Thus, most Catholics in each village ended up with identical surnames even if they were not related. This, of course, caused an identity problem. So the villagers of Saligao gave each household a nickname that characterised a feature that was unique to the occupants of that household. The nicknames were not only colourful, but they reflected rural Goa’s charming sense of humour.

Our family nickname was Couth (rhymes with “both”) – a word that didn’t feature in the local dialect. So, the nickname evolved into a legal surname. It was the only exception in the village, as far as I know. Here are a few of the many other nicknames, and their English translation. I know the origin of some of the nicknames, but the stories behind others will have to be left to your imagination.

FEAST OF NAMES (Click for larger image)

Bot Modi – broken toe. The owner had a malformed big toe that stuck out at a right angle to the other toes on her right foot. Other nicknames that described a physical deformity were Kan Katro – cut ear, and Fujão – Chicken pox.

Physical characteristics earned some families their nicknames such as Caulo – Crow, the nickname given to the family because of their dark skin. The householders that earned the nickname Goro Cullo - White Crab, were wide-eyed and fair-skinned. And their cousins Cauo Cullo – Black Crab, were also wide-eyed, but with a darker skin. Pinglo – Blonde, was the nickname given to the household with light-coloured hair.

Some families got nicknamed after animals, birds and fish presumably because of their perceived resemblance to their non-human counterparts. There was Bokdo – Goat, Tallo – Sardine, Combo – Rooster,  Bébo – Toad, Manko – Frog, Dukor – Pig, Kolo – Fox, Vagio – Tiger, and Sonso – Rabbit.

Personality traits also played a part in earning families a nickname, such as Sourac – Hot Curry, Saibin – the Blessed Virgin, Godgodo – Thunder, and Kochro – Trash.

The deportment of some villagers didn’t go unnoticed either. There was Dando - Rod, Raza – King, Girgiro – Propeller, Bodvo – Angel, and Deunsar – Devil.

Villagers who had a profession got known by the business in which they were involved, such as Chepekan – Hatter, Fulkan – Florist, Delegad – Lawyer, Dishtikan – Remover of ‘evil eye’, Arshekan – Glazier, Alekar – Ginger Man, Fogo – Firecracker, Menkar – Candle Maker, Madkar – Tree Doctor, Ladko – Young (Hindu) boy, Abolo – Red Jasmine, Bendo – Okra, and Karem - Dried Fish.

My maternal grandfather was called Munkuto – Firewood, because he’d use a chunk of firewood to chase away the kids whose game of marbles disturbed his siesta.

Among the other inexplicable nicknames were Bendro – Tree Parasite, Poko – Empty and Porque – ‘Why’ in Portuguese.

There are a few other nicknames that wouldn’t be appropriate to use on a family website, although they were used quite freely-and without malice-by the villagers.

A nickname was never treated with derision. Instead, it was prized as a symbol of a family’s recognition and acceptance as an entrenched member of the village community. And it’s what distinguishes the villager of Saligao from any other Goan with a similar surname.

[This item is from the book Feasts, Feni and Firecrackers by Mel D'Souza. His e-mail is mel.dsouza at sympatico.ca]

POSTSCRIPT

1. Rowena D’Souza, a distant cousin, living in Gaithersburg, Maryland, USA came up with the answer to my family nickname. When researching the origins of the nickname “Couth”, her late father Edwin D’Souza-Koth (my second cousin), had told her that Saligao used to be a trading centre for agricultural produce moving between Goa and Belgaum on the Deccan Plateau, and that one of our ancestors was a ‘Kuth’, a commissioner of customs, when the Portuguese began evangelising the district of Bardez in 1560. In the ensuing years, the trading patterns changed, but the title ‘Kuth’ became our family nickname and subsequently got rounded out to ‘Couth’.

2. Fr Nascimento also tells about a curious aspect of our Portuguese surnames. Saligao was a predominantly Hindu Brahmin village, and it took a while before the entire village could be persuaded to convert to Catholicism. During this period, there were instances where a man would convert to the Catholic religion and acquire a Portuguese surname. Several years later, his brother would decide to change religions, and would also acquire a Portuguese surname, but not necessarily the same as his brother’s. Consequently, there were some families in the village with different surnames although they were from the same family tree.

3. FEAST OF NAMES is a whimsical scene I drew just over 25 years ago depicting a few villagers of Saligao in the form of their family nicknames at the bandstand on the Mae de Deus feast day.

MIKU. That’s what everyone in the village called him. His neighbours would sometimes endearingly expand that to Miculo, but no one ever referred to him by his given name, Joao Baptista Coelho. In fact the nickname Miku was bestowed upon him by his grandmother Angelina, lovingly placing him in the care of St Michael the Archangel.

Throughout the latter half of the twentieth century, this simple, cheerful man could be seen ambling around the hills and fields of Saligao, grazing cattle, singing happy songs and eking out a frugal existence from the land. His father left for Bombay when Miku was still a wee lad, followed soon by Miku’s two brothers, all three never to return. Miku stayed on in Tabravaddo with his sister Angela (Anju), his mother and his grandmother.

Those were very hard days for the family, and Miku and Anju were not afforded the luxury and privilege of attending a school. Instead they were initiated by their mother Romaldina into the art of farming at an early age, and the family helped in cultivating the Palvem field in Mollembhatt.

Quite literally, Miku and his family lived off the land. He loved his herd of cows and bulls, the green and rocky hills of Aquem de Saligao, the fertile fields and babbling brooks, the dry wells in secluded areas of the village. As he grew older he took to grazing goats as a hobby, which soon also provided him a livelihood.

He would round up the goats from Mudd’davadi, Tabravaddo and Mollembhatt, and lead them up the Aquem Hill, dressed in khaki shorts and a black bush coat, always barefoot, his lingudd stick in one hand to ward off dangerous fauna, and a battered old umbrella in the other to ward off the weather. At noon he led them to the vau (stream) with its cool flowing water cascading down from the Aquem fountain. The stream did an abrupt about-face near Caru Titiu’s house and then flowed past his own place on its way to the south-eastern end of Tabravaddo, separating his little abode from that of the Nightingale of Goa, Lorna Cordeiro.

Miku had names for all his goats-Somarlem, Buddulem, Shipru, Astulo, Kalu, Sukru, Rem, Rom and so on-and apparently could recognise and distinguish between each and every one of them. While they quenched their thirst from the brook, he would gulp down his simple lunch of a butti of rice and curry, sometimes embellished with a bit of bombil or para or lonnchem.

Miku shied away from using any form of transport, preferring instead to depend on his own two legs, even to take him as far away as Calangute or Mapuca when he needed to make some out-of-the-way purchase or the other. But on one occasion he seemed to have a sudden change of heart. “Rav re!” he shrieked in a piercing tenor, as the overcrowded local bus coasted past him on the main road running through the village. The surprised driver screeched to a halt. For a moment everyone waited. But nothing happened. Nobody got down, nobody got on. “Why have you stopped the bus?” yelled the conductor angrily. “So that the goats from outside can come and graze in Saligao-we need more milk in the village,” replied Miku nonchalantly, quite oblivious to the commotion he had caused!

For almost 40 years Miku delivered milk to the people of Saligao and Sangolda, employed by Siri from Marodd of Mollembhatt. Whenever Bishop William Gomes from Sangolda returned home, the family insisted on getting milk delivered to them only by Miku. Gentle, kind, simple, happy-go-lucky Miku.

But delivering milk was not his only occupation. He would also go about hunting for frogs in the neighbourhood wells. This was an interesting and elaborate exercise, which, in my younger days, my friend Miku once allowed me to participate in. First came the selection of the “fishing rod”. From the bett (bamboo grove) nearby, he carefully selected a suitable xintem (tender bamboo stick), cut it and cleaned it. Then he attached some tans (string), drawn from the bil’lo madd (tree), to the flexible end of the bamboo. To the tans he tied bait (which he had ready, wrapped in cigarette paper). To the bait he then fixed some hair (collected from his sister’s last combing session).

Miku and I set out on our frog-hunting expedition, his empty poti (bag) in his back pocket-soon, hopefully, to be filled with frogs. We reached the well. “Ssshhh…” Miku cautioned me softly, index finger on his lips, fishing rod in hand, smouldering viddi in mouth, with the crafty look of a veteran frog-catcher about his face. He surveyed the well and quickly honed in on the plumpest frogs tucked away in the corners of the rocky holes and wedges. Miku readied his bag of tricks. He spat on the hair at the end of the bait and then dangled the rod tantalisingly over the frogs, urging them to go for the bait. Suddenly a couple of frogs jumped at the rod simultaneously. One gulped in the bait, hair and all. With a swift and skilful action Miku yanked up the bamboo stick and the hapless frog came flying through the air and at his feet. Losing not a second, Miku removed the bait from its mouth and stuffed the prize catch into his poti!

When the killing of frogs was banned by the authorities, Miku submitted himself meekly to the ruling. As an alternative occupation he took to cleaning and weeding the gardens of the villagers, supplying manure and fodder to the few who chose to rear animals and grow vegetables.

Come the last week of September and folks would sing “Sam Minguel bodvo paus ghall toddvo‘ while sowing the field of Bauteagelem with nachnnem (millets). Miku would join in lustily with the singing. He loved his nickname and he loved his family in Saligao too. He cried like a baby when his sister Anju died, followed soon after by the death of his grandmother, and, some time later, mother too. Then one rainy day in July, while carrying a basket of kuddu-chi bhaji down the hill, Miku took a huge tumble. He was found badly injured some time later by a good samaritan who rushed him to the hospital. But he succumbed to his injuries. My friend Miku died a bachelor, at the age of 69.

As I passed his empty house a few days later, I could almost here his voice wafting along on the breeze, singing his favourite song:

Khodpar ek cheddum boslam,

Tem mhozo mog korta

Turu…turu..turu…