Roland Travas
[email protected]
The winds of change were sweeping colonial Africa
in the 1960s. The Europeans were awarding
independence to their former territories, although
there were problems for France in Algeria, for
Belgium in the Congo and for the British in
Southern Rhodesia. White South Africa with its
Apartheid policies was another complex issue
altogether. The British-administered lands of
Kenya, Tanganyika, Uganda and Zanzibar were given
self-determination in the early sixties --
Tanganyika in 1961, Uganda in 1962, Kenya and
Zanzibar towards the latter part of 1963.
The colonial administration in Kenya had its problems during
the Kikuyu rebellion earlier on, but at the time of
independence there was a relative peaceful transition for all
of British East Africa.
Zanzibar and its sister island of Pemba where my family lived
was a Protectorate ruled by a Resident who represented the
Queen of England. The majority of inhabitants were Africans
at the bottom of the political, economic and social levels.
The land-owning Arab minority had a Sultan whose origins lay
in Oman in the Gulf. The Asians, predominately Indians,
Pakistanis and small number of Chinese, controlled the trade
in the islands.
The Goans who numbered in the hundreds fitted
somewhere in between. Because of their Catholic
upbring and on account of their being Portuguese
citizens, they were classified differently by the
British. Many Goans worked in government, banking
and in the private sector. Others were tailors or
craftsmen. Political power was solely in the hands
of the Europeans with the Sultan serving their
interests.
Each community lived within its sphere. Each went to its
place of worship, formed cultural and social and economic
alliances. Non-Africans had it relatively good in all areas
of life. One needs to understand this reality to follow what
happened next.
The British handed the political reins to the Arab-minority
Zanzibar Nationalist Party, and left. The Africans were
disenfranchised and the status quo remained. Within a month,
a violent African-led revolution occurred, toppling the new
government and changing the entire dynamic of the small, two
island nation state.
On Sunday, January 12, 1964 we awoke to the news of fighting
taking place in Zanzibar. Then it became apparent that a
major change was in the making. The government had been
overthrown and a revolutionary one was in the process of
replacing it.
Fighting was still going on. My first thoughts were of my
father who had gone to Zanzibar to enroll me in high school
there. There was no communication between the two islands as
all services had been disrupted. What little we could learn
was from the radio stations on the mainland and via the BBC.
In a few days what became increasingly clear was
the grim details of killings, violence and chaos
including the brutal shootings of five Goans who
had been returning from church services. The
revolutionary junta took over and consolidated its
hold on power. Some sort of normality returned
between two islands. Shipping, transportation and
other services resumed and my father returned.
These were trying times to say the least. There were all
sorts of shortages and food and basics were almost
unavailable. There were reprisals against members of the
elite, former government officials and supporters. Many
others were arrested for no apparent reasons. There were
open-air trials, flogging and incarceration. Some were never
heard off again from reports one read later. People lived in
a constant state of fear.
At the onset of the revolution, the Sultan had fled into
exile in Britain; right afterwards, in the ensuing melee, the
Arab land owning class and politicians lost their lands and
were either killed or imprisoned. The Asians had their
businesses and their properties nationalized and were told to
leave. An extreme form of cleansing and Africanization began
to take hold.
My parents' businesses were taken over and it
became clear that foreigners were no longer wanted
here. It is in predicament that my parents booked a
berth for us to move to Goa. We were all eager to
leave although we were apprehensive. On the one
hand, we had to forsake the life that we had known
and, on the other hand, we were also unsure of what
lay ahead. The ship docked at Mombasa, Kenya. The
sea was calm and the journey peaceful but the time
was clouded by the terrible events we had gone
through.
When we landed in April of 1964, Goa was itself in a
transition state. The Portuguese had left -- rather, made to
leave -- in 1961 and it became part of the Indian Union. I
was a mere boy of school age; many of us were here for the
first time in a new land with a language, culture and
traditions that were different.
This was true even for some of the older folks who had never
been to Goa before. Many Goans had left Goa during the
earlier part of the century. They had put up their stakes in
East Africa and never foresaw this new reality. Many had no
homes and had little or no resources to start life anew in
their ancestral land. The term 'Africander' -- meaning
'someone from Africa' -- gained prominence as more and more
Goans came back.
Conditions at that time were pretty much basic, especially in
the villages. There was no electricity, many food items were
unavailable and transportation sparse.
An observation: Goans from Zanzibar and Pemba came
practically as refugees with little of what they
could carry. Many were stateless and in limbo.
Later on, in 1972 Goans in Uganda would face a
similar dilemma under the dictator Idi Amin. As
Africanization took hold in parts of Africa many
left, some to India and others to Britain and
elsewhere. However, most of these Goans fared
economically a little better as they were allowed
to repatriate at least some of their belongings.
Some Goans did remain in East Africa, opting for citizenship
of the new nations. Some simply had no one in Goa or some
feared having to start all over again. The Indian
administration offered little help or no help in
resettlement. There was chaos in the new independent
countries, as the basic infrastructure was broken and
qualified persons left and the new leadership was inept in
nation building. In this scenario, Zanzibar joined with
Tanganyika to form the United Republic of Tanzania.
For me, I went to an all-boys schools, making friends as boys
and girls of that age do. The Principal was a strict
disciplinarian and infringement of rules was not tolerated.
However I got to know and like some of the teachers. I need
to pay tribute to my Science and Geography teacher, Mr.
Albuquerque. He was old and stern but fair. He was a very
good teacher and had this amazing gift of getting students
interested in the world around us. All these years later, his
name stuck in my mind as it was synonymous with that of a
place in New Mexico, US, and which I got to visit in 2001.
Somehow, I always seemed to have had teachers who made a
lasting impression on me. Another was Fr. Byrne, an Irish
priest in Africa. He installed in me the love of
international relations. He would talk of world news to
thrilled students and somehow he made the events seem alive.
With so many world happenings in the earlier 1960s,
there was no shortages of topics to discuss in
class. He also had the uncanny ability to speak
Swahili like a native. He installed in me the love
of languages. Zanzibar and Pemba had multi-racial
communities. Aside from English, the language of
officialdom, there were Swahili, Arabic and a host
of Indian languages spoken. Most schools also
taught French as a second language. In Goa, I got
to be better acquainted with Konkani, Hindi and
Portuguese.
The next few years in my life were hard with what the
adjustments I had to endure; but with a young boy's joie de
vivre, I moved on. There was school as I mentioned, learning
the ropes, going to new places and meeting with new people.
One of my joys was walking through the fields of Saligao to
go to the beach. I learned swimming, going to Salmona Spring
known for its healing waters. During the summers, there was
Calangute beach in the evenings. Music would blare from
strategically placed speakers. There was the standard English
music of the time but Konkani as well.
The films 'Amche Noxib' and 'Nirmon' were popular
at this time. There would be hundreds of people on
the beach, especially during the weekends. They
were predominately Goans. This was before the
'hippie invasion' and the tourists from the rest of
India who came later on. Here we would meet old
friends or make new ones, buy tempting food from
the stalls, build sand castles, play games or
simply enjoy the natural surrondings.
Another pastime was going to the Tinto. Here I would
occasionally buy 'The Navhind Times', an English-language
daily, or the 'O Globo', where I could ameliorate my
Portuguese. At this venue the young and old could exchange
news and gossip or simply catch up with 'what's what.' Other
times, I would go with the village boys to Mapusa for the
Friday market days or on other days to watch movies. 'Mutiny
on the Bounty' with Marlon Brando and 'Come September' were
stuck in my mind as those that I saw during this time.
Once during the novenas for St. Francis Xavier in
1964 some boys and I walked to Betim from Saligao
and then took the ferry to Old Goa. If memory
serves me right, we started at 4 am. Throughout the
years, I have relived that trip in my mind. I also
remember going to Candolim from Saligao. I went
behind the Mater Dei Institute and then across the
hill coming down near the church. Does anyone do
that anymore?
This was the Goa of yesteryears. By today's standards the
life style of the 1960s would seem pretty tame but those were
the reality of the times as is with every generation. TV,
cable, the Internet were non-existent. The technology of the
day was the transistor radio.
We listened to the BBC and to the Western songs on Radio
Ceylon. This helped me improve my English. In this regard, I
felt that I had an advantage as I had more exposure to the
language thanks to the Irish missionaries in Zanzibar. Also,
at this time, the education system in Goa was changing from
the Portuguese to English. This along with Hindi and Marathi
created a period of adjustment and some difficulty for the
average local student.
I learned to watch and play football, which was and is an
important sport in Goa. We boys followed the legendary Pele
and his exploits in the World Cups and internationally.
Church life and the various feasts became an integral part of
our lives. During the monsoons, I watched in awe as the harsh
rainy and squally conditions came every June through August
affecting agriculture, fishing and life in general. I got to
see the extent of the whole of Goa and some parts of India
during my five years here.
I must mention the 1967 Opinion Poll that Goans fought for to
keep Goa from becoming part of another state. Older folks
will remember the work of Dr. Jack Sequeira in this regard.
That was an important deal for the people then as this would
later contribute to Goa becoming a state in its own right.
I did my high school here and then was admitted to further my
studies in the United States. As with the time before, this
opened an entire new avenue and adventure for me in a new
land continents away.
--
With his roots in Saligao, Goa, Roland Travas has later been
in the US, and subsequently in Jamaica. In recent weeks, he
has been travelling to Costa Rica. He visited Goa recently,
where the Goanet Reader convinced him to pen some of his
remembrances of life in Goa and Africa. He can be contacted
at [email protected]
Goanet Reader is compiled and edited by Frederick Noronha.
