It was 1975 and early days for corruption in Goa, but the rot was starting to set in.
While an aunt visited us in our house in Assagao, she told me that I needed to collect my "Zoan" from the communidade office which functioned in the premises of the St Cajetan Church office. When asked what it was, she patiently explained that these were the revenues of the village community lands that were auctioned for fishing leases and other portions rented out for crop production. These revenues were distributed equally to all the villagers. I don't know how I was entitled to this as I was resident in Bombay, but she confirmed I was. When asked how much money was involved, she mentioned a figure of six rupees a year. I immediately lost interest as I would be eligible to collect 5 years accumulations which would total to only 30 rupees. I was no longer in college and therefore usually broke, those days being behind me. My aunt would hear none of my protestations about not bothering to collect, saying that I should use the money to offer masses for relatives who had passed away. No doubt she wanted a inculcate a habit of which she would be one beneficiary in the near future. So off I went to the Church office on a Sunday on which the escrivao (clerk) was expected to be on duty. In retrospect if I had taken my aunt, I would have come back a few more rupees richer, but I had decided I could do this on my own, my basic Konkani notwithstanding. The interview with the starched shirt man behind the desk was more daunting than my worst meeting in later years with High Net Worth individuals. The desk was massive - an eight by four feet Burma-teak table that sorely needed polishing and on which was a heavy sack cloth bound ledger that contained the names of the villagers and their families. When he asked whose son I was and in which vaddo I lived, I provided the necessary information. I expected at any moment that he would deny knowing who I was, except that my father was well known and respected in the village and he quickly turned the ledger pages. With a final grandiose flip, he came to the family records. "Thirty rupees" he loudly announced after a few minutes. I quickly nodded. Taking out an envelope full of cash, he sheltered it from public view, took out a few notes and placing it in another smaller envelope, he gave it to me after I affixed a signature. He then dismissed me with a wave of the hand. Getting up to leave and counting the notes I found only twenty. Thinking he had made a mistake, I said "you gave me only twenty". To which he made the bold pronouncement which rings in my ears even today. "Mezaak murre" (For the Desk). He had performed what in the future I would know as a payroll deduction at source with one small difference. The deduction was to benefit his future, not that of my dead relatives. Roland. Toronto PS Assagao, bless her, was known for many things not least of which was the "Valley of Flowers". But her Zoan was among the least of that of Goan villages. Some villages in Salcette even in those days had a record of distributing thousands of rupees per year to each of their zoancars. Roland Francis 416-453-3371 [email protected] Smile and the world smiles with you.
