Everytime I take on a Konkani-English interpreting job, I am convinced nothing
will surprise me. Over the course of the last three years, I have seen it all;
child molestation, domestic violence, aggravated assault, drunk and disorderly
conduct, stabbings, illness, extreme poverty, joblessness, theft, people
forsaken in hospitals: I have seen it and sat through hours of
enfolding sadness as the tales are recounted to doctors, social workers, police
officers and interpreted by me. Yet, each case manages to creep into the
recesses of my consciousness and I come away more confused about Goan society
than ever. I am deeply troubled today by a recent case and all the piteous
misery it has managed to ensue in so many lives.
In all my years of being a Goan, in Goa and in the Gulf or America, I never
witnessed moral squalor. I knew only the pristine outer facade of middle-class
values and sensibilities. I knew the goodness of families scrubbed clean of the
indignity of poverty. Granted the cases that I deal with now come from the
lower strata of Goan society. Lifted out of Goa they are adrift without even
the benefit of language to help them. Things that are swept under the carpet or
seen as amusing peccadilloes, can no longer remain hushed in the UK. Once they
come to the attention of the local authorities they become serious matters. The
old honour code of "let's settle it amongst family" does not hold good.
There are so many questions I am faced with. Real questions I search answers
to. Questions that seem politically incorrect and yet questions we must ask
ourselves. Are there two faces to Goa? Is the labouring class of Goa different
from its middle-class? Are East African Goans different from Portuguese
Passport Goans? If so why? Why the difference? What is the Goan school system
capable of producing? Can the Goan school system ever level the playing field
to give ever one equal opportunity? What kind of a society have we produced in
the last 50 years?
Have I been naive about what it means to be a Goan all my life? Lurking under
the jeweled crucifix of Christianity, under the benevolent smiles and seeming
hospitality, perhaps there is an ugliness so impure, that we choose to ignore
it.
Best,
Selma
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