Hi Camillo ! Thanks very much for publicising a very short and concise story on Saint Anthony of Padua: and please do convey my gratitude to Fr. Steve Rodrigues- the author
My late mother - Rosa Da Lima nee Pereira Do Carmo from Calata, Majorda in Salcete- named me after St. Anthony following a very successful normal delivery on January 18, 1947 in the small southern Tanzanian town of Iringa , East Africa. I was supposed to be a "breech" baby - which meant that doctors would have to do a "breech delivery" - the delivery of the fetus first with feet or buttocks. After my mum and dad - Boaventura Barros were told of the unusual status, my mum - with her very little knowledge of written English - penned a special prayer to St. Anthony and prayed vehemently - sometimes almost ten times a day. (when my mum got married at age 17, she only knew Konkani and Portuguese. After moving to then Tanganyika, she later mastered English and also spoke the national language of Tanzania- Swahili). Her efforts paid off and three hours before I was born at 06:40 in the morning, she had an abrupt 180 degrees turn in her stomach -paving the way for a safe and normal delivery. In retrospect, I do not know what the outcome would have been for both my mum and myself- probably tragic; for the very small Governmnent hospital had no mid-wife nor a gynecologist. We were being treated by doctors-i.e. general practitioners. The hospital had only one room for Europeans and Indians who agreed to eat beef and pork as part of the breakfast and lunch. (the local blacks were given very inferior services until independence in 1961) As a result, a Khoja Ismaili woman who had delivered a set of female twins a week earlier, was told to leave the hospital to pave the way for my mum- who was told in no uncertain terms by the staff that the moslem lady ate pork. (Fifteen years later after "switching" schools from the main city of Dar es Salaam to Iringa, I caught up with the twins- one hated my "guts" and the other was crazy after me. I was surprised to note that they were five classes below me - even though they had no mental issues). In 1958, my oldest brother - Romeo returned from India after graduating with an Economics degree from the University of Bombay- in addition to being a recipient of the prestigious Rotary International award. As he was preparing for the exams to enter Law School in England, my mum- without our knowledge- wrote another Special Prayer to St. Anthony requesting that he get full scholarships to study in England and the USA. She placed the prayer under the Statue of St. Anthony which comprised our mini-altar in the bedroom. The following year, Romeo got a full fledged British scholarship to study Law at the very prestigious Inn of Court - Grays Inn. In 1963, after completing a diploma in International Law in London- he got another full scholarship to do his Masters in Political Science at the University of Massachussetts Amherst College. (Romeo is a retired New York City Senior Administrative judge) However, in late 1968 after completing my journalism studies and reserve military training, and preparing to relocate from Iringa to Dar es Salaam, I found the prayer under the statue when dismantling the mini-altar. I later checked with Romeo if he was aware of the Special Request and he replied that he was not. We do not know how many other successful and unsuccessful requests my mum has made to St. Anthony, as she was very discreet about it. But the "buck" did not stop there. After we moved to Dar es Salaam, my mum would make several trips to a Saint Anthony's chapel on the outskirts of the city; and on June 13 , she would have a Novena said every year until she returned in early 1976 to Velim, Goa where she continued with this ritual.(We did not have a St. Anthony's church in Iringa). And after my father passed away at the Loutolim-based Shanti Avedna Ashram in late 1976, my mum presented the Sisters of the Holy Cross with a statue of St. Anthony. My mother passed away in Candolim in March 1997 - exactly 15 weeks after my dad- both of them at 6 p.m. in their sleep on a bright Sunday evening. What a travesty !. After my mum's death, a fellow associate of mine in New York city - a white American catholic gave me a detailed picture on St. Anthony whose works he knew at the back of his palm. That's when I got some greater insights into this great Saint. At my current job , I meet many Americans who are named Anthony and are fascinated when I tell them that I am named after the saint; for in most cases, they tell me that they either got the name from their fathers, grand-fathers or god-fathers. (Romeo was named by my dad after a well known fellow football (soccer) player in Velim- Romeo Fernandes who also moved to East Africa in Kenya) So folks, there must many great stories about St. Anthony. Would appreciate if you could share it with other goanetters. Cheers. Tony Barros. Union Township. New Jersey, USA.