Some memories just live on............ Patsy
________________________________ From: Albert Desouza <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Friday, March 6, 2009 5:03:14 AM Subject: [SALIGAONET] Re: Saligao... in the Seventies Dear Saligaonetters It is still fun to be in Lourdes Convent School in fiftees and sixtees. The present Lourdes Convent was built in 1957. Sister Christine was the headmistress then. That was the year I started schooling in that convent. Sister Christine was like a tigress and many of the boys called her vodavelem christulem. ( no offence) It was during that time there was Sr.Veronica. I remember some of the teachers then. Sr.Livinia, Sr. olga, Teacher Lynette from Nigvaddo, Tr. Alice (Alwwyn's aunty) Sr.Slyvia, Sr.Irene etc. There were some boys to be remembered during the time which included Nicolas Sequeira, Teotonio de souza, Fanchu my brother, Leo and Sebestian (orlando Vaz's brothers) We studied only up to the sixth or seventh and the moment mustache started its appearences the sisters would get mortally scared of us and push us out. Sr.Livinia taught us maths and also portuguese and prepared us for premeira grav which was compulsory at that time. She was good teacher and taught us well but had a dirty habbit of knocking our skulls when we did not know the tables. It was because of Sr.Irene I learnt cursive handwriting which is appreciated all over. My eldest daughter Arlette was lucky to have her in the primary and she too has develped the same cursive hand writing. Those were the days in Lourdes Convent. > Date: Thu, 5 Mar 2009 17:11:59 -0800 > From: [email protected] > Subject: [SALIGAONET] Re: Saligao... in the Seventies > To: [email protected] > > > About the gunpowder in the campfire. Sorry a few years to own up. We were a > group of guys, I will not mention names, Juveniles basically in early to late > teens, who resented the fountain being taken over during that camp for a > whole week as we couldn't use it. About 7 or 8 boys. It was a dada bomb > tossed into the campfire and dada bombs with incense sticks fuses set up > around the various camps. we thought it was funny at that time. Mr. Saldhana > suspected us but was not able to get to the bottom of it. Thanks for taking > us down memory lane. > Chris in California > > > --- On Thu, 3/5/09, Frederick [FN] Noronha * फ्रेडरिक न > <[email protected]> wrote: > > > From: Frederick [FN] Noronha * फ्रेडरिक न <[email protected]> > > Subject: [SALIGAONET] Saligao... in the Seventies > > To: [email protected] > > Date: Thursday, March 5, 2009, 10:14 AM > > Found this article I had written some time ago. Thought of > > sharing it once > > again. Some of you might have already read it earlier... FN > > STORIES FROM THE SALIGAO OF THE 'SEVENTIES: ETCHED IN > > OUR MEMORIES > > > > By Frederick Noronha > > > > It was a then village in full bloom. Our school was, > > naturally, right in the heart of that garden. Talent was > > returning back home. Suddenly, there was confidence enough > > to > > stage musical-plays like *Snow White And The Seven Dwards*, > > and more. > > > > Villagers took part in mando festivals. Back in our school, > > the stage suddenly came to life with 'modern art' > > style > > canvases suddenly making things look bright and unusual. > > > > Our cub-scout troop was active and lively. Sister Pushpa > > showed us that a whole new world existed out there. Our > > uniforms sat proud of our young minds; and a day-long trek > > to > > Aguada took us to a historic region, the history of which > > we > > didn't quite understand then. > > > > I can still recall almost the exact spot, from where, as a > > young boy, one peered at the big girls staging *Pearl The > > Fisher Maiden*. One chilly evening, 'Sir' Edwin > > Saldanha > > stunned the lot of us by setting the campfire ablaze with a > > stick that ignited the gun-powder. Or was it some other > > fuel? > > It didn't matter then, this all sparked off our > > youthful > > imagination. > > > > Growing up in Saligao in the 'seventies meant > > encountering > > strange and wondrous times. Maybe we all tend to > > romanticise > > the period of our youth; but will such times ever come back > > to our children's minds? > > > > Why not? We can indeed make it happen if they and we dare > > to > > dream. > > > > In Goa of the times, Portuguese rule was dead and gone; but > > it was just a decade-and-half gone. Today, it seems the > > significance of being around then had largely missed our > > youthful minds. Idi Amin and the African independence > > movements ensured the return of a large expat population > > back > > home. It uprooted a large number of Goans settled there; > > but > > it was a mixed blessing. That, in itself, had led to a > > great > > deal of vibrancy in our village. > > > > Maybe some might have another view, but the sudden entry of > > 'expat' Saligaokars -- whether Africanders, as they > > called > > themselves, or those returning from other parts of the > > country -- lent an unusual vibrancy to the village. > > > > But there were others too. Many had returned home to > > post-1961 Goa, expecting much from their state. Others had > > finished careers in different parts of India, and were > > returning back. It was Quennie D'Souza, who's > > husband Colonel > > Edwin had retired from the Indian Army and set up his > > dentistry practice in Salmona, that surely must have been > > behind some of the extravagant concerts that Lourdes > > Convent > > started to have. > > > > Critical mass fell into place. Edwin Saldanha, the man of > > many talents who later became our scout master and drawing > > teacher in Britto's, would paint elaborate backdrops > > and > > wings for the stage. Some had the modern-art style, which > > was > > just then becoming popular to the general public, and even > > invading sacred space by way of drawings in the Bible and > > other religious texts. > > > > Lourdes Convent attracted the best of the village talent as > > students. But it was our teachers and the school management > > who took on bigger ventures, and made things happen. > > > > But my first memories of Lourdes Convent was of the kindly > > nuns who were at its helm. Sister Veronica, pale and > > grey-haired, was always kind and a grandmother-figure to > > many > > of us. As far as I could recall, she never had to utter a > > rude word or shout at anybody, but managed to make her > > point > > in the most polite of tones. > > > > At one of the picnics (to Dona Paula and the Miramar > > beach), > > some of us youngsters seemed to be in a tearing hurry to > > grow > > up. Somehow, our idea of 'growing up' turned into > > inhaling > > noxious fumes that hardly helped our schoolboy ages. Sister > > Veronica didn't make much of it, giving us time to > > think > > about the implications of our actions, and feel the remorse > > ourselves. That was the last time one ever touched a > > cigarette in real-life. > > > > Sr Livinia was also one of the senior nuns then, who while > > being stricter also had a sporting side to her. Another of > > the sisters was Sr Blandina -- who in those days was better > > known for taking part in sports, clad in the unusual > > combination of tennis-shoes and the triple-striped sari. > > (Sr > > Blandina was later known as Sr Nora, and I've just > > learnt the > > other day that she has recently moved to work for their > > religious order in Sri Lanka, with former head-mistress > > Sister Adelaide.) > > > > Sister Isabel doesn't seem to have aged a year, for the > > nearly four decades that I've known her. Since she was > > in-charge of the kitchen, we who would hang around the > > place > > got to know her the best. One suspects children also have a > > way of recognising those people they can stretch more than > > others! > > > > Since both our parents would be out at work, they arrived > > at > > some arrangement whereby the nuns would allow us two > > brothers > > -- better known as Ricky and Rico -- to stay at the school > > for the entire day. We treated the place as if it was our > > home, and would raise hell with our jeeps and cars in the > > corridors after school hours. How this was tolerated is > > something one can't quite comprehend today. > > > > On joining school, I was just three, and had the dubious > > distinction of failing in three subjects in the nursery! > > But > > one can't recall teachers being unnecessarily strict, > > or > > pushing us into taking a dislike for our studies. Of > > course, > > there would be the unfortunate few who couldn't cope > > with all > > the subjects that the inflexible Goa syllabus pushes down. > > Maybe our school and alumni needs to think more deeply > > about > > the less-fortunate, and those pushed needlessly into being > > 'drop outs' for no fault of their own. > > > > As day-boarders, my strongest memory was the table-manners > > we > > ran into. Those who supervised our eating then believed > > that > > it was unhealthy for sips of water to interrupt a meal. We > > kids just couldn't cope with the spicy food. Our > > solution, to > > the horror of our parents who realised this only later, was > > to wipe our burning tongues against the white-shirt sleeves > > (girls wore pink blouses, which went with the maroon > > skirts) > > of our uniforms! > > > > One of my earliest teacher's I recall was Miss Ida, of > > Tabravaddo, who taught me in IIB, the class close to what > > was > > then the boarders kitchen. She was kind and considerate, > > and > > would encourage us to take home a copy of the 'Saligao > > Bulletin', a small print publication put out by a bold > > co-villager. The price was a princely 15 naya paise! > > > > The stately Mrs Figueiredo -- whom we knew as Sharon and > > Tanya's mum, specially after the girls made such a hit > > in the > > school concerts, and all of us youngsters looked up to them > > -- was also one of our impressive teachers. I don't > > remember > > for sure if she only stood in when others were absent, or > > was > > our class teacher sometime along the way. Not only did she > > carry herself with dignity and decorum, but she was proud > > of > > us, her students. > > > > Some months back, when she learnt (don't ask me how) > > that the > > editorials of a local newspaper were then being penned by > > this writer, she phoned Panjim all the way from Benaulim. > > She > > made it a point to mention to the News Editor on duty that > > I > > had been her student in the second standard. He narrated > > the > > story to me with a smile. Only goes to show: if students > > often forget their old teachers, the reverse is not true! > > > > Mrs Philomena "Bobo" D'Souza of Sonarbhat > > taught us in Std > > III. I can still picture the classroom, and the clock which > > she would bring in, to teach us to read the time. It seems > > children nowadays grow up much faster than we did, in times > > when Saligao was just about getting electrified! > > > > Some like Teacher Joanita, of Pilerne, went on and on with > > their work. After teaching me in the primary, she retired > > just two or three years before my daughter reached the same > > class. I remember her as someone very friendly, who would > > always show a pride in what her ex-students were doing. She > > remembered that the first class she had taught was that of > > Fidelis (also from Pilerne), sometimes in the 'sixties. > > > > Our other teachers included Miss Lira, Mrs Shoba Naik, my > > neighbours Joseph and Joyce Victoria's aunt the > > ever-smiling > > Sr Genevieve, Sister Hilaria whom we sometimes brought to > > tears with our mischeviousness, Miss Primila from Sangolda, > > and our piano teachers both the Miss Margarets. Both the > > latter duo worked hard to get us to learn music, a subject > > that many of us didn't take seriously enough, it not > > being > > part of the syllabus. It was very touching to see some > > alumni, however, recall the very songs we had learnt three > > or > > so decades ago, at the hands of the two Margarets. > > > > The other day, when Nolasco D'Souza (Kenneth's dad, > > from > > Arrarim) passed away, I recalled the short but memorable > > spell during which he taught us Maths. To this day, I can > > remember his peering down at us, his specs perched on his > > nose, with patience as we worked on what seemed to then be > > the strange mysteries of Mathematics. > > > > Miss Edna taught us sometime in the primary school; by some > > quirk of fate, she managed to trace my email address via > > the > > Internet, and wrote across nearly three years back, from > > Canada, where she is now settled. Strange how the little > > things in life are those we never forget; I still recall > > how > > she taught us to make an elephant's face, cut-out on > > cardboard, and with a hole where the trunk should be. We > > were > > to push our podgy little finger through, and wriggle it in > > lieu of the missing jumbo's trunk. Oh, how that made an > > impression on us then! You never know what impresses a > > child. > > > > My elder brother Ricky's class (batch of 1977) had a > > teacher > > whom they were much impressed by, Miss Piedade of Candolim. > > Ricky's classmate Diogo Fernandes, one of those active > > in our > > alumni, mentioned he had met Miss Piedade just a few days > > back. "I wouldn't have recognised her if I > > wasn't told... or > > maybe I would have," he said. > > > > Miss Figueira of Guirim came in the fifth standard to teach > > us Maths for awhile. I remember her as a young lady -- > > seemingly not much older than us! -- and very patient and > > kind. What really made us empathise with her then was the > > fact that she wore a small round sticker on her watch, > > something which was just young people like us would have > > been > > doing! > > > > Mrs Shobha Naik taught us Marathi and Hindi, and we were > > perennially tripping up and mixing the two languages. At > > that > > time, we also saw it as a coercive step to get us to > > unwillingly learn these languages; perhaps our elders' > > attitudes at home influenced this. Today, we are no doubt > > grateful that we are a little more comfortable in two more > > languages which we can use to come to terms with large > > areas > > of South Asia. Miss Monteiro from Candolim taught us > > sometime > > during the primary or middle school. > > > > I don't remember Miss Luisa teaching me, but she was > > another > > young and popular teacher. Years down the line, one was > > surprised to learn that she was the wife of former Goa > > minister Dominick Fernandes, whom we met in totally another > > context. > > > > Miss Angela from Pilerne was our strict but efficient Hindi > > teacher. She had moved down from Jabalpur, one of the > > thousands of families from the Goan diaspora, together with > > her family, and her younger brother Clariano was in class > > with us. In hindsight, Miss Angela was perhaps too good for > > us, who looked at Hindi as a necessary evil, and just aimed > > to get the minimum needed for passing. > > > > Since we boys left the (then not co-ed) school by the time > > we > > completed our sixth or, at most, seventh standards, we > > didn't > > meet up with teachers from the senor classes. But Miss > > Shirley, who taught a generation of students, Sir > > Archibald, > > Miss Ninette, Miss Yvette, my neighbour Mrs Clara Sequeira, > > and the others were teachers who were admired and looked > > up-to by hundreds of their students. > > > > Obviously there are names which should have been mentioned > > here, except for reasons of shortness of memory, rather > > than > > ingratitude. > > > > For some reason, our years at Lourdes Convent remains > > strongly etched on one's mind. After that, we spent > > shorter > > stints in the boys' school, higher secondary and > > college, > > before moving into the world of work. Those latter memories > > seem like a blur, with life moving in fast-forward. We must > > thank our teachers for those times, and above all for > > shaping > > us into what we are today. > > > > > > > > -- > > FN * http://fredericknoronha.wordpress.com > > M +91-9822122436 P +91-832-2409490 http://twitter.com/fn > > On Facebook: > > http://www.new.facebook.com/people/Frederick-Noronha/502514643 > > > > "Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of > > that comes from bad > > judgment." - Will Rogers > > > > > > > > -- > > FN * http://fredericknoronha.wordpress.com > > M +91-9822122436 P +91-832-2409490 http://twitter.com/fn > > On Facebook: > > http://www.new.facebook.com/people/Frederick-Noronha/502514643 > > > > "I like a woman with a head on her shoulders. I hate > > necks." - Steve Martin > > > > > > __________________________________________________________________ Instant Messaging, free SMS, sharing photos and more... Try the new Yahoo! 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