~ OVER THE CREST OF MONTE - Our great Alma Mater ~ Distant view of Mapusa Town.

~ OVER THE CREST OF MONTE - Our great Alma Mater ~ 

Distant view of Mapusa Town.

Once upon a time during the early1950's there was a flat wooden covered bridge that joined the senior dormitory to the refectory and junior dormitory buildings. But whenever a delivery truck loaded with firewood or other supplies came up it could not pass under it to drop the load off on the upper terrace. So brilliant were the fathers of Monte – they were architects too and never ran out of ideas – that they had an arched RCC bridge constructed. But still somehow it seemed to be difficult for some trucks to pass under. Nothing could pose a challenge. So then they made a slight dip in the road at that point. And the trucks passed through happily ever after. Living up to the school’s motto: “Ad Ardua”, the Fathers, Brothers, Teachers, workers and students met with the challenges before them.

Standing at the point where this picture was taken from, we could clearly hear the blasts at the iron-ore mines in Sirigao during the afternoon break. Also at this time, making a rare and entertaining appearance to the school during noon was the highly erudite and entertaining Sacrula de Saligao who provided us with his astonishing speeches. Most students gathered around him to hear him. His trademark was his cycle, a Franciscan habit and an umbrella with an insignia. He was never afraid of heights. He liked to stand above the rest when his delivered one of his amazing speeches, and the parapet facing the school refectory posed no challenge for the extraordinary and unforgettable man.

RAINY DAYS AT MONTE

THE OLD PUMP-HOUSE & THE WELL

THE TWIN FOOTBALL FIELDS
(Please double-click on picture for an enlarged view)
Photos by Tonferns 2001

RAINY DAYS & MONDAYS AT MONTE

Rainy days and Mondays, they say, even in a song. But rainy days at school, added by a Monday meant a very boring day with a tendency of getting us and our spirits down. So, in this eventuality it would mean that there would be no outside play during breaks in the afternoon, or games in the evenings down the hill at the twin football fields. This was because of the fear that the boys would get sick if they got wet in the rain on the way back from the playgrounds. Boarders would have then to succumb to being confined to the long corridors or verandahs of the school buildings and pass their time with improvised games or read in the classrooms.

But for Felicio, who was a day-scholar, it was a different story altogether in sharp contrast to a boarder's routine. He tried his best to avoid the rain, or let it succeed in getting him down! For Felicio, who had to trek nearly 2 miles through the fields, be it through from light drizzles to torrential downpours of the monsoon season, it was nevertheless an arduous task.

Rising early in the morning Felicio glanced at the time-table stuck to the wall a little above his small study table in the dim morning light, sorted and selected his text and copy books for the day, while mother prepared his breakfast and also had his ‘tiffin’ ready.

Dark clouds loomed overhead with signs of impending showers of rain. So, for Felicio it seemed it was necessary to foresee the inclement weather conditions and have the books packed in a clear plastic bag which his mother had bought for him from Bhobe’s Stationery Shop in Mapusa. From the nearby ‘Tintto’ at Parra, Felicio had acquired thick rubber bands from the cycle repair shop, to hold the books together around in the plastic. He would then place this pack in turn into another bag that he would sling over his shoulder. And as if that was not enough, there was the raincoat and an umbrella. Felicio considered himself fully armed, before he set out on the long and usual hike to the school on the top of the hill.

Cumbiem Morod, Guirim. It was a modest and vibrant little ward of Guirim, where Felicio lived. There were 10 or 11 other boys in his village that went to the same school. They met at the point in the village where the worn paths crossed at the centre of the village near the small chapel by the well, waiting for the other boys before they started their onward march to the school, while Felicio, being the youngest, brought up the rear of the bee-line.

Handling and keeping the books, the ‘buthi’ (tiffin) and himself dry from the elements with a raincoat and an umbrella was quite a feat for little Felicio. Often they would stop and seek shelter in the balcao of a house on the way, whenever the showers very heavy. At the same time they were afraid of waiting for too long, as they would then arrive late to school.

Day-scholars who got their uniform wet in the rain would often be sent home by the headmaster, because of the risk of getting sick due to the dampness. Felicio experienced this on many occasions, and would always try to avoid being sent home.

Sometime in mid-July of circa 1956, the day had begun with intense precipitation combined with strong winds, and the rain water had somehow found its way and seeped into Felicio’s uniform through a tear in the side-pockets of his rain coat.

And so, as nature had its way, Felicio had found his day!
A rainy day had finally gotten him down. But it had an extra benefit and enjoyment of taking the long way home - walking along the main road passing partly through Guirim and Parra Jaknnim, because cutting through the fields as usual was impossible due to the flooding of the pathways through the fields that led to his humble home.

Although the years seem to have drifted away I cannot but help reminisce our bathing time after playing at those grounds when the “Boarding Father”, assisted by student volunteers, would toss on us water in buckets, drawn from the well near the grounds. Then upwards on the winding path through the cashew fruit trees up the hill we trudged again for days, months and years on end. When we at last made to the hill-top just before dusk, far down below we could still the farmers tending to their vegetable patches and rice crops in the fields.

All the electrical work was done and maintained by a dedicated Friar. His name was Bro. Diogo. Tube lights were first installed in the chapel in the late fifties. The generator, or dynamo as it was popularly known then, was used only in the night up to 11 pm. and sometimes when the skies darkened in the daytime during the rainy season. A new “dynamo” with more wattage was installed in the late fifties to cater to the additional demand created by newly added classrooms. As the old one could no longer take the full load it was then put on stand-by in case of an emergency.


An interesting and nostalgic moment that I recall is being fascinated by the pump house diesel engine that turned a long v-belt connected to a powerful water-pump that pumped water up to the school premises from the square shaped well – a remarkable engineering feat those days. As young boys we would put our ear on the pipe that ran up the hill to hear the faint murmur of the engine and the water gushing through it. The school also had a lightning conductor installed on the side of the steeple of the chapel. This provided safety not only for the school premises, but also protected the surrounding villages from severe lightning strikes.

Tony Felix (Felicio) Fernandes
Guirim, Cumbiem Morod,
(Story of Circa 1956)

PARTICULAR DAYS AT MONTE

Particular Days at Monte!

by Tony (Felicio) Fernandes

It seemed like a long hike from the village of Cumbiem Morod to the hilltop. The journey seemed endless. It was Felicio’s first day at school. He held his older brother’s hand as he climbed through the winding path lined by cashew trees. The legend ‘ST. ANTHONY’S HIGH SCHOOL', 'AD 1947' was visible high up on the stepped steeple – the distinct and typically striped pinnacle and façade of the stone school building. As he reached the top of the hill, he turned to look back and take in the panoramic view. The villages of Guirim set beautifully in the forefront, Arpora, Nagoa, Parra and Verla to the west, Bastora toward the east and in the distance towards the north was the town of Mapusa. The surrounding hills in the distance were also a delight to the eye.

It seemed rather unusual to Felicio that the first official day of onset of the monsoon season should be the first day of school. Luckily it had not rained that day, although low grey clouds loomed in the skies. Sitting in the first row on the first day in school seemed a far-cry from his initial Sunday school Catechism class at the village chapel of Our Lady of Assumption at Vancio Vaddo in Gurim. This seems to be really an upgrade, Felicio thought. And even better than the massive one-room classroom of the Portuguese Escola Primária adjacent to the village chapel.

Another thing that Felicio also wondered about was why it was that, after the Christmas holidays, school days began again starting on his birthday which was the 7th of January. Perhaps, was it because his name was Anthony? A childish thought, he mused!

Felicio was a day scholar. One of the favourite first words that he heard during the first week in school, and 'particularly' liked, was the word “particular”. The boy seemed to be fascinated with the word and thought it had a nice ring to it. “Particular! Particular!”, he went on saying when he came home from school. In his own childish way he would repeat it to himself and to his folks at home, “Particular! Particular!”

As days and years passed by, Felicio got used to attending his new school and various other activities like the massive ‘drill’ under the giant 'nunerca' tree and ‘Mocidade Portuguesa’ conducted in front of the grotto. The long walk to and from school, though arduous, was just a normal part of school life, serving as a natural exercise keeping the students fit. Felicio liked his school, the Fathers, Brothers and teachers,and he thought that perhaps they in turn seemed to have liked him too. He especially showed a great interest in drawing. The face he liked to draw was of Samson. Every last period used to be a ‘drawing’ period. Sometimes towards the end of the period the drawing teacher would ask and encourage him to draw on the blackboard using white chalk. Quick scenery sketching was one of his favourite things.

Once he had taken part in the School Concert when he was selected as one of the three child artists, who painted a scene, on a large canvas set up on the stage, in three minutes carrying water-based colours in buckets, marching to the canvas to a music beat, alternating with 3 different colours. This concept was brilliantly enacted by the guidance of the excellent resident school artist, Brother Vitalis, OFM Cap. The annual school concerts were held on two days.

The school concert was held on two days. The first day was for the students only. The second day was for the parents and the public, and also to students who received prizes. The Portuguese Governor General as well as other prominent doctors, leaders, priests and teachers and ex-students attended the concerts on the second day.

Felicio’s mother was among the packed audience in the hall on the second day. He could not see her from where he stood. The blinding bright lights in front of the stage made it impossible to recognize her. He wondered whether his mother would cry with joy as usual, or smile. Hope she smiles today, he thought. Students who excelled in their school studies and extra-curricular activities were awarded prizes that were distributed on the second day of the school drama. Felicio was waiting among other students on the right-hand side of the stage to receive his prize. He hoped he could hear his name called out clearly. It might be very embarrassing if he did not hear, or else may be he would miss out on collecting his prize, Felicio thought! He was a bit nervous as Sir Veloso, a senior teacher at the school, began calling the names in his admirable and booming voice and an imposing personality to match, that needed no microphone. Finally, the great moment had come. Felicio was ready for his name to be called. Although slightly nervous, he happily proceeded to the stage to receive his prize for his favourite subject, drawing.

After the concert ended Felicio’s mother embraced and kissed him. Obviously she was happy for him. A few neighbours from his village were present there too, and they came forward to greet and congratulate him as he came out of the school building. It had turned dark by the time the concert ended. There were stalls set up in front of the grotto, selling soft drinks and snacks, by the light of the petromax lamps. They all walked home lighting the path with a battery-powered torch light that they had remembered to carry with them.

On the way home the dogs barked in front of some of the houses. They passed through the fields and other wards of their village. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. The moon cast a faint glow over the eastern horizon as it was about to rise up in the east. All the youngsters walked in front followed by their parents discussing and commenting on how good the school drama had been.

As the village folks approached and turned towards the path that led to his house, Felicio could faintly see the lights through the open window of his house in the distance. The front door was open. He saw the silhouette of his grandmother who was sitting outside on the bench in the balcony, anxiously waiting for their return. As he turned left over his shoulder, he noticed the lights of Monte in the far distance. Felicio had often heard that one should never look back while walking in the night. Somehow he just could not help but look and remember what a wonderful day it had really been.

“I’ve be waiting for you all to come home, and I was worried”, Grandma said, as she rose from her seat. “I was not sure whether you had carried along a torch light, or at least a candle, as it gets dark soon these days”, she continued as we stepped in. “I said three rosaries waiting for you all”. “I wish I could have gone along with you all, like I did in the past”.

Felicio’s grandma suffered from arthritis. She would not have been able to climb the hill now that she was getting older. She said she had watched a few concerts up there in the past, and had also many times been there for the annual candle-lit procession held after a Holy Mass, held every year, late in the evening of the 8th of December – the day of the feast of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception. “Come on now, let’s all go in” she said, “Supper is ready, and I have to rise up early to attend Mass in our chapel, come on, I will start serving whatever little that I have prepared for you.”

Felicio’s neighbours proceeded on their way. “Good night” they said in succession. “Deo bori rath dhium”, one of them said. “Sleep tight” said another, with a prompt and quick follow-on with: “Don’t let the bugs bite.”

Felicio was very fond of his Grandma. She would always wait for everyone to join in for dinner whenever they went out for salves and novenas. Felicio related to her about the concert and the prize that he had received for excellence in drawing. The play, ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’, had turned out to be very good and well-enacted by students. One of his class-teachers had played the lead role. His name was Thomas Mendonça. His diction was impeccable. He was very proficient in English and French, and had passed his SSCE in the same school. The students also sang in Portuguese, as the Governor General was present. His Excellency had been very kind to dedicate his precious time to watch the entire play.

The school concert had begun with the school boys in uniform singing the Portuguese national anthem on stage: ‘Herois do mar, nobre povo, naçao valente, immortal’. Felicio also liked the tone of the Portuguese word ‘immortal’. For Felicio, it had a special ring to it as well. Also, he remembered his father reciting a prayer that consisted of that particular word at the end of the evening Rosary.

The light from kerosene lamp in the centre of the table of the ‘sala’ cast oversized flickering shadows on the wall as young Felicio took his turn in relating and re-enacting some of the scenes of the play. His grandma loved him, he thought, as she did not show any signs of boredom. Even though it was quite late in the night, she was a patient listener. As he finished his supper, he looked up and turned sideways in the direction of his grandma. She was crying too. “Now these must have been particular tears of sheer joy”, Felicio thought, as he had cried too.

After supper they all sat in the balcony for a short while as the moon had risen bringing a glow to the sandy front yard of the house. The tall coconut and mango trees cast soft shadows on the cool earth. As for Felicio the next day was a holiday. Visible and twinkling far away in the distance over the sprawling fields were the lights of Mapusa town. Then it was time to say “Boa Noite”.

Those were the great days of schooling and some of the memories of Monte de Guirim of long ago. In retrospect, as I reminisce about them every now and then, it seems it was just yesterday. We lived a happy and simple lifestyle with loving folks. We got through with the basic necessities. Though hard days sometimes prevailed, adversely facing some scarcities from petrol to cereals, we learned to take it all in stride.

Tony ‘Felix’ (Felicio) Fernandes
Guirim, Cumbiem Morod,
Bardez, Goa.
CLASS OF 1964

The huge hall on the first floor was actually a dormitory for senior students. It was temporarily converted into a drama hall for the two special days in the school calendar as described above. On one occasion, I had also witnessed an Ordination to priesthood of one of the students of Monte in the late 1950’s, by the Archbishop of Goa.

The large dormitory comprised of a purpose-built stage with permanent fittings. It was well-known for its unique curtain that resembled a beautiful scarlet drape, far ahead of its time in its operation and the way it opened during the 1950's. It consisted of a timber frame-work that was fitted to the lower half of the curtain at the rear. The ropes were attached to the top of the timber frame, and the curtain was completely lifted up into the ceiling, aided by a pulley syestm, forming a neat horizontal crease midway, making it look majestic as it went up. It had also had other rolling scenic curtains which were painted by Brother Vitalis. The stage had an array of boxed floor lights in the front end. The entire facade from ground to the sloping roof, and side to side, was painted in light bluish-grey hues resembling marble Roman architectural columns.

On the second day of the school concert, students attended Holy Mass at the school chapel, followed by breakfast in the hall mentioned above.

NOSTALGIA OF MONTE - Four Annas & the Loaf of Bread

NOSTALGIA OF MONTE (The Friars and the Boys - by Tony Fernandes
(Class of 1964) Author of "Goa - Memories of My Homeland"
(A collection of poems & stories of the lives and times in Goa)

FOUR ANNAS AND THE LOAF OF BREAD

The difference in the daily lives and routines between the boarders and day-scholars at the school were varied and wide by comparison. I think I learned this well from day-schooling friends of mine. They had different stories to relate - from doing daily house-hold chores to helping their parents in the fields to others who had food cooked and placed ready at their tables. Some told stories of how they helped, in the fields and at home, from drawing water from the wells and going to the nearby mill to have the rationed wheat or rice ground into flour to doing the various chores around the house the whole year through, while others shied away from telling so when in fact they did.

But, I knew a day-scholar who became one of my best friends through the years at Monte de Guirim. His name was Felicio. He lived in the village of Guirim, commuting on foot every day all through my years at Monte. He always had a smile on his face and was liked by all. I admired his endurance and resilience to any given situation, come rain, floods or the hot afternoon sun. He was a very hardworking student and did well in most subjects and steadily ranked among the top ten in our class. I saw him hurrying clutching his books in one hand, or his bag over his shoulder and his lunch tin in the other, headed towards the specially allocated ‘buthi’(tiffin) room. Remarkably though, what I did notice was that at times he did not carry his ‘buthi’, and came in straight to the class. And for many years I always wondered why. I hoped to find out and solve the mystery some day.

As it turned out, before I knew it, our final schooling year was about to end. In just another couple of months, days at Monte would be over. Finally, just before our S.S.S.Examinations, I gathered all the courage I had, and asked Felicio as to why he had not carried his tiffin (buthi or packed lunch) on certain days during his last many years at Monte. What he then related to me was something that I definitely was not prepared for. And the story he related shocked me to the core. And then I wished I had known this all along. To my astonishment he described how on most days his mother somehow had managed to cook and provide the lunch in a tin; and how sometimes when she had fallen ill and had not been able to prepare it in time and have it ready for Felicio to take it with him in the morning. At other times his mother had left very early at dawn to work in the fields. And there were some other times when they had nothing to cook at all. And those were the days when he had not brought his ‘buthi’.

But, Felicio would carry a four-paise coin (four annas) that his mother gave him safely tied to a hand-kerchief lest should he lose it and go hungry. During the afternoon break this four-paise coin would sometimes see him through with a loaf of bread from the school’s kitchen and some sweets from the shop down the hill at the “T” junction.

But those kitchen servers who worked there were nice and kind. On some days they never took money from Felicio. Nor did they know that one loaf of bread was all that he would have for his lunch. And I had not known this fact at all, all the previous years either. I wonder perhaps whether it would have mattered had I known the fact all this time. Perhaps I could have tried to help him and offer him solace. What I clearly remember is that as the afternoon break neared its end I saw him walking up the slope on the eastern side of the hill that overlooked the Church and the hills of Vaddem and Porvorim while he still kept up his smile.

I wonder whether that smile kept me away from my intention of approach. Years went by since then. We did keep in touch at times in the subsequent years after SSCE. I met Felicio once in Mapusa in the early seventies. He was shopping for provisions along with his mother. He still carried his trademark smile. It was a busy Friday bazaar day as usual in the month of May. We both happened to be vacationing in Goa at that time, returning from work on our annual leave from different parts of the world. Felicio insisted that I and my mother join him for drinks and snacks at Café Xavier which I gladly did. We chatted about the good old days for a while. When we had finished eating he even insisted to pay as well, and I relented. Drawing his wallet out from his pocket he quickly handed cash to the waiter.

With his eyes slightly moist Felicio looked at me – perhaps thinking of his old days at Monte - the four-anna coin and the loaf of bread! But he didn’t say anything. For a while time seemed to have stood still. We both probably kept our thoughts to ourselves, reminiscing about our own times at the hillock, as his mother silently looked on.

Only this time it was perhaps quite different than the afternoon meals at school - a scrumptious lunch would definitely await him today, I thought. Almost reading my thoughts Felicio he asked me to come over to his house for lunch, but I had to decline as I had to take provisions home myself. God bless him wherever he is today.

In the fascinating and enchanting, peaceful and serene surroundings of Monte de Guirim, still stands high the mighty school of St. Anthony. While on these memories I always fondly dwell, they will forever give me a reason to relate to my children the wonderful stories of the great times at Monte, chat about it with my classmates of long ago, and remember the good old school days at Monte, or a school friend like Felicio, once in a while.

Tony Felix (Felicio) Fernandes
Author of : Goa - Memories of My Homeland

(Written in 'third person singular' form - Felicio is my middle name - I was that boy Felicio)