Canadian Contryside

Canadian Countryside

Pyrographic Drawing on a Coconut Shell

by Tony Fernandes

Canadian Country Home

Canadian Country Mansion

Pyrography on a Coconut shell

by Tony Fernandes

FOR THEY ARE TOO YOUNG TO KNOW

There must be a promulgation of an international law to control and prevent teenagers (inexperienced or otherwise) from deciding to go solo on a whim, in deciding to circumnavigate the globe by sea or air. When they run into trouble or when they come across situations when nature lashes out with fury in terms of bad weather, it causes a huge stress on the resources of other countries in putting their own men and women at risk to search and rescue these irresponsible youngsters who embark on this voyages solely with their parental approval, may be just for fun, fame and silly adventure. May be they are, after all, just too young to know the unpredicatable situations out there in the mightly oceans.

A DAY IN THE COUNTRY

Pyrography Drawing

by Tony Fernandes

WORKING FROM HOME

In recent times we've been hearing that more and more people are working from home. In the comfort of their own home that is. Back in our younger days we had not heard of a convenience of this nature.


So I say, if that's the case, then all of the world leaders should have stayed home; I mean mansions and palaces, secure, safe and sound. And the G20 and G8 meetings could be conducted from their cosy confines. That would have saved such a lot of time and money too.


And there would be no protests.

IT'S SPRING TIME

DINNER BEFORE THE STORM

AFTER DINNER....

BUT BEFORE THE STORM

HIGHWAYS ARE HAPPY WAYS WHEN....

...THEY LEAD TO HOME SWEET HOME.

WINDSOR - CHATHAM HIGHWAY

Pictures by EDNA FERNANDES

IN THE FACE OF NATURE'S FURY

The Art in the Park Show in Windsor was closed by the organizers on the second day. Humbled by nature's quest, no one cursed the storm. Everyone took it in stride in the aftermath that was apparent as the vendors helplessly looked through the park fence at their flooded booths. No one complained and they understood each other's torment in their eyes and sadness without showing it on their own faces.

It was an 'Act of God', as the insurance companies say. It was not the fault of the Organizers. They did their best to help the vendors to salvage whatever they could. No one could believe what happened overnight. A feeble but heartfelt 'good-bye, see you next year' was heard as we meandered through the park gates, after painstakingly loading up our van with whatever was worth taking back. Sadly though we had to leave behind our new tent.

What intrigued me most though, was the impassive and sustained disappointment that was noticeable on the faces of the vendors who seemed to have succumbed to their untimely seal of closure in acceptance of their fate. We vendors are a resilient lot in the face of difficulty. While a sudden lull and hush prevailed around the perimeter of park, at a time when everyone would have happily and enthusiastically been getting ready for a good show, their calm and composure in the face of adversity was admirable. That shows how patient we, vendors, are - many of whom travel long distances to get to the venue to set up on the eve of the show. They were adamant to remain positive and did not give up either because, they too said: " See you, next year".

Perhaps everyone had hoped that the second, and the last day of the Craft show, would have brought in some revenue for all of us, but I hope that the sales made on the first day have at least paid for the booth. The way we were hit was something I had never expected. I always think that somehow it invariably always rains on weekends, and this weekend was no exception. The 2-day show, which went went very well on the first day, was abruptly brought to a halt before the start of the second day. This was in sharp contrast to the nice time and dinner we had at Koolini's along with our friends the previous evening. What a calm and cool evening before the storm!

In accompanying my wife at her craft shows during the last seven years, I had never experienced a disaster or a shut-down of this nature, although we did escape from an apparent tornado touchdown at a show that we did in Cobourg in 2004. We had heard many co-vendors who related instances of similar bad weather conditions during outdoor venues, but this was our first experience.

There was nothing that could be done to go ahead with the show. The park had virtually turned into a lake, flooding the vendors tents, some of which had collapsed. The exhibitors were horrified to see the scale of water-logged booths. I hope the other artists and artisans have not lost or suffered damage to their artwork.

The overnight gusty winds and torrential continuous downpour of lashing rains within a span of two hours created great havoc throughout the park. Though we lost our tent, we were lucky that our products were not damaged. It could have been far worse. We thank God for sparing us from greater loss and distress than we suffered, and for getting us safely back home in Mississauga.

THE DRONE OF THE DIDGERIDOO

THE DIDGERIDOO

The expression and experience.

The man and his poise,

commitment and passion -

fully absorbed in his art.

DISTILLERY HISTORIC DISTRICT

TORONTO. Ontario, Canada.

THE CASK

THE CASK

Wall Hanging

Hollow, Longitudinal Cut-away

by Tony Fernandes

Size 10" x 7"

1/8" thick plywood strips

from used fruit crates.

Veneer hoops, varnish stained,

pyrographed grapevine drawing

BRITTO'S THROUGH THE EYES OF A GUIRIM BOY

Cross in front of the Chapel of
St. Francis of Assisi.
Facing the Arabian Sea,
View from Monte de Guirim,
Bardez, Goa, India.

ST. BRITTO'S REMINISCED (THROUGH THE EYES OF A GUIRIM BOY)

It had been a beautiful day. It was now evening and the sun seemed to be in a hurry to dive into the horizon. Felicio had to get home somehow before sunset. His mother would be worried as it was the first time his mother had let him out on his own to walk such a long distance. It had been a long trek from Guirim. He was barely 12 years old. He was a student of St. Anthony’s High School, Monte de Guirim. Naturally, he travelled all the way to support and cheer up the big boys of his school’s mighty football team, who were to play against the team of St. Britto’s High School at the Duler football grounds. 

It had been a good football match; he thought to himself, his team had triumphed. He trudged towards home up the slope of Duler hill along with the other Guirim boys who had also travelled all the way from the village. The Guirim boarders were also marching along. 

Felicio was a day scholar at Guirim, so he had to hasten his steps as his mother would be very worried if he arrived after dark. He was keen to make it home before sun-down. It was quite a relief as he reached the Tribunal Building at Mapusa hill-top. Some respite, he thought, as he would now find it easy to hasten home downwards on the Mapusa side of the winding road. He was sweating from the climb. He reached deep into his hip pocket to see if the money that his mother had given was still there. Very shortly, around the bend of Camara Municipal de Bardez, and straight past the junction at Café Zuzarte, he would keep walking along the Jardinha and would soon come across his favourite cold-drink house Aram Soda.

Felicio made it to Aram Soda at last, what a great relief. At first he thought of asking the man at the booth for a soda. The soda man stood high in his wooden cabin leaning over the wooden counter top, but on realizing that he had ample amount of loose change in his pocket Felicio changed his mind after finding out that he could easily afford a limbu-soda. Spurred on with extra energy and extra change, he gulped the soda hastily and proceeded on his way home past the other cold drink shops on the road towards Guirim. 

Felicio had grown up in Guirim. He was very young during the time when St. Britto’s High School was located in Duler, Mapsa. He walked a little distance towards home and looked back. Looming high at the hilltop was a massive building coming up. It was St. Britto’s High School. As the boy briskly hastened his footsteps, he was almost home. On reaching the outskirts of his small vaddo, Felicio looked back towards the town again just after sun-set. It was getting dark. Felicio increased the tread of his stride and overtook the bullock cart on its way home. He could hear the nearby chapel bell calling for the Angelus prayers. The powerful construction floodlights of St. Britto’s site had come on and lit up the skyline and almost the entire southern part of the town. Concrete was about to be poured by a strong labour force through the night. At last he reached home. His mother was waiting for him in the balcao to pray the Angelus together. 

One could see the new school progressively taking shape. Like St. Anthony’s High School on the Guirim hill-top, St. Britto’s High School on the Mapusa hill, was gradually making its appearance, and would soon make its mark as an important centre of learning among other stalwarts of the time like St. Joseph’s High School, Arpora, Sacred Heart High School, Canca, St. Thomas, Aldona and Don Bosco, Panjim. As a student of St. Anthony’s High School, and having a mindset of a competitive student, Felicio viewed it as a strong competitor as he grew up, both in education and sports among the other reigning champion schools of Goa at the time.

As a student of the sixties, Felicio admired the new Britto’s school building when it was ready, towering atop the hill range of Mapusa. It looked very strong in structure and in general layout and planning.

Felicio in his senior days continued to join the other boys from his village forming the long bee-line of Monte de Guirim boarders trekking all the way to Duler over the hill to support and cheer up the Monte football and hockey teams. The competitive spirit of the students never diminished, was strictly academic and maintained a very high level of discipline. Inter-school tournaments were a great treat and enjoyable. 

It was not uncommon those days to come across one of the Jesuit priests thundering down the streets of Mapusa town on a shaft-driven BMW motorcycle known for its distinct and easily recognizable low thud. Felicio could not keep from turning his head as the priest sped by every time he was in town. This motor-bike was a legend in its time in Goa of the early sixties. 

At one time there were 12 students from Felicio's ward in Guirim who were dayscholars and walked single-file through other wards and fields all the way to school up the slope to St. Anthony’s every morning. They gathered at the cross-paths in the centre of the village opposite the chapel. The big boys led the way starting at 7.30 am sharp and Felicio was the second-last in line.

Time passed on and soon bigger boys turned into young men and Matric boys. The young boys took their place to become into big boys in turn. Some bigger boys found jobs as teachers in the School at Monte, some found jobs in nearby towns, some went to Bombay to pursue further education and others went abroad to work. 

Now it was Felicio’s turn to be a big boy. He was soon to lead the rest of the smaller boys in the village. He missed the big boys of the fifties that led the way through the monsoon season, carrying him over their shoulders while crossing the flooded streams, keeping him close to them when strong gusts of wind threatened to take away their umbrellas, and lending their helping hand up the steep slopes of Monte. He tried to help and impart the same leadership of his predecessors through the years up to his SSCE.

However, there were a few boys in his village who were students of St.Britto’s. They travelled to Britto’s on bicycles. Whenever both their schools played at Inter-School tournaments they would of course cheer and support their respective schools, but the rivalry ended on the playground, when the referee blew the final whistle. At other times, mostly during holidays, they would play as one team for their ward in inter-village football tournaments. 

Prior to 1961 Matric exams were held in centres at Poona and Karwar among others. But Felicio was extremely lucky in 1964. He did not have to travel to Poona. The new building of St. Britto’s High School at Mapusa was chosen as one of the Examination Centres in the district of Bardez by the Education Board.

It had been during the afternoon recess that Felicio had stood atop Monte de Guirim and looking northwards had watched the school gradually coming up long before he had reached his teens. 

The imposing new building superstructure has been a prominent and integral part of learning and of the Mapusa scenery as a whole, reigning supreme for the last 5 decades. 

Perhaps it was destiny that a landmark of the landscape that Felicio grew up with during his school life should be the centre of the final test of his learning, which he passed. As he answered his SSCE exams, sitting at a desk overlooking the southern part of the picturesque town of Mapuca, Felicio saw his Alma Mater in the distance from a classroom of Britto’s. He considers this as a rare event in his life.

Like all major institutions of a by-gone era and present education centres in the district of Bardez, Felicio has always been proud not only of his own school, but all other institutions in Goa, who have excelled in their contribution towards education.

This is as I saw it, and I know this story is true, because I was that boy Felicio, a.k.a. Tony Felix Fernandes - a Monte boy. Thanks for reading.

Tony Felix (Felicio) Fernandes 

Student 

St. Anthony’s High School, 

Monte de Guirim 

Bardez, Goa.

Viva Goa Souvenir

'VIVA GOA'

Photo: Anjuna

Photo Laminated on 1/4" thick white PVC

Photo & Art by Tony Fernandes

Anjuna Beach, located along the northern coast-line of Goa, on the west coast of India, gained its popularity through the 'Hippy' years - the Sixties -with a mixed blend of spirituality, music and culture between the East and West. Setting up in the psychedelic scene of those days, beach parties were common, but were not welcome by the locals.

PICNIC FOR THE MONTE BOYS

Picnic for the Monte Boys

Enjoyable Christmas and New Year holidays were over. Studies had now to be taken very seriously. It was our final year at the school. Prelims were fast approaching. Then there were S.S.C.Exams, as they were known in those days, to worry about. They were just around the corner too. But a final scholastic year would not be complete without a full day’s outing.

Generally around that time of year the boys looked forward to their final school picnic. Students volunteered to help the Capuchin Friars and class teachers in organizing this one day event and making it a success too. Preparations towards this day trip involved a lot of thought in planning. Probable visits to places of interest were thought and mapped out in advance. There were lot of places to see and explore but we had just a day to fit it all in. Since it was just one day’s excursion it had to be carefully worked out.

A good number of places to be seen and covered in a day’s time were a big dilemma. Returning back to school before nightfall would have to be considered. Also of concern was the fact that it would be still more difficult to make it back in time if we ventured too far down south of Goa. The reality that we may have to cross at least one or two rivers by ferry, depending upon the route we took, had also to be taken into account. This was long before bridges over the Mandovi and Zuari rivers could become realities. We were still in the early sixties. Other bridges destroyed during the Indian take-over were still being repaired while temporary ones built alongside served the purpose of crossing the several rivers.

Then there was a time aspect. We would not have much time on our hands to spend at each particular place of importance or significance if we increased the number of places in our list to see. Everything had to be take care of – the bus we would ride in, the route we would take, the places we would possibly be able to see set in the framework of a single day, and catering for the midday meal, and other related matters. All this was done for a nominal contribution of Rs.10/- from each participating student. 

The final countdown had started and the boys enthusiastically looked forward to this day. They were anxious to know the places they would be visiting on this tour. They also wished if their own suggestions and views could be heard. And some of them did manage to get a few ideas and proposals across.

The grand picnic day had finally dawned. We rose earlier than usual in order to prepare ourselves and donned our ‘picnic best’ attire. A good chance to do away with the usual school uniform!

In true Monte protocol, practice and tradition, any event of this nature has to start with a Holy Mass Service, followed by breakfast! And only then does any sort of fun, amusement or entertainment begins!

As we were hastily having breakfast we could hear a high whining sound - a typical high-pitched whine created by the revving of the bus engine up the steep road. By the time we were done with breakfast, the driver had already successfully maneuvered to reverse and park it on the slope facing the grotto. As was mostly done, stone blocks wedged in front of tires served as additional improvised chock devices to the parking brakes.

It was a sunny day, pleasant and cool for the time of year. The gentle breeze hissed through the tall trees swaying gently on the western side of the imposing main school building. The students from the junior dormitory were already up by now and watched us from above, perhaps wishing for a dawning of their own lucky day!

Soon after breakfast, all the boys swiftly clambered aboard the bus. Snacks and huge vessels containing pre-cooked food were loaded on at the back of the extended bus. We departed after making sure that everyone was on board. The bus gradually made its way down the spiraling slope of the hill. The early morning sun lit our faces through the windows. How refreshing and uplifting, I thought. Everyone was happy and smiling, looking forward to a day of excitement and fun. We had a lot of places to see and explore. Anticipation was building up.

The bus gained momentum and so did the joyful mood of the boys in the bus. Turning left at the junction on the main highway, we passed through Mapusa town, over the hill, down through Duler proceeding towards the north east of Goa via Tivim toward Bicholim. We visited the candle factory there, the cashew processing plant, ventured in the hills to see the ancient caves, and drove through the hills to get a general idea of mining operations within that area. The subsequent stop was at Arvalem Water Falls where we spent some time amidst spectacular surroundings. We also made a brief stop at the picturesque Mayem Lake where we had snacks and tea. We then hurriedly jumped on board once more and proceeded towards the south.

As the bus continued on its way, it was time for singing and none hesitated to join in. We stopped at a convenient site for lunch on a vast scenic plateau between Bicholim and Sanguem districts. An “outdoors grace before meals” preceded a sumptuous meal.

A group of boys at the rear of the bus unleashed another singing session soon after lunch. There was accompaniment on a guitar by one of the talented boys and later someone joined with a harmonica. One of the students read out a prepared tribute of thanks dedicated to the school Friars, Brothers, teachers and to all those involved in organizing the outing before we got on the bus yet again. It seemed we were almost running out of time and a little behind schedule. We had a lot of catching up to do by way of distance. So we immediately hit the road yet again continuing on our onward journey.

We passed through picturesque hills and villages proceeding through Ponda via the temporary bridge at Borim to Dabolim aerodrome on a fleeting trip. This sector was in fact a tentative segment as it would preclude further intended visits due to any delay. So it seemed there was some concern that we may not be able to make it to the rest of the places on the list of our itinerary.

Then there also appeared to be a delay in the ferry services. But somehow we were lucky and made it to the Agassaim side just in time.

Soon after crossing the River Zuari from Cortalim to Agassaim by ferry we diverted for a brief transitory visit to Fr. Agnel’s Seminary on the Pilar hillock. Passing through serene greenery, flora and foliage, it was sing-song time again. The megaphone thoughtfully carried along by one of the students had come in handy.

As estimated we still had enough time on our hands before sundown to go on a sight-seeing drive to Dona Paula, Mira Mar, and a brief visit to the Bishop’s Palace, erstwhile Portuguese Liceu School and Emissora de Goa (All India Radio) at Altinho in Panjim from where were witnessed a beautiful sunset and a breathtaking panoramic view of the river spanning from Reis Magos to Betim.

After crossing the River Mandovi over from Panjim to Betim by the ferry at dusk, we were now homeward bound. Homeward bound, I say, and perhaps fittingly so. St. Anthony’s High School, our alma mater at Monte de Guirim, had been a home away from home, in more ways than one, to many of us, for many years and in many ways, during our learning period there.

The boys were full of admiration and appreciation for the driving skill of our bus driver and his knowledge of the route. We thought he negotiated well through sharp bends and had brought us back safely. He also had a lot of patience with us. He put up with a lot of ruckus we created. So, as was customary, towards the end of our excursion we did not forget to sing an improvised composition to him, namely – “Our driver is a jolly good fellow”.

Yes, we did make it back safely to Monte a little beyond the sunset. It had been a great and very enjoyable day indeed. Everything had gone well, without any major glitch, hitch or incident.

Those were the good old days as we might say today. They were not anything like the modern times, but we did the best with was offered or available at the time. And the day was not complete without singing the timeless lyrics: “We’re the boys of Guirim” as the bus climbed the steep slope of the hill again with the distinct drone of its engine that I remember to this day. As we got off of the bus, we felt sad because a grand and immensely enjoyable day had just ended. And suddenly a grim silence prevailed - an inexplicable moment, a moment that we try to come to terms and deal with when all good things come to an end.

AD ARDUA!

Tony Fernandes
CLASS OF SIXTY-FOUR

'STAINED WINE GLASS'

GRAPES & VINE

on Wine Glass

Faux Stained Painting

by Tony Fernandes

MOON PHASE by Tonferns

"Moon Phase"

Photo by Tony Fernandes

This is no trick photography. All the 8 shots of the moon were captured on one picture frame on 35mm film using a Nikon FM2 SLR Camera. This picture was taken as the moon, on the clear night sky, descends into western horizon in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, circa 1996, from the fourth floor the "Tax Free" centre building, where we lived, in the vicinity of some prominent landmarks of the day, like for instance the India Club, Al Nasr Club, the old Dubai Go-Kart Race Track, St. Mary's School and Church.

Each shot was taken 5 minutes apart. Open lens total time 36 mins, 35 sec. Lens cap on and off for 5 sec. I seem to have lost count after the 4th shot, with an extra minute added to that interval. One may notice the gap in between the waning crescents - I guess I must have gone inside for cold drink! Break time! The moon didn't wait for me though - it kept on proceeding on its path.

In the foreground is the India Club and far in the distance is the majestic Dubai Trade Centre. The streaks of car headlamps and tail lights indicate that it was a time exposure. For a bigger view please double click on picture.

GOA - Memories of My Homeland - Poems and Short Stories by Tony Fernandes

© Tony Fernandes

© All poems, stories, photographs, illustrations  by Tony Fernandes

Designed, formatted and printed by:

Eclectica Publications Lindsay, Ontario, Canada.

April 2004

A nostalgic collection of poems and stories that transport the reader back to blessed times. Evocative glimpses into a blissful era that has aged perhaps with time, but not forgotten.

Contents: English Poems, English Short Stories, Illustrations, Goa in Pictures, Goan Proverbs, Sayings and Glossary.

Simple, rustic life captured through descriptive renditions via narrative poetry, drawings, paintings and photographs.

Excerpt from Poem:

A VISIT TO MY OLD VILLAGE

An evening stroll

in my tiny old village I took;

saw the old folks

once so young,

now so frail and weak.

Aged with time at nature’s quest

they stared at me in total disbelief;

they seem to think I too

have aged along with them perhaps

yet neither of us could fathom

what time and years

had done to us in tandem.

Excerpt from Story:
OF CHAPELS & FEASTS
As he neared the chapel in the misty early morning dawn, a girl dressed in her best approached running to the young lad, and picking a tiny paper flower from her small and neatly decorated basket, she pinned it on his shirt. Reaching in his pocket he deposited a coin in her basket for which she thanked him.

Simple, rustic life captured through descriptive renditions via narrative poetry, drawings, paintings and photographs

About the Author: Tony was educated at St. Anthony’s High School, Monte de Guirim, Bardez, Goa, and subsequently at Kareer Polytechnic, Bombay, studying Commercial Art, where he excelled in Painting and Photography.

It has always been his endeavour to write poetry about his childhood memories of Goa. Although he has been away from his homeland all these years, he has constantly kept in touch with his roots by visiting Goa every now and then.

Born with a natural flair for writing poetry and fuelled with a nostalgic craving and love for his native land, he has now compiled a collection of his poems.

Tony presently resides in Mississauga, Ontario - Canada, with his wife and three children.

To order copy of this book please e-mail: tonferns@hotmail.com

Brief Notes about Goa

Known around the world for its serene beauty, GOA is located south of Mumbai, India. It gained full-fledged statehood on 12^th August 1987. Prior to that, it was a Union Territory for 26 years, after four and a half centuries of Portuguese rule. It is 1,022 metres above sea-level with an area of 3700 sq.km. Its capital is Panaji. Goa coprises of districts like Ilhas, Bardez, Salcette, Ponda, Marmagoa, Bicholim, Satari, Pernem, Quepem, Sanguem, and Canacona. Its captital is Panaji. Its other major cities are Margao, Mapsa and Vasco da Gama and Marmagoa which has a natural harbour .

Goa’s main rivers are the Zuari, Mandovi and Chapora. It has beautiful palm-fringed and scenic beaches like Colva, Candolim , Calangute, Vagator and Arambol with golden sands all along its

western coast line. Spanning across the eastern part of Goa is the magnificent mountain range called

the Western Ghats. Nestled among those hills are the famous 3-tier water-falls called Dudsagar.

With a total population of approximately 1.2 million, it is bustling with activity. It is a world famous tourist destination with excellent air, sea, rail and interstate bus connections. Besides having the first lighthouse in Asia, it has numerous archaelogical sites like ancient forts for the connossieur to study

and explore besides ancient temples and churches.

Goa is famous for its architectural grandeur – its ancient churches, temples and mosques. Goans are a peace-loving people with a strong sense of community, taking pride in their own distinct culture and heritage.

In a modern cosmopolitan world, Goa has managed to preserve its old world charm.

Book Review by Ben Antao 
Author of Images of Goa and other books

GOA Memories of my Homeland, a collection of poems and stories, could only have

been written by one born and raised in the red soil of Goa. It’s a work of

pure joy by Tony Fernandes, 57, who trudged up the hill of Monte de Guirim,

where he was born and educated. His narrative poetry hits the right note as

he evokes nostalgic memories of life in his village--litany, vespers, homecoming

harvest day, Intruz, Palm Sunday, wedding, first rains, and home leaving. 

A sample:

        Then as darkness fell
        and homewards I walked,
        seeing a score of people together pray
        by the wayside cross I stopped;
        the light of the candles
        reflected in their faces,
        they sang in perfect chorus,
        their gaze at the cross
        fixed as if by magic,
        hearing them sing the litany
        And unable to resist
        I joined them in harmony.

The stories are narratives of his growing up and dwell on such traditions
as a new shirt for New Year, Christmas crib, and village feasts.

The book also contains 150 'oparrio' or Konkani proverbs that will bring a
smile of recognition on the faces of native Goans. But for those living in the
diaspora, who may have forgotten their Konkani, a translation into English
would help to convey the folk wisdom incorporated in these sayings.
Perhaps in the second edition!

The illustrations and photographs in the book reflect the talents of
Tony who studied commercial art in Bombay. The self-published book
is available from the author who lives with his wife Edna and three
children, Mississauga ON L5V 2C2, Canada.
Email: tonferns@hotmail.com

Book Review by Lino Leitao
Author of Gift of the Holy Cross and other books

Tony Fernandes' poems in this collection are lovely; and their
aesthetic  merit lies in their simplicity. They are like a cluster
of graceful flowers in the soft glow of twilight, in the garden
of his memory.

I remember, when young, memorizing a poem: The Village Blacksmith
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and another one: We are Seven by
William Wordsworth. The pastoral magic of those poems had touched
my youthful emotions, then. Tony's poems in this collection have
stirred my soul, once again. Each memory, or each flower (poem),
has its own unique brilliance of that Goa's soul (rural Goa) - the Goa
where the poet grew up.
As I was reading his poems, I felt as if, I was taking a leisurely stroll
with the poet in the memory garden of his youth. I tarried to admire
at some of the stanzas and visualize.

One of them is this:

Then as darkness fell
and homewards I walked,
seeing a score of people together pray
by the wayside cross I stopped;
the light from the candles
reflected their faces,
they sang in perfect chorus,
their gaze at the cross
fixed as if by magic,
hearing them sing the litany
And unable to resist
I joined them in harmony.
 
Another stanza:
 
The night all of a sudden
Seemed quiet and tranquil,
In the darkness
Holding a candle
In the hollow of a coconut shell
Lit and led us on our paths;
And folks on the way home
From the houses on the wayside
Wished us a pleasant night.

These reminiscences are etched in the soul of many a Goan, mostly elderly,
brought up in that Goa. But only inspired poets or artists like Tony can
transport us from snow-laden Canada to the homeland of our youth.
In this collection there are also pencil sketches of Goan scenes and artifacts,
stories and coloured photos of Goa. Tony Fernandes besides being a poet is
also an artist. He also presents us a tidy bundle of Goan sayings and proverbs
in Konkani.

GOA, Memories of My Homeland, is a source to unfold the poignant beauty
of that Goan soul, mainly to those young Goans born in diaspora.
 
Lino Leitão

Lino Leitão was born in Goa, a former Portuguese Colony in India. He studied
in Portuguese and English schools and attended the University of Karnataka
in India and Concordia University in Montreal. His stories have been published
by Goa Today, Gulab, Gomantak Times (Goa); Afro-Asian Quarterly, Journal of
Asian Literature (Michigan State University), The Toronto South Asian Review,
Massachusetts Review, Short Story International (New York),The Antigonish
Review and others. His articles on Goan issues have been published in Herald,
Gomantak Times, Navhind Times (Goa), and in South Asian 
Studies Papers, no. 9 - Goa: Continuity and Change - University of Toronto,
Centre for South Asian Studies, 1995.Selected Publications:
The Man and His Writings (Translated from Portugese). Goa, India: Xavier 
Centre of Historical Research, 2000.
The Gift of the Holy Cross. Leeds, England: Peepal Tree Press, 1999.
Six Tales. Cornwall, ON: Vesta Publications, 1980.
Goa Tales. Cornwall, ON: Vesta Publications, 1977.
Collected Short Tales. New York: Carleton Press, 1972.

This book can also be ordered on line through www.ednaspickles.com

GOA CHAIRS - The art of 'caning'

GOA CHAIR

Standard Wooden chair with 'fleur de lis'

pattern in 'bas relief'.

Drawing by Tony Fernandes

INTERWOVEN CANE

SEAT PATTERNS OF YESTERYEAR
(Line Drawing by Tony Fernandes)

Back in the old days, people took pride in good house-keeping. Painting the exterior and interior walls of houses for Christmas, and having them repaired before the onset of monsoons were major chores. This was also a time when old chairs were varnished and given a new look and their seats re-caned. This craft of 'caning' or stringing chairs using cane (and nylon in later years) particularly belong to men and women alike, who were also equally adept at other occupations like basket and mat weaving. When I was young my mother used to summon a woman to our home to have our chairs strung. It was interesting to watch her artistic ability as she skillfully entwined a mesh of intricate patterns with her deft hands.

GOA'S SIXTIES REMEMBERED

Goa of the Sixties

Part 1

It was a way of life, and a good and simple way of life back then. I would modestly say we were not rich, but I felt we were a little better than the poorest around us. In spite of hardships, I admired my Dad and Mom’s acumen in putting food on the table for us, and sometimes it made me wonder what life would be for me when I grew to be their age. But honestly little did I care about it at all then as I thought probably all things would automatically fall in place in due course.

While life mostly revolved and centered around going to school, there was always time on our hands for other activities like for instance organizing our annual inter-village football tournament and our annual village picnic to the springs. We had a formed a recreation club in our village by kind courtesy of a benefactor who always encouraged us and had let us use their house in the evenings and on holidays. This couple lived in a huge house with a very large “sala”. (a Portuguese word for “hall”). This place gave us the opportunity to pass our time during the long monsoon evenings. They also had a very large courtyard where we would play badminton on other days. The monthly subscription for members was four annas. We played carom, draughts and other board games. This was also a place where we would exchange books that we took turns in reading. Arthur C. Clarke’s, 2001:A Space Odyssey was quite a popular novel.

Part 2 
The beginning of the sixties saw the liberation on the chilly morning of 19 December 1961. Emissora de Goa, Pangim - the old radio station fell silent for a while and then came to be known as All India Radio, Panji. The take-over was quite an excitement with the fighter jets flying overhead. By the time we ran out of the house to see them in the sky, they were gone and left only the noise behind! We were barely into our teens and ran toward the main road to greet the Jawans on their way to the Capital, Panjim, from Mapuça.

The nights of Yuletide that year were dark, sombre and frightening for a youngster. It was long before mid-night that the lamps and candles burnt themselves out in the lanterns and “stars” in front of the houses in my village during the Yuletide of that year. Very silent nights prevailed except for the intermittent hooting of the owl – heard but never seen, the dogs barking in the neighbourhood and the occasional howling of wolves in the wee hours of the morning. With the people expecting and praying for peace to triumph all was calm, all was dark.

A few days after the liberation a grand display of the Indian military hardware, machine guns, canons and tanks was held for the public at Mapuça Praça and people flocked to see it there. Then it was the time when Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru visited Goa and laid the foundation stone of the Mandovi Bridge. For years we ferried across the river from Betim to Panaji and vice-versa while we patiently watched the bridge pylons gradually rising above the horizon. The first span barely taking shape in the distance east of the ferry crossing was quite exciting, while towards the west the passenger ship heralded its arrival with its loud booming siren while negotiating through the waters and the dodging the sand bars at Reis Magos. Longing to see the completion of this vital connection was the prime hope and expectation of the people, while the aging ferries withstood the test of time. The Zuari bridge must have still been on the drawing board at the time. Its construction began sometime later and we spent the rest of yet another decade helplessly looking up to the pylons, while being ferried across at a snail’s pace, one of them tilting precariously and balanced with counter-weight to straighten it out. We also saw the reconstruction of the various great old bridges destroyed by the retreating Portuguese. Lt.Gen. Candeth was appointed as the first Governor of Goa and village panchayats sprang up all over this Union Territory. Banco Naçional Ultramarino became Reserve Bank of India. And I became an Indian citizen!

Part 3

The sixties brought in two memorable Konkani movies, Amchem Noxib and Nirmon. These movies were Black & White but the songs from those two movies have been immortalized and sung even to this day. Goa’s famed orchestra Johnson and His Jolly Boys reigned supreme at weddings, feasts and dances. The mid-sixties saw the popularity of rock music groups like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Goa became notoriously known for the influx of the hippies from all over the world.

On the educational front the mid-sixties also saw two new colleges namely, Dempe in Panjim and St. Xavier in Bastora. The opening up of Examination Centres in cities came as a great convenience. During the Portuguese regime students had to travel to Karwar and Pune to appear for S.S.C. Examinations.

The dawn of the early sixties also saw two new Indian cars on the roads – the Fiat and the Ambassador, and of course Tata Trucks and Leyland S.T. Buses. The Austin, Ford, Volkswagen, Chevloret, Morris, the Caminhao and the Bedford truck would slowly diminish in their popularity by the end of the decade. Though some of the roads were as narrow as they are now, vehicles and motorcycles were far less in number and very few accidents. The population was just over 600,000.

Part 4

Tragic moments for us all was the shocking assassination of President John F. Kennedy and passing away of the First Indian Prime Minister Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. Great and fascinating events were space exploration and Neil Armstrong setting foot on the moon by the end of the decade.

My best friends and colleagues lived barely a wave, a gentle shout or a stone’s throw away. Others friends were my classmates from surrounding villages. We assembled in the centre of the village, opposite the village chapel at 7.30 am before we proceeded to walk to school together led by the oldest or the tallest. I trudged far behind in the line. During the monsoon season the incessant rains flooded our usual winding paths through the fields. It was then sheer joy and fun to take the long way home.

We rushed home after school, had tea, expecting some sweet dish that grandma would make and then played football in the improvised grounds on the outskirts of our little village. These were actually rice fields of one of our neighbours. We waited patiently till the water and earth dried after the monsoon harvest. We played till the village chapel bell rang for Angelus when everybody was expected to be home for prayers.

Part 5

We had two cages on both sides of our “balcão”, hanging on the beam across the two pillars that held the roof of the entrance. There was a myna in one cage and a parrot in another. They could speak three languages, and had a remarkable memory and extensive vocabulary that included certain Konkani words for which I would have definitely been punished if I ever dared to utter or repeat them. These birds entertained the people passing by who paused at our house for a while. The cat slept most of the day but justified its laziness by catching the erring naughty mice in the night. The dog was well behaved, got its regular feed and barked most of the time.

Sunday was a typical day with attendance at the very early first morning Mass so that we could be on time to hear “Binaca Hit Parade” at 8 am. at our neighbour’s place who had a powerful Grundig valve radio that used huge external line antennae above their house. The programme we used to listen to was broadcast on shortwave, 31 metre band, by the Commercial Service of Radio Ceylon, now Sri Lanka. I remember meeting my Mother going to church for the second mass and passing us on the way as we returned home from the first Mass in order to listen to the songs on the radio. Jim Reeves, Cliff Richard and Elvis Presley reigned supreme with their hits. Seven or eight of us would be listening with paper and pencils in our hands and voila! - in one sitting we would have the lyrics of the song that we liked. Hank Locklin’s ‘Send me the pillow that you dream on’, Jim Reeves' 'He'll Have to Go' and Paul Anka’s ‘Diana’ were popular and often-requested songs. Songs by Ricky Nelson, Nat King Cole, Peter & Gordon, Everly Brothers, Doris Day, Bobby Darin, Brian Hyland, and Bobby Vinton would definitely be remembered by kids of those days till the present day. Pat Boone's 'Speedy Gonsales' was quite a hit then with ‘the plaintive cry of the young Mexican girl’ piercing through the stillness of the evening air on the evening's daily request programme.

Film epics like Guns of Navarone, Lawrence of Arabia, Dr. No, My Fair Lady, The Singing Nun, Dr. Zhivago and actors like Gregory Peck, Anthony Quinn, David Niven, Peter O'Toole, Alec Guinness, Charlton Heston, Sean Connery, Omar Sharif, actresses Audrey Hepburn, Sofia Loren, Debbie Reynolds and Elizabeth Taylor were much-talked about.

Part 6

In the months of April and May, all of us in the villages would go together to Calangute beach. Famous music groups from all over Goa would converge and compete for the title of best band. These were also the months when we would have the Goans from Bombay on a holiday in Goa and it was a very happy time indeed. Before they returned to Bombay, they would have the sung litany. We would get together practically every night playing in our balcão. We sang all the songs of the day, not missing on the mandos, along with the accompaniment on the guitar and the harmonica. Those were the days when the passenger ships like the 'Konkan Sevak' and 'Sabarmati' sailed the coastal areas especially from Bombay to Goa with stops at Vengurla and Devgarh. The sea voyage took 24 hours and impromptu singing sessions were the norm.

The feast of St. John was celebrated with all the young boys jumping into the wells, on the eve of which bonfires were lit and the fire was put out by beating it using the flat bases of the stems of the palm leaves while singing a certain chorus. And so were the village feasts. Ganesh, Diwali, and Shigmo festivals were celebrated with equal fervour too, brotherly atmosphere between the Christians and Hindus having prevailed at all times.

During the three days of “Carnaval” all the boys from the village got together. We dressed up in different costumes and went from house to house singing songs. As was expected, whatever we collected as gratis for our efforts went towards purchasing a new football for the use of all.

Part 7

Being a teenager of the sixties I grew up with very practical and extremely loving parents.
Dad getting ready to go to Mapuça Friday bazaar - I still try to imagine seeing him now - in his favourite khaki trousers, shirt and a hat. And Mom at home attending to different chores, sometimes broom in one hand, dish-towel in the other, while Doris Day’s Que Sera Sera of the 1950's was still going strong into the early sixties on the afternoon’s radio program “Your Favourites and mine” broadcast by All India Radio, Panjim. Patti Page sang the Tennessee Waltz while my aunt sang along in high seconds!
For my mother in the afternoon it was the smaller house chores she would pay attention to like a hem in a dress, a quilt she would stitch on 'installment basis'! Or the ongoing process of a sweater she would knit, a lost button on my school uniform or the missing lace she would replace, or lengthening of my shorts as I grew up almost by the week. Any garment purchased readymade, or stitched by the local tailor, had to be at least one size larger! They have apt 2 words in Konkani for that: “Vaddtea angar”. (Meaning in English : For the growing body!) Very true.
My mother, who waited up for me while I studied for school exams late into the night, was too afraid to find me asleep on my book before the oil lamp burnt itself out. We had a name for her, our very own Florence Nightingale - she cared about each and every thing everyone did. She tended lovingly to our neighbour’s sick child, and often accompanied neighbours who were ill to see a doctor. And on a cold night took a cup of hot soup to the elderly man who lived alone nearby.

Part 8
My father had promised me a bicycle when I passed fifth standard. He finally gave it to me two years later! “The roads are far too narrow and dangerous, son; the cars and trucks are speeding” he said, while I waited for my own bicycle for some time. He had his own, but it was a bit too big for me. But Dad was nice. He let me learn to ride on his, though never letting me or the bicycle out of his sight! For him, it was always the time for fixing things, not only his own bike, but also the “foreign Raleigh” that one of our neighbours had. I don’t ever remember seeing him idle. He always had to find something to keep him busy with - fixing the kitchen stool, a curtain rod, the rake handle, the replacement of the broken tile on the rooftop, repairing the pedal on my bicycle or the gate of the front garden. He believed in getting our ancient cupboard doors fixed himself rather than buying a new one! It was amazing that there wasn’t anything that he could not fix. We had a name for our father too – “the handyman of the house (and the whole village)”. He always would lend a helping hand around to anyone who wanted help. That was his forte. A remarkable man of his times, he tried his very best along with other members of our ward to have road access to our village.  

But then before I knew it, I completed my higher secondary studies. And I could not fit into my “Vaddtea Angar” trousers any more. In order to pursue studies for my chosen career it was necessary to leave home for a city far away from home. During holidays I visited my folks every year who seemed a little older by then – and happily re-lived days of my teens in their midst and the folks around for a month or two. And then a few years later after being employed abroad returned as a working man to have a great vacation in Goa. We were by then in the early Seventies. The sixties were over and out. So were the Beatles and Herman’s Hermits. Bell-bottoms, maxi gowns and platform shoes, slim-fit shirts and butterfly collars, ABBA, Silver Convention, Bee Gees and Night Fever, Baccara and Boney M. would be the next in.

Football was my passion. Simple things as pastime and the rustic lifestyle gave me and my friends pleasure. We enjoyed the little things we had and silently wished for greater things for our future. Just like any other kids. The players in my team were not only my class-mates, friends and neighbours, but everybody that I knew and those I held as special including teachers at my alma mater. They helped shape what I have today – an inner spirit that will forever reside in Goa.

Tony Felix Fernandes

Vaddtea angar - a term used in the Konkani language suggesting, indicating or recommending a slightly over-sized clothing for a growing child or a teenager.

Excerpted from my book 'GOA - Memories of My Homeland' (Poems & Stories) ISBN 097355150X.
Published and printed in Canada by Electica Publications Ontario 2004. Reprinted in Goa by Pilar Training Institute 2005. 

WHEN TRAGEDY STRIKES CLOSER TO HOME

The tragic news about the Air India crash in Mangalore came as a great shock. More so because the flight was from Dubai where I lived and worked for many years in the past. Everything else here seemed to have a connection. Air India, national airline; Dubai, where I spent more of my life, and Mangalore where my in-laws hail from.