41. Who the Bleep cares about Goan Clubs?
Alvaro Collaco, born in Jinja, Uganda and rising to the position of Acting Head
of the Budget Department, Ministry of Finance, Uganda, wrote in the 40th Anniversary
souvenir of the GOA, UK: "Regardless, wherever he goes, an emigrating Goan
carries in his heart that burning desire to be part of a Goan community symbolized
by access to a Goan Clubhouse." This statement was only partly true for
the emigrating Goan of the early 1900s had no tradition of belonging to
a club and nor could he have imagined the central place a club would come to
occupy in his community.
The Club was a colonial appropriation by the Goans. It played an important
role in the lives of British and German officers and settlers in the colonies
of East Africa, deftly ensuring segregation from the indigenous population while
ensuring cohesion of their own community. Many of the earlier clubs were gentlemen's
clubs, barring entry to women. In a World of Difference, Philip W. Porter
writes: "In East Africa, the first structure established in any colonial
administrative settlement was usually The Club, where colonial officers and
their families would relax, drink their 'sun-downers' after work and reinforce
their various prejudices." This idea of exclusivity, cohesion and community,
fits in well with the Goan psyche and the first Uganda Goan Club, the Entebbe
Goan Institute, came into being on April 24, 1905, in Uganda. Later the Goans
Clubs of East Africa would fracture along caste lines to accommodate our own
strident notions of exclusivity.
Clubs and close-knit associations of this sort usually engender sub-cultures,
a spontaneous outpouring of collective energy which finds release in the discovery
of something entirely new, be it music or art forms. The Goan Club in East Africa
seems to have given rise to none of this and yet change is often imperceptible
to the human eye. Peter Nazareth, author of The General is Up, wrote
to me: "The Goan Institutes were the center of the Goan social, sporting
and religious life. The Entebbe Goan Institute had a reading room, mostly for
newspapers and magazines and it also had beautifully bound books from way back.
Even more important, the Institute was a dynamo for what I would call living
change; that is, the events of the country affected it and were affected in
turn by what happened in the Institute."
The Club with its spacious sports facilities, bar for sundowners, tranquil
reading rooms, where English was the predominant language, where conversations
revolved around the civil services, the education of their children and news
from Goa, became a catalyst for change. Thus began a slow Anglicizing of this
society while at the same time tethering it to Goa. Writer Armando Rodrigues
reminisced with me about those early days in Uganda: "Concerts and Konkani
plays were organised frequently by the Jolly Boys. Marshall Fernandes was a
good violinist, Ishmael Francis played the drums, Beatriz Almeida played the
piano. After work got over at 4 pm, we dashed home for tea and then to the Club.
Ladies played badminton, cards, men played tennis, field hockey, cards, carom
and volleyball. After that, we quenched our thirst at the bar, with the usual
camaraderie of "my round or your round." Favourite drinks were Bell
beer, Nile beer or Scotch and soda. Other diversions were fishing, hunting,
walks, picnics in the famous Botanical Gardens."
The Goan Club or Association born on the plains of East Africa has been imported
by the Goans to the new Diasporas of the Gulf, the UK and Canada but the Club
House as a metaphor for the Goan community is a relic of the colonial past and
best left there. We have to find new ways of defining our community is this
changing world of amorphous relationships.
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