Not many people would recognize the name Cymru but it is the Celtic name for Wales. I've been meaning to visit Wales for a long time for the Welsh are a people very similar to Goans. Like us Goans, they are passionate about their identity and in a constant struggle to defend it from the onslaught of Anglo-Saxon incursions. Last summer I got the chance to spend three days in Cardiff, the capital of Wales.

Just a few miles from the city of Cardiff is Glamorgan. Driving through its winding roads with hedges on either side, I am reminded of a labyrinth, which quite frankly I wouldn't mind getting lost in. Our delightful Bed & Breakfast is a renovated farm, nestled in a valley so lush and green, I half expected to find Eve plucking apples somewhere. Glamorgan was the first coast in Wales to come under Heritage Coast protection in 1973 and has remained untouched by the scorn of 21st century concrete. Meandering black Welsh cows take little notice of tourists with cameras. The occasional tractor stops to let the cows cross the road. It's a shame that we Goans cannot take a page from the Welsh about environmental protection.

Another thing, like us Goans, the Welsh are very prickly about is their language. They want to preserve it at all costs. But walking through the Cardiff market, buying specialty cheese from a plump old lady with ash-blond hair and chatting with the Persian vendor of knick-knacks, it is difficult to remember that Welsh and not English is the native language. Indeed, one would be lost without English. It's even more difficult to imagine that once fierce Celts known for their flaming tempers and esoteric rituals rampaged through these moorlands. The market is a mélange of redheads, blonds and here and there bobbing its head in defiance of a polluted gene pool, is the quintessential dark-haired Celt.

I am often told stories about how students in Goan boarding schools were often punished severely for speaking in Konkani. In Kenya, students were fined for doing so in Goan schools. The Welsh have had to endure similar disdain for their language. In 1847, Welsh children caught speaking Welsh had a placard placed around their necks, which became known as the Welsh Not. The child found wearing the placard at the end of the day would receive a lashing. Since then, the Welsh have done everything to preserve their language but despite their best efforts, a 2004 survey revealed only 21% of the population could speak the language and that too, only in the heartland. I can't help wondering how successful we as Goans will be in preserving Konkani given our preference for speaking in English.

Another thing we have in common with the Welsh is the desire to protect our own unique identity. The older Welsh are averse to anything or anyone English, an aversion which found voice in the nationalist movement called "Sons of Glyndwr", who in 1979 went on a rampage burning holiday homes bought by the English. Somehow this sounds eerily similar to us Goans who are to a large extent averse to other Indians.
Despite the Welsh resolve to protect their identity, they also have an understanding that they are a complex people who have assimilated centuries of plurality. And this feeling is best echoed by their national poet, Gwen Thomas when he writes:

I am Singular
My time is Now
And I am here
But I am not alone
At my back I hear
The ticking of Time past
…I ponder here on the meaning of Me
I ponder here on the meaning of We
In this hall is where I'll see
Clues to my identity
"I contain Multitudes".

And somehow this is a lesson we Goans must learn as well.