THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JEFF FIALHO

Jeff Fialho

Many friends from around the world, but especially in the United Kingdom, have told me many times about a wonderful guy named Jeff Fialho. It has taken a long time for me to get around to writing about this appreciation. He grew up in Pangani Chini, a Nairobi suburb near Eastleigh, where I grew up.

To give you an idea about this delightful, quiet achiever, one of his long-time friends, Merwin D’Souza, who lives in Florida, USA, wrote the following:

From a very early age, Jeff Fialho developed an intense passion for cars. He began collecting die-cast scale model cars, influencing many of his peers to do the same. Most of us simply could not keep up! Over the years, Jeff amassed a significant collection of model cars, taking great care to keep them in pristine shape. Many were rare, limited editions which became sought-after items. Sadly, when he moved to London, his collection was stolen.

Jeff's photographic memory is legendary. Somehow he can still remember the make and model year of the car our parents drove in Nairobi...together with the number plate! He now follows F1 racing with the same intensity and his detailed knowledge of F1 racing stats is second to none. His instant recall of classmate birthdays is also quite remarkable and his inherent retention of historic details made him a valuable asset in documenting our DRGS heritage.

Anyone who knows Jeff will tell you that he is a warm, caring individual with impeccable follow-through, who will pull out all the stops to help a friend in need. I know many who are deeply indebted to him for his kindness and support over the years.... including me. Even before the WhatsApp era, he would routinely call his friends around the globe just to check up on them, and he has been instrumental in organizing peer get-togethers whenever they visited London. With his great sense of community and dependability, Jeff has never hesitated to pitch in on any of our community-based projects. Jeff has certainly been one of our DRGS GOATs* who has put in much effort to keep our flock together.

The Life and Times of Jeffrey Fialho

I was born on the 29th of May 1949 to Joseph and Maria Fialho. Dad was born in Nairobi, Kenya and Mum in Goa, India. My paternal grandparents moved to Kenya from India in 1896 at the request of the Government of Kenya who were recruiting staff to work out there. He worked for the Nairobi City Council, and like most Asian women, grandma stayed at home to look after her four children. Grandad was one of the founder members of the Nairobi Goan Institute in 1905 and lived the life of Riley in Kenya until his return to Mumbai about 30 years later to spend his days in retirement.

Dad was sent to India to a boarding school to continue his education. Here he met and married Mum. He received a posting to Nairobi early in 1950 when they left with me in tow on board the steam ship Kampala. I am the eldest of four with my sister Cletha and brothers Jocelyn and Jervis who were all born in Nairobi.

Our first home in Nairobi was a two-bedroom dwelling in Pangani Chini where we lived from 1950 to 1960, then moved to Parklands until my hasty departure in February 1968. Both areas seemed to pulse with life and excitement and felt like home. They inspired a sense of belonging and community which made us feel we were part of something bigger. School friends and classmates were always around.

Dad toiled at his full-time job with the Government of Kenya and in the evenings, taught shorthand at a secretarial college to supplement his income and to provide a little extra for his family. Mum looked after us and made sure we were well-kitted out and never saw a hungry day. We were a very happy family with Christian values and impeccable work ethics. We always felt safe and secure. As staunch Roman Catholics attendance at Sunday mass and recital of the family rosary daily was the norm.

Our parents were not overly strict with us and allowed us reasonable latitude which was not abused. I remain truly thankful for their painstaking guidance and for making me the person I am. I could not have asked for better parents.

Dad arrived home one day in 1955 in a green Ford Anglia of 1950 vintage. He explained that he had bought this car from a member of the Goan Institute for a sum of KS1500. The vehicle was driven home from the Goan Clubhouse by our school teacher Michael Britto as Dad did not hold a valid driver’s licence. We enjoyed our trips out in this trusty vehicle and visits to the Nairobi National Park on some Sundays were our favourite pastimes.

My scholastic year began in 1955 at DR Ribeiro Goan School STD 11 where my first teacher was a little lady called Mary Coutinho who was loved and held in high regard by all her pupils. During this time I formed strong friendships which I value and have still maintained. I am still in contact with my early friends Merwin, Melville, Chris, John CB, Ronnie DSouza, Olavio, Raymond, Nicholas, Melba, Afra, Joan, and Ellen. Godfrey, Trevor, Rolina and Norma. To this list, I must add John Pereira, Boni Rashmi, Michael, Leo, Irenio, Ronnie Carvalho, Emiliano, Arthur, Walter and Philla, who have sadly passed away.

May they rest in eternal peace.

I remember 1955 as the year in which I made my First Holy Communion - 18th September, along with others in my class. Std 111 in 1956 brought us into contact with class teacher Margaret Paul who would instil fear into the younger pupils like Chris, Melville and I. Mrs Paul was renowned for her ear lobe twisting and threats to swallow us up whole if we dared disobey. We would be petrified throughout her lessons, for fear of her carrying out her threats.

In October 1956, my family and I embarked on a six-month sojourn to Mumbai to spend time with my paternal grandparents. This was a concession granted by the Kenya government to Dad who was employed on expatriate terms, where every five years the family could visit parents and relatives in India for six months and was termed “Long Leave”. Travel was by sea and the journey took 10 days. I remember reaching the Seychelles midway, where we disembarked for a few hours and were taken ashore in coracles to explore the beauty of this idyllic little island. Our stay in Bombay was an enjoyable one with Grandma spoiling us with her tasty culinary delights, and we returned to Kenya very sadly in April 1957. This would be the last time I would see my dear grandparents who showered us with all their love and devotion throughout.

The year 1957 sticks out in my mind for a unique reason. A new school headmaster had been appointed by the GOA - Fr Frank Commerford. There was strong anti-catholic sentiment amongst the board of governors, and when he slightly exceeded his financial budget he was dismissed. This resulted in a strike by the pupils which made headlines in the local newspapers. Father Commerford was subsequently cleared and reinstated.

I will move on to 1960 when we sat the Kenya Preliminary Exams which was a very stressful time for all pupils. We got through and moved to Secondary School where the fun and action would begin. We used our four years of semi-adulthood to foster relationships and learn the true meaning of life. What happened in 1962 was Annus horriblis. Which I remember for the passing of a very close friend and classmate - Arthur Pinto on 22 October. Arthur lost his life as a result of a tragic accident on the school grounds which left us devastated.

In December 1964, we wrestled with our O Levels successfully and went our separate ways facing our challenges with great strength and character as our training at DRGS had stood us in good stead. My sincere thanks to all my teachers without whose help I would not have achieved my results. Many of my colleagues became professionals others pursued business opportunities and in the bigger picture, we have all been successful. These were the best times.

Some teachers with whom I had a special bond deserve a mention. Anthony DSouza was our form master in my last year. I am grateful for his English language and literature lessons and his efforts to teach us to conjugate and enunciate have stood us well in life. Laura Estelita our class teacher in Form 1 embedded in my mind the motto of the school - NIL DESPERANDUM AUSPICE DEO - Do not despair, God is your guide.

This I have not forgotten.

Then there was the history teacher Hedwig Nunes who fed us salacious details of the goings on during the reigns of the Tudors and Stuarts especially Henry the Eighth and his six wives. My GCSE distinction in this subject was largely due to his efforts.

Father Lewis tempered the attempts at sexual innuendo of Mr Nunes with convoluted explanations of the church liturgy and the missionary journeys and narratives in the Acts of the Apostles. Mr Cinio Pires was our talented general science teacher - a very likeable individual who enjoyed fraternising with his pupils. His extraordinary motivational skills attracted students to science.

Stanley DSouza must not be overlooked for his teachings in biology in his inimitable style whilst Tito Torcato endured us with the patience of Job for the most part. Those were the best days of our lives and throughout we have been able to communicate with each other via the Internet and have close feelings of family even though we are so physically removed from each other.

Bringing us together has been largely due to the efforts of our classmate Merwin Dsouza with his magical IT skills and ability to shrink the globe. I left school after O levels and took up a job with the Norwich Union Life insurance society in Nairobi, working in the life and pensions section and was responsible for the compilation of retirement and pension plans for the larger business institutions in Kenya.

Wishing to pursue a career in accountancy I joined a firm of chartered accountants where I was being trained to carry out secretarial and audit services for small businesses in Nairobi. However, this position was brought to an abrupt end when I had to flee Kenya in February 1968 following the well-known Kenyan Asian Exodus to Britain. There was a sense of panic among the Asian community in Kenya . The euphemistically known term “Africanisation” pursued by the Kenya government had been designed to drive them out of key positions in the economy.

Their ultimate security had been guaranteed by their possession of British passports which gave them unrestricted entry into the United Kingdom. This guarantee was removed on 22 February 1968 with the Home Secretary James Callahan announcing that the British government would no longer respect Asian passports. A week later legislation ending the Asian rights was passed and on first March 1968 fully boarded aeroplanes that had been carrying Asians to the UK were turned away. I was lucky to have obtained a seat on the last day, 28th of February, 1968, when I left for the UK all on my own armed with £115.UK.

At the time my mum was in India with my sister and my brother who were taken there to continue their education - a move which was pre-empted by the proposed changes in British legislation. Mum returned to Kenya a week after my departure utterly distraught. I said goodbye to my dad, my younger brother Jervis and my maternal grandma who I would not see again.

Landing in London was a new experience. I arrived on a dreary February morning to be greeted by newspaper headlines in the Daily Mail which read “Last minute dash as stragglers rush to beat the ban”.

I was one of those stragglers. The British government pleaded with the Indian Prime Minister - Indira Gandhi to help in this predicament. Her reply and quite rightly so was “You issued them with British passports - You deal with the situation”

On the flight inward, I met with someone in a similar situation - Alvin Pires with whom I would share accommodation. He was to become my first friend in the UK. At the airport, we were met by a colleague Ronald Carvalho who would install us in a bed and breakfast site at a charge of a Guinea a day. Breakfast was eggs on toast with the eggs being cooked in a cauldron like the ones they fry Jelabies in .

I thought of the Mitai Wallah in Pangani along the parade of grocery stores where Mum did her shopping. A dozen refugees all from Kenya were in residence here - the proprietor a Sikh gentleman from India. We realised we would have to find alternative accommodation which was not easy for two of Asian origin.

Racism was rife and notices clearly displayed in the windows of newsagents read “ Indians, Pakistanis, Blacks and Irish keep out.” Enoch Powell had recently delivered his Rivers of Blood Speech which served to incite even more racial tension. He then chose to address a meeting at a local Conservative Club where we were living at the time. Rejection also came from the small number - at that time of Hindu/Gujarati landlords who turned us away for being Christians and more importantly carnivores.

Imagine our frustration.

On a subsequent occasion, we were looking at the noticeboard to be greeted by a friendly white individual - Jewish - who introduced himself as Mr K and offered us accommodation. We bit his hand off and were overjoyed. He took us to a property which was vacant and sparsely furnished which he would let out to us at pounds four per week but a week's deposit would be required and a week's advance rent. Grinning like two Cheshire cats we carried our suitcases into this house and began making ourselves comfortable when an elderly lady Mrs Margaret Bell unlocked the front door and entered.

She demanded to know what we were doing in her property and explained that the house had been put up for sale as she had relocated from London to Bolton. We explained our situation whereupon she demanded that we descend upon this rogue landlord and get our money back. Mr K it appeared had been taking advantage of the plight of newly arrived migrants by visiting estate agents under the pretence of being an interested purchaser. He would be allowed to inspect the properties unaccompanied when he would make a set of keys, which he would pass on to unsuspecting prospective tenants.

Mrs Bell did get her money from Mr K and told us that we could stay in her property as long as we liked until we found alternative accommodation. She requested that we leave the rent money under the dining table cover to which we agreed.

Something good that resulted from my meeting with Mr K was his promise of work with a very large firm of City chartered accountants he was well acquainted with. I did not take up this employment as I was unable to survive financially on the weekly pay being offered for articleship. I looked for more lucrative employment which again became a problem again because of race and colour.

However, with the help of two Irish employment agencies, I obtained work and took up a position with a major High Street Bank as I was keen to get onto the Homeownership ladder. I was selected to work in areas with a high immigrant content for fear of “upsetting the cream” Four years later I met and married my wife Sandra and we set about house hunting. The matter of colour raised its ugly head once more with Estate Agents who would not grant us viewings on the grounds that the properties we were looking to view were under offer. We had to accept what they told us.

Eventually we found a property to purchase and were granted a mortgage by my employers with the proviso that 50% of the advance was repaid over a period of five years and serviced by 50% off my wife’s gross salary. A tough ask but we accepted these terms only to be informed of another condition to which we had to agree. We were not the start a family for five years until 50% of the advance had been repaid and provided this undertaking only to receive a further response from the sanctioning office - “But these people are Roman Catholics how are they going to meet this condition?”

My branch manager replied in disgust - “ these Catholics have a fine sense of rhythm”.

No further comebacks.

My eldest daughter Sarah arrived four years and 11 months later.

There is more which I shall not dwell on.

The men in BLUE were equally racially prejudiced. On one occasion, I was driving my car very early in the month in which the road tax was due. I displayed a notice in the front windscreen saying - “tax in post.”This was quite in order then. As luck would have it I was stopped by a policeman who questioned this notice as asked me to produce my car registration document, motor insurance certificate, driver's licence and the statutory Ministry of Transport certificate stating that the vehicle was roadworthy. I replied that all these documents were with the DVLA for updating. I had just moved house and had sent them to the authorities for this purpose. One was allowed a grace period of 14 days from the first day of the month on which the tax was due. I was stopped on the fourth day.

The police accepted my explanation but lo and behold three days later at 7 o’clock in the morning there was a knock on my front door. Still in my pyjamas, I answered the door where I was greeted by two policemen who asked where my car was. I led them to my garage when they looked at the front windscreen and commented that a valid tax disc was not in view. I informed them that the documentation had still not been received to be told that they had a warrant for my arrest and I was to accompany them to a local police station. Being perfectly innocent and perhaps naive I agreed as I am not a demonstrative person by nature. I asked that they wait outside whilst I went indoors to get changed. Fully dressed, I went downstairs and opened the front door to leave with them, but at that moment who should turn up but a postman armed with the documentation that I required.

God works in mysterious ways.

The policemen left deflated as they had not been able to score one over this Paki.

This was not been an isolated incident in my relationship with the police. I could relate several more and now know why they are resented by people of colour who will not cooperate with them fully.

Let me turn back to clock to the time of first arrival and explain my feelings. It was a lonely time and I missed family and friends in Kenya and the evenings when we would play football and on some occasions settle for Samosas, Bajias and chips at the Indian Cafes in Ngara. The weather was dismal and depressing and I thought about Kenya’s beautiful landscapes and climate which extended all year round. Kenya for me is and has been the centripetal location to my heart.

What I missed most was the annual East African Safari Motor Rally which I took an interest in right from its inception in 1953 until my time of leaving Kenya – the last rally in 1967. This was my highlight of the year. Dad would take me to the Safari headquarters first at Duncan Motors - Standard- Triumph car dealers on the Queen Elizabeth Highway and later to the Nairobi City Hall for the start of the event. We should have been attending the Maundy Thursday service at The All Saints Cathedral which was taking place at the same time.

I found it heartbreaking to leave behind my collection of Dinky, Corgi and Spot On model cars most of which were in their original packaging and cannot be replaced today.

Life in London presented problems. My finances were stretched and cooking was not my forte. In short, I could not cook. having been spoilt by my mum back home. Attending night school was my salvation as I was able to take advantage of the subsidised canteen facilities. A few times a week, I visited the local fish and chip shop where I could dine cheaply. The cold was unbearable and I often went to bed in my overcoat as I could not feed the gas meter and get heating.

Some months later, I found accommodation in a house with four Goan boys from Nairobi. As I did not cook, I was tasked with the purchase of the food and the washing up. We enjoyed three wonderful years together and had several interests in common. Noel, one of my housemates was an audio engineer who was allowed the use of new estate cars which we used to travel extensively in Europe and quite inexpensively using the campsites available along the route - a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

The GOA London held social functions regularly in central London, where I attended and established links with the community and met old friends. I was able to connect with friends Merwin and Melville who arrived at the same time as I did. Fortunately, I became acquainted with a Goan family who had also come from Kenya at the same time and lived in the same area. We would hold parties at their home often and gradually establish contact with old friends. Life was becoming enjoyable. Attending GOA London dances became a must especially at Christmas when we would dress up as we did back home. There was a strict dress code in place then which has now been diluted. It was at one of these functions that I met my wife Sandra in 1969 and we now have two daughters and four grandchildren. Goans in London still hold regular get-togethers very frequently which are well attended. Functions are also held on feast days of the local villages in GOA in honour of its patron Saint.

The GOA London functions dovetailed nicely with the DRGS reunions. These again were very popular with a large attendance. From memory, these DRGS meetings were held dating back to 1990 with Alvira Almeida and her family being the organisers. I attended those which were held in 2005,2009 and 2014. Alvira has strong bonds with our community.

I shall go back to the last one that took place in 2014. Leo Rodrigues organised the music and Luban Pereira the choir for the memorial mass which was celebrated by our Father Tony of our Class of 64. I served on the committee with Alvira as President this year. Other committee members were Chris, Joey, Gerry, Mina and Bernadette. Alvira had good connections with the school where the function was held and this venue has been used on several occasions for functions by the community.

It has not been possible to arrange a follow-up as Alvira wishes to step down from her position as President and has no one to pass her mantle on to. Since the year 2000 the DRGS has also been involved in organising remembrance masses for the deceased students and staff.

In the London area masses were held in 2012, 2019 and 2022 at The Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Battersea South London with attendance from far and wide. Chris Moniz, Julian, Merwin in Florida will be remembered for their all-round efforts in keeping the DRGS community informed throughout and for their assistance in the organisation of these masses.

Mass was celebrated on all three occasions by Fr Tony Fernandes of our Class of 64.

The DRGS community has organised similar masses in various locations throughout the world with the 2022 celebration in London being the first to be live-streamed thanks to Merwin DSouza, Julian Fernandes and a colleague of Father Tony. After mass, a small gathering is held in the parish centre with a variety of snacks and refreshments generously provided by attendees. Reunions are good times to rekindle old acquaintances, share memories and celebrate life with those still with us whist recognising those who have departed this world. In addition, many classes have arranged their own meetings and momentum appears to be gathering pace.

Our class of 64 has arranged many get-togethers over the last 20 years and we take it upon ourselves to celebrate when a member from abroad comes over to visit. I cannot conclude before saying that in February 2019 the class of 64 arranged a very very exciting reunion in GOA. Thanks to John and Melba this was an outstanding success. John took it upon himself to arrange accommodation and left no stone and turned to ensure our comfort.

A cruise on the River Sai was arranged by Edwin with great exchanges and reminiscing of our remarkable school years together. On another day we embarked on a tour of south GOA with our first stop being at a Feni Distillery to sample the delights of our motherland. elba organised a sumptuous dinner at Martin’s Siesta in Parra which was a truly lovely magical evening where Melba surprised Joan and Clement with a pre-50th wedding anniversary celebration.

What a nice way to remember our trip to GOA. Several dinners took place featuring good food, vintage Feni and good company. We visited the famed BOM Jesus cathedral and the resting place off Saint Francis Xavier. The grand finale of this awesome reunion was courtesy of Chris and the kind sponsorship of his family friend Dr Willie Brito who owns a casino restaurant called Chances in Donna Paula.

A sumptuous meal and flowing alcoholic beverages were freely flowing. On our final day we were invited to a fine dinner at Melba’s in Parra to sample the delicacies of Goa. Thus ended a fantastic and memorable reunion on a very high note with all thanks to John for making this possible. My sincere thanks for this reunion to rekindle bonds and happy memories. As a group, we have been fortunate to have amongst us some wonderful individuals who made school days not only fun-filled but also positively memorable. To them I would wish to raise a glass as I would to those who are no longer with us. Cheers and thank you for the camaraderie.

Sadly, our dear friend and colleague Irenio, John's brother passed away a few months later on May 27. So did Nelson Dias and Clement do Rosario who were also with us on this holiday. May they rest in peace. Irenio, Clement and Nelson all attended the reunion.

I have been fortunate to return to Kenya on four occasions in the last 20 years. I was a spectator on a special stage of the Kenyan Safari rally in 2002 when one of the crowd suffered a fatality as a result of a competitor losing control of his vehicle. As a consequence, the rally was removed from the WRC calendar for poor crowd control and it was only about five years ago that WRC status was reinstated and overseas drivers and manufacturers teams flocked again to compete.

I have been able to meet old classmates like Dr Peter Muthiga at his surgery in Nairobi and visit and spend a few days with George Cardovillis at his ranch in Rumuruti which is a few miles away from Thompson Falls in the heart of the Kenyan Bush.

We made our way to Rumuruti in a 4WD Land Rover Discovery owned by a colleague which was ideal for driving over the jagged rocks and cobblestones and ditches. I was glad not to be driving my own vehicle over this terrain. Fortunately, the Land Rover had the ground clearance to cover the obstacles along the way. We visited George’s Ranch and in the middle of the night made our way to a local clearance which reminded me of the days of the Mau Mau terrorists in Kenya in the 1950s.

Armed with a gun each we made our way on foot to a little Duka in the nearby settlement for sustenance. George informed us that we would meet more resistance from the locals than the wild animals, hence the need for weapons. At the Duka, George requested the proprietor to Piga Tembo and Cata Kuku - meaning bring us some local alcohol and prepare a chicken for our meal. This was promptly served up along with some Ugari - the Kenyan staple dish. A very enjoyable experience and one I will never regret.

Having spent 47 years in the financial sector, which was enjoyable and gave me great job satisfaction, I retired 10 years ago after a relatively successful career.

Regrettably, I did not plan properly for my retirement and consequently found life extremely boring at first. Looking after our grandchildren took up much of our time but this has now ceased as the youngest attends school on a full-time basis. We did, however, enjoy the experience.

I’ve now adjusted and kept myself occupied, having developed a few hobbies and doing some charity work on a voluntary basis. Annual holidays form a part and I was lucky enough to enjoy three holidays in 2023 – South Africa, Kenya and Croatia. The year 2019 will not be forgotten - the highlight being our Reunion in Goa. Nothing planned for this year.

And so ends this missive and the story of my life and times in this country, which is now my home.

Pictured below are photos of various schoolmates from the DRGS and Jeff's own families!

Below: Ida, Rolina, Jeff, Timothy, Ronnie Carvalho, Joan, (Jules and Bonnie. who are sadly no longer with us).

Front row: Melvile and Nicholas, Middle row: Chris, John CB, Jeff, friend of JCB.

Back row: Remy, Timothy, Felix.

> Fr Tony Fernandes

All these photos were taken in GOA at our class reunion in February 2019

Sampling the favourite liquor: beverages of the motherland – at the Feni distillery. Nelson Melville Joan Christine, Irenio, Melba, Peter, Afra, Ellen Monica Edwin, Maisie, Jeff, Carmen, Olga, Seraph and Chris.