Composure in the face of COVID-19

 

MAINTAINING OUR COMPOSURE

DURING THE PANDEMIC

BY ARMAND RODRIGUES

Covid-19 has certainly disrupted normal living conditions worldwide.  Interaction with family and friends has taken an unprecedented and unpleasant twist.  Socializing face-to-face in harmonious fellowship is now taboo. We have been segregated and left stranded. Gloom and doom are constant bedfellows. and may be the new norm for now.

In this milieu some rays of hope continue in the form of disseminators of Goan endeavours.  Frederick Noronha in Goa; Eddie Fernandes in London, England: Salus Correia and Cyprian Fernandes in Australia: keep the embers aglow.  Canada fell off the radar with the sad demise of John D’Souza a couple of years back. And, Darrel Carvalho persevered and put forth a newsletter on behalf of the Westend Seniors’ Club in Toronto.  But hats off to Greta Dias, the intrepid Director of the Goan Overseas Association (Toronto)’s retirees, who fills the void best of all, by churning out stuff beyond compare.  The pandemic certainly put her mettle to the test. Phone calls, emails and virtual imaging have proven to be invaluable tools in her efforts.

For ten years Greta fronted face-to-face activities for the retirees. When these efforts got disconnected from the scenario, Greta embarked on an ambitious and unique program of providing palatable alternative strategies for members. These were in the form of “sanitized” material doled out at a furious pace. Her efforts have aligned well with members and even a few on other continents. Her think-tank includes her husband, sisters and a whole slew of talented individuals. The ongoing social diversions include : a monthly newsletter with special themes; interesting articles; pictures of members’ gardens, handicrafts, old school photographs; recipes; videos of  line-dancing and keep-fit programmes; health & welfare ; computer literacy; a primer on Zoom usage;  Rosary on Zoom every week;  ......the list goes on. For the meat and potatoes types like us in isolation, this could be just what the doctor ordered. Some colourful covers (below) reflect the diversity. All this virtual imaging was facilitated because of the impetus of the  President of the Goan Overseas Association (Toronto), Selwyn Colaco.

What will Greta and her team think of next ?

Twilight: Goan queen of track and field

 

Meldrita Laurente

 

The Queen of Track and Field

 

The years between 1950 and 1966 were the golden years of Goan track and field in East Africa, especially in the sprinting and middle-distance events. The Kenyan coastal capital of Mombasa produced the best Goan sprinters of all time, led by the late 1962 Commonwealth Games sprint double gold medalist, Seraphino Antao. These fleet-footed Goans included Avila Laura Ramos, Albert Castanha (the man who should have gone to the Games but faltered in the trials), Winnie D’Souza Singh, Joe Faria, Juanita Noronha, Pascal Antao, Alcino Rodrigues, Jack Fernandes and a few others. They were all potential medal winners.

But this story is about one of the most determined athletes of her time: the extremely shy and humble Meldrita Laurente Viegas. She was born in Mombasa on January 16, 1939, and was the second of four children. Greta, her older sister lives in Goa. Her younger brother, Stafford Laurente, lives in Brantford, Ontario, Canada, and the baby of the family, Lauriette D’Souza-Lobo, lives in Toronto. Growing up, Meldrita often felt like the middle child who had to excel elsewhere to get the attention her siblings enjoyed.

Her father John Delphin Laurente was a civil servant with the British Colonial Civil Service (Revenue Department). At the time, the British Government relied on an army of Goan civil servants, sent to virtually every corner of the country, to keep things well-ordered. As a result, Meldrita’s family lived in Meru (Central Kenya), Eldoret (Rift Valley) and Kilifi (the Coast) before finally settling in Mombasa when Meldrita was 12 years old. 

Her mother, Maude, always tried to minimize the impact of this nomadic life on the children. She sent the kids by ship to Karachi, Pakistan, to live with her parents for two years. A young Meldrita remembers hearing bells for the Angelus from the local church and playing bones and ball (a game featuring pig bones and a tennis ball) on the stairs of her maternal grandmother’s home. 

Maude also sent the kids to live with her sister Charlotte and her family in Nairobi, while her husband was working in Eldoret, a Kenyan frontier town founded by South African Boer migrants. While in Nairobi, Meldrita went to the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School in Parklands for two years. Her aunt Charlotte was very strict and had a structured routine for her three children and their three cousins. She taught the children how to share. Table manners were high on the priority list. Meldrita missed her parents very much. Her frequent requests to return home finally wore her aunt down, and she was sent to Eldoret to be reunited with her parents. The persistence and determination she showed at a young age would serve her well as she matured.

The family finally ended up in Mombasa, which was much smaller than Nairobi but larger than other places the Laurente family had called home. When they moved to Mombasa, there was a natural period of adjustment. Meldrita went to the Goan (Sacred Heart) School. She found it difficult to make friends as most of her peers had their own social circles, which were largely closed to newcomers. The Goan community there was plagued by the old prejudices of the caste system.

Meldrita was not the kind of youngster who would let these sorts of things affect her. She played rounders, netball, and badminton, and participated in track and field in an attempt to fit in.  Interschool participation in track and field brought her great success. She felt a sense of belonging with her track and field family. Later, she continued training and competing while she attended teachers’ college and after her teaching career began at the Goan School at the age of 20.

Maude was a huge supporter and was always present when Meldrita ran at the Mombasa Municipal Stadium. John did his part by keeping the evil eye at bay and relishing in her accomplishments. After most meets, John would take Meldrita up to the terrace of their apartment building to take out dishth (evil eye). This ritual involved circling dried red chillies and alum around her head and burning the chillies in a charcoal fire (shigri) thereafter. The burned alum was thought to reveal the faces of those casting the evil eye. The stench of burning chillies is pretty awful. But that was the tradition in those days.

Initially, Meldrita trained at the Goan School. Later she was a member of the Coast Teachers’ Training College team. Mr. Loadman, the principal, took a keen interest in her. After Teachers’ Training College she returned to the Goan School to teach. She coached the track and field team at the school and selected three girls to run the 4 x 110 yards relay at the Coast Championships with her. She trained with Ray Batchelor at the Mombasa Municipal Stadium. (Ray Batchelor revolutionized Goan sport at the Coast. He was perhaps the only one (or one of a very few) who broke the Colonial colour bar by working and socializing with Goans. He was also the man who coached Antao to gold.) Among those who trained with Meldrita under Batchelor were Seraphino Antao (sprints, hurdles), Albert Castanha (sprints, hurdles, high jump), Alcino Rodrigues (330 yards, 440 yards) and Joe Faria (sprints), Bruno D’Souza, Fathiya Hinaway (hurdler), Ann Sanford (relay team) and Irina Ribitzski.

Meldrita has fond memories of Ray. After light jogs and warm-up exercises, he would ask her to run up the stadium steps with her knees as high as she could get them. He told her that this would help improve the length of her strides. She remembers him giving the athletes tins of Milo. He insisted that they eat two hours before a meet.

When Meldrita first competed against Winnie D’Souza Singh, Winnie defeated her in the 100-yard dash in a close finish. That was a turning point for Meldrita.  Winnie hadn’t broken the Kenya record in the race, so Meldrita set her eyes on the record. It motivated her to train intensely. She had become accustomed to winning and never wanted to be second best again. She never lost to Winnie again. Meldrita broke the Kenya record at the Kenya Championships in Kisumu and the record (11.4 secs) stood for many years. The success she enjoyed fueled her training, and she remained the champion for a number of years. The Queen of Track and Field had been crowned.  

Meldrita saw success in other events as well. She broke the Kenya record for long jump at the Coast Championships and held the record of 17’ 5 for several of years. She held the Coast record for the 220 yards (26.5 secs), and she usually ran the anchor leg of the 4 x 110 yards relay. 

Meldrita was recognized for all her contributions to track field and field when she was named the female Athlete of the Century at the centenary celebrations of the Mombasa Institute in 2001.

Every win was followed by “a feed”, a celebration at Blue Room in Mombasa that would always include falooda and samosas.

Meldrita stopped participating in track and field after she got married. Her husband, Menino Viegas, worked for the Kenya Railways and was based in Voi (relatively close to Mombasa) for many years. The family returned to Mombasa in the late 1970s. Meldrita played field hockey with the Mombasa Institute, and she encouraged her four children to play as well.

Meldrita, Menino and their four children moved to Canada in 1983 and experienced a huge culture shock. Meldrita, who was very involved in the lives of her children, had to come to terms with leaving the children at 7 am and not seeing them again until 5 pm. Not having any house help was also a huge adjustment, as it made the day longer and there was less time for leisure.  Meldrita and Menino had left all their friends behind, and they both found it difficult to find employment. Getting around the city required making allowances for significant travel time. However, in time, things improved tremendously. Meldrita and Menino found work, the kids thrived and ultimately went on to university. There was much to cherish.

Meldrita participated in the GOA (Goan Overseas Association) Sports in the first summer after her arrival in Canada. She finished second in the 100 meters. She had to take pain killers to be able to participate as she was experiencing right hip pain. The pain eventually overcame her desire to compete. Furthermore, she didn’t like being second best! Three hip surgeries have sidelined her completely. She now officiates at track and field meets.

Meldrita and Menino are presently enjoying retirement and are very involved in the lives of their nine grandchildren. They have wonderful memories of lives well-lived.

Twilight: Johnny Lobo: a life in cricket

 

With Kenya's Bwana Cricket, the late Jasmer Singh

Our Wedding in 1959, Nairobi Kenya, with well-wishers forming the bridal arch with cricket bats and soccer balls.

Johnny Lobo

 

The Early Years – My family’s move to Kenya

It was my father’s brother-in-law S.R. Rodrigues who was the first pioneer from our family who ventured out of Goa and crossed the Indian Ocean on a dhow with the Arab traders to Mombasa in 1895. Later he was instrumental in convincing my father Evaristo Lobo, that he could get him a well-paid Government job in Kenya. My father agreed and came over on a steamer in 1911 and began working. A few years later, my father got very sick and returned to Goa. When he had recovered, we were were still in Goa. Typically, a proposal of marriage from my mother’s family Benjamin Mendes from Aldona for their daughter Maria Mendes. My father married my mother in 1918 and returned to Kenya. My siblings were born shortly after Joseph 1919, Victor 1921, Francis 1923, Eulalia 1925 and Clara 1929. I was the 5^th child born on December 27 1927. We grew up in Ngara in the Government Quarters built by the British rulers for Goan and Indian government staff.  My three older brothers were sent to study at St. Stanislaus’ Bombay and were active sports players at school, while my sisters and I attended Dr Ribeiro Goan School (DRGS) in Parklands. It was at this school where my love of all sports began.

Each day at our half-hour break, we would race out of the class to grab the cricket bat. We soon realised only the batter stayed at the crease until he was bowled.  Soon we started to play actual matches, 11 players on each side. Some of the names I remember are Philip Gracias, Alex and Rui Rodrigues, Willie Paes, Marcus Braganza, Monty D’Sa, Alan D’Cunha and myself. Incredibly our first match lasted three months, but in those three months, we continued to get better.

Our passion for the game continued even after the bell rang to end our day at school. As many of my classmates also lived in my neighbourhood, we would race home and play daily from 4-6 in the evening. The neighbourhood boys included Maurice and Philip Gracias, Bartu and Dennis Noronha, Marcus and Henry Braganza, Alu Mendonca and Silu Fernandes.

Building on the newfound confidence, we decided to play our first test match against the Government Indian School (GIS) on matting. It was a remarkable result because we not only won, but I also scored my first century in the game. Boosted by this win we went on to play our next match against the Prince of Wales school and thanks to a fine inning by Monty D’Sa of 50 runs with good support from Alan D’Cunha of 30 runs, we won that game too. Another impressive victory of my own, for DRGS, was when I scored two centuries, against Mombasa Goan School (110) and Allidini Visram School (105).

 

The Railway Goan Institute (RGI)

My uncle Jack Mendes (my mother’s brother), who captained the RGI on weekends would often take me, then just a young boy of 11 years to watch the games. Being the captain of the team and my uncle, if a player did not show up, would ask me to stand in for that player. This opportunity tremendously improved my game as I played with young men who were more experienced in the game than I was.

In the late 1940s, after having finished school, I began playing for RG I and our regular side included Maurice Gracias, Adolf D’Mello, C. Ferrao, Batu Noronha, Piety Fernandes, Henry D’Souza, Willie Paes, Donald Gonsalves, Ruben Rebello, Darrell Carvalho, Sydney Machado, Teddy Gomes and Cecil Fonseca.

Maurice Gracias was a brilliant cricketer who dominated on the RGI side for several years. He was educated at the Government Indian School and was the first Goan to represent the Asians against the Europeans. He retired from cricket two seasons after I joined. While on the team I scored a few centuries most notably against the Aga Khan Club where I scored 130 runs and Nairobi Club where I scored 133 runs.

The Cricket season in Nairobi started in October and ended in March. Every Sunday In those six months, we enjoyed many matches between clubs. The sports secretaries of each club would meet and draw up fixtures for the home and away games.

There were 10 Asian clubs:

1.    SVIG.

2.    Patel Club

3.    Sikh Union

4.    Sir Ali Muslim Club

5.    Kathiawar Club

6.    Visa Oswald Club

7.    Surat District Club

8.    Aga Khan Club

9.    Railway Goan Institute (RGI)

10. Railway Indian Institute

 

There were 7 European clubs:

1.    Nairobi Club

2.    European Civil Club

3.    Impala Club

4.    Woodley Club

5.    Parkland Sport Club

6.    Wanderers Club

7.    Railway European Club

 

In the 1950s, we made a trip to Moshi to play against the Tanganyika Twigas, a mostly European side. Blaize DaCunha the great Kenyan spin bowler dominated that game with an inning of 125 runs. The scoreboard read: -

R.G.I.      178 for 5 - 1^st Inning declare
Twigas 25 follow on 28

In the early 1960s, RGI was invited to participate in the Asian Sports Association Knockout Tournament and had a sensational first match where we beat the Patel Club, then beat the Kathiawar Club in the second match. We went on to meet the Coast Gymkhana side in the quarter-finals at the Sikh Union Club grounds. We batted first and only scored 138 runs, but with great determination, we bowled out the Coast Gymkhana for 125 runs to win the match. Donald Gonsalves bowled well and most of the Coast team were out due to the brilliant catches by the RG I team. We then went on to face the Muslim Club in the semi-finals. We batted first and only managed 90 runs for 8. Then came Cecil Fonseca our 9^the player who scored a sensational 95 runs, hitting four sixes and we were all out for 210 runs. In this match, Zulfikar Ali on the Muslim side was in fine form and bowled well. The Muslim side began batting and, at first, it seemed like they were in trouble 110 runs for 9. Blaze D’Cunha was bowling well, but our captain began to panic and changed him after one over. Then came the Muslim side’s Basharat Hassan and Mubarak Ali and led the Muslim Club to victory. A chance at history with a Goan victory was denied yet again.

It was always the practice of each sports team to elect their captain. However, the rules suddenly changed one year, when the Hockey and Badminton ladies and men’s teams took part in the voting process and voted in the new Cricket captain for our team. It was an unprecedented and unacceptable practice which led to a few of us (non-railway workers “associate members” who had no voice in the management of the club practices) splitting off from the RG I side. At this time, Dr Shashi Patel a Railway doctor asked a few of us to join the Railway European Club, which we did for two seasons, as Kenya’s independence was looming, players were leaving the country and the clubs were shutting down. We then moved our game to the Wanderers Cricket Club, a beautiful setting at the beginning of the Kiambu Road, where we played for three seasons and they too shut down. The saddest part was to see our RGI. Club House and grounds demolished to make way for a boarding Government school complex.  

On my first local leave from work, I was asked to play for the Goan Institute (GI) against the Nazi Moja Club in Mombasa. Playing at the coast with an altitude of 57 feet above sea level with humidity was difficult at first. I only scored 50 runs. My host Armand D’Souza pulled me aside and gave me some profound advice that stayed with me throughout my career, “getting to 50 is the hard part, but once you score 50 you are well set, so just go for a 100”. On my next visit to Mombasa, a Saturday game playing again for the GI against Mombasa Club, my partner was Joe Fernandes, I remembered Armand’s advice and went for the century. 

In the late 1940s, I played for the Nairobi Asian Team touring Zanzibar and Dar-es-Salaam. It was a great game which we won. In the 1950s I was selected to play against the South African Coloured Team which was captained by the famous Basil D’Oliveira in Nakuru at the Rift Valley Sports Club and also played against the Rhodesian Team on the Sikh Union ground. In the 1960s, I played regularly for Asians for season-ending much sought after match against Europeans.

The Europeans lead 11 to Asians 1. We turned that game on its head and beat the Europeans. The Asians dominated, won one match after the other, equalizing the series with the last match ending in a record win for the Asians 450 runs with Akhil Lakhani’s 230 runs n.o. and Chandrakant Patel’s 220 runs n.o.

Kenya Commercial League

In the 1950s, Jasmer Singh a great cricketer and my close friend, together with Maurice Wright, John MacFarlane and myself formed the Kenya Commercial League for teams which included government offices, banks and companies in the private sector. The games would be played off-season, from July to October. The competitive sportsmanship in this league was exceedingly high and most enjoyable and it drew top players from the Asian clubs.

I captained the Ministry of Works (MOW) side and in our very first season I scored 5 centuries in a row, four n.o. and held the record in the league. A game worth mentioning was when Luis D’Souza playing for Gailey & Roberts hit 11 sixes in a match against MOW played on the Patel Club grounds. Other notable great names in cricket in those days included Ramanbhai Patel, Zulfikar Ali, Jawahir Shah, Akhil Lakhani and Chandrakant Patel.

Shortly after my record game in July of that year, the next big upcoming match was Kenya vs Tanzania which would be in August of that year. The selection committee decided to have the scouting selection matches for 17 players at the Patel Club ground. By the time it was my turn to bat, it was about 6 p.m., the sun had begun to set and the light was diminishing. Throughout my cricket career, my best stroke was on the offside. The bowler was Dr Ranjit Singh, a known fast bowler with a new ball. I defended my wicket but unfortunately got trapped on the pads lbw. I was told later that day, that I could not play off-break bowling, and therefore was not selected to represent Kenya.

 

My final Cricket years

In 1959, I got married to Maura Lobo from Kampala Uganda. We started our family in the early 1960s-1970s with three sons; John, James and Jerry and three daughters; Mary Ann, Melita and Michelle. My cricket career continued after independence and throughout my children’s young years into the mid-1970s where I played seasonal games for the Goan Institute (GI) side with players like Sunil Sarkar, Yunis Cockar and Alvito Rego. I finally passed on my cricket bat to my son Jerry and even some of our friend’s sons hoping they would take this great game into the future with them.

Having left Kenya in December 1993 and now a citizen of Canada residing in Oakville, Ontario, I still love to watch my children and grandsons pick up the cricket bat and play a match. At the age of 92, my great joy is always when they ask me to join them to bat.

 

The Irish Goan

 Mal and Margaret Ferris

 

I AM indulging myself just a little and you will forgive me for doing so. I write about my once pukka Irish friend who with his twilight headlights on is more than most of us in the diaspora. They have had an apartment in Bardez, not far from Calangute but nicely hidden from the tourist gaze.

He loves his food hot and swears that any food cooked without those red demons from Goa should be barred for public consumption. There were times when we went out to dinner in Sydney and he would always put a timely two fingers into his top pocket and snick out a packet containing finely chopped red chillies.  His number one dish was Goa’s natural central heating and tongue warmer, Sorpotel. He has cooked a few times. The first was when he and Harold George D’Souza and a few mates were organising a New Year’s Eve Party. Harold and Mal were actually the kitchen hands and not the chefs (they will claim otherwise). I have got it on good authority that the chef was actually Harold’s late mother. The girls would not fib, would they. Anyway, the Irish chap has never raised the issue again, so I say let sleeping pigs lie … somewhere.

It was not so long ago that Rebecca and Tony, Tony and Lucinda, Harold and Hazel, Mal and Margaret and one or two other friends would meet at least one Friday or Saturday each month for dinner. COVID has buggered that up but I also think that age is wearing us down a bit. Driving those few kilometres without a friendly driver is simply not worth it because you cannot drink and drive. The Friday Club which has not met since February or March is another victim of the COVID. One or two or three or even four are recovering from this and that and the rest are twiddling their thumbs and remembering the good old Friday drinks at the Baulkham Hills Bowling Club. Is this the end of the famed Friday Club, I hope not. Certainly, Leslie Scott, Andrew Scott (if he can catch a ride), Loy D’Souza and I would be raring to go. Drake Shikhule, fired by his successes in the medical marijuana business, has been ringing around, urging a meeting of the club. I am confident that once the prison walls come crashing down and we are all freed from the COVID prisons, we will have a full quorum. 

Back to my Irish friend. The small group of Moira villagers who used to celebrate the village feast with the help of their friends began dwindling after Sheila and George Pereira left this earth.

Sheila was a powerhouse. She was always the belle of the party, the feast or the dance. For the senior citizens, she used to get up on a table and sing and dance her heart out.  Since no one was coming forward, my Irish friend let some rumours fly like the kites, suggesting that he might lead the Moidekars (from Moira, Goa). Goodness gracious me! The spark that lit that storm was nothing like the annual bushfires the eastern part of Australia is victim to each year in Summer. Suddenly people were invoking the saints, others were seeking out Goans who used to deal in matters of disht (evil eye) and this and that. Needless to say, my Irish friend was well and truly hammered.  Shame really because he is a very special, hardworking and generous man.

A young Mal Ferris

My Irish friend was once Vice President of the Goan Overseas Association of NSW. He was simply brilliant especially since he increased the profit from the sale of alcohol to the point where the association’s coffers were bulging with healthy profits. However, on one occasion he did go home with a lot of skin off his back missing and he was suspected of having huge scratch marks running from his shoulder to the buttocks. A relation had taken him to task for overcharging for a glass of lemonade. If I remember correctly, he was charging $1.50 for a glass when the two-litre bottle cost only $2 from Woolies. Big overheads, he was explaining to anyone who would listen. However, jokes aside, he was one of the best workers the association ever had in the days when we could run  our bar and most committee members were hands-on as opposed to hands-off and armchair drivers.

 

In the end, his enthusiasm and collective financial ignorance by some drove him out of the association. The committee of Harold George D’Souza invested the association's funds in stocks and shares. No sooner had this been done, there were raging volcanoes erupting everywhere. The committee was torn to shreds at an extraordinary general meeting and had to undertake the sale of the shares. Today they would have been worth quite a bit, maybe even a million. Not only would they be worth so much but in the intervening years just think how much we would have received in tax paid dividends. The association could have given free functions twice a year along with the children’s Xmas party. Never mind, we live and learn.

On the other hand, the naysayers were strong in making the case that investing stocks and shares could bankrupt the association. What was their thinking! Most of the funds were invested in the big banks if they went under, so would the country. Try telling the doomsayers that.

I think I have met M&M in Goa on two or three occasions. If memory serves me right, the last time was in 2009. My sister Flora and her family and I had been to Sri Lanka and had come to Goa for Christmas. We were living in Salcete and M&M were in their Arpora sexy apartment. They paid for an apartment for me and came and picked me up and in no time, I was nestled in a pretty nice place. We did anything and everything but the most essential thing was dinner. We would check out the restaurants and their respective chefs in the morning and try and see if could find a menu to our liking even if the things we were asking for were off-the-menu. Most restaurants obliged because they were familiar with M&M. One of the first things they did was to bring all their grog and shelf at my place. The reason is that, at my place, there was a pretty little swimming pool. No one swam in it, at least I did not see anyone swimming in it. So, after dinner, we would sit by the pool, solve all the world’s problems and then before the sun peeped out, we would hit our respective beds. Their nest was just five minutes away.

Oh, by the way, for brunch we to Mal’s favourite little café for samosas and other Goan pastries. He just can’t get enough of them. Well, neither does anyone else coming from outside of Goa.

It turned out to be a delightful week. The night before they were going to drop me to Salcete, we agreed that alcohol that night would be limited to war-time rations: a couple of sips and that was that. Single Malt, of course. While they were there, I felt a pinch in my left shoulder and put it down to the late shower that I had had that evening and thought nothing of it and went to bed in pretty good spirits. As the night wore, the pain continued and increased until around 5 am, I thought I was in trouble. So, I rang my Irish friend and told him to come quickly and take me to the hospital. Being in no fit state to drive (I don’t how he did that, a secret horde of nightcaps?) he suggested that I go and see a mutual friend in my block of units and ask him to ask his doctor to come and see me in this emergency. I did that but his doctor told him that he stopped making house calls a “century ago”.

Rang M&M up again and they there in 10 minutes and we headed for a clinic in Baga. They duly processed the ElectroCardioGram and we waited for the result which came about 10 minutes later: “Sorry,” said the girl. “Our ECG machine has broken down. Please go to our other clinic in Calangute.” We shot off faster than a rocket heading for the moon. We went through the ropes and got the same result: Machine broken down! Was it me, my body breaking these machines, can’t be!! This time they told us to rush to their private hospital in Mapusa. When we got there, it was a completely different world.

I had this test and that test, this blood test, this X-Ray, that ultrasound and that other X-Ray. It was all clockwork, no waiting. Minutes later, I was talking to the Cardiologist/Surgeon. He said I had a blockage in one of my major arteries and he needed to put a stent in it.  I asked if he could give me some medication that would look after it for the next day or two while I returned to Sydney that day or the next. He said: “You might want to take a chance, I won’t.” That was that. For some reason, my credit card did not have a PIN but M&M said they would pay for it. I suggested that they go back to my place because there was enough money in a stash there. Anyway, minutes later, I am on my back watching a TV while a cardio team is discussing various aspects of delivering the stent. Several minutes later I am in lalalalalal land.

When I eventually wake up, I am in a state of hell. Hell is not always fire red, it can be pitch black, too. Worse, the thing that worried me most was that I had no idea where I was. Took me a while to figure it out and turn around to discover the gizmo little lights around the bed’s headboard. I also finally located the buzzer which as just an inch or two away, and virtually on my body. After I had done the pressing thing, two Goan nurses appeared.

They were speaking in Konkani but I could not hear too well.

One of them said something to me, and I said, “in English please.”

“What is the problem? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“I need some light. Where am I? I know I am in a hospital but where in the hospital?

“In the Intensive Care Unit.”

“Why is it so dark?”

“It is designed to calm our patients who may be recovering from major surgery.”

“Can I get some light, any light?”

“A few minutes later, the other nurse returned with a little oil lamp and a candle”.

I fell asleep again with the oil fumes assuredly in my nasal passages.

Next morning the boss of bosses, the owner, arrived on his rounds, dressed in his General Manager attire, along with his gold watch. I insisted that they get me out of that black hellhole of Mapusa. Eventually, they got me into a private room. The best thing was that my sister was able to bring me some decent Goan food.

The next morning, I left for Benaulim and later that evening for Sydney via Mumbai. We had to buy new Business Class tickets for my niece and me.

When we got to Sydney, the initial carrier refused to refund the price of the ticket but I headed for mediation at a tribunal in Melbourne. Lasted 10 minutes. I simply made the point that this man sold us the tickets but did not deliver the product. Got our original money back. Meanwhile, the insurance refunded the business class tickets because the cardiologist gave a certificate saying that I was asymptomatic. And the rest is history.

Back to my Irish friend. He used to own two log cabins on a small mountain not too far from Sydney’s wine country at Eaglereach. Someone had the bright idea to buy a mountain (well not quite, but big, 1000, acres) and sell plots for the construction of eco-lodges under strict licence. So, we used to go up there regularly. It was the life of the other Reilly. Lots to drink, lots to eat, great walks and plenty to please yourself. The only problem was that when the rest of us were having such a good time, he would be busy doing this, that, or something else. He would stop in time for lunch or dinner. Both events were long because everyone brought one, two, or three dishes and he would barbecue this or that. Breakfast was huge. I have to confess the drink had the better of me on a couple of occasions. And then I never had another drop. My Irish friend married a beautiful Goan girl. He met Margaret at a Catholic Club in London while he was in training with Tesco in 1967. They got married in September 1969. How the hell did an Irish Tesco manager get to marry a Miss World could have been girl?  They have three children and five grandchildren. I rang him up the other day and told him I needed to interview him and he told me to “bugger off”, with a few smiles and sniggles.

After he quit Tesco, he went out to work for himself, selling bacon, sausages and whatever else he could lay his hands on. It was hard yakka but that was nothing to him.  After a year, he bought an old Co-op Building in North Wales. Then started producing his own-branded prepacked food.  In the end, he was the boss of a major meat factory, turning over a considerable amount. The family then sold out to migrate to Australia. That was a blessing for us.

An exceptional couple, we are all truly blessed. I could not wish for a better pair of friends. I am blessed, yet again. By the way, he will swear to anyone who cares to listen that he is pure Irish right down to the last drop of Guinness. In a moment of whimsey, he might admit the Goan part of him is mainly curries, pastries and feni.

Mal with his daughter Leonie ... on top of his world, at least on Sydney Harbour Bridge

Maura Lobo: Our journey with Saint (Mother) Teresa

Our journey with Saint (Mother) Teresa

 

Mother Teresa delighted with donations of baby cots for the children

I AM humbled and feel truly blessed to have been in the presence of Saint (Mother) Teresa. As I gaze at her little statuette on my desk, I hear her voice saying, “my girl (as she affectionately called me) look deeply into my eyes and see God’s compassion, feel the warmth radiating from my heart and know God’s love, feel the strength in my hands for these hands do God’s work”.

Our journey with Mother began in the late 1970s when Mother was visiting Kenya. Wilfred Maciel, a family friend, invited Johnny and I to hear Mother speak at the Holy Family Basilica Cathedral in Nairobi. We had six children at the time but decided to take our eldest daughter Mary Ann who was nine years old with us. Our first images of Mother were of a petite dainty nun, cloaked in simplicity. She spoke of her order of the Missionaries of Charity and their work among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta and around the world, poignantly reminding us that we too had to take responsibility for our poor people in Kenya. She said this was the reason she had come to Kenya, to open a home at Huruma. Our little girl Mary Ann was listening very attentively and without me noticing, reached into my purse, pulled out a 100 Kenyan Shilling note, walked over and handed Mother the note, saying, “Mother this is for the poor”. Mother reached over to her saying, “God works in mysterious ways, thank you my child” and continued, “if this little child can do so much, how much more can we do together for the poorest of the poor?”

In the 1980s, we began helping the Salesians of Don Bosco. The original small group of priest and brothers led by Fr. Tony D’Souza had left India to start their mission in Kenya at Upper Hill. We adopted most of them into our family, invited them to our home, cooked meals for them at their home. We also helped in dealing with the Government ministries, organised fetes, and fundraising events to build the Shrine. Our three daughters sang in the choir and our three sons organised youth rallies. My mother, Mary Lobo, seemed to be like a mother to all. Jerry, our third son, volunteered to work with the priests and brothers doing various tasks around the church, later driving them to the missions around Kenya, as they were unfamiliar with the terrain in the northern frontier. They affectionately called him “Brother Jerry”. A great honour the Salesians bestowed on me was to ask me, along with Cardinal Maurice Otunga, to lay a scroll dedicating the Shrine to Mary Help of Christians their patron, in the foundation of the current Shrine in Upper Hill, Nairobi.

In the late 1980s, we met up with Mother again at Huruma. When we arrived at Huruma, we were taken to a small room by the chapel. Mother came in, greeted us and we began with a prayer. In Mother’s presence, I always felt a sense of comfort and peacefulness. She spoke about the work they did at the home and how they welcomed volunteers to help in the service of the poor. While Mother spoke, I noticed her keenly looking at both of us. Mother ended with a prayer, wished us well and left the room. While heading to our car, one of the sisters called out to us and asked us to accompany her as Mother wanted to speak to us again. Mother said she recognised our faces as the parents of the little girl at the Basilica. Mother had a fantastic memory.

She asked us about our family. We told her at length. We also told her of our work with the Salesians of Don Bosco. She listened, smiled, and said, “This is divine providence, God has brought you to me.” Mother asked us if we would be interested in becoming her first Co-workers in Kenya. We would lead a group of volunteers under this banner. She explained what was involved. We accepted. Mother was delighted at our acceptance and gave us a copy of the mandate of the International Co-Workers of Mother Teresa. She then took us for a brief tour of her home, gave us her blessing and we departed. She mentioned she was leaving for Calcutta the next day and would send us a letter of appointment. It arrived shortly after our visit.

 

We set to work calling a few friends to join our family as Co-workers of Mother Teresa. We shared the simple mandate as Mother had shared it with us: visit the home to work as often as we liked; once a month prepare a simple meal of rice, minced beef with green peas, potatoes and carrots (no spices), bread and fruit; while serving meals, hand out plates to each person with dignity; feed those that could not feed themselves, pre and post meals spend time talking and engaging with the older people or playing with the children; and end each visit with a prayer in the chapel. Among the ladies in our group, it was mostly Olga Fernandes and Maria Rebello who cooked the large quantity of rice once a month and I cooked the beef mince at our respective homes. All the families within our group would drive over to spend time with the people, serving and feeding them. The dedication and commitment from our Co-worker group was remarkable.

 

 

In 1988, the International Co-workers of Mother Teresa were meeting in Paris for the Fourth Chapter. Having a growing family, I told Mother while I would love to attend, I could not afford it. Knowing what an enriching experience this was to meet others doing similar work. Since I was the only link in East Africa at the time, Mother reached out to Margaret Calles, our connection in South Africa and mentioned my predicament. Margaret had visited Kenya previously to work with us and stayed in our family home, so she knew me well. She operated a travel agency in South Africa and very kindly arranged a ticket for me to fly from Nairobi to London. I felt so fortunate. In London, I was able to briefly meet my three brothers and their families before staying for one night with Ann Blaikie the first layperson to volunteer with Mother in Calcutta and the founder of the Co-workers of Mother Theresa, who lived in Surrey. Early the next morning we departed by ferry to Calais and onwards by coach to Paris. It was a fantastic chapter in Paris where we got to meet global links and learn through talks and videos what work the Co-workers were doing in their respective countries. There were dignitaries, religious and lay guest speakers also invited. On the third day of the conference, two co-workers asked me to join them over lunch for a quick trip to the Basilica of Sainte-Thérèse of Lisieux. The Basilica turned out to be 200 kilometres away and with the horrendous traffic, took 3 hours to reach. The Basilica was inspirational and equally stunning both architecturally and decoratively, but we ended up missing the entire afternoon of the conference. The next day when I saw Mother, I told her I was sorry to have missed the previous afternoon to which she smiled and replied “My girl, how lucky you were to visit the Basilica, I wish someone could have taken me.”

In 1990, Mother was happy with the work we were doing in Kenya and wanted us to share this with her other homes in Africa. She appointed Johnny and I as International Area Links for East and Central Africa.

There was no fundraising allowed in Mother’s name or the name of the Missionaries of Charity, as Mother always believed when a need arose, God provided. We established a group of benefactors who generously gave money as well as donations of supplies, medicines, and other necessities for the home. Mother opened two more homes in Kenya; one in Kibera for men and the other in Otiende for children. Huruma became a home only for the elderly. Our co-worker group also grew to 50 in number, and we were able to service each home with our meals once a month. Mother had always told us before you begin your service of the poor, remember to begin with a service in   your own home, with your family, then radiate it outwards to the community, especially the less fortunate.

We often exchanged letters with Mother in those pre-internet days. Every time she came to Kenya, we went to the airport to meet her as Johnny had arranged special permission from the Immigration Minister, Mr Kwinga, to meet Mother at the plane and escort her out of the airport. Through one of our benefactors, we were able to arrange a small plane to fly Mother from Wilson Airport to Suguta (to start her mission) and Johnny accompanied Mother on that trip. She had a warm relationship with my mother, Mary Lobo, and referred to her as “her older sister”. She knew each of our six children by name and often asked after them. By then, Jerry our third son, was in the U.K. and John our eldest had emigrated to Canada. Mother was familiar with James our second son who supported us a lot with our work at the homes and our three daughters Mary Ann, Melita and Michelle who were always by our side when we visited and worked at the homes.

In 1993, we emigrated to Canada. While happy to be reuniting with our three children - John, James and Mary Ann who preceded us, it was with heavy hearts that we relinquished our responsibility of leading the co-workers in Kenya. We passed the baton on to our original co-workers and friends to continue the work we began. In 1994, Mother called for a dissolution of the formal international co-worker organisations around the globe fearing they had become too institutionalised and called instead for the volunteers to return to their grassroots origins. Around that time, many of our original group of Co-workers also began leaving Kenya for new lands. We continued to keep in regular touch with Mother. Her last letter to us was in November 1996 and sadly, she died in 1997. Today, Mother is a Saint, and in closing I echo my original sentiment, we are truly blessed to have personally known and worked alongside Saint (Mother) Teresa in service of the poor.

Maura and Johnny Lobo in Canada ... a remarkable couple, a remarkable family