GOANS around the world have a lot in common. There is one trait we would rather not have and that is the ability of putting crap on fellow Goans, the age-old crabs in a bucket (when one tries to climb out of the bucket, 12 others pull it down). It is a metaphor that used apply in the old days in most aspects of Goan life. I have been accused of that often, especially when writing the facts as they are, or bringing to light an unsavory fact. As a journalist, I never abuse my profession using it to personally attack any human being. I would rather the facts speak for themselves, as a commentator, critic, observer, I have that right. In the Epilogue of my debut novel Yesterday in Paradise I wrote: I am a Goan. I am a Kenyan. I am British. I am Australian. I am a man of many parts from many places, but right now the whole of me is Australian. Yet, the punchline was quite simply: The Goan in me will only die with that final (last) sunset. So, I was...
Goans, East Africans et al