Colonialism, Migration and the International Catholic Goan Community

Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes

2020 Copyleft, 2020. This edition is released under the Creative Commons. Some rights reserved. May be copied and shared for non-commercial purposes, with due acknowledgements to the author and publisher.

First edition: December 2011. This ebook edition: August 2020. Published by Goa,1556, Sonarbhat, Saligão 403511 Goa, India.

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Goa,1556 is an alternative initiative to promote book publishing and the written word locally. It is named after the year of the accidental arrival in Goa of Asia’s ﬁrst Gutenberg-inspired printing press. Today, perhaps more than ever, Goa needs opportunities for its many voices to be heard, its diverse people to understand themselves and articulate their priorities.

Project coordination by Frederick Noronha +91-9822122436. Editorial assistance by Nomratha Fernandes. Cover design by Bina Nayak http://www.binanayak.com Front cover photo courtesy Ondˇrej Žvácek,ˇ Wikipedia. Cover photo of the author by Jennifer Booth http://jenniferbooth.carbonmade.com Typeset using LYX, http://www.lyx.org Text set in Bera Serif 10/15 pt. ISBN 978-81-940107-6-0

This ebook is being made available free of charge to readers. In return, please consider making a donation to the Goan Welfare Society, UK (Registered Charity No. 280542 https://goanwelfaresocietyuk.com/) Dedicated with fondest love to

my parents

Constantino and Teresa Mascarenhas

(Saligão, Nairobi, Mira Mar)

and

my children

Aidan, Christopher, Douglas and Matthew

(Saligão, Shefﬁeld) What the Others Say

Mascarenhas-Keyes has applied a rich theoretical framework to her ethnological research in Goa and goes beyond the traditional methods of social anthropology... insider knowledge makes her study particularly valuable. —Dr Teotonio R. de Souza, Indo-Portuguese historian and former-director of the Xavier Centre of Historical Research, Goa.

[A]n important book in the renewal of Goan studies and an equally important read for identity revival for the Goan diaspora. —Dr Rudolf Heredia, SJ, sociologist and author.

The Native Anthropologist approach is brilliant in the way she both uses the rules of social anthropology and undermine them, thus crossing barriers and being both objective and personal, inventing strategies for dealing with what she shows is a complex Goan world. —Peter Nazareth, Professor of English, University of Iowa, USA.

An important study on the female emigration of Goans. — Prof Susana Sardo, University of Aveiro, Portugal.

Stella’s book will make an important contribution to educate people about Goa and its historical position geographically, culturally and economically. I am sure that it will resonate with many individuals from the Goan diaspora as well as provide a broader analysis of the signiﬁcant relationships between colonialism, migration and education in an international context.

—Rt Hon Valerie Vaz, M.P., Member of Parliament, Walsall South, UK. Shadow Leader of the House. Hosted reception for the book at the House of Commons, 2012.

iv Insightful, exhaustive, and helps the reader to understand Goan migration. —Eduardo Faleiro, ex-NRI Commissioner Goa and former Union Minister, Government of India.

With so much historical and sociological research behind this book, Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes has produced a very enlightening and in-depth account of Goan migration from both a global and local perspective – a legacy for posterity. For those interested in gaining a better understanding of their roots and the Goan diaspora, I would thoroughly recommend reading this excellent book. —Flavio Gracias, former President, Goan Association (UK), and current Chair of Trustees, Goan Welfare Society UK.

Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes’ extensive research ﬁndings illustrate how Goans come to spread their inﬂuence across the globe. This book will help you understand why you can take a Goan out of Goa but you will never take Goa out of a Goan.

—Cllr. Rabi Martins, former Chairman and President of the Goan Association UK.

v Contents

What the Others Say ...... iv

A note for the 2020 edition ...... xiii

FOREWORD: The Goan Spider’s Web ...... xiv

PREFACE: Reasons – academic and personal ...... xviii

Acknowledgements ...... xxvii

Theoretical Perspectives 1

Introduction ...... 1

Deﬁnition of Migration ...... 4

Why Migrate? ...... 7

Who Migrates? ...... 14

The Destination on Migrants ...... 21

The Organisation of Migration ...... 22

Effects of Migration...... 23

Unit of Analysis ...... 30

Organisation of the Book ...... 35

Notes ...... 37

vi CONTENTS CONTENTS

Background Setting: Goa and the Village Amora 39

Introduction ...... 39

Goa: Location and Population ...... 41

Portuguese Colonial Era ...... 45

Politico-economic policy ...... 46

Religious policy ...... 50

Post-Colonial Era ...... 55

Selection of Village ...... 61

Amora: General Characteristics ...... 64

Amora: Patterns of International Migration ...... 71

Notes ...... 75

Portuguese Colonialism and the Social Construction of a Local Catholic Goan Community 82

Introduction ...... 82

Territorial Basis ...... 84

Structural Features ...... 95

Cultural Chracteristics ...... 106

The Retention of Traditional Practices ...... 113

Conclusion ...... 121

Notes ...... 123

The Economic Deterioration of Goa and the Development of External Job Opportunities 134

Introduction ...... 134

vii CONTENTS CONTENTS

The 16th Century Village Economy ...... 135

Changes in the Agrarian Economy under the Portuguese . 139

Private property ...... 139

Shareholding ...... 142

State intervention ...... 144

Food production ...... 147

Occupational structure ...... 149

European Colonialism and Employment Outside Goa . . . 153

Conclusion ...... 157

Notes ...... 158

Migration and the Emergence of an International Cath- olic Goan Community 170

Introduction ...... 170

The Nature and Extent of International Migration .... . 171

Case History 1: Peter ...... 172

Case History 2: Vincent ...... 177

Case History 3: Sebastian ...... 179

Case History 4: John ...... 180

Case History 5: Anne ...... 181

Categories of Migrants and Type of Migration ...... 183

Organisation of International Migration ...... 189

Jobs and Inter-Generational Occupational Mobility . . . . 197

General background ...... 197

viii CONTENTS CONTENTS

Caste and occupation ...... 204

The Reproduction of International Migration and the Role Played by Remittances ...... 211

Changing educational provision and access ...... 219

Conclusion ...... 228

Notes ...... 230

Marriage, Family and Kinship in the International Cath- olic Goan Community 234

Introduction ...... 234

Patterns of Marriage and Their Historical Development . . 235

Marriage according to ideas of parents ...... 235

Marriage according to ideas of parents with consent of son/daughter ...... 236

Son/daughter own choice with consent of parents . . 239

Son/daughter own choice without parents’ consent . . 240

The Implications of Marriage Patterns ...... 243

Inter-caste and inter-ethnic marriages ...... 243

Territorial links ...... 251

Marriage payments ...... 251

Age at marriage ...... 253

Celibacy ...... 256

Residence Patterns and Household Organisation ...... 258

Residence patterns ...... 258

Household composition ...... 259

ix CONTENTS CONTENTS

The predominance of nuclearisation ...... 262

Single households and homes for the aged ...... 264

The Development and Practice of Progressive Motherhood in the ICGC ...... 267

Female Autonomy and Respnsibility ...... 275

The Maintenance of Kinship and Afﬁnal Links ...... 278

Conclusion ...... 280

Notes ...... 281

Socio-Economic Links of the International Catholic Goan Community with Goa 282

Introduction ...... 282

The Remittance Economy ...... 283

House Ownership in Goa ...... 287

Changing Land Rights in Goa and implications for Tenure by the ICGC ...... 298

Post-colonial agrarian reform ...... 299

Effects of agrarian reform and international migration on land tenure ...... 303

Case Histories ...... 310

Case History 1: Tony ...... 310

Case History 2: Baptist ...... 312

Case History 3: Philip ...... 313

The Development of New Modes of Production in the ICGC 315

The Role of the ICGC in Village Resources and Administra- tion ...... 322

x CONTENTS CONTENTS

Conclusion ...... 328

Appendix: Problems in Data Collection on Land Rights . . 329

Notes ...... 334

The Structure and Function of Voluntary Associations in the International Catholic Goan Community 336

Introduction ...... 336

Voluntary Associations in Goa ...... 337

Voluntary Associations Outside Goa: Village-Based . . . . 341

Voluntary Associations Outside Goa: Generalist ...... 349

Interest Groups ...... 362

Institutional Links ...... 365

Conclusion ...... 369

Conclusion: Colonialism, Migration and the Interna- tional Catholic Goan Community 371

Introduction ...... 371

Patterns of International Catholic Goan Migration from Goa372

Ethnogenesis of the ICGC ...... 377

Theoretical and Methodological Implications ...... 391

Annex A: The Native Anthropologist... 395

Introduction ...... 395

I On becoming a multiple native ...... 396

II The signiﬁcance of permanent kinship and associational links ...... 401

xi CONTENTS CONTENTS

III Self as informant ...... 406

IV The implications of writing texts for a native and academic audience ...... 411

Conclusion ...... 414

Bibliography 422

Bibliography: references ...... 422

Bibliography: reports ...... 447

Glossary 449

Annex B: Author’s publications and presentations 456

About the author 459

xii A note for the 2020 edition

am very pleased that my 1987 Ph.D. thesis submitted to the I School of Oriental and African Studies, London University, which was published as a book in 2011, is now being republished as an eBook. No changes have been made to the original work but in Annex B, I have added a list of academic papers published since I wrote the thesis. I hope to bring the texts of these papers together in the future in an eBook.

While my work has been widely cited by scholars worldwide, I hope this eBook will make it more accessible to a wider audience. It contributes to the increasing repository of knowledge of Goan heritage based on systematic academic research.

This ebook is being made available free of charge to readers. As I am Patron of the Goan Welfare Society UK (Registered Charity Number 280542 https://goanwelfaresocietyuk.com/), I would be delighted if you would make a contribution to it.

Dr Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes August 2020 Shefﬁeld, UK

xiii FOREWORD: The Goan Spider’s Web

he popular dictum “Better late than never” is most appropri- T ate in this case. Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes has been cited frequently by many authors during the past three decades, but it is unclear even to me, an old friend, why Stella’s doctoral research had to wait for all these decades to be published and made available to interested scholars and the general public.

Colonialism, Migration and the International Catholic Goan Com- munity deals with a phenomenon that makes the essence of Goan identity since long before Portuguese colonialism ended 50 years ago. Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes studies the phenomenon during the past two centuries, and, hence, the recent phase that is more present in our memories and has influenced, and continues to influence, the socio-political configuration of Goa.

Goa’s past has seen in-migrations and out-migrations since most distant times. Goan identity is a product of many outsiders who chose to settle down in Goa to explore its strategic location as maritime port. In the same process, many natives of the region were drawn, or driven away, by foreign dominant groups. The Last Prabhu (2010) by Switzerland-based Bernardo Elvino de Sousa has opened the path to a DNA-based genetic genealogy of Goans,

xiv The Goan Spider’s Web Dr. Teotonio R. de Souza tracing back his own ancestors as they moved out of pre-historic Africa some ﬁfty thousand years ago.

Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes traces the return journey of many of our ancestors to Africa. “Insider-trading” is not viewed favourably in the ﬁnancial market, but the insider knowledge that Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes brings to her subject makes her study particularly valuable.

It is obvious from the title of the study that the author con- centrates upon the Catholic Goans, but does not forget entirely the Hindu Goans. While this limited scope leaves out the pre- colonial and colonial migratory movements of the Goan population as a whole, it is quite sufﬁcient to explain the leverage that globalisation – or the “spider’s web”, as the author calls it – has provided to the Goan Catholic minority community.

From the Bombay kudd to Goan clubs in East Africa and present-day voluntary organisations worldwide, where the Goan international satellite communities are located, and also the Union of Goan Repatriates in Goa since 1966, these are some of the illustrations of the Goan “spider’s web”. Had the study extended beyond 1980, it would take cognisance of the internet networks that now bind Goans very effectively.

Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes has applied a rich theoretical framework to her ethnological research in Goa and goes beyond the traditional methods of social anthropology as demonstrated in the Introductory chapter and all through the book. She states in her closing chapter that much of her analysis would be unconvincing without providing historical details of the political economy as it evolved in colonial times. She confesses to her limited use of archival documentation, but several available publications in Portuguese could be better explored. A historical approach

xv The Goan Spider’s Web Dr. Teotonio R. de Souza necessarily implies an adequate and critical use of these sources.

The multidisciplinary approach in this study reminds me of Maurice Halbwachs, one of the associates of the French school of Annales that defended a culture of synthesis and a refusal of the disciplinarisation of knowledge. Closer at home, we have a model in D.D. Kosambi, who has left brilliant illustrations of research in social sciences, including his Myth and Reality: Studies in the Formation of Indian Culture [http://bit.ly/rYSFDM] where we witness a deft use of philosophy, literature, the oral tradition, ethnographic ﬁeldwork and archival documentation, establishing linkage between pre-historic and contemporary India, including Goa, from the Skanda Purana to Portuguese colonial times.

This study throws up some interesting revelations. We get to know that the establishment of the rail link played its part, but the occupation of Goa by the neighbouring English troops during the ﬁnal phase of Napoleonic wars was also responsible for setting the trend of Goans migrating to serve the British military camps as cooks and butlers in Belgaum, Poona, Bombay and elsewhere in India. We get to know also why the Goan emigrants took to occupations such as tailors and bakers.

Among other factors that helped to evolve a proactive migrant culture among the Goan Catholics it is rightly mentioned that the Church played a signiﬁcant role. The international connections of the Catholic Church backed the emigrants with its institutional and personal contacts. Incidentally, among the early Goan Catholic migrants to the Canara coast, including Mangalore and neighbouring regions, there were families that served the Jesuit parish priests in Salcete (Goa) as cooks and sacristans. They accompanied the priests when they were transferred to the parishes of that region. There was a similar trend with Goan diocesan priests who served the Padroado churches in British

xvi The Goan Spider’s Web Dr. Teotonio R. de Souza

India, particularly in the Ghat missions, Pune, Bombay and South India.

The release of this book to mark fifty years of Goa’s Liberation is fully justified: this study accompanies the transition from the colonial times and covers the first three decades of liberated Goa. A village designated as “Amora” is the focus of this study. It has a special significance for the writer of this Foreword. Whatever may have been the intention of the author to choose that designation, I see it as characterising the ambiguity of Portuguese colonial relations in Asia, as analysed in one of my recent essays entitled “Amoras and Amores” [http://bit.ly/s1fbNU].

It was the ambiguous or paradoxical result of the Portuguese colonialism in Goa that deﬁnes the essence of the Goan identity today: the Portuguese success permitted the creation of a strong Catholic minority with worldwide support of its international satellite network of emigrants. The Konkani language continues to sustain the cultural bond with the Hindu majority. The Portuguese failed to prevent this despite all their efforts. This may be seen as a unique social partnership that makes Goans proud after 50 years of their Liberation.

Teotónio R. de Souza Lisboa, 11 December 2011

Head, Department of History, Universidade Lusófona de Humanidades e Tecnologias (Lisboa). Fellow of the Portuguese Academy of History, and of the Sociedade de Geograﬁa de Lisboa. Author, Medieval Goa, and Goa to Me, and editor/co-editor of several other publications relating to the Portuguese in Asia. An updated list of publications may be consulted at http://bit.ly/aBMS9z or http://bit.ly/hiBEwp

xvii PREFACE: Reasons – academic and personal

his book is based mainly on extensive social anthological T doctoral research undertaken between 1979-1981, supplemented by experiential knowledge and historical material. It focuses on the emergence and maintenance of the International Catholic Goan Community (ICGC).

I was born and brought up in Nairobi, and although I had only visited Goa twice before the research, at the ages of 4 and 18, I was not a stranger to the people living in Goa. This was partly due to the fact that my parents, and many of their peers whom I knew well, had returned to their ancestral homeland, Goa, from Africa. However, the main reason is well brought out in the following anecdotes.

Waiting at a bus stop in a village in Salcete, South Goa, I struck up a conversation with a middle-aged retired Catholic shippie. On learning that I had lived in Nairobi, and that my father had worked for the East African Railways, he said, “Maybe you know my brother John who also used to work for the Railways. He died recently in London where he had gone to live with his wife and children”. He was delighted to hear that I was acquainted with

xviii Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal his brother and family, and in the course of the conversation we discovered many more mutual acquaintances.

On another occasion I asked a middle-aged Catholic woman for directions to someone’s house. Characteristic of Goans, she proceeded to enquire who I was and it turned out, to our mutual surprise, that she had attended the same convent boarding school as my mother in Belgaum, and they had not met for over 35 years. I had countless similar experiences but it is important to note that these were not unusual. It is a common practice when Goans, particularly Catholic Goans meet, whether in Goa or elsewhere, to locate each other in the geographically dispersed kinship and associational network which constitutes a veritable spider’s web.

I was motivated to undertake the research for two reasons: academic and personal.

On the academic side, I wanted to contribute to redressing a lacuna, evident at the time of my research in 1980, of scholarly social science studies on Indians. India is well known for its diversity but relatively little was known about Christians and the Roman Catholics in particular. At that time, virtually any academic work that claimed to deal with India, ignored Goa. Thus, for instance, Kolenda (1968) in her study of family structure in India failed to include Goa. Similarly, Forrester’s book (1980) examining the retention of the Hindu caste system as a basis for social stratiﬁcation among Christians in India hardly discussed Goa, although it was among the important Christian centres in India. My study hoped to redress these gaps by examining the impact of Roman Catholicism in Goa, which became known as the ‘Rome of the East’.

Catholicism was the handmaiden of Portuguese colonialism and the combination of religion, with political and economic exploit-

xix Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal ation, was a feature which did not characterise the policies of other European imperialists. Hence, I hoped that my doctoral thesis would contribute to studies of colonialism and its particular impact on Indian society (see chapters 3 and 4).

British colonial expansion was the major avenue through which Indians were dispersed worldwide. The greater majority of labour migration was under the indenture and kangani systems, complemented by the free migration of relatively smaller numbers of traders, artisans and professionals. However, how the labour demands created by colonialism for service and white collar workers were met by Indians had been little researched, and I hoped my doctoral thesis would be a contribution towards remedying that situation (see chapter 4).

Finally, I also hoped to contribute to theoretical and conceptual debates in the study of migration by critically examining the applicability of existing approaches to the diachronic study of international Goan migration (see chapters 1 and 9).

On the personal side, the research represented a search for ‘roots’ and identity – to locate an autobiography within a cultural biography (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987: The Native Anthropologist: Constraints and Strategies in Research, reproduced in Annex A). The existential question of “Who am I?” took on an additional signiﬁcance when I found myself in the UK in 1970, after having spent 20 years in Nairobi, cocooned within a close knit Goan community. Within that context, a Catholic Goan identity was self-evident. However, within the wider context of England, when my non-Goan friends asked me why I did not have an Indian ﬁrst name and surname, did not wear a sari, could not speak an Indian language, and why my parents came to live in Kenya and then had returned to Goa, I had no convincing answer.

xx Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal

The list went on.... I realised that as a result of being educated in a British colony, even though it was in a Goan community school (Dr Ribeiro Goan School), I knew more about the Tudors and Stuarts than I knew about Goan history, and I knew more about western culture than I did of Indian culture. I realised that as a Catholic Goan I was not alone in this state of ignorance.

My undergraduate studies of psychology made me aware of issues of colonialism and identity; but to study them in relation to Goan society, and to understand my own historical background and contemporary location in Britain, I realised that I needed a discipline that adopted a holistic perspective that drew on wider social science disciplines including sociology, economics, politics and history. Social anthropology provided this as well as a research methodology which requires a researcher to live as a native among the people studied, gathering ethnographic data through participant observation which is then subject to rigorous and robust analysis using theoretical frameworks and comparative scholarly literature.

Traditionally, western, and western-trained social anthropologists, have regularly studied other societies. However, it was unusual for a researcher to study her own society. Ethnographic research as a native anthropologist throws up its own challenges including lack of understanding and community wariness of the aims of social research and expectations as to how one should behave as an ordinary member of the community rather than as a researcher who has to be free to mix with everyone (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987).

A large part of this book is based on data collected by the ethnographic method including a period of twenty two months residence in Goa from May 1979 to March 1981. While in Goa, with the help of a tutor, I learnt to speak Konkani and to write

xxi Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal it in both Roman and Devanagri script. I had attended lessons in Portuguese in London which had equipped me with some familiarity with this language. This multi-lingualism was vital to creating empathy and facilitating the gathering of data from a cross-section of the Goan community.

Traditionally, social anthropologists have focused their study on a ‘village’. They systematically and objectively examine household and family structures, patterns of social stratiﬁcation in terms of caste, class, gender, age and other variables, the nature of the local economy, politics and religion, the dynamics of social interaction and processes of change. I followed this approach and lived for several months in the village of Amora (pseudonym) which I selected after careful consideration of several options. However, the study of international migration also necessitated the study of the internal migration of Hindu Goans and Kunbis who had come to work in Amora and many other villages to capitalise on the work opportunities in farming, service and construction that arose through the international migration of Catholic Goans. Hence, I went to live in Pernem (in the hinterland of Goa) with the families of the Hindu Goans working in Amora, and also lived in Salcete with the families of Kunbis working in Amora. I also spent time with Muslim Goan families in Valpoi and visited brieﬂy all the other talukas to gain a comprehensive understanding of socio-economic and cultural conditions in Goa.

As Goa has a large population of returnees, of which my parents were an example, I spent several weeks with them in Mira Mar, Panjim gathering data on repatriates who in 1980 constituted the main residents of the area. I interviewed several government ministers and senior personnel of government departments as well as priests and nuns belonging to several parishes and religious orders. I also conducted interviews with Catholic and

xxii Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal

Hindu Goans living in Bombay, Bangalore, Poona and Delhi. Towards the end of 1984, I was briefly employed as a film researcher investigating various aspects of the Catholic Church in India. This fieldwork provided valuable knowledge of the practice of Catholicism in different parts of India and helped to sharpen the development of ideas embodied in chapter 3 of this book.

Goans are dispersed worldwide; it would have been impossible, as a sole researcher, to undertake detailed research in multiple sites. However, the thesis, and hence this book, incorporates data from research undertaken in Europe, particularly Lisbon (Feb-March 1982) and in London (1977 and passim). As an international Catholic Goan I have used Self as Informant (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987) and utilised experiential knowledge throughout this book.

My 20 years in Nairobi since birth included residence in an area with a large concentration of Goans, education at the Goan community school and participation in multiple community activities centred around the Goan clubs and Church. I have lived in Britain since 1970 and in 1977-79 carried out a modest sociological study of the Goan community in Greater London (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979). The knowledge of the Goan community in Kenya, Portugal and Britain informs chapter 5 of this book.

As an active member of the Goan community in London, I held a number of executive ofﬁces in its voluntary organisations. From 1977-79, I was a committee member of the Goan Overseas Association Standing Conference on Race and Immigration; from 1982-83, I was General Secretary of the Goan Association (UK) and, in 1984, Secretary of the Standing Conference of Goan Organisations. I have also been a member in London of my own village association, Saligão, and served as President. Although at the time I held these ofﬁces I had no intention of using the experiential knowledge acquired for this study, as the thesis went

xxiii Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal through successive drafts, it increasingly became clear to me that the material would be valuable. Chapter 8 relies a great deal on data derived through playing key roles in overseas Goan voluntary organisations.

The thesis, and hence this book, drew not only on my ethnographic research and experiential knowledge but also on historical sources (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987:190). The data obtained from these has been used primarily in chapters 2, 3 and 4. Where historical data had been available around 1980, they have been uneven, concentrating on the 16th and 17th centuries and, therefore, a large part of my historical reconstruction for the 18th to 20th century is derived from piecing together information from various sources as well as extrapolating backwards from the ethnographic present. The use of secondary historical source materials has to be treated with caution. A number of well known Indianists, such as Srinivas, have noted that the picture which Indologists had presented to the scholarly world about Indian society was “... a book view and an upper caste view, and that the reality was far more complicated and diversiﬁed” (1969:47). A similar criticism applies to Goa and it is compounded by the fact that authors were predominantly Catholic, not Hindu, thus portraying a further limited view (Ifeka 1985).

This book attempts to combine the “... descriptive richness which can be conveyed by a social anthropologist looking at a community at one point in time as well as the perspective of a social historian whose focus is on the nature of change over several generations" (Lewandowski 1980:vi). Furthermore, it explores the dialectical relationship between factors operating at the macro-level, such as changes in the global political economy, with those operating at the micro-level of ordinary people’s beliefs, intentions, desires, motivations and behaviour.

xxiv Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal

This book is the result of using the principles of multiple triangulation (Denzin 1978), that is to say, it combines a number of different methods, evolved during ethnographic research and writing up, to produce an analysis of the development and maintenance of the ICGC. It is written for both a Goan and academic audience and consequently, it has a large bibliography and extensive notes which the reader interested in pursuing points made in the main text can consult. Readers’ comments are welcome via [email protected]

While this book covers a long time span it terminates with the 1980s. Although I have undertaken post-doctoral research since then on Goans in Brazil and the Gulf, and on 21st century migrants to England, this work does not feature in this book although incorporated into research papers. The demographic, socio- economic and political situation of Goa has changed since I did my original research but the picture presented in this book is as it was in 1980 (see chapter 2 and passim).

Throughout the book I have used the convention of ‘ethnographic research conducted in 1980’ (to cover my research in Goa from 1979-81) and ‘historical sources consulted in 1980’ (to cover sources consulted upto 1984). While I did consider updating the original thesis with more ethnographic data, theoretical and historical sources, it would have been a time consuming task and the publication of the book would have been considerably delayed.

Since gaining a doctorate in Social Anthropology in 1987, I have spoken about my research at multiple academic conferences and published several academic papers. I have also given presentations at various Goan community events, most notably the ﬁrst International Goan Convention in Toronto, 1988 and the ﬁrst Global Goans Convention in London in 2011. However, during the short time span of a presentation, I obviously could not capture

xxv Preface Reasons–academicandpersonal the historical and contemporary scope of my research. Only a few Goans have been able to access my work and I began to increasingly realise that I needed to share the composite work more widely. However, a busy life as mother to four children combined with professional employment, left me with little time to devote to preparing my work for publication. Furthermore, as my children have grown up I realised that they had no source book to consult about their own history. They have visited Goa on several occasions and loved staying in our ancestral house. I realised that publishing my book would give them a legacy of their history as well as increasing the accessibility of my work to the Goan community and wider. It seemed timely to publish my book at the time of the international conference Goa: 1961 and Beyond, marking independence from 450 years of Portuguese colonialism.

This book is dedicated with great love to two significant components of the International Catholic Goan Community: first to my parents (late) Constantine and Teresa, not only because their migration to Kenya and adaptation to difficult circumstances provided the inspiration for this work, but also in recognition of their sacrifice and hard work to ensure that their seven children ‘do well’; and second, to my four wonderful children Aidan, Christopher, Douglas and Matthew, to help them better understand their Indian roots and their place in the Goan spider’s web, with its fountainhead in Goa and globally dispersed satellite communities permeated by radial and lateral kinship, friendship and institutional links.

Dr Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes 2011 Shefﬁeld, England

xxvi Acknowledgements

would like to thank the following three academics for their I intellectual contribution to my research: Emeritus Professor Lionel Caplan, who was my doctoral research supervisor at the Department of Anthropology and Sociology, School of Oriental and African Studies, London University, who had extensive research experience of South Asia; Professor James L. Watson (now at Harvard University, USA) who had undertaken research on international migration and provided guidance while he was a lecturer at SOAS; and Professor Teotonio R. de Souza (now at Universidade Lusofona, Lisbon), the eminent Goan historian, who shared my emotional involvement in the search for ‘roots’, and commented on early thesis drafts of chapters 2, 3 and 4, and agreed to write the Foreword to this book.

I would also like to thank the Anthropology Research Students Thesis Aid Group for support and helpful comments on various thesis chapters; Innes Fereria for translating Portuguese texts and preparing illustrations; Kamida Khan for the photograph on the jacket cover; and Frederick Noronha for his publishing expertise in converting a manuscript into a book.

For permission to examine various records I am grateful to the Population Census Ofﬁce, the Mamladar’s Court, the Land Survey Department, the Bardez Communidade Ofﬁce, the Archbishop’s

xxvii Acknowledgements

Palace, Shanta Durga Temple, the All-Goa Repatriates Union, the Goa Hindu Association of Bombay (Mumbai), and the panchayat, comunidade, bank and Church in Amora.

It is common practice for social anthropologists to thank ‘my people’ but as a Native Anthropologist I am particularly indebted to the numerous fellow Goans in Goa and various parts of the world who responded, often with perplexity and sometimes with understandable suspicion, to my seemingly unending questions about their lives. I acknowledge the warmth and affection of the people of Amora, particularly my neighbours.

Finally, I am particularly grateful to all the members of my family for their interest and encouragement in my research: my mother Teresa for lifelong devoted nurturance; Shaun for his support and encouragement during ﬁeldwork and writing up; Hector, Albert, Sarita, Francis and Michael for editorial assistance, and Aidan, Christopher, Douglas and Matthew for help with proof reading. It is with deep regret that my father, Constantino, who diligently helped me in the examination of land records in Goa, and elder brother Freddy, who encouraged me to pursue university studies, are no longer alive and able to read this book.

I would like to thank the following organisations for supporting my research: the (UK) Social Science Research Council, the Radcliffe- Brown Memorial Fund, the British Academy and the Gulbenkian Foundation. I am alone responsible for any errors in this book.

2011 Dr Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes

xxviii Theoretical Perspectives

Introduction

n Goa the daily English-language newspaper, The Navhind I Times, carries Death Notices of the genre depicted on the next page. In newsletters produced by the Catholic Goan community overseas, periodic obituaries appear, as illustrated here. These notices provide a graphic representation of the global dispersal of Catholic Goans. These texts are cited to provide a ‘way into’ the book. They portray a community that is both globally dispersed as well as connected with villages in Goa.

Goa is a small region of 3,700 sq km, situated on the south west coast of India and at the time of my research in 1980 was made up of 383 villages. It was a Portuguese colony from 1510 until 1961 when it was incorporated into the Indian Union. Until then, Goans migrating to elsewhere in India had to cross international boundaries (Indian and British). Consequently, the term international migration used in this book covers migration to India as well as overseas. Although Goans currently migrating to other parts of India are now crossing regional boundaries, since their migration is a continuation of a tradition that began several

1 Theoretical perspectives decades ago, I think it is legitimate to use the term international migration to encompass such movement.

Press Cuttings. Death Notices. Source: The Navhind Times, Goa, and the GOA Newsletter, London.

All the individuals cited in the Death Notices who are not living in Goa are referred to as ‘out’. The word is encountered frequently in daily conversation; “She was ‘out”’; “He has come from ‘out”’; “he is hoping to go ‘out”’; “She wants to marry someone from ‘out”’;

2 Theoretical perspectives

“All our people are ‘out”’. All those Catholic Goans (CGs) who are ‘out’ as well as returnees from ‘out’ are referred to as international Catholic Goans (ICGs) in this book. The international Catholic Goan community (lCGC) comprises all the international Catholic Goans as well as the members of their household who are resident in Goa but in receipt of regular ﬁnancial remittances.

Migration from Goa has been a long-standing phenomenon for which documented data, at least from the 16th century onwards exists (de Souza 1979:54-5). However, there is no evidence to indicate that CGs who migrated then, and continued to raise families outside Goa, evolved into a satellite community which retained a corporate identity. Indeed, many completely assimilated into their new indigenous environment, as exempliﬁed by the case of the Catholic Mangaloreans whose ancestors came from Goa from the 16th century onwards (Moraes 1927; Pai 1981). The genesis of an ICGC dates from the 19th century, and it is international migration from this period onwards that is the focus of this book. Hindus have also migrated from Goa (Valavlikar 1928, 1930) but both the scale and patterns have been different from CG international migration. Furthermore, they have not been incorporated into the ICGC and, hence, there is no detailed consideration of their international migration patterns in this book. However, the internal migration of Hindu Goans (HGs) is covered as a signiﬁcant part of its development is a consequence of the international migration of CGs.

In this chapter I shall discuss, from a theoretical point of view, the main issues which the book will address. While my concern is with international migration, there are general issues in migration which require consideration.

3 Theoretical perspectives

1: Deﬁnition of Migration

Numerous definitions of migration have been advanced and one of the key concerns has been to distinguish between migration and mobility. Lee suggests that migration be defined as the “permanent or semi-permanent change of residence” (1969:285). However, this definition has a number of flaws. First of all, the terms ‘permanent’ and ‘semi-permanent’ are ambiguous as we do not know precisely what time span they refer to. Secondly, the definition can only be used after a change of residence has occurred for some period of time. Yet a temporary change of residence may initially have been planned for a longer period but subsequently had to be reduced because of changed circumstances. Hence, the definition denies the possibility that the cognitive activities (intentionality, motivation, decision-making etc.) which precede the act of movement may have been the same irrespective of the time span that the change of residence eventually entailed. Thirdly, even if the temporal dimension of the definition is accepted, problems arise with the spatial component. For instance, are we to use the term ‘migration’ to refer to changing residence by going to live ‘permanently’ or ‘semi- permanently’ in a house located a few yards away from the former home? In Goa, such activity is not uncommon as many women on marriage leave their parental home to take up patrilocal, virilocal or neolocal residence in the same village or a proximous one. Are we to refer to such mobility, and that denoted by the word ‘out’, by the same concept ‘migration’? To do so would confound, rather than clarify, the issues involved.

There are even more substantial difﬁculties in applying Lee’s deﬁnition to Goa because it precludes the possibility that mobile persons may not so much change residence as acquire dual

4 Theoretical perspectives residence. For instance, there are many ICG males who have been living in the Gulf States for a number of years, but they also maintain a residence in Goa which is inhabited by their wives and children. Although they are physically living in the Gulf, their psychological orientation and socio-economic tie is with their home in Goa. On the other hand, few ICG living in various parts of India, Africa and the West maintain a home in Goa, although a number do have a house in the village which remains unoccupied except during brief holidays to Goa. For these ICGs, political and socio-economic conditions in the receiving countries enable them to maintain a house but not a home in Goa. Yet, as will be shown in this book, similar factors led to the mobility of all these ICGs and they comprise an analytical category irrespective of their destination points and modes of residence, a feature of Goan migration that would be denied if Lee’s deﬁnition was used.

An alternative approach to defining migration has been proposed by Petersen (1970). He eschews definition in terms of spatial, temporal and boundary traversing criteria. He regards all population movements as migration and he classifies them as follows: primitive, forced, impelled, free and mass (1970:54). His concern is with the causes of migration and his basic distinction is between migrations caused by voluntary or coercive factors. While he tries to specify the referents of each of his categories, he does not adequately overcome the difficult problem of what constitutes voluntary behaviour. In some cases it is clear that mobility has been initiated by coercion. For instance, in Goa during the 16th century, many Hindus fled to escape religious persecution, and there are also cases of Goan prisoners who were deported by the Portuguese to their African colony of Mozambique (de Souza: personal comm.) which also served as a penal colony for convicts from Portugal (Bender 1978).

5 Theoretical perspectives

Some opponents to colonial rule in Goa were exiled by the Por- tuguese government (Mascarenhas 1976). While these examples represent clear cases of forced migration, it is more difficult to categorise other incidences of physical mobility. In 1961, at the end of Portuguese rule in Goa, a substantial number of Goans (and those of mixed descent), helped considerably by the various financial and other incentives provided by the Portuguese government, left to live in Portugal. They felt that under the new Indian regime, the job security, patronage and benefits which they enjoyed because of their identification with the colonial rulers would be threatened, and many felt foreign and vulnerable in Goa. To which of Petersen’s categories should we assign such mobility? Impelled or free? Hence, the categories proposed by Petersen are not sufficiently analytically discrete to be of much value.

While Petersen’s approach emphasises the objective conditions which bring about migration, Mangalam and Schwarzeller (1968) put forward a definition which more adequately takes account of subjective factors. They define migration as “a relatively permanent moving away of a collectivity, called migrants, from one geographical location to another, preceded by decision- making on the part of the migrants on the basis of hierarchically ordered set of values or valued ends, and resulting in changes in the interactional system of migrants” (1968:8). According to this view, those Goans who were deported or exiled, and, hence, were deprived of decision-making powers, cannot be called migrants. Implicit in Mangalam and Schwarzeller’s approach is an acceptance that whatever the objective conditions of existence, it is individual perceptions of these which inform the decision to migrate. This definition of migrants would include both the category of Goans who are ‘out’ as well as those who migrate within Goa. Emically, Goans distinguish between people who move

6 Theoretical perspectives within Goa and those who move ‘out’ of Goa. Using Mangalam and Schwarzweller’s deﬁnition as a basis, we can reﬂect this emic distinction by classifying the former as internal migrants and the latter as international migrants.

2: Why Migrate?

According to the classical push-pull model, deteriorating economic conditions push people to geographical areas where better economic opportunities exist. Deteriorating economic conditions arise from a number of factors such as land shortage as in India (Connell et al. 1976:10), Lebanon (Tannous 1942:63-4) and Nigeria (Okere 1983:292-3). Rural mechanisation is also another factor. Yeshwant (1962) found in Tamil Nadu that the installation of pumpsets removed the need for cobblers to make leather buckets and they had to migrate to ﬁnd employment. Sometimes, people migrate for a short period of time to earn cash to repay debts (Eames 1954:23; Caplan 1972:44), to make up grain deﬁcits (Caplan 1972:24-29, 40- 44), and meet the imposition of new taxation (Schapera 1947).

The capitalist economic policies of many former colonial states have threatened the livelihood of people, compelling them to resort to migration. A substantial proportion of this has been international migration to European countries. Castles & Kossack (1973) argue that labour from the rural areas of Third World countries form what Marx calls ‘reserve armies of the unemployed’ on which international capitalism thrives. The collusion between governments of labour supply and demand countries, manifested through bi-lateral agreements, facilitates the exploitation of such workers.

7 Theoretical perspectives

Castles & Kossack argue that immigrants to Northern Europe are consigned to the bottom of the poorly paid and low prestige jobs but as Watson (1977) points out, they fail to take the time factor into account. For instance, studies in Britain (see Ballard 1978; Anwar 1974) have shown that for many migrants from the Indian subcontinent, working class jobs are viewed as a temporary measure until they have accumulated sufficient capital to realise their aim of self-employment. Other immigrants to Britain have not been compelled to take manual jobs, although many have not acquired jobs commensurate with their skills (Smith 1976). For instance, many qualified and experienced ICG teachers were not able to practise their profession in Britain because their qualifications, acquired in India and Africa, were not recognised, but instead they obtained clerical and administrative employment. Similarly many literate ICGs, fluent in English, with considerable administrative experience, had to accept junior clerical posts (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:28-33).

Castles & Kossack treat migrants as a homogeneous group concentrated at the bottom of the occupational hierarchy, and as such, members of the urban proletariat or sub-proletariat. This ignores the fact that migration, particularly in recent decades, involves people from diverse socio-economic backgrounds keen to realise a variety of aspirations. For instance, Musgrove’s study of ‘The Migratory Elite’ (1963) describes the world-wide migration of doctors, engineers, and other professionals from Britain in search of better career prospects. Caplan (1976) and Vatuk (1972) show how promotion prospects and the nature of the career structure inﬂuence senior management and professional people to engage in circular migration from one city to another in India. Castles & Kossack’s model is not appropriate to Goan international migration because Goan migrants are involved in

8 Theoretical perspectives diverse occupations, with a large number employed in white collar work.

The flows of labour are also more complex than acknowledged by Castles and Kossack. While Third World countries are exporting manual labour to the industrial and post-industrial countries, they are at the same time also importing ‘expatriates’ with technical and professional expertise (Ahooja-Patel 1974:170-190). In an attempt to acknowledge the complexity of the migration process and the flows and counter flows of population, Richmond & Verma argue that “[W]hile the classical model may have fitted the case of immigrants to the United States at the turn of the century and the neo-Marxian model the experiences of guest-workers in Europe, a more comprehensive theoretical model is required to explain other examples of external and internal migration in the world today” (1978:25). They go on to argue that “[T]he demographic and economic conditions that contribute to and necessitate migration are complex and must be understood in terms of a global systems model or, more precisely, a series of interdependent models reflecting the varying conditions in different parts of the world” (ibid:25). While their model has the merit of taking account of occupational diversity and recognising that migration can occur simultaneously in more than one direction, it is, I think, wrongly premised on the classical economic view of maximising man, and assumes that labour will move in the direction that allows such maximisation.

This is the major ﬂaw of the push-pull model, whether applied to internal or international migration. It also suggests that the most economically deprived will migrate. However, there are a number of studies which show that it is not the poorest who migrate (see Amin 1974:91). Furthermore it ignores the social function of migration. Thus, even if migration results in

9 Theoretical perspectives minimal economic benefit, it does not stop because individuals and their families benefit psychologically and socially. Economic maximisation cannot serve as the only motive for migration, otherwise, how do we explain the fact that an LCG will prefer a poorer paid white collar job in Bombay rather than a highly paid labouring job in Saudi Arabia? Similarly, it cannot explain why an upper caste single woman prefers to continue working as a teacher in Goa rather than take a lucrative job as a governess in Dubai. Finally, the push-pull model regards people as mere automatons responding to the difficult economic conditions they find themselves in. Douglas rightly objects to the perception of migrants as reactors; he found in his study of the Spanish Basque that they are, to a large extent, the architects of their own personal destinies (1970:27-32). This suggests that people may plan their migration well in advance, acquire the appropriate skills, cultivate relevant contacts etc. to achieve their aims. In other words, it is possible that people can be proactive rather than reactive with respect to migration. Or that migration from a geographical area may start off by being largely reactive but subsequently becomes proactive. It is also likely that there will be significant differences between those migrating for employment with promotion prospects and superannuation benefits and those migrating for casual wage labour. Are the former more likely to be proactive? This is one of the issues to be considered in this book.

There is no doubt, as various studies have testiﬁed, that migration is intimately linked to the search for earning a livelihood. Most ICGs, when asked why they have gone ‘out’ invariably look astonished because to them, as perhaps with most migrants, the answer is self-evident; “to get a job”; “to make money”. As early as the turn of the 20th century it was said that migration from Goa was ‘pathological’ (Provinical Congress 1910:130). Another

10 Theoretical perspectives writer commented later “[G]oa is looked down upon by the Goans themselves as a god-forsaken country. This is gleaned from the fact that every able-bodied Goan of whatever rank, educated or uneducated, skilled or unskilled, except perhaps the Hindu, regards migration as a natural course and takes advantage of it at the first available opportunity” (Pinto 1960:69). A questionnaire study of international migrants, predominantly CGs, who went mainly to British India and Africa, carried out around 1900 notes that the most common reasons for going ‘out’ were absence of subsistence means, lack of jobs and to improve economic conditions. For a few, there were specific reasons such as the loss of jobs with the closure of the House of Weapons and Gun Powder. Others cited improved transport such as the building in the late 19th century of the Western India Portuguese railway to Bangalore and Poona. The desire for freedom, adventure and ‘mania for emigration’ were also factors (Provincial Congress 1910:79-85). Seventy years later, a study of ICGs in Nairobi notes that the main reason given for leaving Goa was “... to find a living but also out of a spirit of adventure” (Nelson 1971:110). Employment opportunities during World War I and II attracted migrants, some of whom later lost their lives in service. The remittances of earlier migrants increased the prosperity of many dependent individuals and families in Goa, and following the establishment of Indian rule in 1961, there was some increase in employment opportunities. Despite the relative improvements of economic conditions in Goa, international migration continues. A constant refrain is “There are no jobs in Goa” or “Salaries are too low”.

Few ICGs are aware of the historical and structural context in which their migration takes place, but this, as Jeffery (1976:2) points out, does not make such factors irrelevant and they should be taken into account in the analysis of migration, as this book

11 Theoretical perspectives does in chapters 2, 3 and 4. An analysis of the political economy must, however, be complemented by an investigation of the cognitive and cultural dimension. Alberoni’s comment, made with respect to Italian migration, is apt: “[W]e are all where we are because we have moved in search of suitable work; nevertheless, in every case there remains the possibility of a further analysis of the situation, taking as its starting point - simply because they differ - the ideas and hopes involved, and the precise way in which the emigration came about” (1970: 286). This view is endorsed by Guillet and Uzzell who, in their introduction to a book on ‘New Approaches to the Study of Migration’ state that “[T]he question of how a job opening, for example, becomes a perceived opportunity for a given person involves a complex set of issues, including information systems, values, and systems of aid and support” (1976:4). As Gellner points out, human behaviour is affected not only by ‘objective’ conditions but by people’s assumptions about them (1968:414).

Migration itself may initiate further migration. Many studies have shown that it is the letters and money sent back by migrants testifying to their success which motivate others to migrate (Tannous 1942; Lindberg 1930). While objective conditions have remained unchanged, the non-migrants’ perception of these conditions have now become unfavourable and they wish to emulate the migrants. Is it possible that people migrate, not necessarily because of pressing economic needs, however perceived, but because it has become a tradition to migrate? Connell et al. state that “... not just kin-groups, but base-groups as a whole – villages or even areas – which have sent out migrants are likeliest to continue to do so” (1976:38). Hence, migration becomes not a one-off phenomenon but is transformed into an accepted part of a group’s and, hence, an individual’s life-cycle, even becoming integrated

12 Theoretical perspectives into conceptions of self and personhood (see Keyes 1966; Joshi 1973). To what extent has migration among CGs become a part of their self image? Are there any gender and caste differences? Philpott in his study of migration from Montserrat develops the concept of a ‘migration-oriented society’ which he deﬁnes as a society where “... migration has been a highly signiﬁcant socio- economic activity ...” (1968:466). The extent to which Goan society can be so characterised is explored in chapter 5.

The perceptual dimension has been incorporated into Lee’s ‘Theory of Migration’ (1969) in which he puts forward the view that push and pull factors operate at both origin and destination and are mediated by a set of intervening obstacles. He argues that “... we must note that it is not so much the actual factors at origin and destination as the perception of these factors which results in migration” (ibid:287). By perception he means “[p]ersonal sensitivities, intelligence and awareness of conditions elsewhere” (ibid:287). Migration, according to Lee, is also affected by personality types which are resistant or attracted to change, as well as transient emotions, mental disorder and accidental occurrence (ibid:288).

While Lee’s theory has the advantage of emphasising the signiﬁc- ance of the perceptual dimension, the focus is on the individual as the unit of analysis, and it does not help us to investigate why a whole population, or a sector of a population, come to regard and continue to regard migration as an option. To be sure, there is a dialectical relationship between individual and cultural perceptions, but how can we understand individual perceptions if we do not take into account how cultural perceptions have arisen? Are cultural and structural factors implicated in the fact that the majority of Goans who are ‘out’ are Catholic rather than Hindu, and if so, in what way?

13 Theoretical perspectives

Finally it is important to note that factors other than the lure of better economic opportunities may lead to migration. In India, for instance, because of the norms of village exogamy and caste endogamy, marriage entails the migration of a large number of women (Libbee & Sopher 1972, Bose 1967). While these factors are understandable with respect to internal migration and, indeed, account for much of the movement of women within Goa, are they also signiﬁcant in international migration? For instance, does a woman in Goa migrate to marry a Goan man in Bombay or Nairobi because of caste endogamy or hypergamy? Or among Goans in UK, do women migrate from one city to another to marry within the caste or within a marriage circle, as is evident among Gujerati Patidars in the UK (Michaelson 1979; Tambs- Lyche 1980)? While marriage in itself can entail migration in fulﬁlment of cultural norms, does marriage to a migrant require migration? For instance, if a woman in Goa marries a man working ‘out’ does she migrate or remain in Goa? Are there differences if women in Goa marry men who are working in different parts of the world?

A fruitful approach involves the exploration, from a historical perspective, not only of the various aspects of the political economy in Goa and elsewhere which inﬂuence migration, but also the perceptions, norms, values and social networks of CGs which facilitate migration and its reproduction over time.

3: Who Migrates?

Who does not migrate is as equally important as who migrates. If we study migration in a diachronic perspective, which is more fruitful than the synchronic, snap-shot approach, then we may note that those who do not migrate at one point in time may do

14 Theoretical perspectives so at another. Further, if there are multiple destination points, as in the case of ICG migration, then it is possible that those who do not migrate to one place may do so to another. For instance, are those who migrate to Portugal equally likely to migrate to Pakistan or to work on the ships? My concern is both with individuals, as well as with social categories, although the focus is on the latter. Various aspects of social stratiﬁcation are considered in this book such as the traditional Indian category of caste as well as age, gender, religion and locality.

A variable propensity to migrate is evident among different age groups. Independent migration for education is common among lower-age groups, as noted, for instance, in Columbia (Schultz 1971). Among the age group 15-30, there is the greatest propensity for labour migration as is borne out by studies, for instance, in India (Connell et al. 1976). Indirectly associated with age is birth order. For example, it was found that among Punjabi farmers, older sons were not sent to school so that they could remain on the family farm, while younger sons were educated in preparation for migration (Wyon & Gordon 1971:214-220). Sometimes birth order is combined with inheritance practices as among the Basques in Spain where primogeniture is critical in determining who migrates (Kasdan 1964).

Generally speaking, if marriage migration is excluded, far fewer women migrate in comparison to men (Connell et al. 1976:42), although in some countries, such as Latin America (Herrick 1970) and the Philippines (Hart 1971) female migration equals and sometimes surpasses that of males. Where sex-selectivity occurs, there are many reasons, such as matrilineal inheritance patterns (Keyes 1966) and relative lack of female education (Connell et al. 1976:43). Where a patriarchal system prevails, as in India, single women, whether educated or not, are unlikely to have the freedom

15 Theoretical perspectives to migrate independently (Connell et al. 1976:43). Regional variation and other factors like religion, age, caste and occupation are brieﬂy explored in this book to ascertain whether different female migration patterns characterise Goa. Speciﬁc questions on female migration are necessary to overcome attempts to perpetuate the ‘invisibility’ of women in anthropological studies (see Caplan & Bujra 1978). For instance, women predominantly tend to be featured as the ‘migrant’s wife’ (Leeds 1976) rather than treated as a distinct category of analysis (Moroskovasic 1983; Philazacklea 1983).

To what extent is there a correlation between caste and migration? Data from 40 villages covering seven Indian states was analysed by Connell et al. (1976) but they were unable to draw any ﬁrm conclusions because of the absence of satisfactory information on caste. Some of the data, however, are suggestive. Thus, for the Afawa village in Gujerat, middle caste groups migrated to other rural areas to pursue similar crafts, while high castes migrated to urban areas and into professional occupations (Connell et al. 1976:185). Caplan (1972) found that both Untouchables and high caste men migrated from a Nepalese village, but the former made frequent trips of about a year’s duration but the latter usually made one trip of much shorter duration. Furthermore, while Untouchables migrate to earn cash to redeem debts, buy animals, cloth and grain, high caste male migrants want sufﬁcient cash to build and/or furnish their own house (1972:40-41). Similarly Sharma (1977) in her study of a North Indian village found that from a single village, a cross-section of the population migrated but the motivation, destination points, duration of migration and employment opportunities each caste seeks, substantially differ.

Connell’s study also indicated that it was the high castes who migrated overseas (Connell et al.1976:185). Studies of Indian

16 Theoretical perspectives migrants overseas, however, do not paint such a simple picture. Jayawardena (1973) distinguishes between ‘indentured’ and ‘free’ migrants. The former were drawn predominantly from the low castes and reﬂect the methods by which indentured labourers were selected (Tinker 1974; Saunders et al. 1984). Among the ‘free’ migrants, however, Jayawardena states that the high and middle castes tended to predominate. However, while in the former British East Africa, this was the case with the Gujeratis (Morris 1968), among the Sikhs, the low caste Ramgharias comprised the majority of ‘free’ migrants (Bhachu 1981). Among the Goans, however, the situation was more complex. All the Goans in Kenya and Uganda were Catholics and a cross-section of castes migrated (Nelson 1971; Kuper 1973). Nelson notes that the caste composition in Nairobi, which had one of the largest concentrations of Goans, comprised approximately 41% Brahmins, 13% Chardo, 5% Gaudde, 37% Sudra and 4% Tailors (1971:133). In this book I hope to show why a cross-section of castes migrated from Goa to East Africa and will also explore whether there is a correlation between various destination points and caste-speciﬁcity.

The employment opportunities taken up by migrants may initially be, or later become, associated with a particular caste or tribe. Thus, for instance, in Nepal, those who serve in the army are drawn predominantly from tribal people such as Magars, Limbus and Gurungs (Caplan 1972:40). Hence, when employment opportunities arise in this economic niche, speciﬁc categories of people migrate. The link in the ICGC between caste, occupation and migration patterns will be considered in the book.

Various studies have indicated that it is often speciﬁc regions in a territory that is characterised by migration. For instance, international migration from the Indian sub-continent occurs from

17 Theoretical perspectives only a small number of areas (3) and as will be shown later, this is also a feature of migration from Goa.

A few studies have shown that cultural factors such as family relationships, religious and personal philosophies play a part in facilitating or inhibiting migration (see Basham 1978:81). Studies of India indicate that marginal social groups have a greater tendency to migrate (Connell et al. 1976:188). In some villages, these were members of scheduled tribes, in others it was Muslims. In Tamil Nadu and Andhra in South India, migration among Christians was high (Connell et al. 1976:188). As I hope to show in this book, CGs did not migrate because they were a marginal group.

One of the factors that does affect who migrates, particularly with respect to international migration, is the type of government controls at exit and entry. For instance, in some countries there are controls which prevent people from leaving, such as the ban by the Algerian government on migration in response to waves of attacks on their nationals in France (Grillo 1985:49). For most countries, however, remittances are an important factor in maintaining their balance of payments and the respective governments rarely put obstacles in the way. Indeed, it is immigration controls that are more likely to discourage migration. For example, during the 1960s and 1970s, Britain introduced a series of immigration controls (Dummett 1976, 1977) designed to control the entrance and settlement of those with British passports and rights to settlement. Such controls affected the migration of ICGs from Africa to Britain from the mid-1960s onwards (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979). Sometimes, immigration controls operate against particular categories only. Thus, for instance, sex discrimination operates in Saudi Arabia to minimise the entry of women and, hence, few ICG women work there,

18 Theoretical perspectives compared to elsewhere in the Gulf. Elsewhere, it is class and occupation, as exempliﬁed by Australia, whose policies favour the immigration of skilled workers.

The selectivity of migrants is also correlated with the unit of migration which can be either an individual or a household (Gonzalez 1961). The data on India analysed by Connell et al. indicates the co-existence in the same village of high rates of individual migration with high rates of household migration (1976:12). Furthermore, they found that the unit that migrated correlated with caste and class in that single migrants came from high caste, prosperous families, while household migrants came from the low caste poor of the village. The two patterns were closely correlated in that the surplus extracted from the economy by the rich ﬁnanced the migration of educated sons for non-manual urban jobs while simultaneously impoverishing the illiterate poor who then migrated in search of work (1976:13). Such migrants may engage in rural-rural migration or rural-urban migration.

In a study of migration to urban India, Rowe (1973) draws a distinction between North and South India. He suggests that migration from North India is predominantly of single men, who leave their wife and family at home, while the South exhibits the opposite pattern. He correlates the differing patterns with marriage patterns, speciﬁcally village exogamy in the North and cross-cousin marriage in the South. Caplan, in a study of Christian elites in Madras city, argues against a single pattern of urban migration in India. He suggests that class is signiﬁcant in distinguishing migration patterns (1976:220). He shows how it is individuals, usually males, but sometimes also females, from relatively prosperous families who migrate from the villages to Madras, either for higher education or non-manual employment.

19 Theoretical perspectives

Hence class, caste, marriage patterns and religion are variables which determine the unit which migrates.

Individuals and households not only migrate but many of them return. As Kenny notes, the study of return migration is theoretically deprived and scholarly case studies are few in number (1976:99). With seasonal and temporary non-seasonal migration, the rate of return migration is high. Cerase (1974:251-9) in a study of return migration from the USA to Southern Italy distinguishes between four types of returnees whose return is due to a number of factors which include failure and retirement.

Most ICGs usually stayed ‘out’ for a number of years and some returned when they had accumulated sufﬁcient savings (Gomes 1862:57), others when they were sick, old or lonely. For a few, their repatriation was aided by special welfare organisations such as Comissão Administrativa do Fundo dos Emigrantes (Comissão 1934-8). Return migration also resulted from the sudden cessation of employment opportunities such as the world wide depression of the 1930s and the retrenchment of migrant personnel serving in British colonies, and in 1932, the cancellation of the Anglo- Persian Oil Company’s concession to exploit oil in Persia (Bullard 1964:124-154). Most Goans employed by the Company returned to Goa while some migrated directly to Iraq, Kuwait and Bahrain. Some returnees also managed subsequently to migrate elsewhere. Most returnees around 1980 were middle aged and had spent their whole working lives outside Goa. The All Goa Repatriates Union estimated in 1978 that there were 45,000 repatriates in Goa. This book will examine the general pattern of return migration to Goa in terms of units of social stratiﬁcation such as caste, class, age, sex and household unit as well as motivation.

20 Theoretical perspectives

4: The Destination of Migrants

The precise number of Goans living ‘out’ is impossible to determine. Detailed statistics on rate of migration and destination have not been kept by the Government of Goa (4). However, as Almeida, a well-known Goan economist notes, migration must have been substantial because a prosperous life was possible in Goa despite the negative commercial balance, which from at least the turn of the 20th century was considerably counterbalanced by remittances (1965:268).

Writing in 1862, Gomes says that there was a constant and large migration from Goa to British India (1862:57). The percentage of the population of Goa that migrated rose from 4% in 1878, to 13% in 1920 (Torrie 1879; Census 1920). A small proportion of this is probably accounted for by internal migration. Since there was no large city within Goa, it was the metropolitan and provincial cities in the vicinity of Goa, such as Bombay and Poona, which initially attracted migrants (Census 1881:243). Gradually other urban centres in India, as well as overseas came to be populated by Goans; an example of this is Bombay where there are suburban areas with close knit Goan communities.

Culled from various sources, the following statistics are available: Davis in his study of the population of India, notes that from 1891- 1931, there were between 70,000-80,000 Portuguese Indians in British India, mainly concentrated in Bombay (1951:96-7). Within India in the 1950s there were approximately 100,000 Goans (Baptista 1958); in Pakistan in the 1970s approximately 50,000 (Haward 1976). In the former British East Africa in 1970 there were approximately 8,000 (Nelson 1971:6), while in Mozambique in 1940 there were approximately 5,000 (Census 1940). In Greater London in 1979, there were approximately 5,000 adults

21 Theoretical perspectives

(Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979). There are no statistics available for the Goan population in other parts of the West, nor for those living in the Gulf States. Furthermore, a large number of men, known as ‘shippies’, for whom statistics are not available, are employed on long distance passenger and merchant ships plying international routes. In this book I shall show how extensive rural- urban migration from Goa developed and the attraction of each of these multiple destination points.

5: The Organisation of Migration

A factor that can affect both the selectivity of migrants and their destination points is the way migration is organised. From various studies we can distinguish between basically two types: formal and informal mechanisms. A well known method of formal organisation was the indenture and kangani systems used in the recruitment of Indian labour. The Portuguese government sponsored migration of surplus population and penal offenders from Portugal to America and Africa (Bender 1978), but in Goa they applied such a policy to only a few prisoners who were sent to Mozambique. In the mid-20th century, many bilateral agreements between the governments of Europe and the Third World regulate international migration through the setting up of ofﬁcial recruitment agencies (Castles & Kossack 1973). What is intrinsic to the formal method of organisation is that migrants are actively recruited by an agency which accepts them if they fulﬁl the stipulated criteria, arranges all the formalities such as visas and passports and secures employment and housing. By contrast, the informal method relies primarily on the resources of the individual and family and favours those with social capital such as contacts, independence etc. This is illustrated by the process

22 Theoretical perspectives shown as chain migration where the ﬁrst migrants send passage money to family members at home to enable them to migrate (Philpott 1973; Foner 1979; Aceves 1976).

Sometimes, indigenous institutions take on a new role of organising migration. Watson (1975) shows how the Mans Chinese from Hong Kong are able to migrate to Europe by making use of resources within their lineage system. The new way in which the lineage system operated would seem to combine the characteristics of the formal and informal methods of organising migration.

The signiﬁcance of the organisation of migration is that it can allow fortuitous circumstances, such as proximity to recruitment centres or personal networks, to determine who actually migrates. Hence the categories called migrants comprise only those who managed to migrate. The non-migrants consist of those who were merely unable to overcome the obstacles to migration. However, as MacIntyre argues, action or non-action may be indicative of the same belief (1962:51) and this is amply evident in the case of many Goan non-migrants who want to migrate but cannot because “there is no one to take me”. The methods of organising migration from Goa and their correlation with the migration of different categories of Goans are explored in this book.

6: Effects of Migration on the Sending Society and the Migrant Community

Philpott, in his article ‘The implications of migration for sending societies; some theoretical considerations’ points out that while a considerable degree of research has been undertaken on the

23 Theoretical perspectives adaptation of migrants to the host society, little work has been done on the effects of migration on the sending society (1970:9). Furthermore, Philpott (1970:11-12) rightly suggests that what is also crucially important is the migrant ideology which he deﬁnes as “... the cognitive model which the migrant holds as to the nature and goals of his migration” (Philpott, 1968:474). Of relevance is the extent to which household members concur with the migrant ideology, because a lack of congruence would undoubtedly have different implications than if the whole household were similarly orientated. Furthermore, the fact that a migrant’s goals may not be realised is not to deny that an orientation towards particular goals can have substantive implications in the way he and his family act in the interim. Hence, I am suggesting that not only the physical absence of the migrant but also the motivations for migration have to be taken into account in determining the social and economic changes which arise at the household, village and national level in the sending society.

When people migrate they leave behind an economic system of which they were once an integral part, either as producers or consumers. A large number of rural to urban migrants, and this is also the case with the majority of ﬁrst generation ICG migrants, have been predominantly producers at subsistence level. Subsistence economies tend to be characterised by the Domestic Mode of Production (Sahlins 1972) and the absence of the migrant results in a number of coping strategies. For instance, the contracted labour unit, through longer working hours, may continue to maintain the same level of production and where it is males who are absent, it is often females who compensate for them (Connell et al. 1976:148). The greater involvement of women in agriculture has led, in many parts of the world, to the ‘feminisation of agriculture’ (Cernea 1978), and sometimes to a

24 Theoretical perspectives change in the sexual division of labour as some traditional male jobs become temporarily or permanently female jobs (Connell 1984:970). However, the degree and type of compensation varies and tends to be correlated with whether ‘male farming’ or ‘female farming’ (Boserup, 1970) traditionally predominates (5). While Boserup notes that overall in India male farming predominates, she points out that there are regional, religious, caste and tribal differences (6). In most subsistence economies, short term labour shortages are met through the reciprocal exchange of labour. However, with large scale migration, as in the case of Goa, such mechanisms cannot be resorted to successfully. Hence, other alternatives such as employing wage labour, cessation of subsistence farming and total withdrawal from farming have been adopted, as will be discussed in chapter 7.

One of the major consequences of migration is the transfer of resources from the migrant to his family in the village. Remit- tances commonly refer to cash transmitted by migrants to villages, but Connell et al. extend the meaning to “...include savings brought back by returning migrants, and any reverse flow of either remittances or savings in cash or kind” (1976:90). However, I think this definition is still too restrictive and is derived from the pronounced emphasis in migration studies on manual and casual labour. The acknowledgement of the existence of migration for non-manual work behoves us to include in the definition of remittances, pensions and other superannuation benefits that continue to accrue to the returnee and his family long after the migrant has completed his working life. Hence, I suggest that the term ‘remittances’ be redefined such that it refers to current cash, savings, pensions and superannuated benefits as well as items in kind. Who are the recipients of remittances and are there any changes in production, consumption and leisure patterns

25 Theoretical perspectives introduced as a result of the receipt of cash? For instance, Caplan (1970) found in Eastern Nepal that Limbu men in military service used their remittances to buy back land which they had previously mortgaged to Hindus in return for cash loans to meet contingency expenses and those incurred for ceremonial purposes.

What happens when migration becomes long term and households become accustomed to receiving regular remittances? Philpott (1973) shows how in Montserrat this has been a major contribut- ory factor to the collapse of the traditional economy, the cotton estates. Since Goan international migration has also been long term, has a similar process occurred? In other cases migrant earnings have facilitated diversiﬁcation as returnees have become small entrepreneurs, a situation only minimally found in Goa.

It is not only the absence of the migrant and the income derived from migration which affects the household economy but also the type of job the migrant is engaged in. Since most studies of migration have focussed on unskilled and semi-skilled workers, this aspect has not been given much attention. Since many ICG migrants are employed in white collar work which command life long superannuation beneﬁts, what are the implications on the household economy and lifestyle? Does the receipt of regular salaries and pensions improve the agricultural economy of ICG households as was the case of Limbu servicemen in East Nepal (Caplan 1970:121)?

Migration can lead to economic independence and a profound effect on the structure of family relationships. In the patriarchal family, the authority of the father may be undermined as the ﬁlial generation cease to be economically dependent and demand a greater say in controlling their life (Schapera 1947; Tannous 1942:72-3). Studies of marriage patterns among Hindus and Muslim families in urban India indicate that where changes have

26 Theoretical perspectives occurred in traditional practices, sons, and to a lesser extent daughters, have been able to inﬂuence their parents in spouse selection (Vatuk 1972:84; Srinivas 1969:59). This trend is evident also among some South Asians in urban Britain (Ballard, C. 1978:184, Bhachu, 1981; Ballard, R. 1982:197) Among Indian Christians a greater degree of self selection has emerged.

There is a higher incidence of love marriage among Kerala Christians, particularly urban migrants in the cities of Kerala and Bombay (Kurian 1961). In Madras, a number of Christians marry partners of their own choosing (Caplan 1980:221) and among East Indians in Bombay (Godwin 1972) and urban Anglo-Indians (Gaikwad 1967) love marriages have become the norm. In chapter 6, I shall discuss the range of marriage patterns in the ICGC, their historical evolution and multiple implications.

Migration may affect the type of household set up after marriage (see Gonzalez 1969). Special attention must be paid to what Gluckman calls the ‘structural duration’ of an institution, which he deﬁnes as “that period of time required to work out the implication of its rules and customs within the biological, ecological and social environment” (1968:220-1). The application of the ‘equilibrium model’ to the family has been undertaken by Goody et al. (1966) and, in particular, by Fortes’ (1966) discussion of the developmental cycle of domestic groups in terms of (a) phase of expansion (b) phase of dispersion and ﬁssion and (c) phase of replacement. Since such changes will naturally occur during the time scale of the domestic group, it is necessary to ascertain how international migration alters each phase separately and the whole cycle cumulatively.

Migration also alters the role played by family members. Where responsibility for some household affairs are the man’s, his absence can be disruptive, unless as Caplan notes in his study

27 Theoretical perspectives of a Nepalese town, women are capable of assuming all aspects of household management which free their menfolk to take up independent employment (1975:73). In families where childcare is shared by biological parents, the absence of the father may shift the responsibility primarily to the mother who may encounter difﬁculties in disciplining children. If one or both parents are absent, then grandparents may be required to foster the children as occurred in Hong Kong among the Mans Chinese (Watson 1975:184-192). On the other hand, among West Indians, grandmother socialisation is common as there is a traditional predominance of matri-focal families (Smith 1956; Gonzalez 1969) and the migration of the biological mother does not speciﬁcally require the transfer of parental responsibility to another person (Philpott 1973). In the case of ICGs, since it is biological parents who have primary responsibility for the care and socialisation of children, the various measures that are adopted when fathers and sometimes also mothers migrate are considered in chapter 6.

A few studies have been conducted on the psychological effects on women, in particular, of the absence of husbands in a variety of occupational categories. These suggest that the psychological effects of separation of families may be mitigated if the wife and children do not feel deserted by the migrant (Isay, 1968) and if a cultural ethos and support mechanisms exist in the sending society (Morrice & Taylor 1978). The ways in which husbandless CG women and their fatherless children cope with separation, anxiety and stress are also discussed in chapter 6.

Since migration involves the splitting up of kin groups, the structure and content of social relationships may change (Arensberg & Kimball 1940; Brandes 1975). For instance, what role do kin and non-kin play in an individual’s life? In her study of Pakistanis in Manchester, Werbner (1986) found that a strong ‘culture

28 Theoretical perspectives of friendship’ had developed among those originating from an educated urban background, now employed in non-manual jobs. This is an interesting contrast to Pakistanis employed in manual jobs in Bristol who have a minimal number of friends outside their kinsmen (Jeffery 1976:119-133). Werbner’s (1986) study indicates that the important variables affecting the development of friendship ties with non-kin are education and occupation. As will be shown in this book, these, together with participation in common recreational activities, have led to the development of extensive associational ties in the ICGC.

Finally, migration can affect existing patterns of social stratification. In some cases, access to new resources has strengthened existing inequalities as, for instance, in a South Italian village where upwardly mobile families receive significantly larger remittances than others (Lopreato 1967:216-7). In Nepal, on the other hand, remittances helped to close the gap between Limbus and Hindus (Caplan 1970:113-124). If migration results in the improvement of their economic situation, as was the case with the majority of ICG migrants, is this expressed in social terms? Within a caste society, such as in India, studies have indicated that if a sub-caste is able to monopolise and exploit a new, financially rewarding economic niche, it will sanskritise its customs in accordance with that of a higher caste it wants to emulate (Srinivas 1962; Bailey 1957). The same strategy may also be adopted by individuals who have independently of a group been able to improve their own economic position (Silverberg 1968). Such individuals or groups accept the caste system and seek to improve their status position within it. While this may be understandable within the Indian sub-continent, what happens when Indians migrate overseas? The answer is not simple as the selectivity of migration has precluded the replication of the caste system overseas (Schwartz

29 Theoretical perspectives et al. 1967). What has been retained, however, among many overseas Indian communities, is the ideology of caste (Mayer 1967), although the retention of caste norms, values and rules is stronger among those who want to be accepted on return to India (Morris 1967:276). Since among ICGs the whole cross-section of castes have migrated, according to Nelson (1971) and Kuper (1973) working in East Africa, the caste system has been retained as expressed, for instance, in the caste basis of various social clubs and the conduct of intra-community conﬂicts in the idiom of caste. However, these institutions were established by ﬁrst generation migrants, and, as will be shown later, succeeding generations both in Africa and elsewhere have increasingly come to favour achieved status and to regard caste as an anachronism.

7: Unit of Analysis

The issue of what constitutes the appropriate unit of analysis for anthropological studies is a vexed one, and is compounded in the case of migration studies by spatial and temporal factors. Many anthropologists have rightly criticised the approach which focuses investigation on a ‘single village’ or ‘local group’ as this creates artificial and arbitrary boundaries and ignores the significance of extra-local factors. Various attempts have been made to overcome such limitations and to broaden the social field under study. In the case of migration this is best reflected in Mangalam and Schwarzweller’s statement that: “[A] complete understanding of migration demands that it be treated as a phenomenon that floats between and affects two social organisations, one at the place of origin and the other at the place of destination” (1968:15). Hence, the interaction system they propose consists of the sending society, the migrants and the destination society. This emphasis on the

30 Theoretical perspectives study of the two points in a migration chain is endorsed by a number of studies (see Watson et al. 1977). The analytical signiﬁcance of such an approach is well brought out by Jeffery’s (1976) study of Pakistanis in Britain. She demonstrates that by taking Pakistan into account she was able to distinguish between two categories, migrants and refugees, an analytical distinction which explains the different pattern of settlement and adaption of Muslim and Christian Pakistanis in Britain.

A number of researchers have criticised the bi-polar or double- headed model because it is based on a functional model concerned with the equilibrium of two poles (Lominitz 1976) and a spatial limitation of two points (Uzzell 1976). While this model may be appropriate in studies of certain patterns of migration, it is of minimal utility in others where people migrate from one sending society, or indeed, one domestic unit, to a number of destination points. For instance, Foner notes that over a period of 100 years the destination of Jamaicans has gradually come to include other Caribbean islands and Central America, the United States and Canada, and Great Britain (1979:9). While anthropologists must, at some point, circumscribe or ‘close’ the system (Devons & Gluckman 1964:185-6) surely it would be inappropriate to limit the social field in migration studies to two poles as all of them, either singly or cumulatively, are likely to have an effect on each other, and particularly on the sending society. For instance, Manners (1965) argues that any study of the Caribbean cannot be insular and ignore the influences and pressures emanating from outside its shores. Specifically, in the case of the Caribbean economy, remittances from migrants living in different parts of the world, not just one area, have to be taken into account as various studies have shown they are singly and cumulatively crucial to the economy as a whole and

31 Theoretical perspectives particularly to families of migrants. Hence, from the standpoint of the economy, the social field that Manners suggests should be taken into account comprises the whole world, articulated via the radial linkages maintained through remittances. While remittances are an important consequence of migration, it would be a mistake to ignore non-economic ties that migrants retain with the sending society. Indeed, it is possible that such ties may be more significant when remittances are minimal or absent because of domestic self-sufficiency. Since a number of ICG returnees are living comfortably well on pensions and superannuation benefits, this book will show that affective ties maintained with adult children, grandchildren, kin and friends living in various satellite communities have gained in importance.

Since many sending societies have people in multiple destinations, it would be erroneous to assume that each of these satellite communities live in isolation. Indeed, the available evidence indicates the opposite. For instance, Gujerati, Patidars, have satellite communities in London, Leicester, Birmingham and Wolverhampton who maintain links with each other which are particularly important in the arrangement of marriages (Tambs- Lyche 1975). Kenny cites the example of a Spanish migrant organisation in California and a wealthy Spanish expatriate in Mexico combining their efforts to erect a monument in Spain (1976:102). Unfortunately, the emphasis on the bi-polar model has precluded the investigation of lateral links between satellite communities which this book will redress.

A very fruitful theoretical approach that has been developed to explain social linkages is the concept of ‘network’. Barnes saw the ﬁeld of social relationships of an individual as comprising that which he inherited, augmented by that which he develops during his lifetime (1954:43). In this respect then, the individual’s

32 Theoretical perspectives network is unbounded. However, Mayer (1966) has shown that an individual can have a bounded network, which he calls an action- set, aimed at fulﬁlling a particular goal.

In his discussion of the concept and use of social networks, Mitchell (1969) puts forward the useful distinction between morphological and interactional characteristics of a network. According to Mitchell, the “... morphological characteristics of a network refer to the relationship or patterning of the links in the network with respect to one another. They are anchorage, density, reachability and range. The interactional criteria ... refer to the nature of the links themselves and are the content, directedness, durability, intensity and frequency of the interaction in the links” (1969:12). Briefly, the various terms are defined as follows: anchorage implies that a network must be traced from some initial starting point (1969:13); reachability every specified person can be contacted within a stated number of points from anchor (ibid:15);density refers to the extent to which links which could possibly exist among persons do in fact exist (ibid:18), while range refers to the number of direct contacts (ibid:19). Content is the most important interactional link in a person’s network and concerns the “meanings which the persons in the network attribute to their relationships” (ibid:20). Network links can be single-stranded if they contain only one focus of interaction (ibid:22) or multiplex, if they consist of more than one content (Gluckman 1955:19; 1962:27). Directedness refers to the orientation of a link and can be either uni-directional as in employer- employee relationships, or reciprocal as in the case of kinship and friendship (ibid:24-5). Durability refers to the time-span during which obligations and rights are recognised by members of a network (Mitchell 1969:26) while intensity refers to the degree to which individuals are prepared to honour obligations

33 Theoretical perspectives

(ibid:27). Finally frequency refers to the number of contacts among people in a network (ibid:29). However, as Mitchell notes, it is important to bear in mind that infrequency does not imply a corresponding lack of intensity. This is particularly important when discussing the network of ICGs as there is the lack of face- to-face interaction between people spatially separated, although alternative mechanisms have developed.

The discussion of network indicates how a large social field can be subjected to detailed analysis. It also suggests that artificial spatial boundaries can be transcended and, hence, Manners’ (1965) suggestion with respect to remittances can be extended to include a range of non-economic and social relationships. However, one of the main limitations of network theory lies in its emphasis on the individual. An individual is usually taken as an anchor in most studies (Epstein 1969; Boswell 1969) although some, such as Bott (1955,1957) have taken a couple. However, it is possible to anchor a network on a group as suggested, for instance, by Barnes (1954:43) and Jay (1964:137). Mitchell opposes the anchoring of a network on a group and suggests that “...most of the propositions concerning the relationships among groups could be restated at a somewhat lower level of abstraction in terms of the links among the various individuals concerned” (1969:15). However, such reductionism denies the possibility that a group may have developed a corporate identity through which it relates to other groups and individuals which is quite distinct from links among individual members. Indeed, as I hope to show in this book, voluntary associations in the satellite communities and Goa fulfil a number of important functions, and it is through them, not individuals, for instance, that links are maintained with governments and other official institutions of both the receiving and sending society which create avenues for the acquisition of

34 Theoretical perspectives resources, group representation etc. All the deﬁnitions mentioned above provided by Mitchell refer to individuals, but with some obvious modiﬁcations, I think they can be equally applied to groups.

To capture the various criss-crossing links maintained by ICGC, both with the fountainhead Goa and between satellite communities, I suggest using the metaphor, ‘spider’s web’. I propose we distinguish between radial and lateral links in the web. Thus, what radial links are maintained between Goa and each of the satellite communities? What is the nature of the links maintained between satellite communities? What is the inﬂuence of lateral links between satellite communities on their links with Goa? For instance, does a particular type of radial link between a satellite community and Goa affect its lateral link with another satellite community? Within the framework of a multi-polar model, this book examines both the radial links with Goa maintained by individuals and institutions that are ‘out’ as well as their lateral links with each other.

Organisation of the Book

The above discussion has indicated that the approach to be adopted in this book regards migration as a process (Forman 1976:28), amenable to diachronic analysis and involving multiple not single destination points. I have argued that the study of migration must include an analysis of the political economy and chapters 2, 3 and 4 are designed to do so. Chapter 2 looks at Goa both in the past, when it was a Portuguese colony, and about three decades after its incorporation into the Indian Union. This chapter also introduces the reader to the village of Amora (pseudonym) which was used as a case study for the micro-analysis of certain

35 Theoretical perspectives aspects of international and internal migration. Chapter 3 speciﬁcally examines the political role of Portuguese colonialism in the social construction of the local Catholic Goan community. It traces the various diacritical features that characterises this community and discusses how they evolved and were maintained. In chapter 4, I examine how Portuguese and British colonial policies and practices affected the access CGs had to various resources to earn their livelihood in Goa and outside.

I have argued earlier that complementing the analysis of the political economy must be an investigation of individual motivations and decision-making within the context of socio-cultural and cognitive factors. Using case histories, chapter 5 explores various facets of international migration and identiﬁes the social, cultural and cognitive factors which have led to changing patterns and the reproduction of migration over the course of the period of the late century to the late 20th century. Through this discussion, the ethno-genesis (Singer 1962) of the ICGC is also highlighted. Banton argues that if “...an ethnic group is to maintain its character, it is essential that young people marry others from the same ethnic group” (1983:142). Chapter 6 discusses the changing mechanisms by which spouses are selected, the types of households set up, the process of social and sexual reproduction, the care of different generations in the ICGC and the maintenance of kinship and afﬁnal links.

Since territorial identiﬁcation is an important factor articulating ethnic identity (Morgan 1985:516), in chapter 7, I discuss the links of the lCGC with Goa through examining remittances and property relations. In exploring the mechanisms by which these links are maintained, I also discuss the relationship of the ICGC to Hindu Goans and other groups comprising local society in Goa. The nature of these relationships is further revealed

36 Theoretical perspectives through an examination of the participation in the allocation of resources at village level. By looking at the links which the ICGC maintains with the village and with Goa, we are simultaneously able to explore the various types of socio-economic changes that are concomitant to international migration. The principal organisational means by which the ICGC perpetuates itself is explored in chapter 8, which examines the role played by various voluntary organisations in different satellite communities and in Goa. While chapter 6 particularly highlights the lateral kinship links maintained globally, and chapter 7 the radial material, symbolic and territorial links to Goa, chapter 8 examines the radial and lateral multiple links that Goan institutions maintain with Goa, as well as between themselves. Chapter 9 presents the conclusion to this book, returning to the theoretical themes discussed in this chapter.

Chapter 1: Notes

1. A film entitled The Shadow of the Cross was screened on Channel 4 on 11th February 1986. Although the research covered India as a whole, for various reasons, the film focussed specifically on Goa.

2. A shippie is a person who works on a ship.

3. Punjabi migrants in Britain come from around Lyallpur, Jhelum and Sialkhot District in North Punjab (Jeffery 1976:46; Ballard 1977). Many also come from Mirpur in Kashmir (Saifullah-Kahn 1979), as well as other areas around Rawalpindi, Campbellpur and parts of the North West Frontier (Jeffery 1976:46). Bangladeshis originate mainly from Sylhet. Indians hail mainly from a small part of Punjab (Ballard 1977; Bhachu 1981) and Gujarat (Tambs-Lyche 1975; Michaelson 1983).

4. Since migration from Goa until 1961 involved crossing national boundaries, we would have expected that some statistics could be obtained from exit and entry records. However, as passports were not required to enter British India after 1879 (1910 census:37) requisite information is available for only a small proportion of the timespan covered in this book. Goans who went outside India made their exit via Bombay from where they obtained the necessary documents and, hence, there are no records in Goa. Similar procedures are followed by most migrants in the 1970s to the Persian Gulf States of the Middle East (referred to hereafter

37 Theoretical perspectives

as the Gulf). Although I examined various records at the Emigration Office in Bombay, it was difficult to determine whether the individuals cited were of Goan origin because the names and surnames are not exclusive to Goans. Furthermore, whether they were ordinarily resident in Goa could not be ascertained because region of origin was not specified. Censuses, official and private statistical records only provide a crude estimate of the numbers of migrants from the mid 19th century.

5. Boserup (1970), in her global study of farming systems, suggests that male or female farming prevails in certain ecological and social conditions. For instance, she suggests that in certain parts of the world, notably Africa, female farming predominates, whereas in India, male farming is more common.

6. In comparison to the North, a greater proportion of women in the South work in agriculture (Dyson & Moore 1983). Muslim women, subjected to various forms of purdah, contribute less to agricultural production than do Hindu women (Jeffery 1979:28). Finally, lower caste and tribal women participate to a greater extent than upper caste women in farming.

38 Background Setting: Goa and the Village Amora

Introduction

his chapter provides the background setting of Goa and the T village Amora (pseudonym) around the time of ethnographic research in 1980. The geographical location and demographic features of Goa are described in Section 1. As Goa was ruled by the Portuguese for approximately 450 years, in Section 2, I provide an overall account of various aspects of colonial rule.

One distinguishing characteristic of Portuguese colonialism, in contrast to other types of European colonialism, was the important role that religion played in its policies. The principle, cuius regio, eius religio (the ruler’s religion is the subjects) was introduced into Goa, and various attempts were made to enforce it.

Goa was liberated from the Portuguese in 1961, and in Section 3, I describe various aspects of the post-colonial period. The chapter then shifts from the macro to the micro level, and in Section 4, I outline how I went about selecting Amora, whose general

39 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting characteristics are described in Section 5. This is followed in Section 6 with details of international migration from the village.

Map 1: Position of Goa

40 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

1: Goa – Location and Population

Goa covers an area of 3,700 sq km, its greatest length being 105 km, and greatest breath 60 km. It lies on the south west coast of India and its geographic position is 15-48’00" N and 14-53’54" N latitude and 74-20’13" E and 73-40’33" longitude.

Map 2: Map of Goa

41 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

To the north lies the Sawantwadi taluka of Ratnagiri district and the Kolhapur district of Maharashtra State. To the east and south lie Belgaum, Dharwar and the North Kanara districts of Karnataka State. Goa is bounded on the west by the Arabian Sea (see map 1 and 2).

The indigenous population according to the 1981 census was 1,007,749, with Hindus constituting 63%, Catholics approximately 32%, Muslims 2% and the remainder being of various religions. A small proportion of the population consisted of tribal Kunbis or Gauddas who were Catholic or Hindu. Some were Nav Hindus who had reconverted to Hinduism from Catholicism (D’Souza 1975). It is not certain whether the tribals were the original inhabitants of Goa (Saldanha 1952:3). The ancestors of the majority of the present Goan population, according to various myths, originated around the 4th century from elsewhere in India (de Souza 1979:55-7). From the early decades of the nineteen century there has been considerable population movement and other demographic factors which have affected the religious composition of Goa (1).

There has been a decline in the Catholic population owing to its lower birth rate and also large scale international migration, with many settling permanently outside Goa. On the other hand, there has been an inﬂux of mainly Hindus from other parts of India into Goa since 1961, and the immigrants in 1981 constituted about 30% of the population of Goa. As noted in 1983, Goa has a low birth rate, lower than rural Kerala and the all India level and it is soon expected to achieve a net reproduction rate of one which means a two child family (Panandiker & Chaudri 1983:9- 16). One of the reasons for this, revealed in an analysis of the 1971 census, was that 30% of females in the age range 15-44 had never married (ibid:19). A large number of these were likely to have

42 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting been Catholics (ibid:19). Furthermore, the age of marriage is high among Catholic women and among educated Hindus (ibid:19).

Goa is easily accessible by road, sea and air. A coach journey from Bombay, the major metropolis in its vicinity, takes about fourteen hours. The journey from Poona or Bangalore takes under twenty hours.

Travelling by coach is a cheap means of getting to Goa and every year, particularly during the school holidays in April, as well as Christmas and the Carnival in February/March, hundreds of International Catholic Goans (ICGs) from these cities come to spend a few weeks in Goa. Others used to come from Bombay by ship, a longer but more pleasant journey, infused with a spirit of camaraderie as the passengers ‘slept rough’ on deck, exchanged jokes, gossip, sing songs, played cards and shared food and drink.

Photo 1: A Village Church

43 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

Since Dabolim airport was built in 1962, many ICGs take a forty five minute flight from Bombay to Goa. Most ICGs who fly to Goa come from Africa, Europe, Canada, USA, South America, the Middle East, Australia and New Zealand. ICGs settled in the West prefer to holiday in Goa during the Christmas season, where apart from the festivities, the temperate climate is more attractive than the humid April-May season.

Whether we arrive in Goa by plane, ship or bus, one of the most conspicuous sights we soon come across is the white- washed church, towering above other buildings, with an adjoining cemetery (see photographs 1 and 2 alongside).

Photo 2: A Village Cemetery

It is not until we travel from the coastal area into the hinterland that we come across the many Hindu temples (see photograph 3).

The split between the coastal region and the hinterland closely, but not entirely parallels, the historical division of Goa into

44 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting the Old Conquests (OCs) and New Conquests (NCs). Goa has eleven talukas, and four of these, Tiswadi (formerly Ilhas), Bardez, Salcete and Murmugao (which was formerly part of Salcete) are collectively known as the Old Conquests because they were captured by the Portuguese in the early 16th century.

In the last decades of the 18th century, the New Conquests were annexed, and comprise the talukas of Pernem, Satari, Bicholim, Sanguem, Quepem and Canacona. Panjim, situated in Tiswadi taluka, became the capital city in 1759 when the seat of government was transferred from the city of Goa (now called Old Goa) due to the unhygenic conditions that developed there. There are minor towns in the other talukas. Bus and ferry services facilitate communication between various parts of Goa.

Photo 3: A Village Temple

2: The Portuguese Colonial Era

In this section, for purposes of simplicity, the material is presented in two sub-sections dealing with (a) politico-economic policy and (b) religious policy.

45 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

(a) Politico-economic policy

Goa was governed by a succession of Hindu dynasties, and for about 50 years, by the Muslims from whom it was captured by the Portuguese in 1510 (Pereira 1971; Moraes 1931; Saldanha 1952:27-52). This book focuses on the history of Goa from the Portuguese period because it was the policies and practices of the Portugese which led to the development of the Local Catholic Goan Community (LCGC), part of which was transformed over time into the International Catholic Goan Community (ICGC).

The Portuguese were the ﬁrst European nation with colonial ambitions to set foot in India, and the establishment of the Estado da India in the early 16th century, pre-dated by over 200 years, the establishment of the British Raj in India. The Estado da India was originally conceived as stretching from the Cape of Good Hope in Africa to the Far East. However, during the course of four centuries, and because of competition from various European powers, the Estado progressively contracted, until in 1961, it merely encompassed the tiny territories of Goa, Daman and Diu in India (2).

The city of Goa became the imperial capital of the Estado da India after the transfer of the seat of Government from Cochin to Goa in 1530 (Fonseca 1878; de Souza 1979:134) (3). Political jurisdiction also entailed ﬁnancial support over 450 years for the defence of the Estado (de Souza 1979:143; Rodriques 1977:13), and occasionally, assistance for Portuguese colonies outside the jurisdiction of Goa (Rodriques 1977:13). Supporting such extensive defence needs contributed to draining Goa of its wealth and impoverishing the masses who were compelled to contribute to State determined causes. The army was concerned not only with the defence of the country but also with the functions

46 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting of the Police as no separate Police department existed (Gazetteer 1979:571). The maintenance of the large army constituted a heavy drain on the country’s revenues (Cunha 1939:21). Despite this, it was poorly equipped and inefﬁcient and regarded as a “purely bureaucratic and decorative army” (Cunha 1939:21).

Prior to the colonial era, Goa was involved in trade with its neighbours with salt being the major export, supplemented by dry fish and copra (de Souza 1979:53). Internal exchange occurred, as elsewhere in western India, through weekly markets and fairs, often coinciding with religious occasions (Divekar 1983:341). This trade was on a minor scale as befitted the limited needs of a small and stable population. The Portuguese introduced new crops such as chillies (Divekar 1983:337), cashew (Kosambi 1975:333), tobacco and better varieties of coconut (Harrison 1975:338) and the Jesuits introduced systematic mango grafting which improved the quality of the fruit (Kosambi 1975:334). Cash cropping was not, however, introduced on an extensive scale in Goa, as the British did in India with cotton, indigo, tea, coffee, silk and sugarcane (Srinivas 1969:41-2). This was because the Portuguese aim in the East was to monopolise Asiatic trade in certain products and control that in others (de Souza 1979:152). Goa played an important role in the Portuguese seaborne Eastern Empire, as its strategic geographical position and excellent port facilities made it aptly suitable as an entrepot (Disney 1978). The control of trade was carried out through the cartaz (sailing permit) system and many permits were issued at Goa (Gazetteer 1979:164). However, as Portuguese power declined in the East from the 17th century onwards, it became increasingly difficult to maintain the cartaz system, thus undermining what had become a major source of Goa’s wealth.

47 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

The Portuguese aimed to reproduce in India as closely as possible the life to which they were accustomed to at home (Neill 1964:404; 1970:46). It was necessary, for instance, that eatables and alcoholic drinks be imported from Portugal (de Souza 1979:150). However, increasingly some of these imports were required to feed some of the indigenous population who had acquired foreign tastes. Rice, the staple food, was not produced in sufficient quantities and also had to be imported. As we shall see in chapter 3, the dietary habits of Catholics were changed on conversion, and beef, pork and alcohol were imported to meet consumption demands (Techno-Economic Survey (TES)1964:106). Further- more, a number of elite Catholic Goans aspired to the lifestyle of the Portuguese fidalagoes (son of a ‘noble’), thus increasing the demand for foreign foods, dress materials and other items. Until 1950 when minerals came to account for the bulk of Goa’s exports, visible imports were about five times higher than exports (Fernandes 1939:5- 6; Figueiredo 1936:218). Invisible imports substantially augmented the already high magnitude of imports (Fernandes 1939:4). Moreover, smuggling was rampant, thus increasing the entry of foreign goods into Goa.

The colonial government’s policy of encouraging a lifestyle which made imports necessary paid rich dividends to the State coffers. For instance, in 1939, it was estimated that half the State’s total receipts was derived from custom duties (Cunha 1939:18). The development of a new lifestyle among the Goan population also stimulated the demand for locally produced goods, which being subjected to tax, provided other avenues for the State to increase its income. A foremost example of this was alcohol of which large quantities was produced locally, augmenting the already extensive import of wines and spirits, principally from Portugal (Almeida 1959:57). In the 1930s it was estimated that as much

48 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting as a ﬁfth to a quarter of the State revenue was derived from taxation of local alcohol production, distribution and consumption (Cunha 1939:28). In addition, there were a host of miscellaneous taxes, including for a short period of time, an Emigration Tax, applicable to those who left Goa to work elsewhere. Stamp duty was ubiquitous so that recourse to any form of public service necessitated the use of stamp paper and the payment of various duties (Cunha 1939:20).

Indeed, the overall impression is that no opportunity to impose taxation was spared, and by the end of Portuguese rule, almost half of the State revenue was derived from taxation and the per capita tax revenue was approximately double the average for all the States of the Indian Union (4). While such comparisons must be treated with caution, the general point is that “[T]hese ﬁgures indicate that the tax effort has been relatively high compared to the average for all States” (ibid:161). This high taxation was not conﬁned to the 20th century as data for the 19th century shows that it even exceeded that prevailing in Europe (Gomes 1862:39- 40) (5).

Part of the income earned by the State was remitted to Portugal (Cunha 1939:18). The main recipients of money spent in Goa were government employees including civil servants and servicemen, who received good salaries and superannuation beneﬁts. Since its inception as imperial capital, Goa had a full Portuguese colonial administration resembling that in Brazil (Fieldhouse 1966:140), a country many times larger than the tiny territory of Goa. It was estimated that nearly three quarters of the total income of Goa during the ﬁrst two centuries of colonial rule was spent on maintaining the bureaucracy, the overwhelming majority of whose employees, at that time, were European (de Souza 1979: 137, 171). As the Estado contracted with the loss of Portuguese

49 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting territories, however, the large bureaucracy managed to survive into the 20th century (Torrie 1879; Census 1900-80). A number of Goans did eventually become civil servants and were relatively well off, but this was not the fate of the masses.

(b) Religious policy

Portuguese colonial policy in the East differed in a number of ways from its policy in the Atlantic and from the policies of other European colonialists (Fieldhouse 1966). One of the most important differences was that the State and Church worked very closely together (6) with the Padroado representing the Crown patronage of Catholicism (7). The close relationship between State and Church in its colonising ambitions stemmed from certain pronouncements in the 15th century (8) in which the Pope had entrusted the Christian powers with the responsibility of ﬁnding and supporting missions and bishoprics (Saldanha 1952; Neill 1964; Wicki 1972). As one of the foremost Catholic nations, Portugal was keen to discharge this responsibility and Goa became the showpiece of Catholicism outside Europe.

The city of Goa was known as the ‘Rome of the Orient’ (Remy 1957). The Archdiocese of Goa had jurisdiction over the entire Estado da India (Moraes 1972:9-170) (9). In the early 16th century over ﬁfty churches, of various sizes, with convents, hospices, and other institutions were built in the city. Here, the Basilica of Bom Jesus houses the mausoleum of one of the best known missionaries, St.Francis Xavier, Apostle of the East (Schurhammer 1977). Since the mid-16th century this shrine has been venerated every year with special ceremonies and periodic expositions of the Saint’s body have attracted crowds of devotees from all over the world. The Inquisition, with jurisdiction over the entire Estado,

50 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting was also located in the city from 1560 until it was abolished in 1812 (Baiao 1945; Priolkar 1961) (10). Many Religious Orders set up seminaries in Goa and drew their students not only locally but also from Africa and Asia. In the 18th century, two seminaries, funded partly by the Public treasury, were established to train secular priests (Varde 1977:7). Goans trained at these institutions went to work not only in various parts of India but also Ceylon, Burma, Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, China and Japan (Meersman 1972:67). Various religious congregation such as the Jesuits, Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, Oratorians and Carmelites all set up educational institutions providing elementary, secondary and tertiary education (Varde 1977:3) These institutions also catered for non-Goans. For instance, children converted to Catholicism by the Portuguese in the 16th century were sent from Bengal to be educated in Goa (Campos 1919:102- 3).

The city of Goa represented, through style of architecture, town planning, and other ecological factors, the social organisation of Catholicism, just as other capitals in India represented Brahmanic Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism and Jainism (Rao 1974:101-7). The location of the shrine of St. Francis, the Inquisition, churches, convents, monasteries and seminaries all testify to the prominent position of Goa as the major ecclesiastical centre outside Europe from the 16th century onwards (11). The Archbishop of Goa, like his secular counterpart, had overall ecclesiastical jurisdiction in the Estado, and unlike other Archbishops in the East, had the additional honorary titles of Patriarch of East Indies and Primate of the East. The incumbent in 1984 was the 74th Archbishop of Goa and the 6th Patriarch of the East Indies. He was also the first Goan, as well as the first Indian, to hold such office (Directory, Archdiocese of Goa & Daman 1984). Since Goa was the

51 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting ecclesiastical centre, all national Synods or Councils were held there, and presided over by the Archbishop (de Mello 1955:130- 147). The clergy were equivalent to colonial functionaries and, indeed, they often served in a civilian capacity and occasionally deputised for absent administrators. Catholicism remained the State religion up to the 20th century.

The State played a direct role in the propagation of Catholicism. For instance, it was able to recruit missionaries from Portugal and bring them over on their own ships (12). Portuguese religious zeal was most pronounced during the ﬁrst two centuries of their rule in Goa, which then comprised the Old Conquests (OCs), and their intense proselytisation campaign resulted, by 1670, in 85% of the population of these areas being converted to Catholicism (Meersman 1972:66). Thus the Hindus in these areas were reduced to a minority group (de Souza 1975:30). Many of those who did not wish to be converted ﬂed the area and went to live in neighbouring districts (13), although some later returned when a degree of tolerance prevailed (14). In 1750, out of an estimated one million Christians (including non-Catholics) in India, about a half were concentrated in the tiny region of Goa, a quarter in Kerala and the rest scattered over India (Neill 1970:47). The magnitude of the conversions in Goa were equally matched by the strong faith of the converts (15).

To achieve such a formidable record, a variety of methods were used, including coercion (Boxer 1969; Meersman 1971; D’Costa 1965) (16). Mass voluntary conversions also occurred, as exempliﬁed by the case of Amora (17). While the large scale conversion of Amora took place around 1619, it appears that there were some Catholics in the village by 1602 (Meersman 1971:130). Besides the General Baptism of a whole village, a number of such solemn and highly ritualised occasions were held where hundreds

52 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting of catechumens from different villages were baptised (Meersman 1971:153-160).

The multiple methods ensured that conversions of people of different caste backgrounds were a common feature of the proselytisation campaign in Goa. However, the policy followed in Goa was not paradigmatic for the conversion process carried out elsewhere in India under the auspices of the Padroado. The focus of attention of the Padroado missionaries outside Goa were speciﬁc sectors of the society (18). A similar policy was followed by the Rome-sponsored Propaganda Fide, which unlike the Padroado, was not funded by the Crown nor staffed with a large number of missionaries.

Excluding Goa, not only Catholics in India, but also non-Catholic Christian converts were drawn from the low caste, tribal or other disadvantaged and under-privileged members of society for whom Christianity had the trappings of a messianic movement (Neill 1970:80-81; D’Sa 1984). There was considerable resistance, particularly among the upper castes, to conversion to Christianity as it was associated with foreign dress, diet, language and ways of thinking which were completely at variance with local cognitive and behavioural patterns (Neill 1966:11-12). Such resistance was sometimes overcome by luring youths with offers of better educational facilities and consequent improvement in job prospects. A few successful attempts were also made to convert women as “[T]o win women would be to win India” (Paul 1952:60).

There is no reason to suppose that the resistance to adopting a foreign religion would have been less in Goa. The fact that the magnitude of conversions, among all castes, was achieved in such a short period of time can be largely attributed to the State support of religion, which contrasted markedly with that of the British Government in India which encouraged the

53 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting perpetuation of Hinduism and placed obstacles to the progress of Christianity (Paul 1952:60-62). Moreover, it is evident that the Portuguese singled out Goa for particular attention, probably because it would have been anomalous for the ecclesiastical centre of the East not to be supported by a large localised Catholic population. Faithful adherence to Catholicism was maintained among converts through the Merinho dos Cristãos and Pai dos Cristãos who were local Catholics of good character responsible for the religious well being of the village Catholic community as well as the settlement of temporal disputes between them (Bury 1975). Religious orthodoxy until 1812 was also maintained by the threat of the Inquisition, regarded as the most infamous in the world (Priolkar 1961) (19).

The history of Christianity in India, Africa and elsewhere reveals that converts often did not permanently adhere to its doctrines, rituals and various practices. Lapses to the pre-conversion religion occurred or some form of religious syncretism developed (20). The predominant feature of most of the millenarian movements, some of which are known as cargo cults (Wilson 1970) was the belief that the indigenous population would one day overcome the current exploitative colonial situation and gain possession of the material wealth which was exclusively held by the white man. Very often such a view was sanctioned by a new interpretation of the Bible. In comparison, however, Catholics in Goa who continued to practice some form of ‘superstition’, fell foul of the Inquisition and were compelled to ﬂee (Meersman 1971:251). Goa did not suffer from the shortage of ecclesiastics that Catholic and Protestant populations elsewhere in India did (21). The presence of a large number of ecclesiastics in Goa ensured that there was a constant ministering to the spiritual needs of the people (22), thus ensuring retention of the new faith. Large scale conversions, buttressed

54 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting by the fear inspired by the Inquisition, the augmentation of ecclesiastical power by civil power, the close identiﬁcation of State and Church, and the continued presence of many ecclesiastics, are some of the major reasons why orthodox Catholicism was retained and religious syncretism had little chance to develop under colonial rule in Goa (23).

When the Portuguese annexed the New Conquests (NCs) two centuries later, in a commercial treaty signed with Great Britain, dated 19th February 1810, they accepted the principle of permit- ting in Goa free religious tolerance. Statistics for 1850 reveal that of the total population in Goa, 63% were Catholic, 36% Hindu, the remainder being Muslim (Kol 1850:329). The difference in religious policy is reﬂected in the fact that the Catholic population has been concentrated in the OCs and the Hindu in the NCs. The Hindus “... have clung to their traditions and have preserved all the essential characteristics of their heritage” (Saksena 1974:9). The cultural changes effected in the Catholic population are discussed in detail in the next chapter.

3: Post-Colonial Era

During colonial rule a number of liberation struggles, such as the Conspiracy of Pintos in 1787, the Rane Rebellion in 1852 and 1895, were attempted with little success (Halappa et al. 1964:16-17). After India gained its Independence from the British in 1947, there were renewed attempts to liberate Goa which were supported by the Indian Government and various national institutions. Under the Salazar dictatorship, it was difﬁcult to promote a liberation struggle (Gazetteer 1979:197-206) and, hence, it was carried out mainly outside Goa and supported by many members of the satellite Goan communities (Cunha 1961;

55 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

Mascarenhas 1976) (24). Goa was eventually liberated when the Indian Army routed the Portuguese in Goa on 19th December 1961 (Rubinoff 1971). Goa, together with Daman and Diu, two former Portuguese possessions, were established as a Union Territory in 1963.

As evident in 1980, under Union Territory status, at the head of the Government was the Administrator, known as Lt. Governor, appointed by the President of India. He was advised by the Ministry responsible to the members of the Legislative Assembly. In 1962, in an attempt to introduce self government at the village level, 159 elected gram panchayats were established. There were no political parties in Goa prior to liberation but a number emerged subsequently to contest the ﬁrst general election held in 1963 (Halappa et al.1964:34-49). The elections were won by the Maharashtrawadi Gomantak Party (ibid:103-112) which remained in power for some time after winning successive elections. This Party had wanted to merge Goa with Maharashtra (ibid:44) but they eventually formally abandoned this plan when a referendum held in 1967 favoured retaining Union Territory status (Saksena 1974:121-141).

Since 1961, a number of changes have taken place in Goa to integrate it into India (Kumar et al. 1965; Padki 1968). During Portuguese rule, Goa had a stagnant economy and to remedy this situation, a number of urban and rural development programmes, (TES 1964, Goa Chamber of Commerce and Industry 1970; Gov- ernment Annual Plans; 5 year Plans; Development Programmes for Goa; Angle 1979, 1983) covering tourism, mining, ﬁshing, agriculture and transportation have been initiated. Numerous Indian banks have set up branches in towns and villages (25). Such action has led to the transformation of Goa from a colonial society with traditional underpinnings to a bourgeois-capitalist

56 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting one in the neo-colonial mode (Newman 1984:1)

As noted in 1983, Goa had a higher per capita income compared to the all-India level (Panandiker & Chaudri 1983:32-3) due mainly to its mineral wealth. There has also been a rapid expansion of medical and educational provision (26). English replaced Portuguese as the language of administration. As elsewhere in India, the question of a regional language has been an emotive issue, and popular debates have raged in Goa as to whether Konkani or Marathi should be the regional language. A referendum held in 1967 clearly favoured Konkani as the regional language and in 1987, following much protest, it ﬁnally received ofﬁcial recognition. The position in the 1980s was that schools, whether private or State, were either English or Marathi medium, and Konkani was taught as one of the subjects.

Goa’s natural scenic beauty, golden beaches, its extensive vegetarian and non-vegetarian cuisine, liberal attitude to alcohol consumption, lively nightlife with western style dances, attracts large numbers of Indian and foreign tourists. Consequently hotels, restaurants and other associated businesses had expanded a great deal since 1961 (Newman 1984). Large Indian tourist agencies had taken a big slice of the market, eclipsing the efforts of the small individual entrepreneurs. A few of the latter were ICGs, particularly those working in the Gulf, who wished to secure a future means of earning a livelihood when the job market in the Gulf contracted or when they have retired, like most ICG returnees, to spend the “winter of our lives” in Goa (27).

The known source of foreign exchange around 1980, which was carefully recorded and monitored, was obtained from mining (28). Goa is rich in minerals and the major deposits, which are located in the NCs, are iron, manganese, bauxite, magnesia, limestone and clay (Gazetteer 1979:11). Prospecting for iron and manganese

57 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting ores began at the turn of the century, but it was only in 1947 that the regular export of iron ore began. Exports have increased considerably since then, and were it not for mining, the per capita income of Goa around 1980 would be signiﬁcantly lower than that of the rest of India. The ore is transported by barges to Mormugao, the major port from where it is shipped internationally, mainly to Japan. The barges have considerably polluted Goa’s many rivers and creeks and led to the deterioration of the protective barriers which had been built to prevent the saline inundation of ﬁelds.

Around 1980, it was evident that the rich mineral wealth of the NCs helped to offset its comparatively lower agricultural productivity. The OCs have rich, fertile, alluvial plains, cultivated mainly with paddy and coconut trees, while most of the NC talukas have large tracts of forest and arecanut groves, with some land suitable for the cultivation of paddy and millet. Around 1980, apart from approximately 6% of the land used for buildings, roads, pastures etc., forests accounted for 28.4% of the total land of Goa, while 36% was sown, 25% was cultivable waste and 4% was barren and uncultivable (Gazetteer 1979:10). Capital intensive methods of cultivation are a rare sight in Goa and agriculture is the main occupation of the population. Fifty-ﬁve percent of the land in Goa was owned privately, with holdings of approximately 0.5 hectares, which was signiﬁcantly less than the average size in India which, in 1951, was 3.03 hectares (Srinivas 1969:38).

The Government owned about 32% of the land, and the village communities (or comunidades, discussed in chapters 3 and 4) owned 11%. Government owned lands were mostly forest while the comunidades owned a large proportion of the paddy land. This was particularly true of the OCs where, around 1980, the comunidade held about 55% of the paddy land, while in the NCs where there were fewer and smaller comunidades, most paddy

58 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting area was privately owned by a handful of big landlords. Goa has a tropical climate and the monsoon period which extends from May to early October provides favourable conditions for wet rice cultivation. New, improved methods of cultivation and high yielding varieties of grain have been introduced, but like elsewhere in India (Chaudhuri 1978:110-146), the Green Revolution (around 1980) has had only limited success.

Apart from rice, fish is an important ingredient of the Goan diet, but from around 1960 the quality of fish available for local consumption had declined considerably. The better quality fish, particularly prawns, were reserved for tourists, and also exported abroad in large quantities. Such fish had been caught by the newly introduced mechanised trawlers. As evident around 1980, the ownership of these, and the distribution and marketing networks were in the hands of a few, mainly non-Goan, capitalists (Newman 1984).

The lack of adequate Government control of mechanisation had seriously threatened the livelihood of the traditional ﬁshermen and in the 1970s spawned the Ramponkar Movement to ﬁght for their rights. Similar movements have arisen elsewhere in India, such as Kerala. It is interesting to note that such movements, both in Goa and elsewhere, have been publicly supported by a few indigenous Catholic priests and nuns (de Souza 1978) who have been inspired by the radical liberation theology which originated in South America (Guteriez 1974; Boff 1985).

Another development strategy evident in 1980 had been directed at the improvement of Goa’s infrastructure through the building of new roads and bridges. As a result, there is far better road access in Goa compared to India as a whole (Panandiker & Chaudri 1983:34). Much of the labour force working on the construction of roads and irrigation schemes had come from the

59 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting neighbouring areas of Maharashtra and Karnataka, and around 1980 they accounted for approximately 30% of Goa’s population. The presence of this immigrant labour force was related to the fact that many contractors were non-Goan and tended to use the same labour ‘gang’ on similar projects in India. Furthermore, such labour was cheaper and more compliant than Goan labour, and it was not always easy to recruit the latter because of the reluctance to engage in poorly paid, low level manual work. The pattern found in Goa is similar to that observed in many parts of the world where the educated and upwardly mobile seek better paid and career structured employment outside their native land. The vacuum they create is ﬁlled by the next upwardly mobile sector of society until a situation is reached whereby the jobs the indigenous population have come to deplore for their low status and wages are done by a transient and compliant immigrant labour force (Castles & Kossack 1973).

In 1980, it was apparent that not all the immigrants in Goa were manual workers and a number of Maharashtrians and Keralites were found in white collar employment in government and related institutions. When Goa came under Indian rule in 1961, both local and central government thought that the process of transition from Portuguese to Indian administrative structures would be facilitated by the temporary transfer of experienced staff from elsewhere to Goa. However, their continued presence and that of the other manual immigrants has sparked sporadic protest to “keep Goa for the Goans” and there had been fears that the small scale fracas between the indigenous population and immigrants might have escalated into the volatile situations evident, for instance, in Assam. The immigrants were concentrated in urban areas, in the vicinity of the mines and development projects, and only a few were found living in the villages. The greater

60 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting proportion of Goa’s indigenous population lives in rural areas, particularly the more densely populated coastal region. According to the census of 1971, there were approximately 383 villages in Goa (Census 1971) and they varied with respect to size, caste, class, religious composition and economy (Brito 1966) (29).

4: Selection of the Village

In order to investigate, at a micro level of analysis, international patterns of migration and their effects on Goa, I was looking for a village which was composed of Hindus and Catholics and a cross section of castes so that the significance of social stratification for migration patterns could be explored. While the caste system among Hindu Goans operates in broadly similar ways to that evident among Hindus elsewhere in India (Feio 1979), among Catholics the situation was far from clear cut. For the Catholics, the word ‘caste’ (in English, Konkani or Portuguese) refers to both varna and jati categories, and these are arranged hierarchically as follows: Brahmin, Chardo, Gaudde, Sudra, Mahar and Charmar (D’Costa 1977). It is interesting to note the absence of the Vaishya varna and the ranking of Chardos second in the hierarchy. According to various accounts, Chardos are an amalgamation of Kshatriyas and Vaishyas (Pereira 1920:41) although this view is not held by others (Pissurlenka 1936) who state that they originate from converted Marathas. Among Catholics the ways in which caste and castelessness (Caplan 1980) are articulated varies considerably in different parts of Goa (Montemayor 1970:62 and passim). At various points in this book I shall indicate the context in which ‘caste’ is used and its significance in articulating various aspects of social stratification among Catholics and, in particular, the ICGC.

61 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

The Government census and other official statistics did not give a breakdown of the population in terms of caste. I could not find any official records for the 19th and 20th century which indicated the caste composition of the population. This contrasts with the records for British India where until 1941, censuses noted an individual’s caste. Hence, I was compelled to rely on verbal enquiries. Most of my initial informants were those living in Mira Mar, a new suburb of Panjim. Around 1980, the majority of its residents were ICG returnees who had settled there in the last decade and who, for various reasons, were not living in their ancestral villages. On the whole, I found that these middle- aged ICGs spoke of a village in terms of a single caste identity; for instance, they would say that Saligão, Amora, Aldona, Divar, Benaulim, Loutlim and Curtorim are Brahmin villages; Betalbatim, Colva and Calangute are Chardo villages, and Bastora is a Gaudde village. This view echoed what I had heard as an ICG when living in Nairobi and London.

However, when I visited these villages and attempted to verify this, I found that the reality was sharply different. In the ﬁrst place, a so-called Brahmin village had its share of Sudras and Mahars but they were not reckoned at the time in terms of the village caste identity. Secondly, ICGs stressed that the villages they referred to were Catholic. Again this echoed my earlier vision as an ICG brought up outside Goa as it being a Catholic country. This changed when, as a postgraduate student reading background material, I found out it had a sizeable Hindu population. On visiting the villages (in the OCs), in many cases I found that at least half or more of the population were Hindus of various castes. In most villages there were small clusters of tribal Kunbis who were either Catholic or Hindu. Government ofﬁcials, particularly Hindus involved in census recording and analysis, were more

62 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting likely to give a realistic picture of village composition.

What accounted for this discrepancy in perception? One factor was that most of the urban Catholics I spoke to during ethnographic research in 1980 were international returnees who had spent part or all of their childhood and adolescence in their ancestral village but the rest of their lives outside Goa. Hence, they were not familiar with demographic changes that had taken place in their village during their absence. Even if they had observed these changes, they were less prepared to recognise them because to the ICGs the village community was synonymous with the ancient village structure called comunidade. The comunidade was usually identiﬁed in single caste terms, for reasons that will become clear in the following chapters where the institution is considered in detail.

I visited a number of villages all over Goa during the period of selecting a village, as well as at various times during ethnographic research in 1980. In order to obtain some idea of the structure of villages in the OCs, it was necessary, where possible, to talk to comunidade staff, parish priests and panchayat staff. All three represented different administrative units with overlapping boundaries. The comunidade is largely made up of the descendants of the hereditary members of the original, pre-Portuguese village community, and it kept records mainly of the activities of these members, its communal assets and civic functions. During Portuguese rule the division of geographical areas was into frequesias (parishes), which often included one or more aldeas (villages) (30).

Although non-Catholics lived in the parish, parish records referred only to Catholics, and noted such demographic characteristics as births, marriages, deaths, and the activities, income and expenditure of the Church. The panchayat system, established after Goa

63 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting became incorporated into the Indian Union following liberation from Portuguese colonialism in 1961, often encompassed one or more comunidades, and/or parish. The panchayat records referred to those living in the area, irrespective of religious afﬁli- ation and comunidade membership, and its land records referred to both comunidade and private land. Hence, each institution had its own circumscribed vision of social reality and to acquire a holistic picture, it was necessary to amalgamate the different institutional perceptions and also to incorporate the individual views of villagers. Eventually, to undertake ethnographic research in 1980, I chose the village of Amora because it was multi-caste, multi-religious and had a long history of international migration. This would allow me to explore in detail the inter-relationship between social stratiﬁcation and migration, the local and the global political economy, and changes over time.

5: Amora: General Characteristics

The following were the characteristics of the village in 1980. Amora covered an area of 319 hectares and was situated in the district of Bardez, 3 km from the district town of Mapuca, and 10 km from the capital city of Panjim (see Map 3). It was divided into 9 wards (or bairros as they were called by the Portuguese).

64 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

Map 3: Amora

According to oral history, the residents of Amora originally lived in one ward, or ganv, a Konkani word meaning ‘village’. However, as the population expanded, and people wanted to build large houses with income earned through international migration, they moved out and populated the other wards.

65 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

Photo 4: A Ward Chapel.

A river ran on two sides of the village and in the past a ferry service linked Amora with a nearby village and the market town of Mapuca. Since the construction of a bridge fording the river in 1963, Amora became fairly well served by local buses but two quicker and more expensive alternatives were to hire a motorcycle or car taxi. A number of villagers had their own transport, usually

66 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting bicycles and scooters, and a few owned cars. The village had one large Church with adjoining cemetery and a chapel in each ward, supplemented by a number of small Catholic shrines and stone crosses (see photograph 4). In contrast to this, there was only one small temple, a cremation ground, and the occasional tulsi shrine. There was also a club house with attached playing ﬁelds (see photograph 5), a bank, post ofﬁce and panchayat building. A handful of bars and tavernas, mainly patronised by men, were situated along the main road. There were also a few small shops and cafes.

Photo 5: Village Club.

One of the most striking sights to greet the eye in Amora, as it was in aImost every village in the OCs, was the number of large, brick houses, interspersed with a few crumbling and decaying ones. A few others were in reasonable condition but there was no sign of life within them. As evident in 1980, of the 567 pakka houses, 78 were empty and half a dozen were dilapidated. Despite the number of empty houses, it took me about three months to ﬁnd a house to rent.

Such houses were owned by ICGs, and unless they had placed the custody of the house in the hands of a local resident, it would

67 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting have taken some time to locate and make rental arrangements with the owners, each of whom may have been located in different parts of the world. Furthermore, since the government had passed the Goa, Daman and Diu Protection from Eviction Act 1975, owners were wary of leasing accommodation lest tenants refused to vacate the property (as discussed in chapter 7). Eventually, through mobilising kinship and associational networks, I was able to rent a bungalow in ‘ganv’ (see photograph 6). However, before arrangements could be ﬁnalised, the Amora caretaker had to write to a friend of hers in Bombay, who, as the relative residing nearest to Goa,had been looking after the house for the owners who were living in Canada.

Photo 6: Author with neighbours 1980.

Amora consisted of 684 households, with a population of 2,795, of which females accounted for 54%. These ﬁgures were drawn from the preliminary household survey conducted by the government in 1980, as a prelude to the 1981 census, and they did not

68 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting provide any idea of the age distribution of the village population. Neither did the population ﬁgure include those who were normally resident in the village but absent for a period of three months or more (31). As will be discussed in chapter 7, this omission was signiﬁcant as there were a number of villagers resident ‘out’ who maintained a house in the village. The village consisted of both Catholic and Hindu Goans as well as a number of tribals, commonly referred to as Kunbis or Gauddas.

There were equivalent numbers of Hindu and Catholic Goans but as household size varied, the former belonged to 357 households, and the latter to 282 households. The majority (80%) of Hindu Goans (HGs) began settling in Amora around the 1960s. They came from the NCs to work as agriculturalists, masons and casual labourers. These HGs who lived in different parts of Amora were mainly Marathas (who claim to be a lower sub- caste of the Kshatriyia varna) and were further sub-divided according to traditional occupations, such as Maratha-Bhandari (toddy tappers). There were 15 Hindu households of Vaishya caste who ran small cafes and all-purpose shops, and 15 households who were of goldsmith caste. Thirty eight households consisted of Hindu Charis (carpenters) who had lived for well over 100 years in Amora and were concentrated in one of the wards.

The Kunbis (all Catholic), who constituted about 15% of the village population, were originally from Salcete and came to live in Amora around the 1930s. They also worked predominantly as agriculturalists, masons and casual labourers and lived scattered throughout the village. There are 154 enterprises - vegetable selling 14%, artisan work 50%, ﬁshing 10%, milk production 4%, miscellaneous 22% - and all these were in the hands of Hindus and Kunbis (32).

69 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

Of the CGs, 68% were Brahmins while 25% were Sudras and the remainder were Mahars. The Mahars were basket weavers who also traditionally served the village as grave diggers, pall bearers, and assisted with other menial tasks associated with the church and clergy, such as, in the past, transporting the priest in a palaquin to the homes of the sick and inﬁrm.

In 1980, Amora consisted of two major religious communities, Catholic and Hindu, augmenting the small number of multi- religious villages existing in India (Srinivas 1969:25). However, the large scale settlement of HGs in the village was a recent phenomenon as was indicated, for instance, by the census records of 1878 which revealed that only 72 persons or 3% of the village population were ‘Gentios’ (heathens, non-Catholics) (Torrie 1879:236). The census of 1921 put the number of Hindus at 340, or 15% of the village population (Census 1921:148-9). The HG and Kunbi internal migration (ie. movement within Goa) into Amora was a direct consequence of Catholic Goan international migration and will be discussed in greater detail in chapter 7.

The heterogeneity of the village was richly manifested in age, household size, dress, diet, language and lifestyle. The Catholic population was predominantly female, middle aged (45+), with limited numbers of grandchildren, and death was a more common occurrence than marriage and birth. By contrast, the Hindu population was young, had a more balanced sex ratio and was actively reproducing. The resident Catholic household size was 3.3 and there were many single person households. Only two marriages took place among Catholics during the entire period of ethnographic research although a number of women of marriageable age lived in the village. During the same period, there were a dozen marriages of Hindus and two of Kunbis.

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Catholic women usually dressed in knee length frocks, although a few older women wore saris as a daily garment. The men were also in western attire and rarely wore dhotis. Konkani, English, Portuguese, and Swahili was spoken by CGs. Hindu and Kunbi women habitually wore saris, with unmarried girls in frocks, men in kasti and dhoti. They spoke Konkani, and a few also spoke Marathi and English.

The spatial distribution by religion and caste was difﬁcult to specify. There were certain areas where Catholic Sudras were concentrated, and the Mahars lived in the Maharvaddo on the outskirts of the original ganv, a pattern found elsewhere in India (Srinivas 1969:43). One ward was comprised exclusively of HGs. The other wards were all mixed in terms of religion and caste.

6: Amora – Patterns of International Migration

In 1980, eighty-ﬁve percent of Amora Catholic households had at least one person who was currently ‘out’, or was a returnee after having spent a number of years ‘out’. A number of young Catholic males had not migrated either because they were in full time education, had secure, superannuated local jobs, or were waiting for the ‘chance’ to migrate.

In the following table, details of the Amora international labour migration pattern of individuals, both current and returnees are provided. Since only two Hindus and ﬁve Kunbis have migrated, the table is conﬁned to the CG population. The table is restricted to males as only six women had migrated independently for employment. To a large extent this was in keeping with the all-Goa pattern of international migration in which considerably

71 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting fewer females than males go ‘out’ to work. However, even given the differential rate between the sexes, the labour migration of women from Amora was under-representative of the all-Goa pattern.

Although there were no statistics available, observation and enquiries in Goa indicated that it was not uncommon for women of lower status (both caste and class) to seek domestic work ‘out’. Formerly they obtained employment in British India, but many from the 1980s onwards migrated to the Gulf. The table indicates the place of work. The international location of current migrants did not pose a difﬁculty. However, with international returnees, while on the whole the majority had spent a considerable part of their working lives in one location, a few had moved from one place to another, but the area in which the predominant part of their working lives has been spent is cited in the table. The table refers only to members of existing households in Amora who were ‘out’. Thus, for instance, John’s brother Paul, who was living in Lisbon, does not enter the statistics because he was not a member of John’s household, and neither did he have an independent household in Amora. Hence, I found that there were at least 600 men ‘out’ of Amora who had agnatic links with the village but no households in it. Similarly they were at least 60 men under the age of 50 who had parents in Amora but could not be considered part of a village household as they were mutually economically independent. Many of these men were married and had their own household ‘out’.

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CATHOLIC INTERNATIONAL CURRENT MALE MIGRANTS AND RETURNEES BY AGE AND LOCATION

-30 30-40 40-60 60+ Total % CURRENT MIGRANTS On ship 20 04 07 04 35 13 India 61 – 03 08 72 27 Gulf 131 01 25 04 161 59 West – – 01 – 01 00 Africa – – – 02 02 01 sub-total 212 05 36 18 271 100 RETURNEES From ship – – 06 29 35 19 India – – 18 34 52 28 Gulf – – 02 11 13 07 Africa – – 14 69 83 45 Sub-total 00 00 40 143 183 99 TOTAL 212 05 76 161 454 100

Table 1

From the above we can see that migrants were dispersed globally and that the most popular employment area in 1980 was the Gulf, while 40 years ago both Africa and India were important destinations. Ships and other parts of India still continue to attract employees as they did in the past.

One problem in restricting the analysis to contemporary data is that we are left with the impression that international migration commenced about 50 years ago, that is, when the oldest surviving Catholic international migrant in the village would have commenced working outside Goa. Statistical data was not available for the 19th century, but around 1900, 30% of Amora’s population had

73 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting gone ‘out’ (Provincial Congress 1910:81). Oral histories indicated that international migration began from at least the latter part of the 19th century. Genealogical data revealed that well over half of the international migrants in 1980 had a father who worked ‘out’, while at least a third also had a grandfather working outside Goa. Of course, some of the fathers of international migrants in 1980 were international returnees. Among international returnees in 1980, all of whom were over 40 years old, many had a father, and in some cases a grandfather, who had worked outside Goa.

The large number of empty pakka houses, as well as the derelict ones, belonged to an indeﬁnite number of Catholic Goans living ‘out’. The bilateral inheritance system (see chapter 4), operating on the principle of diverging devolution (Goody 1970) created a number of owners. I had originally hoped to obtain an estimate of the absentee owners but this proved impossible because ofﬁcial house records were inadequate and out-of-date, and no local person could recall the names of the globally dispersed co-parceners. Most of the ICG owners continued to retain the ancestral house, and some managed an occasional holiday residence. These absentees, together with the current migrants and their households, the returnees and the Goan generations who have been born and brought up ‘out’ comprised an international community of CG Amora villagers. A broadly similar pattern was replicated elsewhere in Goa, particularly in the OC villages. Added together, the sum total of the international communities of villages comprised the international Catholic Goan community which transcends geographical boundaries. In the next chapter I shall examine how a local Catholic Goan community was socially constructed and over the next few chapters, the transformation of part of it into an international Catholic Goan community.

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Chapter 2: Notes

1. The population of Catholics in Goa has declined as follows: it was 63% in 1850 (Kol 1850:329); 63% in 1875 (Torrie 1879:229); 49% in 1900 (Census 1900); 49% in 1910 (Census 1910); 47% in 1920 (Census 1920); 43% in 1930 (Census 1930) and 34% in 1970 (Census 1971).

2. The history of Portuguese government rule in Goa reﬂects similar changes in Portugal, and is as follows: up to 1820 – absolute monarchy with the Governor or Viceroy of Portuguese India appointed by the King and his advisers, or Council of State including the Archbishop; 1820 - limited monarchy and Parliamentary control. This was called the Constitutional regime and Goa had three representatives in the Lisbon Parliament. Their election was limited to persons living only in the OCs and to those in the NCs who could read and write Portuguese; 1910 - Goa became a Republic. In theory, the Church was separated from the State, and Hindus given religious freedom and regarded as equal citizens to Catholics. In 1917 a Charter was promulgated granting autonomy to Portuguese India. An Advisory council, called Conselho do Governo, was created which eventually came to have seven nominated government ofﬁcials, including the Governor as President, and eleven members elected by the people. The Council was renamed Conselho Legislativo. In 1926, Republican rule was replaced by the Salazar Dictatorship (Gazetteer 1979:157-198).

3. Goa’s prominent political position was marked by the Crown appointment of a Viceroy or Governor from Portugal to be based there, usually for a period of three years (Gazetteer 1979:156-7). Goa was also a municipal capital, modelled on the metropolitan prototype (de Souza 1979:133). The Viceroy and Council of Goa had authority over all Eastern bases including Mozambique until 1752 (Fieldhouse 1966:140). The Viceroy was also Capitan General of the Portuguese navy in the East (Gazeteer 1979:162) whose role in defence was complemented by the subsequent establishment of a regular and permanent army in the 17th century (Rodriques 1977:3-4). Goa was also the judicial headquarters of the Estado da India and in 1544 a High Court, headed by a Chancellor, was established (Gazetteer 1979:158) and it heard both criminal and civil cases (Fieldhouse 1966:140).

4. The per capita total revenue, which was not augmented by any assistance from the Metropolitan government in Portugal, was almost four times that of all the States of India, which included subsidies of grant-in-aid from the Centre (TES 1964:245). The TES does warn that comparisons between Goa and other States of the Indian Union are not strictly accurate because of the different taxation system which prevailed in Goa. Furthermore, a boom in commercial activity and heavy import of consumer goods in the 1950s, in the wake of the development of mining, increased the per capita tax rate in Goa (TES 1964:168).

5. Some indication of the poor economic activity in Goa can be drawn from the fact that in 1937, the year for which data is available, the income of the State represented almost 90% of the entire paper currency of the government bank, Banco Ultramarino. (This was the only bank that existed in Goa until the last decades of Portuguese rule). By contrast, at the same time in British India, the income of the State accounted for only 20% of the total monetary circulation. This

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implies that there was considerably more economic activity in British India than in Portuguese India, and that much of it was private and not state controlled.

6. A Franciscan chronicler, writing in Goa in 1638, portrays the policy as follows: “The two swords of the civil and the ecclesiastical power were always so close together in the conquest of the East, that we seldom ﬁnd one being used without the other. For the weapons only conquered through the right that the preaching of the Gospel gave them, and the preaching was only of some use when it was accompanied and protected by the weapons.” (Paula da Trinidade quoted in Boxer 1969:229).

7. Padroado was the combination of rights, privileges and duties granted by the Papacy to the Crown of Portugal as Patron of the Roman Catholic mission in vast regions of Africa, Asia and Brazil (Boxer 1969). One of the privileges accorded by the Vatican to the Padroado was the right to submit names of candidates to the Vatican for appointment to senior ecclesiastical ofﬁce in the Padroado provinces. The State paid the salaries of the clergy and could appoint, transfer and terminate services at its discretion. The Jesuits served as custodians of Crown funds and managed the Royal Hospital in Goa for a number of years. Elsewhere they supervised the minting of coins and sometimes functioned as money lenders (Boxer 1980:50). Some clergy had been given the right to collect rent from the whole village (Pearson 1982:10). During the major part of Portuguese rule primarily in the Catholicised regions, the Friar or Vicar (Vigario) served as a secular administrator.

8. In May 1493 Pope Alexander VI set forth three Bulls in which he recognised the exclusive right of the Spanish Crown to trade with lands that had been or might be discovered in the west of the Atlantic, and at the same time the King was enjoined to “bring to the Christian faith the people who inhabit these islands and the mainland ... and to send to the said islands and to the mainland, wise upright, God fearing, and virtuous men who will be capable of instructing the indigenous peoples in good morals and in the Catholic faith” (Neill 1964:141). To avoid rivalry between the powers, the Pope drew a line on the map from the North Pole to the South, west of the Azores; that which lay to the west was to belong to Spain and that which lay to the east to Portugal, and slight amendments were later made in the boundaries. All rights and privileges which had been accorded to the King of Portugal in his area were to be equally enjoyed by the King of Spain in his area (Neill 1964:141-2). In 1534 Goa was created an Episcopal See suffragan to Funchal in Madeira, with a jurisdiction extending potentially over all past and future conquests from the Cape of Good Hope to China (Catholic Encyclopedia 19l0:603-4). In 1557 the suffragan See of Macau (China) was added; and in 1588, that of Funai in Japan. In 1600 another suffragan See was erected at Angamale (transferred to Cranganore in 1605) for the sake of the newly-united Thomas Christians, while in 1606 a sixth suffragan See was established at San Thome, Mylapore, near the modern Madras. In 1612, the prelacy of Mozambique was added, and in 1690, two other Sees at Peking and Nanking in China. By Bulls establishing these Sees the right of nomination was conferred in perpetuity on the King of Portugal under the titles of foundation and endowment (Catholic Encyclopedia 1910:603).

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9. With the decline in the scope of the Estado da India, and the introduction of the Rome supported organisation called Propaganda Fide, the right of Portuguese authority over the former areas it controlled was challenged. For instance, conﬂicts that arose over the jurisdiction between the Padroado and Propaganda in Bombay and other parts of India came to be known as the “Goan or Indo-

Portuguese Schism’. The Vatican Brief Multa Praeclare of 24th April 1838 led to the jurisdiction of the Archdiocese of Goa being conﬁned to actual Portuguese territory. In 1857 a Concordat was agreed but a ﬁnal settlement occurred in

1886. In 1886, a further Concordat was drawn up, and a Bull (Humanae Salutis

Auctor of 1st September 1886) was issued, by which the suspended jurisdiction of

Cochin and Mylapore was restored and a third suffragan diocese (that of Daman) added, all in British territory (Catholic Encyclopedia 1910:603-4). At the same time, the Indian hierarchy was established and the whole country was divided into provinces, dioceses, and prefectures Apostolic. In accordance with the Concordat of 1886, (with subsequent amendments) the Archdiocese of Goa was limited to the

Portuguese territory of Goa, and in British territory, the three districts of North

Canara, Sawantwadi and Belgaum, besides one exempted church in Poona.

10. The Inquisition or similar institutions were common in Europe and attempted to eradicate heresy among Catholics, particularly new converts. In 1478 Pope Sixtus IV empowered Catholic Sovereigns to establish the Inquisition. In Spain it started in the late 15th century and functioned until the 19th century. Originally it was established to ﬁght against pseudo converts from Judaism and Mohammedanism. Later, it was used to try to repel Protestantism in the 16th century but was less effective against French Rationalism and immorality in the 18th century. Attempts at introducing it into Italy and the Netherlands were not successful.

During the period in Europe when a close alliance between Church and State existed, religious dissentions and conﬂicts threatened public peace, and a uniform public faith was considered the safest guarantee for the State’s stability and prosperity. Thus, for instance, the principal Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition was nominated by the King and conﬁrmed by the Pope. The ecclesiastical power often surrendered the victim to the civilian power for punishment. When Christianity became the religion of the Empire, and when Northern Europe became Christian, the close alliance between Church and State made unity of faith essential not only to the ecclesiastical organisation, but also to the civil society. Heresy was consequently seen as a crime which secular rulers were bound in duty to punish. It was regarded as worst than any other crime, even that of high treason. This accounts for the severity with which heretics were treated by the secular power long before the Inquisition was established (Catholic Encyclopaedia 1910).

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The Inquisition in Goa possessed a majestic building in the great square close to the Cathedral of St. Catherine in Old Goa. The Dominican staff consisted originally of three principal ofﬁcials. In 1565 there were ﬁve, whose joint salaries amounted to about 355 dollars per annum. In 1682, their number increased to 32; in 1800 it was raised to 47. Some of the staff were Goans (Baiao 1945:261-2). After its abolition, the decaying building was pulled down in 1820 and at present only the site is preserved. Not only new converts but non-Catholics too were considerably harassed by the activities of the Inquisition. For instance, a Hindu could denounce another Hindu on the basis that the latter was inciting a Christian to Hinduism (Catholic Encyclopaedia 1910).

11. One indication of the role that religion played throughout Goa’s colonial history can be gained from the following statistics. In the 16th century, the King of Portugal gave a grant of 5,000 cuzados to the Archdiocese of Goa. He also paid for various staff, wine, hosts and other items used in ritual services (Wicki 1972:52- 3). In 1873-4, the State contribution to the maintenance of 110 missionaries was £2,145, while the total ecclesiastical expenditure for the same year was £4,955; in 1908 it had risen to over £16,000 (Catholic Encyclopedia 1910:605).

12. This is a marked contrast to sporadic support that the Protestant missionaries to India received from their respective governments and which is partly reﬂected in the piecemeal Christianisation of various parts of India (Gibbs 1972; Philip 1972).

13. Attempts were also made to prevent teachers coming into Goa to teach Hindus Asian sciences, arts and languages in their own homes, and also the practice of various rites (Priolkar 1961:108-112).

14. The Portuguese found that they needed the assistance of the Hindu Banyans as tax collectors and businessmen, and this indispensable role that they played in Goa mitigated the oppressive ofﬁcial legislation against them (de Souza 1975).

15. This is borne out by the letter written by the Viceroy of Goa to the King in 1705 which said “... the fact is that the Hindus are few and the Christians many and the latter so well indoctrinated that they can serve as examples to those in Europe” (Priolkar 1961:140).

16. For example, the employment of Goans in the OCs in the fishing and seaborne trades was threatened by their refusal to embrace Catholicism. Harsh and repressive laws were passed which aimed to prevent the public practice of Hinduism in Portuguese controlled areas. Temples and mosques were demolished, various Hindu holy books were destroyed; Christians were not allowed to live with non-Christians; Hindu and Muslim families, on pain of a fine, had to attend churches and convents to listen to Christian teachings; orphans were forcibly converted; non-Christians were officially and legally discriminated against and converts were favoured in the competition for public offices.

17. “Amora (pseudonymn) became Catholic about the year 1619, when Luiz da Conceicao was Provincial (1619-22). In those days Miguel da Madre de Deus was Rector of the Church at Mapuca .... When he was exerting himself to build a Church at Uccassim, he experienced many difﬁculties.... While he was occupied with this work, the people of Amora, a village under his jurisdiction and inhabited

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only by Brahmins, requested him to be present when the community-lands were being leased out for the year. Everything went off peacefully and he proﬁted by the good-will thus obtained to preach to them. They agreed to be baptised under condition that he build a Church for them in their own village. He accepted the proposal, had them all sign in the ledger of the community that of their own accord they were seeking Baptism and initiated the construction of the Church. While the building work was proceeding, he instructed them in our Religion, going from Mapuca to their village, a goodly distance, twice a week for four months. After they were sufﬁciently instructed he had them baptised. The Archbishop of Goa, Dom Christovao de Lisboa (1619-22) was supposed to have performed the ceremony, but he fell ill. In his place the Provincial, Luiz da Conceicao (1619-22) came and administered the Sacrament of Baptism to them. In all there were some three hundred people, men, women and children.” (From the writings of Paula da Trinidade, cited in Meersman 1971:130-1).

18. Further along the west coast of India, missionaries converted predominantly those from the ﬁsherfolk caste (Fuller 1976). This caste also formed the bulk of those from Sri Lanka (as it is now called) which became Catholic through the efforts of some missionaries like the Goan Fr. Joseph Vaz (Saldanha 1952:139). Along the East coast of India, converts are of a more heterogeneous background but the history of the conversion process reveals that different castes were converted at different times (Neill 1970; Forrester 1980). Brahmin converts in Tamil Nadu resulted from the special efforts of de Nobili in the 16th century who concentrated speciﬁcally on them and whose success has been attributed to the fact that he followed a policy of cultural accommodation which was acceptable to the Brahmins (Meersman 1972:75-76).

19. Barreto Miranda notes: “..... if everywhere the Inquisition was an infamous court, the cruelties which in the name of the religion of peace and love this tribunal practised in Europe, were carried to even greater excesses in India where the Inquisitors, surrounded by luxuries which could stand comparison with the regal magnificence of the great potentates of Asia, saw with pride the Archbishop as well as the Viceroy submitted to their power. Every word of theirs was a sentence of death and at their slightest nod were moved to terror the vast populations spread over the Asiatic regions, whose lives fluctuated in their hands, and who, on the most frivolous pretext, could be clapped for all time in the deepest dungeons or strangled or offered as food for the flames of the pyre” (Priolkar 1961) Such a view was endorsed by the Archbishop of Evora in a sermon in Lisbon in 1897 “...The Inquisition was an infamous tribunal at all places. But the infamy never reached greater depths, nor was more vile, more black, and more completely determined by mundane interests than at the tribunal of Goa, by irony called the Holy Office. Here the Inquisition went to the lengths of imprisoning in its jails women who resisted their advances and after having satisfied their bestial instincts there ordering that they be burnt as heretics” (Priolkar 1961:175).

20. Studies of religious syncretism in India have noted instances of Christians refusing to walk in front of Hindu gods if they are currently suffering from ceremonial impurity arising from death, child birth and menstruation (Diehl 1965); that many Hindu customs have been Christianised; for instance, although a Hindu deity is replaced by a cross, a garland of ﬂowers is put on it; and in many Christian homes there are portraits of both Jesus Christ and Hindu deities; oracles are

79 GoaandvillageAmora Backgroundsetting

consulted and magical potions imbibed to relieve sickness and distress (Diehl 1965 ; Luke & Carman 1968). Outside India, the syncretism between Christianity and an indigenous religion led, for instance, to the development of new syncretistic religions such as the Ghost Dance (Mooney 1896), the Hallelujah religion practised by the South American Indians (Butt 1967), the variety of Christian churches in South Africa (Sunkler 1940) and the Kimbangist religion of the former Belgian Congo (Banton 1970).

21. The available data indicates that in the 18th century there were about 10,000 non-Goan ecclesiastics in Goa (Saldanha 1952:117). While this ﬁgure may not be strictly accurate, according to the church historian Neill, in Goa there was an excess of priests, a situation not replicated anywhere else (Neill 1970:86).

22. Priests play a crucial role in Catholicism as they are the only ones permitted to hear confessions, say Mass, christen, marry and bury people. Since attendance at Mass on Sundays is mandatory for Catholics, and frequent confessions encouraged, the absence of priests means that important Catholic rituals cannot be performed and, hence, there is greater scope for lapses to occur.

23. After the liberation of Goa from the Portuguese and the introduction of a secular government, with a commitment to democracy and socialism, an environment has been created which has been conducive to the emergence of religious syncretism. In the 1970s, a religious sect has come into being which combines elements of Catholicism, Hinduism and animism (Newman 1981). Furthermore, during the 1970s, many Protestant sects, such as the Methodists and Baptists, have established bases in Goa and have been attracting converts.

24. While many Goans favoured the termination of colonial rule, there was divided opinion as to whether Goa should become an independent State within the Indian Union or merged with the neighbouring State of Maharashtra or Karnataka.

25. By 1978, there were 216 banks with deposits of Rs 2 million (Statistical Pocketbook 1980:56)

26. In 1980, there were a number of indicators of the better standard of living enjoyed in Goa; for example, the higher consumption of electricity compared to elsewhere in India (Panandiker & Chaudri 1983:33). While in 1955 (i.e during the colonial regime) there were 6 government hospitals, by 1979, this had increased to 33, with 50 private hospitals. In addition, there were 31 rural medical dispensaries, 90 health centres, 38 child welfare units, 7 urban and 117 rural family welfare clinics (ibid :23). There has also been a rapid expansion of education with the numbers of primary schools increasing from 176 in 1961 to 1,155 in the 1970s (Statistical Pocketbook 1980:172).

27. Some of the longer term tourists are European ‘hippies’ who stay in cheap hotels, rent rooms in fishermen’s cottages, occupy the empty houses of international migrants, or put up temporary shelters. Goa became a ‘hippie haven’ in the mid-1960s and their immodest dress and behaviour, and consumption and trafficking in drugs has provoked public outrage. Fines and other penalties proved to be futile deterrents. Under their influence, a number of Goan youths have started taking drugs, including heroin. In 1980, the majority tended to be young Catholics such as college students, including those whose father or both parents

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were working in the Gulf and who sent them substantial pocket-money. To help cope with the drug problem, rehabilitation centres have been set up, mainly under the auspices of the Catholic Church (Catholic Directory 1984).

28. According to the TES (1964:261), the bulk of Goa’s income in the early 1960s was due to mining. The signiﬁcance of this can be gauged from the fact that without mining, the per capita income would decline from Rs 438 to Rs 272. Thus, in the absence of mining, which developed only in the last decade of the colonial era, it would be safe to assume that Goa had a lower per capita income than the rest of India.

29. As evident in the late 1970s, while there were 131 villages, each with less than 500 people, there were 97 villages with a population of 2,000 or more. Only 7 villages were located within a distance of 26-50 km from the nearest town, the majority being 6-15 km to the nearest town (Gazeteer 1979:220).

30. For instance, in the middle of the last century, 64 villages in Salcete were distributed into 26 parishes (Kol 1850:316).

31. For details on conducting the household survey, see Instructions to Enumerators for ﬁlling up the houselist.

32. For details on conducting the enterprise survey, see Instructions to Enumerators for ﬁlling Enterprise List.

81 Portuguese Colonialism and the Social Construction of a Local Catholic Goan Community

Introduction

oa was conquered in two phases, separated by 250 years, G and the impact of Portuguese colonialism was more pronounced on the inhabitants of the Old Conquests (OCs). They were the recipients of a colonial policy which was peculiar to the Portuguese, particularly colonial endeavours in the 16th century.

According to the Brazilian sociologist Freyre, the British, Bel- gian, and Dutch colonial policies were characterised by ethnic and cultural pluralism achieved by particular development and segregation, while the Portuguese method was characterised by interpenetration and integration (1961:13). Integral to the Portuguese self-identity was Catholicism “... which had been intimately connected with Portuguese history since the time of the

82 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC deliverance of Lisbon from the Moors” (Neill 1966:292). Hence the Portuguese integrationist policy “...was more Christocentric than ethnocentric, more sociologically Christian than socially, culturally or ethnically European in its norms of intercourse and in its way of being a community” (Freyre 1961:288). Freyre sees the intention of the Portuguese in their contacts with non- Europeans as orientated towards “...sociologically Christianising them, rather than culturally Europeanising them” (ibid:276). He contends that “...the Portuguese created in the East, an India more Christocentrically than ethnocentrically Portuguese” (ibid:276).

In this chapter, I examine the role of Portuguese colonialism in the construction of a local Catholic Goan community (LCGC) in Goa from the 16th century onwards. The definition of ‘community’ used here is that put forward by MacIver and Page: “...a community is an area of social living marked by some degree of social coherence. The bases of community are locality and community sentiment” (1961:9). Through the implementation of a number of policies and the adoption of various practices, the Portuguese initiated a process of ethnic differentiation in Goa. In Section 1, I look at the locality in which the LCGC was based. In examining territorial identification, attention will be paid to the village, both in terms of ecological characteristics, particularly those which reflect Catholicism, and the village social structure. In Sections 2 and 3, I look at various social aspects of the community, in terms of structure and culture, including language, dress, diet and leisure activities. The retention of traditional practices in the LCGC, particularly caste as a basis for social stratification, is discussed in Section 4, where the degree of continuity between the LCGC and Hindu Goan community in Goa is also explored.

83 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

The data for this chapter is culled from historical sources, of which only a few with ethnographic material are available, supplemented by my own ethnographic research. Undoubtedly, the local population play a part in the evolution of new or modiﬁed structural and cultural practices, but as published historical data was lacking in 1980 (when I conducted the research) this chapter of necessity focuses on the imposition of colonial policies and their impact. It is written mainly in the past tense to indicate that the LCGC is historically constructed and not a recent phenomenon.

1: The Territorial Basis of the Local Catholic Goan Community

The most important focus of territorial identiﬁcation has been the village and to appreciate this, we need to look at the village structure in Goa, which became unique in modern India. The OCs consisted of a number of nucleated villages (Srinivas 1955:10) and unlike some parts of India (Miller 1955; Newell 1955), village identiﬁcation has been very strong. The village communities which existed before Portuguese colonialism came to be known by the Portuguese word comunidade (1). The structure and function of the comunidades underwent considerable change under Portuguese colonialism, as well as over the three decades following Goa’s liberation in 1961. As a result, they became moribund, as described in chapters 4 and 7. However, at the time when the LCGC was being constructed from the sixteenth century onwards, this institution was essential to village identity. There were 224 comunidades in Goa, 56% of which were located in the OCs (Almeida 1965:48-50). My focus in this chapter, and the next, is the OC comunidades because this was where the LCGC was concentrated (2).

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Records in the comunidade in the OCs were written mainly in Portuguese after the second decade of the 17th century, and there are only a few documents in Marathi and using the Halkannada Script (Kulkarni 1979; Ghantakar 1973) (3). The comunidade system was based on the concept inherent in Hindu law that whoever cleared the forest owned the village land (de Souza 1979:70-1). The village landlords and their male descendants were known as ganvkars, and they, together with those they brought in to assist them in various aspects of agricultural production, known as culacharins, as well as a number of artisans, comprised the comunidade (4).

The comunidades were premised on four principles: collectivity, patriarchy, hierarchy and heredity. Village communities in India were of different types (Maine 1881; Baden-Powell 1896, 1899) and those in Goa belonged to the joint village type. This meant that the village lands, both arable and waste, were jointly owned by the ganvkars and that the village as a whole, not individuals, acted as the unit of land revenue (de Souza 1979:57). Unlike village communities in Western India (Altelkar 1927; Orenstein 1965:168) and elsewhere in India (Srinivas 1955), there was no headman but authority and decision-making powers were vested in the village council which was usually made up of representatives of the vangads or clans (5) of the ganvkars (de Souza 1979:61-2). A further indication of the collective ideology that pervaded the comunidades was the operation of a system with some parallels to the balutedar system (Orenstein 1965) (6) which existed in village communities in Western India (Altelkar 1927:89-97).

In the comunidade, women were not recognised as individuals with equivalent status and rights as men. Their position derived from that of men, usually husbands (7). Hence membership of the comunidade was restricted to males, who were ranked in a

85 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC hierarchy. At the apex were the ganvkars, who were followed by the culacharins and village servants.

There was no evidence from sources consulted in 1980 to indicate the existence in the OCs of caste councils either conﬁned to a village or region, as there were in the neighbouring Deccan and Maharashtra (Fukazawa 1982:253) or elsewhere in India (Srinivas 1969:12-13; Mayer 1960:251-269). To this extent, in the OCs the vertical solidarity through the “... weaving of stratiﬁed castes into a unity on the basis of division of labour and common loyalty to the village...” was more important than the horizontal solidarity of caste members (Srinivas 1969:44). Hence, the villages of the OCs clearly stand out as locally consolidated units.

There was some correlation between the comunidade hierarchy and caste hierarchy. For instance, in Amora, the ganvkars were all Brahmins while the calvecars and culacharins were Sudras, and the village servants belonged to speciﬁc artisan subcastes. However, in every comununidade, ganvkars were not always Brahmins (8). Furthermore, all the ganvkars of a comunidade did not necessarily belong to one caste (9). In overall terms, a caste- wise breakdown of ganvkars reveals that the upper two castes predominated as ganvkars of the comunidades of the OCs, with the Chardos being ganvkars of a greater number of comunidades (derived from Pereira 1978) (10).

Membership of the various categories of the comunidade were inherited, and only in exceptional cases, could membership be acquired (Pereira 1978:67,95). An individual who came to live in the village was known as a morador (dweller) but he could never gain membership of the hereditary categories of the comunidade in which he came to reside. Similarly, if a ganvkar or culacharin from a particular comunidade went to live elsewhere in Goa, or even outside Goa, he did not lose his status in the comunidade,

86 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC and he and his male descendants retained their hereditary right to membership of their ancestral village. Hence, apart from exceptional cases, membership of the various categories of the comunidade and the hierarchical ranking of categories was ﬁxed and immutable. The status of individuals was noted in comunidade records: “Mendes de Amora (of Amora)”; “Cunha, morador em Amora (dweller in Amora)” (cited in comunidade records like Tombo; 1883-96). The proportion of individuals in each category depended on demographic factors (11). There are no details available at different historical periods of the ratio of ganvkars to non-ganvkars in each comunidade. Very crude estimates extrapolated from information available in 1962 indicates that comunidades constituted different proportions of the populations of the three talukas of the OCs and this also ﬂuctuated over time (12).

The income generated from its assets was used by the comunidade to meet its numerous responsibilities which included the maintenance of the religious cult and personnel associated with it; education; provision of amenities like roads; the maintenance of law and order; the redemption of loans and the payment of village servants. The profits were distributed in accordance with the principles of collectivity, patriarchy, hierarchy and hereditary rights. Women were generally excluded from any share in the profits, although in a few comunidades, such as Oxel, the widow of a ganvkar was entitled to receive some portion of the profits (Codigo das Comunidades 1961:239). A share in the profits was known as zonn and all those entitled to zonn were known as zoncars. According to de Souza, it was ganvkars who were entitled to zonn (1979:83) and in the absence of contradictory evidence, we must presume that this must have been the case until at least the 18th century and possibly even the 19th century.

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Literature on the comunidade published from the 19th century onwards indicate that culacharins were also entitled to zonn, and in Amora, calvecars as well.

The right to zonn was hereditary and inalienable, although during the lifetime of the zoncar who ran into ﬁnancial problems, he could alienate his zonn in favour of his creditors (ibid:83). Ganvkars, culacharins and calvecars became eligible to claim their hereditary right at a stipulated age, which varied from comunidade to comunidade. In Amora, the minimum age was 17 years. However, in some comunidades, the age varied for ganvkars and non-ganvkars; thus in Mapuca, ganvkars became eligible at 14 years, while culacharins had to wait until they were 17 years. Another system adopted by other comunidades was to vary the value of the zonn for each category. Thus in Amora, ganvkars received a full zonn, while calvecars received three quarters and culacharins half zonn (13). The different age of eligibility and the proportional distribution of zonn were some of the ways in which the hierarchical principle was manifested. Since the right to zonn was hereditary, irrespective of where the zoncar was living, provided he registered his right at the stipulated age, he could claim his zonn.

When villages are referred to in terms of a single caste identity, the reference is being made not to the actual composition of the village, but to the caste of the ganvkars who controlled the village community. In the majority of cases, the ganvkars belonged to one caste, and where they consisted of multiple castes, there was usually one caste which predominated. However, identiﬁcation of villages in terms of the castes of ganvkars was most common in Bardez, where there were a larger number of ganvkars (14). From the foregoing we see that the caste system was integral to the comunidades, a point to which I shall return later. Hereditary and

88 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC lifelong membership of the comunidade was a very strong basis for identifying with the ancestral village.

Catholicism augmented such identification, and to understand this, it is necessary to briefly describe the ecological changes wrought by Catholicism. The Church replaced the village temple, sometimes incorporating parts of the former temple (15). Chapels in the villages were erected and took the place of the tulsi-plant vessels and holy crosses were built on the site of the sacred tanks. Oratories were erected in places where spirits were evident, or to commemorate a happy event by a grateful and munificent Catholic (Velinkar 1983:76). According to Desai, the proliferation of crosses and chapels was due to the desire of people to have small places of worship near their homes replicating the small Hindu shrines they were previously accustomed to (1983:78). This distinctly Catholic environment was accentuated by the daily pealing of church bells, whose rhythm and tone signalled sunrise, Mass, Benediction, noonday and evening Angelus, marriages, sickness and death of villagers. A number of institutions associated with the maintenance and functioning of the church at the village level were established. The school was usually an indispensable adjunct to the church where converts were taught the new faith and to play western instruments, to sing hymns and other religious vocals to enable participation in Catholic services. These schools were financed by the church, religious associations or the village comunidade (Varde 1977:2; Kol 1850:338). Various Indian festivals such as the Harvest festival were Catholicised (16). Catholicism requires the mandatory attendance of Mass on Sunday, and hence, at least once a week, villagers joined together in congregational worship. In addition, there are a number of other ritual events in the liturgical calendar which require congregational attendance

89 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC such as Holy Days of Obligation, Benedictions, processions, and novenas. The annual celebration in honour of the village deity was the occasion on which village identiﬁcation was most pronounced. Since Catholicism is a congregational religion and highly ritualised, the feast day was not merely a single, isolated event, but the culmination of a series of minor rituals throughout the year.

Furthermore, it was preceded by a week long daily series of collective worship called the novena. Well off families took it in turns to ‘celebrate the feast’ but often all the villagers made a contribution, as did the comunidade, for candles, oil, ornamenta- tions, ﬁreworks, and stipends for priests from elsewhere in Goa who came to preach the novenas and join together to serve at a concelebrated Mass on the feast day. The feast was also marked by secular festivities such as a fair, sports, a dance, the wearing of new clothes and preparation of ceremonial foods. Apart from minor differences in practice, the celebration of the village feast in Goa is reminiscent of accounts of such occasions, for instance, in Catholic Spain (Aceves 1971:49-54).

The signiﬁcance of the village feast is highlighted when it is compared to Christmas, an occasion of great importance to all Catholics. In Amora, for instance, the village feast is celebrated on 13th December in honour of Our Lady of Immaculate Con- ception, and Christmas follows shortly thereafter on the 25th. A comparison of attitudes, emotions, range of activities etc., made it abundantly clear that, to villagers, the village feast was a far more important social event than Christmas. It was an occasion which required the communal participation of all villagers in an exclusively localised event compared to Christmas which was predominantly a family occasion, such as celebrated by Catholics all over the world. Hence, as for instance in Catholic Spain

90 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

(Douglass 1969:197), the village feast in Goa is an expression of village solidarity and underlined the identiﬁcation with the village.

In Goa, as well as Hindu India, the celebration of the feast of the village deity is important in fostering social cohesiveness and identiﬁcation. However, it is important to note that there are differences between Catholic Goa and Hindu Goa, as well as Hindu India.

In the ﬁrst place, although as in some villages of Hindu India, there may be a number of sacred buildings with deities, there is always one church which speciﬁcally represents the whole village and, furthermore, is not restricted to particular castes.

Secondly, there is only one deity in each village which is regarded by all as the village patron and hence, unlike in Hindu India, there is no consortium of village deities who are of more or less equivalent status (Srinivas 1952:177-212).

Thirdly, with few exceptions, every Catholic village has a patron exclusive to it unlike, for instance, among the Coorgs where a village deity often is the deity of more than one village (ibid:175).

Fourthly, the sacred rituals associated with appropriating the deity in church is common to all villagers. This is a marked contrast to the practice that prevails, for instance, among the Coorgs where certain ritual offerings are associated with speciﬁc castes (ibid:211).

Hence, relatively speaking, the Catholic village feast in Goa stresses the exclusiveness, homogeneity and unity of the village to a degree not found in Hindu Goa or Hindu India.

91 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

Photo 7: A Village Shrine

While the village feast fostered village patriotism, further territorial identiﬁcation was ensured by the ward feast. Studies of village India have shown that the ward is socially important to those living there (Mayer 1960:132-144). So too in Goa, but

92 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

Catholicism provided the vehicle for strengthening identiﬁcation. As mentioned earlier, each ward had a chapel, and the annual feast of the deity was celebrated in a similar way to that of the village patron, although the scale was smaller. Ward members helped to look after the chapel and the income from certain ﬁelds in the ward was used to defray maintenance and other expenses. All ward members, irrespective of caste, joined together in the celebration.

The cult of the Virgin Mary was another important way in which village ties were strengthened. The recital of the Rosary and Litany was incorporated into the daily lives of Catholics and family members usually gathered in the evening to pray together. In addition, groups of villagers would gather around a shrine (see photograph 7) and recite the Rosary consecutively for eight days before celebrating the feast on the ninth day with a ladainha, which is a sung version of the Litany.

The ladainha is also a common form of worship in Portugal (Goldey 1983:6). One of the main functions of the Legion of Mary, a voluntary religious organisation, was to organise the rotation of the statue of ‘Our Lady’ to all the Catholic homes in the village. ‘Our Lady’ was typically kept overnight at each home, and her entry and exit was marked with the recital of various prayers, including the Rosary. Neighbours and friends from various parts of the village were invited to attend, and after the rituals, hot boiled gram and coconut was served. The feasts were occasions in which men, women and children fully participated.

For men, however, there were further opportunities for identifying with their chapel, church and the village. Each chapel and church had a confraria or brotherhood, membership of which was voluntary and usually conﬁned to one caste (Meersman 1972; Rocha 1973:284-287). Certain Catholic rituals marked the

93 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC joining ceremony and special clothes, usually a white smock and coloured cape, was thereafter worn at various Catholic services, including feast day celebrations, processions and funerals (see photograph 8). Men could also join the Fabrica, a voluntary village organisation which managed the maintenance and running of the church and individual chapels.

Photo 8: A confraria in a procession in Goa. (Photo: JoeGoaUk)

Finally, from the point of view of the church and its personnel, the village was viewed as a corporate whole. Parish vicars were transferred periodically, usually every 3-5 years, and hence, unlike Hindu priests were not identiﬁed during their lifetime and over generations with a particular localised clientele. However, the catchment of the village church remained relatively static, although the personnel who served it changed. Furthermore, unlike Hindu priests who serve groups of families, of particular caste (Marriott 1955:175; Dube 1955:37), the services of the Catholic priests were accessible to all as the whole village

94 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC constituted ‘his ﬂock’. Thus, the same priest would ofﬁciate at the funeral of an Untouchable Mahar as of a Brahmin.

Hence, in a number of ways, Catholicism provided the vehicle for augmenting communalism and parochialism at the village level. The LCGs of each of the villages collectively constituted the LCGC of Goa. While the village feast symbolised a specific village identity, that of St. Francis Xavier articulated an all-Goa identity as he was the Patron Saint of Goa. His feast day on 3rd December provides a national occasion for the affirmation of a territorial identification with Goa. In discussing Hinduism, a number of writers have emphasised the integration of local Hinduism with regional Hinduism (see Srinivas 1952) and the links between the Little Tradition and Great Tradition of Hinduism (see Marriott 1955). Since Catholicism is a Western religion, and there were only very small pockets of Catholics within India, extra-territorial identification stretched beyond India and created a fellowship with Catholics worldwide. Hence, the Little Tradition of Catholicism in Goa was linked to the Great Tradition of Catholicism internationally.

2: Structural Features of the Local Catholic Goan Community

The adoption of Catholicism led to the emergence of a number of structural features of the LCGC which I shall describe using a developmental cycle model. At Baptism, which follows shortly after birth, the new Catholic identity was symbolised, and continued to be, by names of address. When conversions occurred in the 16th and 17th centuries, Goans had to relinquish their Hindu names and take on ﬁrst names derived from the Bible or Catholic

95 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC saints, as well as Portuguese surnames, the surname usually being that of the ecclesiastic who baptised them. While some Goans in the 16th and 17th century used a combination of Portuguese and Hindu names (de Souza 1979:240), such practices did not survive, and the names of Catholic Goans are indistinguishable from those of the Portuguese as is evident in the Death Notices displayed in chapter 1. Since surnames were arbitrarily assigned, identical surnames do not indicate agnatic relationships nor caste identity, as elsewhere in India.

A couple of godparents stood as sponsors to the child, and the selection of godparents from among kin and friends reflects, as among Catholics in Sri Lanka (Stirrat 1975) and Italy (Silverman 1975:207-8), the emphasis on spiritual affinity rather than an opportunity for creating or cementing politico-economic links as in some parts of the Mediterranean (Pitt-Rivers 1976; Cutileiro 1971:212; Kenna 1976). A Catholic identity continued to be fostered throughout the child’s life, and after further study of the tenets of Catholicism, the child made his First Holy Communion at the age of seven or eight, followed a few years later by Confirmation. These special occasions for fostering a Catholic identity were publicly marked by specific rituals as well as secular functions.

For Hindus, marriage is one of the sarirasamskaras (sacraments sanctifying the body) (Kapadia 1955:167-197) and Sanskritic Hinduism prescribes marriage for every man and woman (Srinivas 1952:157). In Catholicism, on the other hand, celibacy has been institutionalised in the form of ecclesiastical vocations, and hence, both the single and married state are acceptable. Ideologically, Christianity ranks virginity higher than marriage (King 1975) and promotes a life of consecrated virginity. An awareness among youth of the options open in adult life was aptly brought out by

96 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC a young girl who told me “I don’t know if I will get married; I might become a nun or not marry at all”.

Only monogamous marriages are allowed and divorce prohibited. Marriages of LCGs to Catholic Portuguese and Eurasians living in Goa (17), as well as to Hindu Goans, have been exceptions rather than the norm. Marriages to other Indian Catholics were also rare. In this connection, it is interesting to note that although many Mangalorean Catholics are of Goan origin (Moraes 1927; Pai 1981), nevertheless it was rare for LCGs to marry them. Hence, so strong was the CG identity that marriages outside the community were not approved of. Marriages within the community were regulated in a number of ways.

The dictates of Catholic Canon Law which disapproves of marriages among those closely linked by ties of consanguinity on both the maternal and paternal side was generally followed (18). There is no documentary or observational evidence to suggest the routine practice of cross-cousin marriage as among Hindus in neighbouring Maharashtra (Karve 1953:177-8) and in South India. Hence the question of creating marriage alliances (Dumont 1957) did not appear to arise. Although as mentioned earlier, ganvkars were divided into clans or vangads, there is no evidence to indicate that clan exogamy was practised in any way that remotely parallels gotra exogamy common in Northern India (Karve 1953:120-124) nor of any concept of sapinda exogamy (ibid:48-50). Furthermore, no prohibitions among CGs of widow remarriage or levirate existed. Whilst among Hindus in India, marriage rules vary considerably between castes in the same region, in the LCGC, on the basis of the limited historical and ethnographic evidence available, it appears that a greater degree of homogeneity prevailed in that all castes adhered to the dictates of Canon Law.

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An important marriage rule, particularly prevalent in North India, is that of village exogamy (Karve 1953:129-30). A study of 19th century parish records in Goa (Srivastava 1977) indicated that partners were found both within and outside the village (19). Oral history indicates that villages in close proximity to each other, and with a substantial number of the same caste, formed a marriage circle. For instance, Amora, Saligão and Aldona, which were Brahmin villages in Bardez, were closely linked through marriages over succeeding generations (20). The marriage circle, however, did not have the degree of rigidity and hierarchical features characteristic of such circles elsewhere in India, for instance, in Gujerat (Pocock 1972).

Among Hindus in India, caste endogamy is widely practised. A parallel phenomenon existed in the LCGC and for Brahmins, Chardos and Gauddes, varna endogamy prevailed, and among Sudras and Untouchables, jati endogamy. Elsewhere in India, traditionally caste councils heard cases dealing with breaches of caste endogamy, and punishment was excommunication from the caste (Kapadia 1955:118). However, as caste councils were absent in the OCs, it is evident that there were no institutional measures to enforce endogamy. How many transgressions occurred is unknown, but oral history and contemporary observation point to a strong orientation to observe endogamy. The institutionalised practice of hypergamy did not exist.

LCGs state that “we do not have an arranged marriage system like the Hindus” meaning that the orthodox system of the parents arranging the marriage and the son or daughter dutifully comply- ing (Karve 1953; 1961; Srinivas 1969:58) was not followed. What was commonly practised is referred to as ‘proposal marriages’. Discrete enquiries were normally made by parents, kin and relatives and a proposal of marriage taken to the parents of the

98 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC young man or woman, who had some degree of inﬂuence over the selection process. Hence, a proposal of marriage emanated from either wife-givers or takers, signifying that symmetrical rather than asymmetrical relationships characterised afﬁnal links.

The marriage age was relatively high, as an analysis of 19th century parish records revealed that females generally married at the age of 20, with men about 5 years later (Srivastava 1977) (21). The marriage age in the LCGC was higher than the mean age of Christians as well as Hindus in India (22). There are a number of reasons which could account for the higher age of marriage and further historical research would identify these. Notwithstanding socio-economic factors, it is possible that the proposal marriage system in itself was implicated. Since parents normally arranged marriages of their children in birth order, particularly that of daughters, and since children played a part in the decision-making process, the intransigence of an older daughter or son delayed not only his/her own marriage but that of younger siblings as well.

All over India there is the custom of receiving dowry among the higher castes, and giving bride-price among the lower castes (Karve 1953:132). In the LCGC, dowry-giving appears to have been uniformly practised by all castes, except perhaps those at the very bottom of the hierarchy and Untouchables who practised bride-price. In the case of dowries, some Mediterranean customs seem to have been incorporated. Dowries usually consisted of stridhanam, including cooking utensils and a trousseau of clothes and gold ornaments. Some of the better off were also given sewing machines as the adoption of western dress, in contrast to the sari and dhoti, required the tailoring of clothes. In some cases, on which accurate statistics are lacking, women were allocated their ancestral house as dowry, and the incoming son-in-law was known as ghor-zavoi. Her parents retained a lifetime interest

99 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC in the house. When this custom was introduced in the LCGC is unknown, but the practice of giving property as dowry was followed in Goa by the Portuguese from the 16th century (23). Whatever may have been the content of the dowry, it does not appear that the exchange of gifts at marriage set up any elaborate long-term pattern of gift exchange between wife-givers and wife- receivers which is associated with the dowry pattern of Northern India (Vatuk 1975; Madan 1975).

After the selection of partners, an engagement ceremony was performed by the priest at either one of the partner’s homes. As in the Catholic Mediterranean, the engagement was marked by the exchange of rings between the couple (Tentori 1976:279). Following this service, according to Catholic law, the forthcoming marriage was publicised in the respective parishes of both bride and groom, by the announcement of the banns of marriage on at least one, but normally three, consecutive Sundays. The main function of such announcements was to provide a legitimate opportunity for Catholics to exercise their moral duty to inform the parish priest of any impediments to the proposed marriage (24). Hence, unlike in Hindu marriages, parents did not have complete autonomy in marriage arrangements, and a third party, either kin or non-kin, could intervene and even prevent marriages from taking place.

A Catholic wedding included a nuptial service at Church during which various vows of marriage are taken. In Catholic services in other parts of India, for instance Kerala, the indigenous traditions, such as tying of the tali, are maintained (Srinivas 1969:61), but in the LCGC, the western custom of exchanging wedding rings has been followed. Unlike in neighbouring Maharashtra where the bride’s sari is green (Karve 1961:4) and elsewhere in India, red (ibid:4; Srinivas 1952:85-6), the LCG bride followed the European

100 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC custom of wearing a western style white gown, her head covered with a veil and other ornamentation. She was accompanied by a retinue of western attired attendants, including the matron of honour, bridesmaids, ﬂower girls and page boys. The groom dressed in a western style suit and was assisted by a ‘Best Man’. The more elaborate the wedding, the greater the number of attendants. Bridesmaids were usually sisters or ﬁrst cousins of the bride and groom, although close friends were also selected.

From the available published sources (Pereira 1920; Mendes 1886), there is no clear indication whether nuclear, joint or some form of extended family system existed in the LCGC. Kolenda (1968) in a comparative study of different regions and castes of India, concluded that there was only a partial correlation between caste rank and proportion of joint families; the correlation between landowning castes and joint families was weak, and the majority of families were probably nuclear in structure. A similar pattern probably also existed in the LCGC (25). Neither the land tenure system nor other aspects of the local economy appear to have supported the need for joint families. Catholic ideology, in contrast to Hindu ideology, stresses individualism (Neill 1962) and lends less support to the concept of the joint family. Indeed, all its mythologies and portraiture centre on the nuclear family. This religious ideology was reinforced by the civil one as, for instance, the Portuguese Civil Code was based on the nuclear family (26). The lack of ritual pollution (see below) curtailed the need for the presence of other women to cook in place of the menstruating woman. The later age of marriage reduced the time-span of multi- generational households, thus favouring nuclearisation.

I would tentatively conclude, until further evidence is available, that nuclear households were the norm. This is, of course, not to preclude the possibility that a stem family system existed con-

101 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC currently (27). A further possibility also exists if we extrapolate backwards from contemporary evidence. Some families, usually those who were fairly well off, arranged for a young girl or boy to live-in with them, help with domestic and personal tasks, on the understanding that they would care for the family until death. Such persons were known as poske but few were legally adopted.

As mentioned earlier, not everyone married and there were a number of bachelors and spinsters. Among the elite landowning families, both Brahmins and Chardos, like the Nambuduri Brahmins of Kerala (Kapadia 1955:107-8), marriage was usually restricted to one son. The others joined the priesthood, or had clandestine alliances with lower caste women, usually house- servants. However, unlike the Nambuduris, the surplus women were not absorbed in polygamy as this was prohibited by the Catholic Church, and hence, some women remained spinsters. It is likely that a few other women did not marry because their parents could not afford to give dowries as is also the case for the Amils of Sind who have many spinsters among them (Karve 1953:132). Furthermore, the restriction of marriages to within the LCGC and the practice of caste endogamy would have made it difﬁcult to resolve any ‘natural’ imbalance in the sex ratio. Another factor that could be associated with sex imbalance was the withdrawal of men and women into consecrated celibacy (28). Many CG women, particularly from elite families, did become nuns (Moraes 1972:138), and it is likely that over the years, many women from different backgrounds, joined the convents as there is nothing to suggest that their current ubiquitous presence is a recent phenomenon (29).

102 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

103 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

Men became brothers and priests, with the latter being most common. The first Goan priest, Rev. Andre Vaz was ordained in 1558, and the first Bishop, D. Matheus de Castro, appointed in 1637 (Directory, Archdiocese Goa and Daman 1984:13-4; Godinho 1924). However, it was not always easy for Goans, particularly in the 16th and 17th century, to join the priesthood and racial discrimination precluded entrance, for a period of time, to some religious orders (de Mello 1955:167). Moreover, during the first two centuries, recruits tended to be restricted to the upper castes as this policy, advocated by the Provincial Councils, was expected to endow the priesthood with greater honour and appreciation (ibid:140 and passim). Historical evidence indicates that Brahmin Goans were avidly clamouring to join the Seminaries and to acquire clerical offices (de Mello 1955:3-4;218-30;249). There were a number of problems regarding the formation and maintenance of a native clergy (de Mello 1955; Neill 1964:402- 4; 1970:46; Boxer 1967; Meersman 1971:36-43) (30). Whatever the problems and the frustrations generated, Goans joined the priesthood in large numbers serving both in Goa and outside (Pereira 1916; Gomes 1966; 1973) (see Press Cutting 2).

Catholic parents usually harboured the desire to offer at least one son, and perhaps also a daughter, to the Church (Godinho 1925:388). It was deemed a great honour if a child was ‘called’ and considerable status and prestige accrued to the family. It improved the marriage prospects of siblings as it testiﬁed to the family’s respectability and staunch adherence to Catholic values. Whatever their spiritual aspirations, we cannot exclude the material incentive for joining the priesthood. In the case of Padroado priests, they were government employees (de Souza 1979:168) and therefore were assured of a steady, secure income (31). Overall data for Goan ecclesiastical personnel over the

104 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC period of 450 years is not available, but by 1800 the number of priests was considerable (de Melo 1955:173-5, Meersman 1973:77) (32).

The ﬁnal rite of passage LCGs faced was that associated with death. In this connection, it is important to note the theological changes that conversion entailed. Hindu concepts of physical reincarnation were replaced with Catholic concepts of a spiritual after-life in Heaven, Purgatory or Hell depending on the soul’s purity at death. Catholics periodically cleansed the soul during life at confessions and on the death bed, if fortunate, through the sacrament of Extreme Unction administered by a priest. This action was publicly proclaimed in the village through the tolling of church bells, which simultaneously invited villagers to pray for the very sick.

Death was a public event to which everyone was welcome and indeed kin, neighbours and friends were obligated to attend the funeral service. The graveyard was prepared by Mahars and they serviced the funerals of all castes. Even the funeral of a Mahar was attended by the village priest. Burials, not cremations, were practised, and the funeral services were preceded by a wake at the deceased’s home with the body displayed in an open cofﬁn. The funeral service in church included a Requiem Mass. A week later, another ritual called Seven Days’ Mind was held, followed by a Month’s Mind and the First Anniversary. Similar customs are also followed in Spain (Douglass 1969). As in Catholic Europe, all mourners wore black with the closely bereaved observing mourning for a further period, usually a year or six months. None of these rites are equivalent to the Hindu puriﬁcation rites performed by the bereaved to relieve them of pollution (Dube 1955:124-5), but are prayers for the soul of the deceased to assist its journey to Heaven.

105 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

3: Cultural Characteristics of the Local Catholic Goan Community

Many of the cultural characteristics of the LCGC are closely correlated with Westernisation and symbolises the denationalisation of Goans (Cunha 1944). To a large extent, this is directly related to the fact that Catholicism in Goa (and to some extent elsewhere too) was implanted in a distinctly western mode (Sahay 1981; Meersman 1973). That some degree of westernisation has attended conversion to Christianity in India has been well documented (Neill 1964;1966) (33). Even when the Padroado came to be composed predominantly of Goan priests, as it did by the 19th century, little attempt was made at indigenisation (Meersman 1973), so indoctrinated were the clergy in western cognitive and behavioural patterns. In this section, I examine various cultural changes that were initiated by the Portuguese and which came to characterise the LCGC (34). I shall discuss language and education, style of architecture, dress and diet, all of which serve as diacritical markers of LCG ethnicity.

Since Latin was the liturgical language of the Church, conversion to Catholism implicitly led to exposure to the syntax and rhythmic sounds of this language. Until Vatican II which first met in 1962 recommended the greater use of vernaculars, all rituals, together with their musical accompaniment, almost exclusively or predominantly were in Latin. While all LCGs had at least a minimal acquaintance with Latin, those who joined the priesthood, and to a lesser extent those who became brothers and nuns, were expected to develop fluency in this language. Some also learnt Greek and French, as did other secular scholars. Besides this, however, there was a specific colonial linguistic policy directed at converts which aimed, on the one hand, to suppress Konkani

106 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC and, on the other, to promote the Portuguese language (35). Apart from the ﬁrst century of colonialism when Konkani was not persecuted (36), and, indeed, both the civil and ecclesiastical authorities favoured its study by missionaries with the principal aim of propagating the Faith (Rivara 1858:168), thereafter, it was subjected to much repression at the expense of the promotion of Portuguese (37).

Lack of knowledge of Portuguese was seen as detrimental to adherence to the Catholic faith (38). Hence, to encourage the adoption of Portuguese various measures were used, such as stipulating the maximum time period to learn Portuguese and making fluency in it a prerequisite to marriage (39). Specific target groups were identified against which the linguistic policy was directed (40). To assist the spread of Portuguese, it was taught in schools in all the parishes (ibid:191). It was also used as a medium of instruction in schools and colleges, but only when success in language acquisition and academic attainment was not as high as anticipated, did the authorities agree to the vernacular being used as a medium of instruction in primary schools (Varde 1977:2,13,23).

Under the impact of Portuguese linguistic policies, the modes of communication in the LCGC became fairly complex. Konkani continued to be used as a mother tongue by most, and for such people, Konkani was generally the only language they knew. Those who were ﬂuent in Portuguese used this as their ﬁrst language, and indeed many regarded it as their own language (Rivara 1858:219). Such people were generally of elite background who spoke Portuguese with family members and peers. They used Konkani to talk to fellow Goans who did not speak Portuguese, and, in particular, in daily conversation with their house servants and other employees. To them, Konkani had the status of a servant’s

107 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC language, and this association accentuated the general contempt and unworthiness with which Konkani had come to be viewed under the Portuguese (Rivara 1858:215, 220).

The Konkani spoken by the populace had been progressively corrupted under Portuguese rule, particularly in the OCs, a purer version being found in the NCs and further aﬁeld outside Goa (Rivara 1858:154). The Konkani spoken in the OCs, and hence, particularly by the LCGC, contained a number of Romanised words (ibid:158) and its syntax came to reﬂect that evident in Portuguese (Sardessai 1978). A number of dialects were evident and associated with particular geographical areas of Goa (Pereira 1973:27-46).

Although Konkani was originally written in devanagari script, under the inﬂuence of the Portuguese civil and ecclesiastical authorities, and also to facilitate dissemination of religious and secular material on the printing press which was introduced in Goa in 1556 (Priolkar 1958), it came to be written in Roman orthography (Rivara 1858:158). Consequently, LCGs who came to read and write in the language, learnt Roman orthography. In addition, there were hardly any facilities for LCGs to learn any Indian script in contrast to HGs who had access to both community and state schools from the last quarter of the 19th century where Marathi and Gujerati were taught using devanagari script (Varde 1977:23).

The corollary to Konkani having a low status was that Portuguese had a high status. Since its ﬂuent usage was mandatory among ecclesiastics, the intelligentsia, civil servants and the military, it came to be positively associated with power, knowledge, white collar and professional occupations. In many ways this is no different from the situation that prevailed in other colonial countries where the language of the rulers was endowed with

108 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC high status. What was unique to Goa, however, was that this was accompanied by the simultaneous denigration of the native language, fostered by State policy. Hence, the scene was set for any upwardly mobile LCG to jettison Konkani, or at least conﬁne it to marginal usage, and attempt to acquire mastery of a European language.

Religion served in other ways to foster westernisation. Many of the educational institutions from elementary to tertiary level were in the hands of the Church, and those that were not, were run by the State with whom, as already noted, Catholicism was identiﬁed. Through the learning of catechism and other religious instruction, the LCGC became intimately acquainted with mythological ﬁgures which were not indigenous to India. Post elementary education developed literacy and numeracy skills, as well as teaching students about European history and geography, philosophy, theology and rhetoric. Languages such as Portuguese, French, German, English and Latin were also taught. Some indigenous intelligensia considered such education to be archaic, and the orientation of the curriculum towards the liberal arts and sciences was considered to have led to the denigration of manual labour. It was argued that the inclusion of studies on agriculture, farming techniques etc. would remedy the growing agricultural crisis (Fernandes 1939:5; Figueiredo 1936:223-7).

Church architecture was a tangible and prominent example of the Westernisation imposed (Harrison 1975:346, Butler 1979) (41). As in Europe, the churches had shrines of Catholic deities all dressed in western garb and with western colouring and features. Little attempt was made to relate Hindu mythology to Catholicism and to depict these in art and literature. Candles rather than oil lamps were common. The posture used in the church was also derived from the West, and sitting on the ﬂoor which is common in Hindu

109 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC worship, was replaced by sitting in pews with intermittent periods of kneeling and standing.

Not surprisingly, domestic architecture was also inﬂuenced (Ifeka 1986b). Elite LCGs in the villages and towns built large brick two-storied houses, with spacious rooms, windows and verandahs along two or three sides of the house. The rest lived in mud houses, some partially bricked and tiled. However, there were certain features common to all houses. Each had an indoor Catholic shrine with candles, pictures and statues of the Virgin Mary, Jesus and the Holy Family, in front of which the family prayed daily. Its size and elaboration depended on the family’s wealth, and some elite houses had their own private chapel where Mass and other rituals were frequently celebrated, often by priest sons of the family. Every year, the parish priest went round to all houses to bless them, a custom also followed in Portugal (Goldey 1983:7). Secular changes were also evident in the use of furniture, and again wealth determined the number and quality of beds, chairs and tables in LCG houses. As Goonatilake (1982) notes, the use of such furniture changed indigenous conceptions of the body and evolved new spatial relationships. Finally, most houses, or complex of houses, irrespective of the caste of the occupants, had a ‘pig’ toilet in which domestically reared pigs were used to clear the nightsoil. Indeed, one of the most prominent features of a Catholic village or ward was the ubiquitous presence of pigs. This is similar to the Catholic Mediterranean, as Aceves notes for Spain (1971:97), but is a marked contrast to the Hindu and Muslim areas of Goa, and elsewhere in India, where domestic pigs are rarely seen, and if reared at all, are raised by the low castes and Untouchables.

Under the auspices of Catholicism, great attempts were made to eradicate all indigenous social customs.

110 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

The concept of heresy used by the Goa Inquisition was very wide and included various customs. A list of prohibitions were embodied in the Edict of the Inquisition of 1736 (see Priolkar 1961 for English translation). The Goa Inquisition “...aimed not only at the extirpation of superstitious and idolatrous beliefs, but also at innocent usages and customs retaining even a trace of the Asiatic society, which existed previous to the conquest of the Portuguese” (Rivara 1858:207) (42).

For instance, the commencement of menarche is celebrated by elaborate rituals in India (Srinivas 1952:71; Dube 1955:118-9). Boxer notes that the Goa Inquisition condemned observation of rituals and prohibitions regarding menstruation in Mozambique (1963:46-47), and it is unlikely that this did not apply to Goa too. The distribution of arecanuts and gifts on marriage were prohibited as were the singing of native songs on ceremonial occasions (Harrison 1975:343). Men were prohibited from wearing, both in private and public, the dhoti, and women were prohibited from wearing the choli, a blouse worn with a sari (Priolkar 1961:105).

The extent to which the prohibitions were enforced is not known but in time many CGs took to wearing western styled dresses, and the fashion replicated that followed in Europe. Some dress styles, like the pano-baju (Pereira 1940:80-81) reﬂected hybridisation. Some people, particularly the elderly and low castes continued to wear saris daily, others wore them occasionally, but many did not know how to drape it. Among married women, even those in a sari, the tikli was not marked on the forehead as with Hindus. Ornamentation was used in moderation but the nose ring was abandoned. Short hairstyles became common and most of those that retained long hair did not, like their Hindu counterparts, adorn it with ﬂowers, even on festive occasions.

111 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

The suppression of a Hindu lifestyle is also evident not only from the absence, but also the lack of appreciation among LCGs of kirtans, bhajans and other expressions of Indian music. Religion provided the vehicle for learning to play western instruments, and the parish schools and seminaries taught hymns and instrumental music to accompany Mass, Vespers, and other rituals. Simultaneously, however, through the transmission of western musical skills and traditions, they became the fountainheads of western secular musical education (Harrison 1975:343-4). The major instrument that LCGs learnt to play was the violin and they learnt to play it in the European fashion (43). They became adept musicians and came to be known as the ‘Italians of the East’. Some synthesis between eastern and western music did, however, occur and one of its expressions is seen in the folk dance known as the Mando (Pereira 1973:29-30). This is a form of group dancing, with the dancers in western dress, and the rhythm and melody of the music is derived from combining western string instruments with Indian percussion ones. However, the Mando and a complex of associated music and dances were only performed on special occasions. Dancing was a characteristic feature of the LCGC but the dance form commonly engaged in by many LCGs was western, with a man and a woman dancing the waltz, tango, foxtrot and other dance styles common in Europe.

Rice remained an important component of the diet but salt was always added in the cooking process. This practice, uncommon in India and elsewhere in South and South East Asia, probably originated in the Inquisition forbidding Catholics to cook rice without salt (Priolkar 1961:104). The range of foods LCGs ate included the formerly prohibited pork and beef. Since prior to conversion these meats were not eaten, methods of cooking them derived from Portuguese culinary practices which included using

112 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC salt and vinegar for preservation. Savoury meat delicacies, which are highly spiced, include sorpotel (curry made with pork and offal), bootch (made with the intestine of pig), choriso (preserved pork sausages) and beef xacuti. Different types of leavened bread, cakes, biscuits and sweets common in the West were also adopted and replaced Indian sweetmeats. An awareness of various western items of diet was created because these were imported into Goa to feed the Portuguese and elite LCGs. Both alcohol and tobacco came to be widely used (44). LCGs of all castes and classes, males and to a lesser extent, females, consumed considerably more alcohol than the Hindus (45).

4: The Retention of Traditional Practices in the Local Catholic Goan Community

From the foregoing account, we have seen that the Portuguese civil and ecclesiastical authorities combined forces to use an impressive battery of mechanisms to pursue their policy of Christocentricism. Despite their efforts, few LCGs achieved the dubious status of assimilado, deﬁned as someone who has successfully assimilated Portuguese culture and language (Bender 1978:103). Furthermore, certain features of the pre-conversion society were retained. Most prominent was the retention of the caste system, albeit with modiﬁcations. Dumont (1970), in his comprehensive study of caste in India, drew attention to the lack of studies by anthropologists of caste among Christians. Since then, however, there have been a few studies, notably those by Fuller (1976) in Kerala, Caplan (1980) in Tamil Nadu, and Stirrat (1982) in Sri Lanka. Similar studies of Goa are unfortunately lacking (46) but drawing on meagre historical and ethnographic

113 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC references and inductions derived from contemporary observation and oral history, I shall brieﬂy attempt to indicate the signiﬁcance of ‘caste’ in the LCGC.

Before doing so, however, it is relevant to brieﬂy discuss the issue of caste among non-Hindus. The question of how a social structure can differ from the orthodox Hindu prototype (see Gough 1960) yet still deserve the cultural label of caste has been posed by Leach (1960:2). He wonders whether there are elements in normal Indian caste organisation which are essentially structural in their nature and independent of Hindu cultural origins (1960:4). In other words, is caste a cultural or a structural phenomenon? Leach argues that caste is a structural phenomenon because evidence from different parts of India and Sri Lanka indicate there is no syndrome of cultural traits, such as that documented by Hutton (1946), which is common to all the societies concerned. However, because caste is a structural phenomenon, he does not think it has worldwide application but is rather a feature of pan- Indian civilisation. Hence, he does not see it as exemplifying a rigid form of social stratiﬁcation, as Bailey (1963), for instance, argues.

In the LCGC the word caste is not an etic term but an emic one. Those who speak English use the word ‘caste’. Konkani speakers say zat and Portuguese speakers castas. The word ‘caste’ originates from the Portuguese word castas, meaning race or breed (Pitt Rivers 1972). The word caste as used by the LCGC refers to both varna and jati categories and hence, we ﬁnd that an identical terminology is used to refer to two taxonomies normally kept distinct by Hindus. As among Hindus, there is a hierarchy of ranked strata and this broadly corresponds to the ranking of Hindu varnas and castes. Since Goa is a small region and the LCGC is conﬁned to an even smaller geographical area, there was

114 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC little opportunity for lack of consensus over ranking or for multiple referents for ranking (Marriott 1968) to have arisen.

Caste was also associated with occupational specialisation. Al- though the majority of LCGs were farmers, certain occupations were distinctly reserved for particular castes. Hence, artisans were drawn from their respective castes. One of the artisan castes that gained considerable prominence in the LCGC were tailors as the adoption of western dress created a greater demand on their services than formerly.

For reasons I have not been able to ascertain, tailors have very low status in the LCGC. With the widespread adoption of a non- vegetarian diet by the LCGC, butchers were in greater demand, as were toddy tappers who prepared the alcoholic drink, feni, from palm toddy. This caste also brewed another variety of feni from the cashew fruit, a plant introduced to Goa by the Portuguese. The new professions that emerged under colonialism, such as lawyers, doctors, engineers, teachers also came to be associated with caste. As elsewhere in India, when these new professions (except the priesthood) were introduced (Srinivas 1955), it was the LCG upper castes, Brahmins and Chardos, who had the wherewithal to pursue them. While these occupations were not denied to middle and lower castes in Goa, nevertheless, their lack of take up, for whatever reason, led to the close correlation of upper castes with western occupations.

Unlike among Hindus, in the LCGC there were no dietary customs associated with caste, as a common diet including pork, beef and alcohol was followed by all, although consumption patterns were affected by socio-economic factors. Similarly, there is no evidence of commensality restrictions, either with respect to pakka or kacha food, or to communal smoking as among Hindus (Dumont 1970:130-151; Parry 1979:92-109). D’Costa, in her

115 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC discussion of caste among CGs, notes that artisans did not eat with their upper caste clients and she regards this as evidence of commensality restrictions (1977:287-8). However, I do not think this is based on caste distinctions, but on a code of manners not associated with any ideas of ritual pollution attached to food. Similar observations have been made by Dube (1973:78) and Stirrat (1982:22) regarding Laccadive Island Muslims and Sri Lankan Catholics respectively. Neither is the touch of low castes considered ritually polluting as almost all cooks, unlike among Hindus (O’Malley 1932:105) who work in upper caste Catholic households, and notably for priests, are Sudras or Untouchable Mahars. This is also reﬂected in the absence of caste speciﬁc churches or pews as evident in other Indian Christian communities (Stirrat 1982:24; Weibe & Jogh-Peter 1972; Koshy 1968). On the whole, concepts of ritual pollution regarding menstruation, birth and death are absent, which contrasts to their existence in the East Indian Catholic community in Bombay (Godwin 1972) and among South Indian Christians (Caplan 1980).

Caste identity cannot be judged from names or surnames alone as they can in some parts of Hindu India, and among Sri Lankan Catholics (Stirrat 1982). However, within narrow well known geographical conﬁnes, such as a village, surnames can serve as a major or exclusive indicator of caste identity (Ifeka 1985:17-18). Speech in Konkani is also indicative, as certain words and phrases, intonation and pronunciation are speciﬁc to caste, although they are not as prominent as in other Indian languages (Levinson 1982). Further, from the forms of address, the relative caste status of individuals engaged in conversation can be gauged.

In the LCGC, caste was not associated with difference in dress, both in terms of type of material, colour and style, as among Hindus. Variations in attire and adornment were expressions

116 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC of differences in wealth and taste not caste. Elsewhere in India, where differentials in dress style have become less marked, on ritual occasions, upper castes in particular, revert to their distinctive dress (Beteille 1969:279). A similar practice was not evident in the LCGC, and those men and women who habitually wore western dress, continued to do so on all important Catholic ritual occasions. In the LCGC, caste was not associated with the appropriation of speciﬁc deities as among Hindus.

The one element of the Hindu caste system that was rigidly adhered to was in relation to marriage, that is varna endogamy for the Brahmins, Chardos and Gauddes, and jati endogamy for the various subcastes of Sudras and Untouchables. The proposal marriage system ensured endogamy while partially conceding to liberal ideas of self-choice. The retention of caste endogamy could possibly be the result of the fusion of Indian and Portuguese ideas. The Portuguese placed great emphasis on the ‘purity of blood’ (Boxer 1963:196-9) and a similar sentiment was evident in the LCGC.

To sum up then, caste in the LCGC entailed some occupational specialisation and residential segregation, absence of restrictions on commensality and place of worship, and emphasis on endogamy. Similar changes, but to a far lesser degree, have also been evident among Hindu communities in modern 20th century India especially in urban areas (Srinivas 1962). Similarly, many studies in the 20th century of overseas Indian communities in Africa, Mauritius and the West Indies found that the inﬂuence of caste was reﬂected primarily in endogamy, although the incidence varied between localities (Bharati 1967; Morris 1968; Tinker 1977; Kuper 1967; Smith & Jayawardena 1967; Benedict 1967; Clarke 1967; Neihoff 1967). The important difference is that the changes in the LCGC were long standing, originating in the 16th

117 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC century.

Indeed, the question is, why did caste, even in attenuated form, continue to exist. One possible explanation derives from the work of Caplan (1980). He notes that South Indian Christians observe pollution beliefs on death and menstruation, and also pork and beef are not included in the domestic diet. For South Indian Christians, there are arenas in which caste is manifested but these are regarded as elements of national Indian culture not specifically Hindu culture. Hence, for these South Indian Christians, an identification with Indian culture persisted after conversion. This identification, according to Caplan, is not with a religious culture but with a national one. However, the Portuguese tried to suppress all identification in the LCGC not only with Hinduism but also with India. The lack of identification was helped by the fact that Goa was a Portuguese enclave in British and later independent India.

Boxer notes that the Portuguese tried to abolish caste distinctions among Indian converts but found this was impossible and “...they were forced, however reluctantly to compromise with this immensely powerful and deep-rooted social and religious system” (1963:75). Cunha, however, argues that caste distinctions were maintained by the Portuguese because the persistence of divisions strengthened their ability to rule (Cunha 1944:79). Caste was used as the basis for organising the military (Pereira 1940:41-2) and in the appointment to civil service jobs (Saldanha 1952:116). The Church, too, did not initially ignore caste background in recruiting to the priesthood and hence, they helped to perpetuate the notion of caste. Religious lay brotherhoods, called confrarias, of men based on caste, were set up from the 14th century (Rocha 1973). Such brotherhoods are common in Spain (Douglass 1969:193-7), Portugal (Cutileiro 1971) and Brazil (Boxer 1973)

118 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

(47).

In Goa, confrarias exist in all villages which have a church or chapel. According to D’Costa (1977), in every village there is more than one confraria, the major one for the upper caste and the minor for the lower castes. This pattern is part of the Salcete caste model (Rocha 1973:279-284) rather than an all-Goa characteristic. For instance, in Amora there is only one major confraria attached to the church, with subsidiary ones for each chapel, and there is no direct correlation between confraria and caste. According to Pereira, the confrarias are equivalent to the Hindu mazanias which were caste exclusive (1940:41) (48).

Caplan rightly argues that a commitment to caste does not rule out a commitment to Christian values (1980:216). It has usually been assumed that because Catholicism (and Christianity as a whole) is not based on hierarchical values as Hinduism is, that these values are absent. Catholic theology propounds egalitarian values but the only sense in which it is egalitarian is with respect to the notion that everyone is born equal, and on death, meets God on an equal basis. In life, there is no evidence in the structure of the Catholic Church of the articulation of the egalitarian concept (49). There are hierarchical values in Catholicism which could lend support to the persistence of hierarchical values in converts from Hinduism. Ahmad (1973) also notes that there are elements in Islam, which has a similar egalitarian ideology to Catholicism, which support caste distinctions (50).

The conversion of groups, rather than individuals, according to Pereira (1920:40-41), allowed for the continuity of caste. However, in my view, a more important factor was the comunidade system. Although the comunidades underwent a great deal of change during the colonial era, nevertheless, the structural dimensions described earlier continued to persist, particularly the hierarchy

119 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC of ranked groups (51). Threats to its hierarchal principles came as late as the 19th century rather than immediately after conversion, and by then, there had been sufﬁcient time for the system to remain entrenched in the ethos of the LCGC.

Since a caste system, albeit modiﬁed, persisted in the LCGC, it is salient to explore the nature of the relationship between the LCGC and Hindu Goans who comprised the majority of the population and were of the same racial origins. The interaction between Hindus and Christians living in the same area has been examined by some anthropologists working in India, such as the study carried out in Kerala by Fuller (1976), where the establishment of Christianity pre-dates Goa.

In Kerala, Christians and Hindus, according to Fuller (1976), comprise a total caste society. He argues that although they each subscribe to a different religious orthodoxy, they share a common orthopraxy. In Amora, and Goa as a whole, however, there was little continuity of caste between Hindus and the LCGC. For instance, Brahmins, irrespective of religion, did not form one stratum. Hence, in Goa there are Catholics who are Brahmin and Hindus who are Brahmins (Ifeka1985). As a result of the Christocentricism outlined above, the way of life of the LCGC became distinct from the Hindus. Commensality between both was minimal (52). LCGs rarely attended Hindu temples because, prior to the modern reforms initiated by Vatican II which ﬁrst met in 1962, Catholic dogma regarded all non- Catholic religions as examples of paganism and one of the Ten Commandments prohibits worshipping false gods. Contravention of the commandments constitutes a mortal sin. Correlatively, Hindus did not enter churches regularly because this was not encouraged, although they venerate Catholic deities such as Our Lady of Milagres at Mapuca because they believe that such deities

120 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC were originally Hindu. Marriages between Hindus and LCGs were rare because Catholic Canon Law discouraged them, and, furthermore, parents rarely contemplated arranging marriages to non-Catholics. Although there were exceptions, LCGs infrequently attended Hindu marriages and other family rituals. The LCGC and Hindu Goans did not form one caste society but two separate communities each with its separate hierarchy of caste rankings. Hence, under colonial rule, two separate communities were created, Catholic and Hindu, and a distinct local Catholic Goan identity was fostered.

Conclusion

To conclude, let me brieﬂy summarise the characteristics of the Local Catholic Goan Community. Catholicism played a central role and was the main idiom through which beliefs and actions were articulated. It is important to emphasise the speciﬁcity of Catholicism as opposed to the generality of Christianity. LCGs were converted to one of the most orthodox forms of Christianity which had rigid dogmas, doctrines, rules and regulations, elaborate ecclesiastical and episcopal structures, and a worldwide network of churches, convents, schools and other institutions to which all Catholics had potential access. Moreover, Catholics were indoctrinated to believe they were the chosen few, and such exclusivism fostered encapsulation rather than interaction, except of necessity, with ‘pagans’, be they Protestants or non-Christians.

Through Catholicism a number of structural changes occurred in the LCGC. Portuguese surnames and Christian names replaced Hindu ones; Catholic Canon Law, rather than the law of Manu or other Hindu sages circumscribed the choice of mate; only

121 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC monogamy was allowed; celibacy became an honourable rather than a despised state as among Hindus; ecclesiastical office was open to both celibate men and women, thus providing a recognised role for women outside of marriage which did not exist in Hinduism; an ecclesiastical career was eventually open to anyone of any caste unlike in Hinduism where the priesthood is inherited and limited mainly to Brahmins; and finally, burials replaced cremations and a physical after-life by a spiritual one. The religious exclusivism was compounded by a strong territorial patriotism. Although as Catholics they were part of a universal church which transcended geographical boundaries, LCGs were at the same time firmly attached to the soil of Goa, their motherland, and birthplace of their ancestors. The strongest identification was with the ancestral village, epitomised by the receipt of the annual zonn, an entitlement that could not be alienated by change of residence.

Village identification also implied an implicit acknowledgement of ascribed status, both in terms of caste and relative ranking in the comunidade hierarchy. However, Portuguese colonialism and its attendant influences, facilitated exposure and provided some avenues through the introduction of new occupations, to achieving status. Attitudes to, and the manifestations of caste, changed considerably, and their major expression was in marital endogamy. Hence, affinal relationships were restricted to the respective varna or jati and in the absence of rules prescribing village exogamy or endogamy, led to both the intensification of links within the village as well as the spread of ties between villages. The widespread adoption of western dress served as a visible characteristic of the LCGC. The removal of dietary restrictions, as well as commensality prohibitions, led to the homogeneity of customs within the community and fostered a greater degree of

122 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC social interaction between castes. An appreciation of western music, dance, art and architecture had gained a ﬁrm foothold in the community. Although Konkani continued to be widely used, the seeds of ambivalence had been well sown, and had already led to its marginal status among the elite and virtual absence of linguistic and literary development. The philosophy and curricula of western education was favourably perceived not only because of its close association with colonial political and ecclesiastical power but also because its acquisition was a passport to higher status and white collar and professional jobs.

The Catholic religion and the structural and cultural characteristics were the legacy of Portuguese colonialism which set its seal on the LCGC by giving them Catholic ﬁrst names and Portuguese surnames. LCGs are not of mixed blood like the mesticoes but racially pure (Boxer 1969:305). However, because of their broad and usually visible cultural similarity to the mesticoes, they were often mistakenly regarded as biologically rather than only culturally syncretic.

In the next chapter I shall discuss the fate of the newly created LCGC as their economic Iivelihood in Goa was threatened by Portuguese colonialism.

Chapter 3: Notes

1. At the time of my research in 1980, there is no comprehensive academic and analytical study of the comunidades during the colonial period although there are many references in general academic works, government reports, private manuscripts, polemical texts etc. (see Quadros 1932). The historical account presented is culled from a number of secondary source materials in Portuguese and English, perusal of some comunidade records of the 19th and 20th century,

123 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

and oral history. The account does not purport to be exhaustive or comprehensive but merely highlights certain key aspects of the comunidade system. In this chapter I describe the structural aspects of the comunidades, and in the next one, its material basis and how it was adversely affected by colonial rule.

2. There is more historical data available on OC comunidades than on those in the NCs (see Kulkarni 1979; de Souza 1979, Asevedo 1890; Xavier 1852; Pereira 1981; Quadros 1932; Kosambi 1947).

3. The comunidade clerk is known as the escrivão, the attorney as Procurador, and the property is listed under such headings as varzeas (ﬁelds), legumes (vegetable plots), and arvores (trees). However, despite this extensive use of Portuguese, the comunidades existed centuries before the arrival of the Portuguese. There were parallel institutions elsewhere in India (Maine 1881; Baden-Powell 1896; 1899) although they subsequently disintegrated mainly under British rule (Bhatia 1965).

4. The culacharins were the descendants of those who came along with the original ganvkars or arrived at a later date to help with the cultivation of comunidade lands.

Since the comunidades were orientated towards self-sufﬁciency, there were a range of village servants such as the carpenter, blacksmith, cobbler, potter, barber, basket weaver and washerman. In all comunidades, the culacharins ranked above the village servants. Among the village servants, the Untouchable Mahars (basket weavers) ranked the lowest. In Amora there is an additional category of male non-ganvkars, known as calvecars. I have not been able to conclusively trace their origin, but it is likely that because Amora is situated alongside a river, the calvecars were needed to build and maintain the clay levees which protected riverside ﬁelds from saline inundation. In Amora, the calvecars rank above the culacharins and village servants. Hence the hierarchy in Amora is ganvkars, calvecars, culacharins, village servants.

5. There are a variable number of vangads in each comunidade; for instance, Amora has 5, Punola 3, Raia 15, Verna 48 (Pereira 1978:71, 77, 106, 112). Here too, the hierarchical principle was manifested as vangads tended to be ranked, although the basis for their ranking is not clear (de Souza 1979:62).

6. Unlike the jajmani system where patron-client relationships existed between individuals (Wiser 1936; Beidelman 1959), in the comunidades, most artisans served all the villagers on a regular basis and were remunerated by the village, mainly through income derived from specially reserved namassy lands. This is not to say that artisans did not also serve individuals and, indeed, they could be ﬁned by the village council if they refused to attend any ganvkar (de Souza 1979:84- 6). However, the point is that they were integrated into a community structure

124 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

and were required to contribute to the self sufﬁciency of the village which was conceived as being one big joint family (Altelkar 1927:128), with the comunidade, not individuals, as the major or exclusive employer.

7. For instance, women appear in the comunidade records as “Anna Gracia Carmelina de Sa, mulher (wife) do Joao Baptista”. In the 20th century records, women are cited in their own name and not by ﬁlial or marital status, but as will be discussed in chapter 7, this was the result of fortuitous circumstances occasioned by international migration rather than changes in patriarchal policy.

8. For instance, the ganvkars of Corlim are Chardos, those of Bastora are Gauddes; while the ganvkars of Cujira are all Sudras. The tribal Kunbis are ganvkars of

Dircarpale.

9. For instance, Colvale has Brahmin and Chardo ganvkars; Marna has Chardo and Sudra; Anjuna has Brahmin, Chardo and Gaudde; Arpora has Chardo, Sudra and Gaudde ganvkars; Davorlim has Chardo and Kunbi (Pereira 1978:37-113). An exceptional case is the village of Aldona, which has two comunidades, the major one consisting of Brahmin ganvkars, and the other of Sudra ganvkars.

10. Of 106 comunidades in the OCs on which data is available, the following caste breakdown of ganvkars is evident: 31% consist solely of Brahmin ganvkars, 42% of Chardos; 3% of Gauddes; 4% of Sudras and 0% of Kunbis. Sixteen percent of comunidades consist of ganvkars of two different castes with a Brahmin and

Chardo combination being the most common, and 4% consist of ganvkars of three castes with Chardo, Gaudde and Sudra being the most common combination

(derived from Pereira 1978).

11. In some cases, for example, in the comunidades of Mandur and Chorao, a few of the vangads have become extinct (Pereira 1978:58,45). Less common is the extinction of all vangads as in the case of Agacaim comunidade (ibid :38).

12. In Salcete (including Murmogao) ganvkars accounted for 2% of the population, in Bardez 24% and Ilhas 9% (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:Table

10). Although the statistics cited may not be accurate, the pattern of ﬂuctuation in the number of ganvkars in different villages was also noted in the documents of the comunidades in 1526 (Baden-Powell 1900:263).

13. In Amora and in many other comunidades, full or fractional zonn was distributed on a per capita basis. In other comunidades, like Verna (Codigo das

125 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

Comunidades 1961:237), zonn was distributed to vangads, and hence the amount each individual received depended on the number of males in his vangad.

14. In Salcete and Ilhas the situation is more complex. Contemporary observation in 1980 supported by ethnographic evidence (Montemayor 1970; Ifeka 1985a;

Almeida 1978) reveals that the ganvkars are few or absent, but most villages tended to continue to be characterised by the caste of the ganvkars.

15. For instance, in Amora, the tripartite lingua of the god Siva from the razed temple in Amora was used as a stand for the holy water basin (Mitterwallner 1984:22).

16. The priest replaced the Joshi or astrologer as ofﬁcient, and the ﬁrst sheaves of paddy were placed on the altar of the Church, preceded by processions reciting Catholic incantations and accompanied by statues and banners of Catholic deities (Desai 1983:87).

17. A small proportion of the population in Goa comprised mesticoes (‘mixed blood’). The origins of miscegenation go back to the 16th century when Alburquerque, the conqueror of Goa, arranged for some of his men to marry indigenous women. He regarded such intermarriages as the basis for Empire as it would result in a class of settlers, dedicated and loyal to the Portuguese Crown (de Souza 1979:59). Mixed marriages, however, never became part of the long term ofﬁcial policy of the Portuguese in Goa although the existence of mesticoes in Goa, as elsewhere in the Portuguese colonies, was regarded by them as evidence of lack of racial prejudice. However, as Boxer (1963) has convincingly demonstrated, racial discrimination did exist in Portuguese colonies, and as Bender (1978) has argued, miscegenation resulted less from Portuguese alleged claims to equality than from the relative lack of white women for Portuguese men in the colonies to fraternise with. Indeed, attempts were made to send women, particularly orphans from Portugal, to Goa and other colonies as potential brides, and to enhance their attractiveness, the Crown gave them dowries of land or government posts for their husbands, who were either Portuguese or Eurasian (Boxer 1975). The Portuguese had more liberal attitudes towards indigenous fraternisation than, for example, the British under the Raj who regarded marriage, concubinage, as well as prostitution with indigenous women, as undermining the social distance all members of the ruling race were required to keep from their subjects (Ballhatchet 1980).

Most of the Goan women who associated with the Portuguese were low caste Catholic women and many of the Portuguese men were soldiers, several of whom arrived from Portugal with criminal backgrounds (de Souza 1979:155). From ﬁgures culled from various sources (Boxer 1975; D’Souza 1973) it is evident that mesticoes amounted, not to large numbers as some claim (Maloney 1974), but to approximately 1% of the population of Goa. Since all mesticoes were Catholics, an estimate indicates they comprised only 2% of the Catholic population of Goa (Mascarenhas- Keyes 1979:11). The mesticoes resided in certain areas in and around the capital city Panjim, as well as other small towns, such as Valpoi, which had a military base. They did not have a very high moral reputation in Goa. Portuguese was their mother tongue, but apart from this, there were broad

126 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

similarities in their dress and diet with LCGs. The men were generally employed as soldiers and ofﬁce workers. These cultural and occupational characteristics, together with their physiology, lighter skin colour, and residential segregation served to demarcate the mesticoes from the other ethnic categories and groups in Goa.

18. Canon Law opposes marriages between kindred as follows: (i) cousins of the ﬁrst degree (ii) consanguinity of the second degree (iii) consanguinity of the third degree (iv) afﬁnity tie (e.g. husband marrying sister of dead wife) (v) uncle-niece marriage. Category (i) marriages are strictly prohibited by the Church, while dispensations can be obtained from the Church for marriages between persons from the other categories. Hence there are impediments to marriages between collaterals up to the third degree, although dispensations can be obtained.

19. The role that the stipulations of Canon Law played in making village exogamy necessary, particularly for small villages, cannot be ascertained from the available literature. Oral accounts indicate that while some parallel and crass cousin marriages of the ﬁrst degree, and to a lesser extent of the second degree occurred, they were frowned upon.

20. Marriages between those from the talukas of Bardez and Salcete were rare. However, children whose fathers were mobile senior civil servants often married across greater spatial distances.

21. These records refer to marriages from 1830-1909 of the parish of Talegao in Ilhas (Srivastava 1977). No breakdown is available in terms of caste and class, and neither is there any indication of the extent to which the data can be extrapolated to an all-Goa level. Anecdotal evidence indicates that there were some early marriages at the age of 13 at the turn of the 20th century .

22. Agarwala (1957) calculated from census records of 1891-1931 of India that the mean age of Christians was 17.1 for females and 23.9 for males. These were considerably higher than for Hindus in the same period which Agrawala puts at 12.5 and 19.7 for females and males respectively.

23. For instance, data for the 16th to the 18th century reveal that women known as ‘orphans of the King’ who were sent over from Portugal for marriage to Portuguese or Eurasian men in Goa were given State dowries of land (Boxer 1975:63-95). Similarly Portuguese women in Mozambique were owners of large estates called prazos (Isaacman 1972). In some Mediterranean countries it is fairly common for women to be given houses as dowry (Collump 1972, Davis 1976) in both uxolocal or neolocal residence patterns. In Goa, the custom of ghor-zavoi among CGs was probably introduced after the Portuguese Civil Code of 1867, applicable to CGs, gave females equal rights as males to the parental and conjugal estate. Hence bilateral inheritance applied to private property and the customary patriarchal code to comunidade land. Goody and Harrison (1973:16-18) estimate that, on the assumption that populations increased slowly before the advent of modern medicines, 20% of households will comprise daughters only. If this ﬁgure was characteristic of LCGs, and in the absence of a practice of adopting a male heir as is common among Hindus in Goa and elsewhere, then it is possible that a number of women inherited their ancestral houses as dowry.

127 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

24. This information was communicated conﬁdentially, and usually referred to possible contravention of Canon Law, character assignations, possible previous marriages, defects of character, such as alcoholism or bad temper, or constitutional weakness such as tuberculosis, and doubts about the economic position of the prospective bride and groom and their respective families. The parish priest had to assess both the validity and seriousness of allegations, and in certain circumstances call for the postponement or termination of the engagement.

25. Data for the 16th and 17th centuries indicated that the household size was between 5-7 persons (de Souza 1979:7) and a similar size was evident in the 19th and 20th century (Torrie 1879:229; Census 1910:XL). No data is available in terms of caste, class and religion. The data suggest nuclear or supplemented nuclear units. It is, of course, possible that the household size reﬂected Portuguese conceptions of the ‘household’ or ‘family’ which may have not concurred with the ‘on the ground’ situation.

26. This is most evident with respect to transmission of property and contrasts with Hindu laws. For instance, even when Hindu law codes were changed to provide women with rights to inherit property, as for instance in the Hindu Succession Act 1956, the rights of a man’s mother to inherit from his estate is protected alongside his wife’s (Minatur 1975) whereas in the Portuguese Civil Code, the devolution of property to a man’s (or woman’s) parents occurs only in the absence of the spouse and lineal descendants. The power of a man’s mother to inherit, in Hindu law, is reminiscent of the son’s duty to care for his mother which is intrinsic to traditional Hindu law premised on the joint family.

27. In this system, one child on marriage lived with and cared for the parents until death (Berkner 1976). However, the stem family may only be a phase in what Fortes (1966) termed the developmental cycle of the family. However, since some LCGs did not marry, it is likely that a spinster daughter or bachelor son fulﬁlled a similar role.

28. Nuns are known as ‘Brides of Christ’ and according to data available for the 16th to 18th century, women entered the convent in Goa with a dowry (Boxer 1975:90) reflecting practices current in Europe. The first convent was set up in Goa in 1607 but how many nuns were CGs, in comparison to Portuguese women or mesticoes is unknown. I was not able to locate any published material on the subsequent period, once again reflecting the invisibility of women in history.

29. The importance of convents can be gauged from the ﬁerce protest the Portuguese met when they tried to close them down in Goa, Macao and Bahia around the 18th century and one of the major reasons, according to Boxer, was that a “...convent was a status symbol and the citizens needed it as a refuge for their unmarried daughters” (1975:90). Around the mid-19th century, nuns in India began taking up missionary activities and many new foreign congregations began accepting candidates (Meersman 1972:257). Although there are no details speciﬁcally on Goa, given that it had the major concentration of Catholics, it is unlikely that a large number of CG women did not respond to the new demands for spiritual vocations.

30. These focussed on whether converts without a long history of Catholic background would make good priests; whether they should be allowed to join

128 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

religious orders or conﬁned only or mainly to secular orders; discrimination practised with respect to competition for higher ecclesiastical ofﬁce etc. (de Mello 1955; Boxer 1963).

31. Unlike in the case of priests belonging to the religious orders whose earnings, or a large part of it, usually become the property of the Order, in the case of secular priests, their earnings are their own possessions, and could be used for their natal families and other kin since celibacy precludes having families of their own. Since Goans were discouraged, to some extent, from joining the religious orders because of their more stringent recruitment regulations and, in some cases, discriminatory practices, it is probable that the majority joined the secular priesthood with its attendant economic benefits. There were also fringe benefits associated with the priesthood and data on the Jesuits in Portuguese Asia, for instance, indicates that they were actively involved in trade and business (Boxer 1980:49-50). It is probable, although I was not able to locate published material, that non-Jesuit priests also benefitted in a similar way, although perhaps not on such a scale.

32. There is some indication of numbers who joined the priesthood based on Goan registers. Between 1761 and 1811 there were 2,058 ordinations, between 1812 and 1862, 1,049 (Meersman 1973:77). Besides these many joined seminaries run by Propaganda Fide and were ordained outside Goa, a trend which probably started after dissatisﬁed Padroado priests left in mid-career to join Propaganda Fide (Saldanha 1952:117; Meersman ibid :80). More recent data shows that in 1984, there were 566 secular Goan priests belonging to the Archdiocese of Goa and Daman, 415 of which were working within Goa, the rest elsewhere (Directory, Archdiocese of Goa and Daman 1984). A large number of priests belong to numerous religious orders with mother houses elsewhere in India and overseas. Furthermore there are many secular priests who belong to the Diocese of Bombay, Poona and Bangalore, to name a few.

33. Neill, speaking of missionaries in general, says they usually yielded to the colonial complex which he defines as “... only western man was man in the full sense of the word; he was wise and good and members of the other races, in so far as they became westernised, might share in this wisdom and goodness” (1964:259). He further states that it is now widely accepted that “...whatever may have been the beneficent intentions of the missionaries, they were in fact tools of government and that missions can be classed as one of the instruments of western infiltration and control” (Neill 1966:11-12).

34. I shall cite a number of decrees and other legislation, promulgated by both civil and ecclesiastical authorities, and while many may not have been followed to the letter, they nevertheless give a good indication of the temper of the times.

35. Under Portuguese rule, Portuguese language became the lingua franca of Goa. Indeed for a while in India it had attained the status of a lingua franca until it was superseded by English after the advent of the British.

36. For a period of time in an attempt to aid missionary work for which the knowledge of the native language was considered useful, the Concilo Provincial, the ﬁrst of which was held in Goa in 1567, strongly supported the study of Indian languages. In 1606, a Directive was issued to the effect that no priest should be appointed as vicar in charge of a parish unless he was conversant with the local

129 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

language, and a priest who was ignorant of the local language should lose that position unless he learnt it within 6 months. This policy led to the systematic study both of Marathi and Konkani although this was problematic due to the dearth of indigenous books which prior to the directive had been destroyed in accordance with the laws of the Goa Inquisition. According to the laws of the Goa Inquisition, it was an offence to possess books in Indian languages. The result of the 1606 Directive was the production of some religious literature in the indigenous language including Biblical stories, catechisms, biographies of saints, volumes of sermons, grammar and vocabulary books (Priolkar 1958). Some of the more well known works are: The Christian Puranna 1616, by Fr. Thomas Stephens; The Purana of St. Peter 1619, by Fr. Etienne de la Croix; The Puranna of St. Anthony 1655, by Fr. Antonio de Saldanha. A few Konkani vocabulary books and grammars were written. A number of the early works were produced on the printing press which was brought to Goa from Europe in 1556 (Priolkar 1958). This ensured wide dissemination of Catholic literature. The last book printed on the press appeared in 1674. In 1754, the press was banned by the Portuguese Government in Goa. It did not reappear in Goa until 1821 when the Government took the initiative to bring a press from Bombay and started a weekly publication called ‘Gazeta de Goa’ (Priolkar 1967:66; Priolkar 1958). These Konkani works, produced primarily in the service of Catholicism, were written not in the indigenous Devanagari or Kannada script which was traditionally used, but in Roman orthography. This strategy of writing Konkani in Roman orthography meant that any material against the State and Church could be more easily read by ofﬁcials and, hence, control over the production and dissemination of ‘idolatrous’ material or anti-government literature could be maintained.

37. The following decree was promulgated in 1684: “I assign three years as the period within which the Portuguese language ought to be studied and spoken. Moreover, this language should be used by the people in these parts in dealings and other contacts which they may wish to enter into, those using the vernacular being severely punished for not obeying the mandate” (Rivara 1858:183). The decree further stated its hope that “... in the course of time the Portuguese idiom will be common to one and all, to the exclusion of the mother tongue” (Harrison 1975:342).

38. This is borne out by the views expressed by an Inquisitor in 1731 who said that “...the ﬁrst and principal cause of such lamentable ruin (loss of souls) is the disregard of the law of His Majesty” and suggested “prohibiting the natives to converse in their own vernacular and making obligatory the use of the Portuguese language” (Priolkar 1961:177).

39. For instance, in 1745, a pastoral was issued by the Archbishop Lourenco de Santa Maria stating that a person should know Portuguese before marriage could be contracted. Brahmins and Chardos were given a time limit of six months, while the other castes were allowed to take a year (Rivara 1858:212-3).

40. For instance, it was obligatory for those working in public ofﬁces and military quarters to speak only Portuguese (Rivara 1858:216). Students and ecclesiastics residing in the seminaries of Goa were forbidden by the regulations of 1847 to converse with one another in Konkani (ibid :215). When the ﬁrst State schools

130 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

were set up in the 19th century, children were forbidden from using Konkani in schools (ibid :216).

41. According to Butler, “[C]hristian art, in places under direct Portuguese rule, was protected from any dangerous kind of Indianisation. The clergy, backed in the last resort by the Inquisition, created or at least supervised the architecture and there was frequent legislation forbidding any kind of church art to be practised by non-Christians. Further from Goa, there was rather more Indianisation, even in architecture.” (1979:6-7).

42. A precedent for this policy is found in the Edict of the Inquisition of Portugal which regarded various social customs of the Jews turned New Christians as heretical because these were seen to be based on Judaism. A similar view was taken of Hinduism and while it may well have existed in nascent form prior to the Edict of 1736 of the Goa Inquisition, and may have been current among some sections of the ecclesiastical community, it was only formally recognised as late as the 18th century. Until this time, various social customs appear to have been allowed because they were considered to be of merely civil or political nature (Priolkar 1961:97). However, they were gradually seen to be premised on Hinduism and therefore had to be eradicated, contributing to the denationalisation of Goans (Cunha 1944).

43. When two centuries later the British introduced the violin into India, Indians adapted it to play in an Eastern fashion, with the musician seated on the ﬂoor, and the scroll resting on his foot (Jairazbhoy 1975:231).

44. The new crop of tobacco was introduced (Harrison 1975:338) and came to be widely used, as evident from the income earned by the Portuguese government in the form of tobacco tax (de Souza 1979:66). A very important item was alcohol.

So considerable was the alcoholic consumption in Goa that according to Cunha

“... it can be roughly calculated that the average consumption of pure alcohol per inhabitant comes as a modest estimate of ﬁve litres while in France, the country believed to be the most intoxicated by drinks in Europe, it is three litres” (1939:29).

Hence, not surprisingly, Cunha points out that “[P]ortuguese India gained the just notoriety of being the most intoxicated country in the world and was as such mentioned at the last world Economic Conference in London” (ibid :28).

45. Statistics dating back to the 1870s show that there were hardly any taverns in the NCs compared to the high number in the OCs, and almost all tavern keepers were Catholic (Torrie 1879:251). Indeed one of the main jobs of the military, which had policing functions in Goa during the Portuguese period, was vigilance over liquor distilleries and particularly over the sale of country liquor and tobacco (Gazeteer 1979:572). So entrenched had the habit of consuming alcohol become that advocates for the re-organisation of the Goan economy felt that the decrease in the import of alcohol and hence, its consumption, required “...a discipline that would hardly be supported by the Goan temperament” (Cotta 1936:34). Political

131 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

parties that came into existence after the demise of colonialism, such as the United Goans Party, pledged to oppose any attempts to introduce prohibition (Halappa et al. 1964:47), a proposal generally supported by all those opposing merger with Maharashtra (Saksena 1974:134).

46. A study of caste has been undertaken by Barros, (1981) entitled ‘Classes Castoides em Goa Colonial’ which I did not have the opportunity to consult.

47. Confrarias are lay brotherhoods and were established in Goa in the 16th century (Rocha 1973). They can be set up for various purposes (Meersman 1972). Cutileiro notes the existence of Misericordias which were created in Portugal since 1498 to provide assistance to the poor and inﬁrm (1971:228). An equivalent institution also exists in Goa, having been established between 1515-1520 (Mendes 1886:71-2). Confrarias also exist in Spain, some being of recent origin, others established in the 18th century (Douglass 1969:193-197). In Brazil confrarias were known as irmadades (irma=brother) and some were based on rigid class and race distinctions while others were open to all (Boxer 1963:119-20). For example, the Tertiary Order of St. Francis refused to admit coloured individuals and even barred white men married to Mulatas. There were others intended primarily for Negroes. Confrarias tended to be mainly for males, but there was one in Brazil which admitted both sexes.

48. According to Pereira, mazanias are associations of a religious nature consisting of the founders of the Hindu temple or their descendants and in many respects have an equivalent structure to the comunidades (1978:1).

49. The distinction made by Leach (1968) between philosophical religion and practical religion is most apt. He notes that “...[T]heological philosophy is often greatly preoccupied with the life hereafter; practical religion is concerned with the here and now” (1968:1). The church is hierarchically ordered with its personnel on a ranking system from Pope to Archbishop, Bishop etc. The after-life is ranked into Heaven, Purgatory and Hell. In Hindu theology, everyone is born unequal and this concept of inequality is articulated throughout various aspects of life and the after-life.

50. Like Catholicism, Islam professes egalitarian values, yet those who have studied the question of caste among Muslims, while they may not agree that caste exists among Muslims, nevertheless point out that hierarchical values and ranked groups exist (see articles in Ahmad 1973). Ahmad (1973:xxx-xxxii) shows that an emphasis on birth and ancestry gradually acquired acceptance in Islamic law despite the fact that the Koran denounced distinctions based on such factors. Muslim jurists worked out an elaborate scheme of social grades depending on birth and descent, and this law, as practised in India would, Ahmad suggests, support caste distinctions based on birth and descent. Ahmad concludes “... that caste among the Muslims in India owes itself directly to Hindu inﬂuences, but has been reinforced by the justiﬁcation offered for the idea of birth and descent as criteria of status in Islamic law” (1973:xxxii).

51. The practice of distributing zonn, as noted earlier, continued for most villages, although data for the 19th century indicated that some of them had abolished this system. The method of distributing zonn was based on irrevocable hierarchical principles that were in existence before conversions and which were based to a

132 Portuguese colonialism ... and the LCGC

large extent on caste distinctions. Besides zonn, there were other privileges and rights, like participation in the decision-making in the village council.

52. The Hindu Saraswat Brahmins are ﬁsh eaters, but the other Brahmins, such as Kharde Brahmins, are totally vegetarian. The Marathas and Sudras eat chicken and mutton on certain days of the week. However, as ethnographic research in 1980 indicated, very rarely would Hindus eat cooked food at the homes of Catholics, even of equivalent social status, because they feared that the utensils that the food has been cooked in may have been used for cooking beef and pork. Catholics accepted cooked food from Hindus, irrespective of caste, and their main concern related to whether food was cooked in hygenic conditions. During ethnographic research in 1980, none of my HG friends agreed to eat at my village home, but they were very happy for me to eat in their homes in Amora and in their home villages in Pernem.

133 The Economic Deterioration of Goa and the Development of External Job Opportunities

Introduction

he local Catholic Goan community (LCGC) lived in nucleated T villages and Section 1 of this chapter focuses on the administrative structure and economic activities of the comunidade. This section provides the bench mark from which further changes over the centuries are compared. Since adequate secondary source material was lacking when I examined the literature in 1980, it is difﬁcult to precisely date the baseline, and for convenience, I shall refer to it as the 16th century system. Over the course of four centuries the nature of Goa’s economy changed. There was some urbanisation, but since the great majority of the LCGC continued to live in villages, I focus in Section 2 on changes to the village economy. These changes signiﬁcantly affected the livelihood

134 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities of the LCGC and constituted the push factors to international migration. In Section 3, I examine the pull factors which arose primarily as a result of British colonial expansion in India and Africa.

1: The 16th Century Village Economy

The assets of the 16th century comunidades comprised mainly land and ganvkars jointly owned the land and controlled the administration of the comunidade. Each comunidade was administered by the ganvkari, an elected group of ganvkars (1). Since the constitution allowed for the right to exercise a veto, decisions had to be unanimous (de Souza 1979:61; Pereira 1981:101). The ganvkari was responsible for all matters pertaining to the village, and with respect to the agrarian economy, the allocation of rights in land and waterways, the maintenance of wells and irrigation works, the protection of ﬁelds, the adherence to the agricultural cycle, the distribution of zonn and payment of services (2). Each comunidade was independent in the management of its internal affairs but in each province, a General Assembly existed which dealt with matters affecting the whole province, such as payment of taxes, common defence, and criminal jurisdiction (Azavedo 1890:135) (3).

The customs relating to property and inheritance were those sanctioned by the Mitakshara school of Hindu law to which the concept of joint family was basic and central (de Souza 1979:65). Individual rights in arable and non-arable land were primarily those of usufruct and acquisition of them was through a system of leasing in return for rent (4). Most cultivation was carried

135 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities out in the fertile, low lying lands particularly suitable for raising paddy (de Souza 1979:79-8). The land was used mainly for the wet cultivation of paddy using monsoon water, and the crop obtained was known as rabi. In some comunidades, where there was a good supply of water, a second crop of paddy was cultivated, known as vaignan. More commonly, however, the second crop consisted of pulses and other vegetables. Rights to fruit bearing trees were also leased, as well as ﬁshing rights in rivers and creeks. The economy was characterised by subsistence farming and petty commodity production. Agricultural land was divided into lotes. The number and size of the lotes as well as the number of tenants appears to have ﬂuctuated over time (5).

The more common form of leasing, which was applied to the bulk of paddy land, was short term leasing through an auctioning system, while longer term leasing, particularly that of aforamente which expired after 25 years, was to encourage the cultivation of fallow land, reclaimed land near waterways, and to stimulate horticultural cultivation of coconuts, arecanuts etc. Non-agricultural land, on which to build a residential house could also be obtained on payment of nominal rent (6). The rights to aforamente land could be transmitted according to the provisions of traditional law, but the sale of such land could not be undertaken unless the consent of the village ganvkars had been obtained and the comunidade’s right of pre-emption was honoured (Baden-Powell 1900; de Souza 1979:63). The sale of any common land was not encouraged (Baden-Powell 1900:272, 286) and this, as we shall see in chapter 5, had important implications for the reproduction of international migration (7).

It is not entirely clear (from sources examined in 1980) who had the right to bid for comunidade lotes but it appears that ganvkars were favoured and other comunidade members, as well

136 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities as women, were generally excluded (8). The system of auctioning was one of the ways in which joint ownership was articulated as it encouraged rotation and prevented a ganvkar from retaining particular lands indeﬁnitely (de Souza 1979:64).

The reserve price for the lote was ascertained on the basis of its productive capacity and was revised periodically. The highest bidder at the periodic auctions acquired usufruct rights for three years, following which the lote was again auctioned. The amount of land a tenant acquired varied with each auction as it depended on the current reserve price, the strength of competition, the bidders’ ﬁnancial resources, the mode of cultivation employed etc. If a ganvkar was in debt to the comunidade, through non-payment of rent and ﬁnes, for instance, his right to bid for land was usually restricted until he had redeemed himself. By a stringent policy of withholding bidding rights from debtors, and ensuring that bidders provided sound guarantors, the comunidade improved its chances of securing its income. Statistics available for the period 1799 to 1839 indicate that comunidades were rarely entirely free of debts (Xavier 1852:67-76).

Since the number of ganvkars varied in different villages, where their numbers were small, they acquired larger tracts of land. Where the number of ganvkars was large, as seems to have been the case in Amora, smaller tracts of land were probably individually leased. Since the number of ganvkars did not remain static but depended on birth and mortality rates, the number eligible to compete at auctions ﬂuctuated, and this affected the amount of land that each could acquire.

There were a number of servants and artisans in the village. This has been a common characteristic of Indian village communities which ensured that essential goods and services were available in the village or its immediate vicinity. Marx called the Indian village

137 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities communities “wholes of production” (cited in Dumont 1970:338) emphasising the economic sense in which such communities were usually perceived. The most common method of organising and paying servants, artisans and other service providers in Indian villages was the jajmani system (Wiser 1936; Opler & Singh 1948). Wiser (1936) extolled the virtues of the system, seeing it as imbued with a sound spirit of cooperation and reciprocity of services between castes, while others (e.g. Beidelman 1959) emphasised its exploitative nature. Pocock (1962) criticised the use of the concept to embrace almost all economic relationships in the village, while Dumont (1970:148-50) stressed the hierarchical principles that underline it. As mentioned in chapter 3, the jajmani system did not exist in the comunidades of the OCs but that, like in neighbouring Maharashtra, at least in the period 1200-1750 (Fukazawa 1982:252), a system with some parallels to the balutedar system was practised. The carpenters, barber, potter, blacksmith and other artisans served and were paid not by individual patrons, but the community as a whole (Kosambi 1975:330) although for some artisans this was supplemented by service to individual ganvkars (de Souza 1979:85-6). Hereditary occupations were abolished in 1882 (Saldanha 1952:11), but during festivals the practice among the older servants and artisans of making the rounds of the whole village was evident in 1980, although the young scorned such vestiges of benevolent paternalism. There was no evidence (from sources consulted in 1980) to indicate that anything equivalent to the malnad system (Harper 1959) found along the west coast of India operated in Goa, probably because of the absence of a cash crop (9). It is also difﬁcult for any conclusion to be drawn as to whether the Asiatic Mode of Production (Marx 1859) existed in Goa (10).

138 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities

2: Changes in the Agrarian Economy Under the Portuguese

The colonial rulers lost little time in instigating changes and a plethora of different policies were executed over the course of four and a half centuries. In what follows I shall describe the major changes to the comunidade in terms of the following: (a) private property (b) share holding (c) state intervention (d) food production (e) occupational structure.

(a) Private property

Although initially the Portuguese respected traditional law, their policy soon changed. They regarded the Crown as the owner of village lands and on this basis extracted land rent (coixovarado) and conﬁscated property from the villages (11). Other land was appropriated by investors called cuntocares, many of whom were European (12). These investors turned increasingly to land as a capital asset as from the beginning of the 17th century, investment in the Portuguese seaborne trade became precarious (de Souza 1979:72-3). While the alienation of comunidade land seemed to have been extensive during the early colonial period, there was no evidence (from sources consulted in 1980) to indicate that the practice was discontinued in later years. As a result, at the end of 450 years of Portuguese rule, approximately 40% of agricultural land in the OCs came to be held by private owners. However, not all talukas were affected in the same way (13). The taluka ﬁgures disguise the way in which individual comunidades were affected. Hence while Bardez lost 15% of its comunidade land, in Amora, approximately 30% of the arable land was held by private owners, including the Church (see chapter 7). When I

139 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities examined the literature in 1980, there was very little published material on changes in territorial relationships in the NCs under the Portuguese (14).

Hence colonial rule led to a considerable reduction of the assets of the comunidades in the OCs. The ganvkars thus lost their hereditary right to ownership of part of the village lands. Furthermore, Europeans were allowed to establish themselves in the villages of the OCs where they had acquired property. In some cases, these European outsiders even managed to become new ganvkars (de Souza 1979:73), thus testifying to their power.

However, not only were non-Goans able to hold lands in the villages, but there was no restriction on the sale of private land as there was in the case of comunidade land. Hence, ownership of private lands in the village could be acquired by a number of outsiders, non-Goan as well as Goan. Thus, there was no guarantee of continuity of ownership and interest as there had been when the land belonged to the comunidade and was exclusively held by the indigenous ganvkars. Even if some of the private land was later acquired by some wealthy ganvkars, as indeed was the case in Amora, such ownership was individual rather than collective. Hence, vested interests of the individual rather than that of the collective was expressed in the way land came to be perceived and used. The number of private owners in the village ﬂuctuated not only because of the sale of land, but also because, after the introduction of the Portuguese Civil Code of 1867, the number of individuals who could become heirs to private land also increased (15).

The 1867 Code, amended a few decades later, was based on the European continental system known as the Napoleonic Code. Like the earlier Portuguese laws, it allowed women to inherit private land and other property (16). While it was directly applicable

140 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities to LCGs, its applicability to Hindu Goans does not appear to be uniform. According to Derrett, Hindus in the OCs in 1880 asked for Hindu laws, with few exceptions, to be abolished in favour of the 1867 Code (1965:213-4). When it was introduced in the NCs, it was made applicable to Hindus to the extent that its provisions did not conﬂict with the Usages and Customs Code on non-Christians of 1854, amended 1880 (Gazetteer 1979:241-3; Derrett 1965:213- 4).

In comparison to private land, comunidade land continued to be transmitted only among males. Private ownership in the villages not only represented a reduction in comunidade assets, but became a vehicle undermining the principles of collectivity, heredity, hierarchy and patriarchy. Private land in the village could be acquired by anyone who had ﬁnancial resources and political inﬂuence, and hence, the restriction of ownership, through inheritance, to an exclusive cluster of ganvkars was no longer tenable. The new landlords were either male, female, European or Goan, and in the case of the latter, could be of any religion or caste.

Private ownership was not conﬁned only to individuals, but institutions could also acquire property. The Catholic Church amassed a considerable amount of land over time, and in 1958, it owned approximately 7% of the land in Goa, such holdings being exclusively in the OCs (TES 1964:209). As in Europe, convents, monasteries, seminaries, religious orders and churches came to own property (Gomes 1862:49-52; Meersman 1971:487). In addition, the size of their holdings was augmented through endowments from propertied male and female parishoners, as Amora records reveal. As Gibbs, in her historical study of the Feudal Order in England notes, gifts of land bequeathed to the Church were common practice and. represented a gift to God

141 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities and saints, in return for perpetual prayers for the salvation of the donor’s soul (1949:39) (17).

(b) Shareholding

Outsiders did not penetrate the former exclusive comunidades only through the ownership of private land. Under Portuguese rule a further avenue, shareholding, became viable, and potentially at least it was accessible to a far greater number of outsiders than the ownership of property allowed. In the pre-colonial period, shares had also been issued, but regulations ensured that outsiders could not become shareholders (18).

However, during Portuguese rule, the situation changed considerably as there were greater demands to subsidise colonial ambition and expedition. Comunidades were often called upon to make one- off or continuous contributions to ﬁnance the Church (19). It may be argued that the Church merely replaced the temple, but given that some villages in India do not have temples (Srinivas 1952:177- 180), and the majority of those that do, have small buildings with ﬁxed hereditary staff and hence, modest maintenance, the establishment of a large, baroque church and several chapels in each village, with rotating personnel, required a considerably higher degree of maintenance.

Catholicism, a congregational religion with an extensive liturgical calendar, and a penchant for public ostentatious displays of ceremonial activities and devotion, was a far more expensive religion to maintain than Hinduism, with its emphasis on household and individual devotions, and priestly attendance at limited rituals. However, there were hardly any means of augmenting comunidade assets (20).

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There is scarce evidence to suggest (from sources consulted in 1980) that as an institution the communidades became involved in trade or entrepreneurial activities. In some cases, impoverished comunidades stopped distributing zonn. In many others, a modiﬁed system of shareholding was resorted to whereby shares were sold to anyone, including institutions that could afford to purchase them. In some cases, ganvkars and other people in the village bought shares, but many were also bought by outsiders.

Unlike zonn, which could only be temporarily alienated during the lifetime of the holder with no repercussions on his descendants, shares could be freely transferred from the 17th century onwards (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:24). Hence the number of shareholders probably ﬂuctuated over time (21). By the end of colonial rule, some comunidades paid zonn, others both zonn and shares, and some shares alone (22). Although the available data does cite the residence of shareholders, and a number lived outside Goa, it does not reveal their racial origin (23). Irrespective of the racial background of the outsiders, the issue of shares enabled a large number of outsiders to gain a foothold in the comunidade and seriously undermined its exclusiveness. The loss of land, followed by the inﬁltration of outsiders of both sexes, severely rocked the foundations of the comunidade and made a mockery of its principles of collectivity, heredity, hierarchy and patriarchy.

Through the medium of private property and shareholding, the Portuguese laid the basis for capitalist penetration into the village agrarian economy. Some of the surplus was used to maintain a susagad lifestyle, characterised by idleness, conspicuous consumption and crass indulgence by batcars (landlords). Some was invested in international trade. Undoubtedly, a proportion was repatriated by non-Goans to Portugal and other parts of Europe

143 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities where families and other interests lay, resembling, although in a limited way, the colonial mode of production which dominated British India (Alavi 1975). Some of the proﬁts earned from Church property were also remitted overseas (24). This provides yet another contrast with the rest of India where the Christian Church was geographically dispersed over a large area and hence, any withdrawal of resources was not restricted to a localised population as it was in Goa (25). State machinery could be brought to bear on recalitrant comunidades and individuals reluctant to part with scarce resources. Thus the LCGC was continuously impoverished by the ﬁnancial contributions it was called upon to make for secular and ritual purposes.

The relative freedom to manage their affairs enjoyed by the comunidades in the early part of Portuguese rule (26) was, however, considerably modiﬁed subsequently. Vested interests within the comunidade were often surreptitiously instigated by State ofﬁcials or those with State connections (Pereira 1981:90). This led to a decline in fast and effective action, particularly through exercising the power of veto. As a result of State intervention, resolution of administrative matters subsequently took place through majority rather than unanimous vote (ibid:101). Incensed by such an erosion of their customary rights, and the further curtailment of their powers through State insistence on sanctioning comunidade resolutions on expenditure, loans, land leases and such like prior to their implementation, the ganvkars began to subvert management meetings through non- attendance or disruptive behaviour during meetings (ibid:101). State attempts to discipline the ganvkars included a variety of

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ﬁnes and punishments designed to limit their usufruct rights to land (ibid:l0l).

From the 19th century onwards, there was an escalation in State intervention (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:26- 35) which generated considerable anger, anxiety, uncertainty and disorganisation in the comunidades (27). Since the traditional constitution of individual comunidades reﬂected considerable variations in the application of the basic principles, as did their composition in terms of relative proportion of ganvkars to non- ganvkars, the attempts by the State to introduce a uniform and consolidated organisational system affected the comunidades in different ways and this was reﬂected in the opposition they mounted (28).

Non-ganvkars, such as the shareholders and culacharins, had increasingly been agitating for not only a greater say in the management of comunidade affairs, but also for better opportunities to acquire land rights (29). By the turn of the 20th century, the elite position which the ganvkars traditionally enjoyed in the village was virtually eroded. Hence the relative security which many ganvkars had previously enjoyed in the means of earning their livelihood through land and other work in the village had been increasingly threatened. They had to compete for land with non-ganvkars, some of whom, through better ﬁnancial resources generated from private holdings, government employment, trade etc. were able to mount higher bids beyond the reach of those individual ganvkars who had few other sources of income. From the turn of the 20th century, further changes were initiated which modiﬁed the right of different categories of people both within and outside the village to acquiring land. Furthermore, the auctioning system was amended and renewals, rather than bidding of leases, was facilitated (30). The abolition of hereditary occupations in

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1882 (Saldanha 1952:11) meant that jobs in the village became open to anyone living in the village as well as outside.

The village council, which comprised elected ganvkars, was gradually modiﬁed from the turn of the 19th century until, in the early 20th century, it was replaced by an administrative board comprising some members appointed by the State. Fur- thermore, provincial administration was made subject to the Governor General and Administrative Tribunals (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:27-35). The above measures heralded the gradual decline in the power of the comunidade and its traditional status as a petty republic. While in the earlier part of Portuguese rule, the State cast a primarily supervisory eye over the village administration, by the last century of colonial rule, it had arrogated to itself considerable executive powers and reduced the comunidades to agricultural cooperatives, dealing only with routine clerical functions and operating as advisory bodies to the State (Pereira 1981:104-5).

However, the effect on different comunidades, and indeed various sectors of the village, was not uniform. Demographic and other factors variously affected the monopoly of the village by the ganvkars. There was undoubtedly increased competition and conflict among the ganvkars, or short lived instrumental alliances to influence ganvkari decisions. As a group perhaps they sometimes cooperated to fight attempts to undermine their hegemony by non- ganvkars who, in some villages, were in the majority or at least a large minority. However, communal interests had little chance to survive in the competitive and continuously changing environment of the villages and undoubtedly, cohesiveness and solidarity could not be sustained at its former level. The colonial legacy persisted after 1961, and various suggestions were put forward to remedy the chaotic condition the comunidades were in. Some called for its

146 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities abolition while others suggested that the comunidade land should be collectively owned by all the villagers, not just the ganvkars. Various types of State determined agrarian reform, discussed in chapter 7, eventually led to the assets of the comunidades being reduced still further than they had been during the colonial era.

(d) Food production

The continuous barrage of attacks to which the comunidades were subjected undermined not only its structural basis but also crop production. The ganvkars not only collectively owned and controlled the distribution of land, but they were also responsible for agricultural production and maintenance of the ﬁelds and wells (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:39-40). In the 19th century this responsibility increasingly came to be shared with non-ganvkars who were more concerned with their individual interests, and the competition and animosity that was generated undermined the overall effective management of crop production. Consequently, the yields of paddy, in particular, must inevitably have declined. Another factor which adversely affected crop production was the fragmentation of land, including private land (Fernandes 1924:24) which occurred without any concept of economic holding (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:18). The limited evidence available (consulted in 1980) suggests that fragmentation became more prominent from around the mid-19th century onwards. (31).

Statistical data produced by Torrie (1879), unlike later data, does provide a religious-geographical breakdown and this shows that private owners were almost exclusively Catholic, and that they lived in the OCs. This can be accounted for by the partition of land for distribution among heirs in accordance with the

147 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities

1867 inheritance law applicable to the LCGC. As land became bourgeois property, the sale of land, and hence, fragmentation was encouraged. In the NCs, however, fragmentation of land was less evident even though a far greater proportion of it, compared to the OCs, was privately owned. However, the number of owners was small, and this is probably related to the fact that the inheritance laws of 1867 were only in a limited way applicable to Hindus, and their own traditional law encouraged consolidation rather than fragmentation. The fragmentation of land into uneconomic units undoubtedly contributed to a decline in agricultural productivity which must be seen in the context of the fact that Goa, at least from the 16th century when historical evidence is available, never seems to have achieved self sufﬁciency in food production (32).

Discussing the rice problem in Goa in the 1930s, Cunha (1961:121- 7) argues that, through the import of rice, there was a great increase in State revenue through a levy of custom duties and super-tax (33). Despite the increase in State revenue, he comments that “... not a pie has been utilised for the improvement, increase and production of cultivation or even for reducing the cost of cultivation” (ibid:124-5). Until the development of mining in the late 1950s, Goa’s exports were mainly agricultural produce (coconut, cashewnut, arecanut, mangoes), salt, dried ﬁsh and wood (Gracias 1950:609) all of which witnessed a gradual decline (Gracias 1950) (34).

The inability of Goa to feed its people without resorting to imports was a problem of recurrent concern to the Goan intelligentsia, many of whom had studied, worked and travelled in Portugal, France and England and were aware of European agricultural methods. Early in the 1850’s, Gomes suggested a series of reforms to arrest the deterioration of the Goan economy (Gomes 1862:64-110) (35). Others, such as Cotta (1936) argued that rice

148 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities imports could be considerably reduced if the government helped agriculture (36). It was also argued that the education system in Goa led people to denigrate agriculture because the curriculum was not practically orientated but focussed on the sciences and liberal arts (Fernandes 1939:5). To improve the balance of payments, there were calls for revised economic relations with British India.

Many recalled the success of the 1878 Treaty with British India, the favourable provisions of which soon lapsed (Figueiredo 1936:35). It was also recommended that the State promote the development of the ﬁshing and salt industry (Fernandes 1940:36). There was considerable potential to develop agriculture, commerce and industry as none of these had reached the stage of maximum development (Fernandes 1924:25). Regrettably, the colonial government in Goa did little to follow these recommenda- tions. Nor, as noted in chapter 2, did it stimulate other industrial activity which would have helped to generate employment and revitalise the stagnant economy.

(e) Occupational structure

At the time of the arrival of the Portuguese, the majority of Goans were employed in agriculture, the others mainly as ﬁshermen, toddy tappers, artisans and village servants. However, the nature of the relations of production changed over the course of four and a half centuries both with respect to those who continued to be employed in agriculture, and those who were obliged or attracted to pursue non-agricultural occupations (37).

As mentioned earlier, the Domestic Mode of Production, using family members and reciprocal exchange of labour at peak periods, was widely practised. Those who had larger plots

149 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities used mundkars (tenants) whose services were tied to the batcars (landlords), usually by the provision of a dwelling house and other forms of patronage. With the introduction of private property from the 16th century onwards, and the establishment of horticultural gardens of palm groves and cashew trees, there was a greater demand for labour. Many of the outsiders were European, presumably Portuguese, and there was no evidence (when I examined the literature in 1980) to suggest that they themselves engaged in manual work.

It would not be unreasonable to expect that the Portuguese would want to introduce into Goa the latifundio system prevalent in Por- tugal (Cutileiro 1971; O’Neill 1982) which they also established in the colony of Brazil (Feder 1971). The day to day management of the estates was left to a mukadam, or farm manager. Since land was available through purchase or bilateral inheritance in all villages, the need for mukadams undoubtedly increased as plots were often some distance away from the batcar’s residence. The guarding and harvesting of horticultural gardens was usually in the hands of mundkars.

The employment of casual workers in Goa by the new private owners dates back to the 16th century when Religious Orders cultivated their large, consolidated plots of land by such means (de Souza 1979:73). Information is lacking on the extent of such agrarian relations until the latter half of the 19th century, and the data elicited from different records is not always comparable because different deﬁnitions are employed (38). This proviso notwithstanding, the data indicates that a large number of Goans, particularly Catholics, including many women, worked as casual labourers and servants (39). This demonstrates the proletariatisation of labour which was disproportionately higher in the LCGC.

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Earlier, we saw that village servants and artisans were paid entirely or partially by the comunidades. However, in 1882, the State abolished all hereditary service (Saldanha 1952:11). As mentioned before, those who provided such services were paid, in both cash and kind, a ﬁxed annual rate, rather than for the speciﬁc services rendered. This guaranteed them a steady supply of food and a cash income. While on the one hand, many may have been glad to shrug off the reins of feudal bondage, nevertheless, with the termination of the collective responsibility which the comunidade had for them, they were compelled to sell their labour power in a stagnating and precarious economy (40).

The comunidades had various social welfare policies designed to protect and support widows, orphans and others who had been rendered destitute and incapacitated by circumstances (de Souza 1979:101-3). However, the decline in the collective ethos, cohesiveness and solidarity of the village must partially account for the high number of beggars in the 19th century (41).

Some traditional occupations gained in prominence under the Por- tuguese and new ones were also introduced as can be determined from data available for the 19th century. The essential village craftsmen traditionally did not include a weaver or tailor, as cotton was not universally grown and the demand for clothing was low because of the climate and style of dress (Kosambi 1975:337). However, the gradual widespread use of western dress by both Catholic women and men, from around the 16th century, increased the demands for tailoring and dress-making services (42).

Embroidery and crochet work, popular in Portugal, was not the speciality of tailors but of new artisans, bordadores, who in 1878 numbered 63, all Catholics. To complete the western dress, particularly for elite women, hats were required and the new occupation of milliner arose (43). There is no sex or religious

151 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities breakdown in the data for milliners but since they lived in the OCs they were likely to have been Catholics. Shoemakers had to extend their skills to make not only the chappal (sandal) but also western style shoes, with heels, laces and other elaborations (44). The introduction of western style entertainment with its round of private parties, day time dances and evening balls, increased the prominence of butchers, cooks, bakers and musicians (45). White collar and professional occupations were also introduced. The establishment of the Catholic Church led to the withdrawal of a number of men and women from productive work in the agrarian economy to follow an ecclesiastical career (46).

The data strongly suggests that it was the lifestyle of the LCGC that was most affected during colonial rule and this was reﬂected in the occupational diversiﬁcation which characterised them. A number of local CGs lost the relative security and occupational autonomy of working for the comunidades and became servants and labourers at the beck and call of the new bourgeoisie, whose status among peers and subordinates was partially expressed by the retinue of servants they employed, a legacy that was apparent during ethnographic research in 1980.

Some of the impoverished masses were forced into beggary, the recipients of scorn and intermittent paternalism (47). Some occupations were obviously lucrative, like ecclesiastical vocations, medicine, law, military and civil service. The beneﬁciaries, however, were primarily the indigenous elite of the upper castes. A similar mentality regarding work prevailed among elite LCGs as among the indigenous elite of Spanish Latin America. Beals notes that the Church, army, government bureaucracy and law were respectable outlets for sons not managing the land while work with hands was not only disparaged but virtually forbidden (Beals 1953:327).

152 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities

Under Portuguese colonialism, the agrarian economy was severely disrupted, the autonomy of the comunidades eroded, the inﬁltra- tion of outsiders and development of vested interests encouraged, crop production declined, land became increasingly fragmented into uneconomic units, job security was threatened and although some new lucrative occupations arose, these were primarily accessible to the upper castes.

These multiple factors, either singly or cumulatively, depending on individual circumstances, encouraged LCGs to look beyond Goa for employment opportunities. Such an orientation was facilitated in the 19th century, and thereafter, by the emergence of a large number of jobs, fostered particularly by the development of British colonialism, to which I shall now turn.

3: European Colonialism and the Development of Employment Opportunities Outside Goa

The impetus to European expansion overseas derived from the discovery, at the end of the 15th century, of the sea route by the Portuguese via Africa to India and, thence, to the East (48). Such expansionism was initially in the hands of chartered companies (49), but this subsequently changed as foreign governments took control. Africa was formally partitioned among the European powers during the late 19th century (Oliver 1962, 1963). Portugal acquired the territories of Mozambique and Angola, while Britain got a comparatively larger slice of Africa including Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania, which together with Portuguese East Africa, are the areas of interest in this book. The British Crown took over India in 1858, (Grifﬁth 1952; Spears 1978) and it was also responsible for

153 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities other areas, such as Aden and Burma (50). It retained a strong interest in the Middle East, particularly after the discovery of extensive oil deposits (51). As a result of the increased British presence in India, Bombay developed very rapidly (David 1973) and it became one of the foremost metropolitan cities in the vicinity of Goa.

The introduction of foreign government rule in India and Africa provided a catalyst to economic changes in these continents. The development of industrial capitalism necessitated the acquisition of raw materials for industrial concerns in Europe and the development of assured overseas markets for the finished goods. The influence of the British on agricultural innovation and productivity was comparatively less than their development of railways, public works and telegraphs (Griffiths 1952). The security of government rule, improved rail and road communication provisions, expansion of shipping, extension of cable and wireless facilities, and access to raw materials and labour, had a multiplier effect, so that not only did the public sector develop but the private sector began to flourish too, with a concomitant demand for personnel of all types.

Another manifestation of European expansion was in the development of international shipping (Grifﬁths 1979). Until the 19th century, the predominant mode of transport was through sailing ships which were limited both by size and climatic conditions so that voyages tended to be of variable duration and generally unpleasant, with the result that few undertook travel to distant lands, apart from enterprising merchants, administrative and ecclesiastical personnel. However, the advent of steam ships and the replacement of wood with iron, and later steel frameworks, greatly reduced the former drawbacks of sea travel. Larger and faster ships were built, and with the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869, journey times to the East were drastically reduced (52).

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The growing demand for shipping services and the replacement of individual capitalism in Europe by corporate ﬁnance and management methods led to the considerable extension of shipping. The opportunities for trade and transhipment were seized by European nations but most notably by the British (53). Two of the major British shipping lines which included India in their routes, and indeed in due course virtually monopolised shipping to the East, were the P & O (Peninsula & Oriental) and B.I. (British India) shipping lines. They initially started out as separate companies but later amalgamated in 1914 and expanded considerably (Blake 1956:172-5; Cable 1937:202-7) (54). There was a consequent increase in employment opportunities, not only on the ships but also in the ports, docks, warehouses, custom and excise centres, shipping ofﬁces, associated rest houses and eating places. The growth of international shipping led to the large scale development in India of the ports of Bombay, Madras, Calcutta and Karachi.

The type of personnel required in Africa, the Middle East and India, and on the ships was broadly of three types: senior and supervisory, middle ranking, and junior and unskilled. The supply of European, indigenous or other personnel depended on the skills and attributes possessed and degree of mobility. India had no large European settlement distinct from the colonial administration and the majority of Europeans in India and Africa were either professionally qualiﬁed or senior managerial and administrative staff. A parallel phenomenon developed on the ships in due course. Although during the early period of the steam ship era, ships were almost predominantly manned by national personnel from the countries where ownership of the ships was located, in due course, as such personnel became less attracted to working on the ships, seamen of various nationalities were

155 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities increasingly recruited as global travel developed. Furthermore, it became easier to recruit staff from non-European countries as the wages offered represented a higher level of income to them than it did to national shipping staff. Hence, senior shipping crew tended to be entirely European, although a few were found at the lower levels (Fayle 1933:288-9).

The level of income and the conditions of work were one of the major factors that influenced the supply of European personnel to the African and Asian colonies. However, on the other side of the coin, the colonial governments, allied services and private concerns were also aware that non-European staff could be acquired and trained to the necessary level of competence and, furthermore, be paid much lower salaries than would be needed to attract European staff. Hence, this came to be the policy that was adopted in the filling of middle and junior job vacancies. In Portuguese India and British India, a special cadre of office workers with European language literacy was trained at schools run under the aegis of the government and Christian missions. The success of this policy in India can be gauged from the fact that when European colonial expansion escalated in Africa, in the absence of indigenous people familiar with western concepts of administration, Indians were avidly recruited to fill newly developed vacancies (Motani 1972:40). As a result, all over British and Portuguese East Africa, Indians of various regional origins manned offices, while Europeans occupied senior jobs and Africans provided junior and unskilled labour (Mangat 1969). However, it was not only office staff, policemen, artisans, traders etc. who came from India to Africa, but initially also unskilled labourers, many recruited during the building of the railway.

Since Europeans on the ships, in South Asia, Africa and the Middle East comprised a selection rather than a cross-section of

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European society, a demand was created for non-Europeans who could cater for European tastes in food, drink, music and dress. Tailors were required who could sew western style clothes; cooks, butlers and waiters who were not inhibited from preparing and serving an assortment of meats, alcohol and other items which comprised the European diet; domestic servants who could look after the employer and his family, and musicians who could play western style music not only in Church but also as an accompaniment to the silent movies, and to provide entertainment on the ships and in dance halls. In other countries, such as the Middle East, in addition to the above staff, people with professional and technical expertise were required, as well as unskilled and semi- skilled labourers. Hence, European colonialism provided a range of employment opportunities which enterprising non-Europeans, with appropriate skills and attributes, could capitalise on.

Conclusion

This chapter has mainly examined the political economy of Goa under Portuguese rule. It has indicated the nature of the agrarian mode of production that existed at the time of the arrival of the Portuguese in the early 16th century. I have shown how the comunidade system based on the communal ownership of property and utilitarianism was severely assaulted by various Portuguese policies. Over the course of four centuries this led to the alienation of village land, the incorporation of many outsiders with capitalist interests, State intervention and the decline of village autonomy. Furthermore, the introduction of new personal laws in the second half of the 19th century led to considerable fragmentation of private property. The attack on the agrarian system contributed to the decline in crop production, generated

157 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities uncertainty and anxiety among cultivators, and facilitated the proletariatisation of labour. The high taxation system, the import of foreign food and luxury goods, the large scale employment of civil servants, clergy, military and police, severely drained Goan resources. The impact was more acutely felt by the inhabitants of the OCs and hence, by the LCGC.

Deprived of the means of earning a reasonable livelihood from land, and unable to obtain alternative employment in Goa because of the lack of agricultural and industrial development, the LCGC increasingly turned to job opportunities arising outside Goa. In Section 3 of this chapter I have brieﬂy indicated how the rise of European, particularly British colonialism, initially in India and particularly in the vicinity of Goa, and later in Africa and the Middle East, generated a diversity of work opportunities. Not only was there a demand for plantation workers and labour to build roads and railways, but also for service and white collar workers. Concurrently international shipping also developed with a corresponding demand for deck staff. In the next chapter, I look at how LCGs went about capitalising on such opportunities.

Chapter 4: Notes

1. The basis for election varied with the comunidade; in some, each vangad elected one or more representatives, while in others, only certain vangads were eligible and, in still others, a system of rotation among vangads was practised (Pereira 1981:100). Some exceptions to the hegemony of the ganvkars was found in a few comunidades where non-ganvkars, particularly culacharins, were allowed to participate in comunidade management (de Souza 1979:62; Pereira 1981:39).

2. The village clerk called escrivão fatiosim kept minutes of the meetings, including a record of voting behaviour. Another office bearer, called escrivão corrente, functioned as a clerk-accountant and maintained the register of village lands (de Souza 1979:70). The former office was hereditary, and in Amora, as in many other comunidades, male descendants of the escrivão were entitled to a full zonn, like the ganvkars. The hereditary nature of the office ensured that over

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successive generations there was always someone who possessed the cumulative and intimate knowledge of the comunidade. The ofﬁce of escrivão corrente was not hereditary, and this clerk could be an outsider to the village.

3. The General Assembly consisted of the representative ganvkars of certain villages. For instance, there were 8 chief villages in Bardez (Amora was not one), 8 in Ilhas and 12 in Salcete, each of which was entitled to send one or two representatives to the General Assembly. Hence, the majority of villages, including Amora, did not have their own representation. As noted in chapter 2, overall in the OCs, ganvkars were of Brahmin or Chardo caste, and that of the two, the latter was dominant in a greater number of comunidades. However, this dominance was not manifested at the provincial level as the General Assembly was controlled by the Brahmin minority. Hence 59% of the chief villages represented at the General Assembly in the OCs were Brahmin (de Souza 1979:58). The predominance of the Brahmin minority is attributed by de Souza to their superior education and skill in handling rulers (ibid :57).

4. Village land was classiﬁed in terms of its usage (house building, grazing, crop cultivation, etc.) and the purposes for which the income from it was allocated. A proportion of land, particularly the elevated areas, was used for residential purposes, roads, pasture etc. and depending on its quality, sometimes for horticultural and other cultivation (de Souza 1979:74-5).

5. For instance, Xavier (1852) tells us that Amora had 336 lotes, while Almeida writing 100 years later (1967:135), puts the ﬁgure at 358. Almeida also noted that 182 lotes each had an area of 2000-3000 sq m. and 96 lotes covered an area of 1000-2000 sq m. The land was leased to 300-400 tenants. For instance, in 1980, according to my ethnographic research notes, land was leased to 353 tenants, while in 1963 to 372 tenants (Almeida 1967:135) and in 1958-62 to 395 tenants (Menezes: private communication). Hence, both the number of lotes and leaseholders ﬂuctuated over time.

6. There is no indication in the historical literature consulted in 1980 that women were eligible, in their own right, to acquire land for residential purposes. Neither is the age at which males could obtain such land evident. Oral history suggests that it occurred shortly before or after marriage when a man, with resources to build at least a small house, might opt to establish a separate residence.

7. Some lotes, particularly that of the khazan land near the river, were always large and often leased for a period of 9 years (Kosambi 1975:332). The successful bidder would then distribute the land among cultivators who formed a hereditary association called bhaus, the President and his assistants being charged with the duty of ensuring that the clay levees and sluice gates were properly maintained to prevent inundation of the ﬁelds (de Souza 1979:76). Land reclamation provided the main means for augmenting holdings, and those that tried to deprive the comunidade of the increased rent payable were subjected to various punitive measures which were also designed to discourage usurpation of land (ibid :76-7).

8. A charter of land rights and customary practice was produced in 1526 and it noted that bidding was to be among the residents of the village, unless there were special customs which allowed non-residents to bid (Baden-Powell 1900:269).

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Baden-Powell noted that for many years it was the custom to conﬁne bidding to ganvkars but he does not indicate the period for which this custom prevailed (ibid :269). There is no indication that women were allowed to acquire land in their own right.

9. Harper (1959) in a study of a village located in the western Ghats, on the west coast of India, (that is, fairly near to Goa) notes the existence of a different system of economic relations, which he calls the Malnad system. It differs considerably from the jajmani one, but like it, has been a traditional, long-standing form of economic organisation in most of the Southern Indian Malnad area (1959:774). Unlike the jajmani system which is based on a subsistence crop, the Malnad one is premised on cash cropping, and is characterised by easily established and broken economic ties between individuals, vigorous bargaining, payment in cash and absence of protection from caste panchayats (ibid :774).

10. There has been considerable discussion by Marxists as to whether the Asiatic Mode of Production (AMP) existed in reality in India. Gough, contrary to the views of many Marxists, argues that there was an AMP in the Hindu kingdoms of Southern India prior to conquest by the Moghuls and/or the British (1980:337).

11. In some villages, the Portuguese went even further and, for instance, all the lands belonging to three comunidades (Assolna, Velim and Cunculi) in Salcete as well as some lands in other villages were conﬁscated and passed as gifts to Portuguese ﬁdalgoes (son of a noble), Religious Orders and certain native and foreign individuals (de Souza 1979:72).

12. Government lands were leased to private parties under two systems (a) concessaro provisoria: under which 6 hectares of land are given out for 10 years to any local villager who intended to bring the area under cultivation. The lessee could convert this lease into an Aforamente and (b) Aforamente under all practical purposes, the rights in the land held under this system were permanent (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:19).

13. Ilhas (now Tiswadi) lost over half of its agricultural lands, Salcete (including Murmogao) a little over a third, while Bardez was the least affected, losing about 14% of its land (Report of the Portuguese Agricultural Commission 1958, cited in TES 1964:209).

14. Rich sources of material on comunidades in the NCs are awaiting study (Kulkarni 1979). The available literature examined around 1980 indicates that only 20% of the agrarian land is held by the comunidade, the rest being held by private owners (49%), and the government (27%) (Portuguese Agricultural Commission 1958:209). Many comunidades became extinct. Although some non- Goans had acquired land in the NCs, the major land owners were the indigenous Dessais (Azavedo 1890:138). We do not know in what state the comunidades were at the time of annexation by the Portuguese. Evidence from neighbouring regions which were under different sovereigns, including the Marathas and British, suggest that the village communities had disintegrated substantially by the mid- 18th century (Bhatia 1965). Other sources suggest that the NCs areas were held under proprietary rights, the land tenure system that existed under the

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Marathas, but as the Portuguese were impressed by the comunidades of the OCs, they encouraged its formation in the NCs, a policy that was later reversed (TES 1964:35).

15. Limited information was available in 1980 on property laws in Goa. According to Derrett, converts, both male and female came under Portuguese law in its entirety, and documents he cites for the 16th century indicate that they could inherit from parents and grandparents (1965:209). Some CG families had been conferred with the prestigious title Morgad by the Portuguese, and like feudal lords in Europe, had a Coat of Arms, usually displayed on the facade of their palatial houses. Part of the property of morgads was subject to the law of primogeniture, and, indeed, in such families, it was common only for the eldest son to marry. The rest remained unmarried or joined the priesthood. The morgad system was abolished towards the end of the 19th century, but the title Morgad and the family emblem, can still be seen on some houses in Goa today. A comparison of the provisions of the 16th and 19th century laws is not possible but my impression is that while, for instance, women had some property rights in the 16th century, in the 19th these rights were made equal to that of men. Similarly, the eradication of primogeniture implies equality among siblings and hence an increase in the number eligible to inherit.

16. About a decade after the 1867 laws of inheritance were introduced, an estimate derived from available statistics reveals that 48% of Catholic private owners in the OCs were women (Torrie 1879:73). Unfortunately, there is no indication of the size of holdings by sex, and therefore we cannot tell whether the equivalence with respect to ownership was manifested in size of holdings. Subsequent ofﬁcial statistics, such as government censuses, unfortunately, do not distinguish between the sex and religion of the owners, and therefore, the position of women with respect to such ownership over time cannot be ascertained.

17. In order to highlight the changes that occurred in Goa under the Portuguese, it would be useful to contrast it with the changes that occurred in Thanjavur district in Southern India under the British, on which there is some detailed historical information. The British East India Company came to power in Thanjavur from 1771 and by the turn of the 19th century, communal land which was regarded as a possession, had been converted into bourgeois land, subject to free sale in the market (Gough 1980:352). Bourgeois land ownership had, by comparison, been introduced into Goa over two centuries previously. In Thanjavur, the tenure system was disrupted by the turn of the 19th century, so that 38% of villages came under a ‘divided share’ system where the land was held under a coterie of merchants, non- cultivating owners, etc.; 31% by single owners and the remaining 31% continued to be held communally (Gough 1980:352). In Goa, however, the disruption was experienced in every village of the OCs, and apart from about 5 villages which saw a complete change of landlord, the communal ownership system and the private ownership system co-existed. It is probable that the private owners in Goan villages, keen to accumulate capital locally, made various attempts to appropriate comunidade land, even on a lease basis, and were probably partially responsible for inﬂating rents during auctions beyond the means of ordinary villagers. Unlike

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in Thanjavur, where by the mid-19th century, ﬁelds in most villages were parcelled out permanently among owners and many had been sold to outsiders of different castes (Gough 1980:353), in Goa, comunidade ownership continued to exist until the end of Portuguese rule in 1961. Perhaps future historical research will reveal that this ownership operated more in theory than practice, and there is some evidence to indicate that the rotation of usufruct rights, which reﬂected the principle of collective ownership (de Souza 1979:63) gradually became less frequent. Finally, in contrast to Thanjavur, where Hinduism prevailed, Catholicism ensured that the church and chapels in every village of the OCs had appropriated a certain amount of land.

18. Shortly before Portuguese rule, some comunidades had been forced to raise money by the issue of shares (tangas) in order to meet the expenses incurred during the wars between the reigning Kadamba rulers and Muslim invaders. The issue of these shares, however, was restricted to the village ganvkars who had leased lands, and those individuals who had previously settled in the villages. The shareholders had the right to participate in the income of the comunidades but not to intervene in its administration. Furthermore, these shares could not be transferred (Report of the Lands Reforms Commission 1964:24).

19. For instance, during the first half of the 19th century, comunidades made extra-ordinary donations in favour of the Church (Xavier 1852:62-7) as well as paying the usual fixed contributions (ibid :64). As in Christian Europe, dizinios, a tithe payable to a Central Church fund, was also imposed in Goa (Azevedo 1890:120; Cunha 1939:22). Unlike their Hindu counterparts, both in Goa and elsewhere in India, CGs were compelled to draw on their own resources, meagre in the case of the majority, to maintain their new religion. The Church required substantial financial support not only to meet the high salaries of its personnel, who considerably outnumber those necessary for the practice of Hinduism, but also to meet the expenses of numerous rituals. For instance, a variety of ecclesiastical vestments were required for different services. The mandatory recital of the daily Mass in each village church and the provision of a series of Masses on Sundays to enable parishoners to meet their religious obligations, necessitated substantial recurrent expenditure on the communion host and wine, candles, incense, stipends for priests etc. It was the comunidade, partly financed by its members, that had to support the practice of Catholicism.

20. The comunidade always wished to retain its autonomy and rights to administer its affairs personally, but if it owed money to the State, then this right was lost until the debts were redeemed. In the interim, the comunidade, now called comunidade commissoes, were administered by the State. Only a few comunidades seemed to have got into this position, and this indicates attempts by the majority to maintain an adequate income.

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21. From the evidence examined in 1980, it does not appear that shares could only be purchased in certain minimum quantities, so potentially the number of shareholders was as large as the number of shares available. Hence, the number of outsiders that could acquire an interest in the village was potentially very large. There is no indication from the literature examined in 1980 that the shares could only be obtained by males, and hence, it is possible that females also acquired shares.

22. Some idea of the position comunidades reached by the end of Portuguese rule can be derived from available published data. This indicates that of the comunidades in the OCs, only 15% distributed proﬁts solely to zoncars, and one of these is Amora; in 40% of the comunidades, both zoncars and shareholders were recipients, while in 45% zoncars receive nothing, but proﬁts are distributed to shareholders (derived from Codigo das Comunidades 1961:225- 244). Data available on the number of shareholders in 1962 reveals that it was the comunidades of the OCs and Ponda (a taluka of the NCs) which had shareholders. There were 15,191 shareholders of which 11% were in Ilhas, 52% in Salcete (including Murmogao); 27% in Bardez and 10% in Ponda. Shareholders represented 29% of the combined category of ganvkars and shareholders in the comunidades of the OCs (Report of the Lands Reforms Commission 1964:Table 10). The data, unfortunately, does not distinguish in terms of sex and hence, we do not know how many women held shares.

23. By the end of colonial rule, few shareholders would have been Portuguese as presumably they would have sold their assets in anticipation of leaving Goa. However, we would have expected that over the colonial period of 450 years, a number of outsiders were likely to have been European because of the better ﬁnancial position they enjoyed in comparison to the masses of Goans would have facilitated the purchase of shares.

24. For instance, the Jesuits used the income from their estates in Goa to ﬁnance their missions in Mozambique, Cochin and Japan (de Souza 1979:73).

25. The Christian Church became more widely established in India from the 19th century onwards and hence, it was only from this time that income could have been moved, via the Church, from India to overseas. Goa, however, was losing funds via the Catholic Church from as early as the 16th century. Furthermore, while the Christian Church was dispersed across India and had a large base from which it could extract surplus, in Goa the Catholic Church was concentrated in the small region of the OCs, and hence the impact of ﬁnancial loss was more pervasive and acute.

26. The concern of the Portuguese government to extract taxes and other revenue from the villages, and to exercise a certain degree of judicial and administrative control, was entrusted in the 16th and 17th centuries primarily to provincial military captains who were assisted by a small staff (de Souza 1979:69-70).

27. An examination of the collection of the various State legislation from the late 18th century to 1870s (Xavier 1878) reveals that they were in response to appeals from individuals in comunidades to the State for help in the acquisition of

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land rights. There were complaints about the corruption of comunidade officers in the assessment of lands and the fixing of reserve prices, about the fraudulent conduct of auctions, of extensive conspiracy, of the non-acceptance of guarantors on flimsy grounds, the usurping of land, and a host of other allegations which suggest considerable discontent in the villages. Other State legislation dictated to comunidades the standard bureaucratic measures they had to adopt, such as identifying in which books budgets were to be noted, where minutes of meetings were to be written, the quality of paper to be used and how correspondence was to be handled. The salaries of the comunidade accountant and clerks were determined and varied by the State, sometimes without consulting the comunidades. The introduction of these petty bureaucratic measures must have considerably incensed the ganvkari who greatly prized their autonomy.

28. Various people participated in the debate, and there were a spate of books, articles and reports (Quadros 1932), some arguing for the maintenance of the traditional privileges enjoyed by the ganvkars, others for changes commensurate with the liberal principles inherent in Constitutional Law which was introduced into Goa in early 19th century (Pereira 1981:93).

29. Although in the 18th century cuntocares (shareholders) were allowed to bid for land, this was done through the agency of the ganvkars (Report of the Lands Reforms Commission 1964:26). In 1904, however, cuntocares and culacharins were given equal opportunities as the ganvkars to lease land (Almeida 1967:43) Although there is no data available, it is likely that the category of calvecars, which existed in some villages like Amora, were given the same rights as the culacharins.

30. The legislation seems increasingly to have been in the direction of removing village hierarchy and privilege with respect to administration and land acquisition as enshrined in the constitution of the individual comunidades. In view of the malpractices that the auctioning system inherently permitted, various measures, some short term, were introduced in an attempt to curtail its scope (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:21-35). For instance, to prevent the acquisition of large land holdings through investors producing higher bids and subsequently leasing the land to third parties (a procedure called aleas), in 1938 the State prohibited subletting and lessees had to cultivate the land directly. Later, there were further attempts to restrict land holdings and the legislation of 1948 imposed a ceiling, which also took account of private ownership and private tenancy. In order to ensure some degree of security of tenure, the legislation of 1938 provided for the mere renewal of the lease after the statutory 3 year period by an applicant who had last cultivated the land directly and offered to pay rent equivalent to the notiﬁed rent. If the previous cultivator did not or could not exercise such an option, then the land was auctioned and went to the highest bidder. For a period of time the auctioning system seemed to have been suspended or at least the renewal system predominated.

However, in 1949, the auctioning system was reintroduced but the leases were now for 6 year periods rather than the previous 3 year periods. The auctioning

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of usufruct rights now occurred in stages which were designed to give bidding priority to those who had leased the land previously. Not withstanding this, however, the range of people who became eligible to compete in the auctions was considerably widened as anyone could bid in the auctions if they had been living for two years in the parish which was not always co-terminus with the village, but usually embraced a number of villages. Not only did this legislation not respect distinctions between villagers with ancestral links and new residents, but furthermore, by making the parish the territorial basis, it widened the geographical arena from which bidders could be drawn. Of course, in certain villages like Amora where village boundaries coincided with parish boundaries, the geographical factor was less significant. Any land which had not been disposed off in the first stage was re-auctioned, successive re-auctions extending the geographical boundaries. The order of priority bids was frequently being changed as evidenced by legislation in 1955 and 1961. There were also other legislation concerned with the assessment of rent and whether payment should be in cash or kind. Non-ganvkars were also given in mid-19th century the opportunity to participate in comunidade administration and influence resolutions (Report of the Land Reforms Commission 1964:26).

31. Since, as a rule, the comunidades did not sell land, and the government favoured long term lease rather than sale of its land, the relative proportion of private to corporate land tended to remain fairly constant. However, there was a large ﬂuctuation in private owners. In 1878, there were 4,355 owners (lavradores) (Torrie 1879:40) but in 1900 this rose to 49,896 (proprietarios) (Census 1900), the ﬁgure dropping 20 years later to 23,820 (Census 1920). In 1878, 404 lavradores of horticultural trees were recorded (Torrie 1879:40) and 5,124 in 1900 (Census 1900).

The data, however, should only be seen to provide a general picture rather than an absolute one. There are a number of reasons for this. A full and complete population census was only beginning to be undertaken towards the end of the 19th century (Census 1910:xxx). Earlier statistical figures were often partial accounts and hence, incomplete. Furthermore, the problem of comparisons is compounded by the fact that different conceptual definitions are used for different records and often it is difficult to ascertain precisely what the terms refer to at that period of time. Needless to say, the terms used are in Portuguese and there may not have always been a one-to-one correspondence with Konkani terms. Another problem was the fact that, according to Gracias (1950:598), cultivators preferred to describe themselves to Census officials by the more prestigious one of proprietario (owner), thus probably inflating the numbers in this category.

32. The importation of rice into Goa has been a long standing element of its economy, but the degree of reliance on imports ﬂuctuated over the years. The importation of rice in the 16th and 17th centuries has been noted by Pearson (1981:107), Disney (1978), Boxer (1980:45) and for the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries by Gracias (1950:600). The pattern of rice imports from the 18th century was as follows: 1757: 162.145 fardos; 1779: 146.246; 1780: 138.036; 1824: 24.327; 1846: 47.197 (of this, 42.510 fardos were exported to Lisbon); 1912: 172.740 candis) (Gracias 1950:600-604; Almeida 1967:224). (1 candis = 489 lbs wt. and 1 fardo = to 209.84 kilograms). Gracias calculated that the amount of rice required for domestic consumption in Goa around 1844 was 894.752 candis

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taking into account that the locally produced millets and imported wheat was used to supplement a predominantly rice diet. He points out that since the Marques de Pombal provided an impetus to the development of agriculture through legislation dated 21 April 1771 (ibid :599) local production improved a great deal. While in the 18th century, local production was sufﬁcient for only 4 months per year of consumption (ibid :600), by the mid-19th century, production had increased to provide for 9 months of consumption (ibid :604). As a result of this impetus, the necessity to import rice declined progressively, and by the 1850s, it had been reduced to about 4% of the earlier level of imports (ibid : 600). However, the increase in local production thereafter did not keep abreast with population increase and the data available suggests that by the end of the 19th century, the import of rice once again increased progressively (ibid : 604). While there was some re-export trade in rice, approximately 95% of the imports were consumed in Goa (Cotta 1936:37).

33. The latter was introduced, according to Cunha (1961), ostensibly to protect local rice production, but besides increasing State coffers, it raised the cost of rice cultivation in Goa. Furthermore, Cunha pointed out that the high price of imported rice was of little beneﬁt to the local cultivator as rice in Goa was cultivated in small and fragmentary plots whose yield was barely sufﬁcient for domestic consumption, and therefore produced little surplus for sale.

34. One of the important agricultural products of Goa was the produce from coconut trees (coconuts, copra, coir, etc.) and the country at one time used to produce sufﬁcient for domestic consumption as well as for export (Gracias 1950:605). However, statistics that Gracias provides for the ﬁrst half of the 20th century indicate that there had been a gradual decline in the level of production and export of this crop (Gracias 1950:606). The former level of demand from the neighbouring British Indian territory began to decline because of the local establishment of new and large coconut plantations. Measures in Goa led to the reduction in the production of coconut and other horticultural crops because the existence of prohibitive duties and freight charges affected products reaching the Indian market (Cunha 1939:34; Figueiredo 1936:215-216). Furthermore in Goa, the increased cost of coconut production, combined with the high price of the sale of rice, motivated some owners to substitute paddy for coconut cultivation (Gracias ibid :606). Furthermore, the devaluation of coconut and arecanut led to the neglect of palm and areca groves (Figueiredo ibid :215).

35. Gomes (1862:63) advocated that more private land should become available by the removal of disentailment (i.e. pre-emption) that the morgad system and various institutions such as churches, temples and charities enjoyed. The removal of disentail in small institutions would increase the amount of purchasable land.

Private ownership, it was felt, would enhance agricultural production because owners would have more incentive to cultivate their lands. Gomes also advocated improvements in whatever minimal agricultural credit was available in Goa, and suggested that Catholic individuals and institutions who had money to lend should

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ignore religious beliefs which regarded it as usurious to lend money at interest.

In this way, he argued, capital would become productive, and there would be less incentive to squander it on banquets and feasts, or diverting it out of Goa through investment in foreign industries (ibid :63). He also suggested that the auctioning of comunidade lands should not be on an annual or triennial basis, but every 6-9 years in order to reduce the opportunities for conspiracies and malpractices (ibid :88-9).

36. Cotta recommended that Goa’s waterways and springs be developed to provide irrigation facilities for the non-monsoon cultivation of paddy (1936:50) and higher yielding varieties of seeds and improved fertiliser should be used (ibid :47). It was estimated that approximately 95,000 hectares of fallow land in Goa could be brought under paddy cultivation.

37. Data on the occupational structure is difﬁcult to obtain and I have only been able to consult Kol (1850) and Torrie (1879). The ﬁrst census was undertaken in 1881 followed by one in 1887. However, when looking for these materials in the 1980s, I was not able to locate copies in Lisbon or London. They probably exist in Goa but unfortunately I did not consult them during research in 1980.

38. For instance, in the statistics of 1877, 1878 and 1921, the category journaleiro is used for those who are engaged in day labour in the agrarian economy and they are distinguished from trabaldores who are general labourers. However, in the census of 1900, this distinction is not maintained and all labourers, irrespective of the nature of the work they are engaged in, are classiﬁed as trabaldores. In the census of 1931, completely different occupational categories are used in an attempt to comply with the occupational categorisation used elsewhere in India. While it is difﬁcult to be certain, the category of farmers included owner cultivators, while the category of ‘owner’ seemed to refer to those who owned land but were not personally engaged in its cultivation. Furthermore, since Goa has both corporate and private ownership, it appears that the word ‘owner’ was restricted to those who owned land privately.

39. In the 1870s, there were 67,462 journaleiros or day workers and servants (Torrie 1879:72). These ﬁgures also give a religious and sex breakdown which reveals that 88% were Catholic, the majority living in the OCs. Furthermore, there were slightly more Catholic female than Catholic men working as casual labourers, whereas among the Hindus, the situation is reversed with 66% of the workers being men (Torrie 1879:72). The majority of journaleiros were probably agricultural labourers, the rest being employed in the city and town on portering and other tasks. In 1850, there were 14,046 servants, 46% of which were females (Kol 1850:329). While there is no religious breakdown for the 1850 data, that for the 1878 ﬁgures reveals that of the 9,184 servants, 61% were Catholics (Torrie 1879:247). Of the Catholic servants, 40% were female, compared to only 5% in the case of Hindus.

40. The termination of hereditary services also occurred in Thanjavur at the turn of the 19th century and the former village servants were subsequently at the mercy of private landlords who could evict them if displeased with their services (Gough 1980:352).

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41. In 1850, there were 4,068 beggars, with slightly more than half in the OCs (Kol 1850:329). In 1878, the number was 1,109, 80% of which were Catholic, with women accounting for slightly over half (Torrie 1879:249).

42. In 1878, tailors numbered 1,484 (Torrie 1879:245), dressmakers were separately categorised and amounted to 2,413 (ibid :246), the former being all men, the latter women. Catholics accounted for 97% of these artisans (ibid :245-6).

43. The ﬁgures available for 1850 cite 30 hatters (Kol 1850:332).

44. In 1878 there were 203 Catholic shoemakers, a quarter of which were women (Torrie 1879:245).

45. In 1878, there were 3,521 cooks, with equal numbers of male and female, mostly Catholic (Torrie 1879:246) and 543 musicians, all Catholic male (ibid :249). The increased alcohol consumption among the CGs was reﬂected in the high number of tavern keepers (352), mainly Catholic (ibid :251).

46. Unfortunately however, there was no data available when I examined sources in 1980 on the number of nuns and female novices. For males, Kol’s data for 1850 reveals that there were 610 priests, 62 Deacons and sub-deacons and 595 student seminarians, making a total of 1,268 clergy (Kol 1850:330). In 1878, there were 432 clerics (Torrie 1879:246). Doctors practising western medicine, who were all Catholics, numbered 129 in 1878 (Torrie 1879:249) and shop bought medicines were obtainable from 82 pharmacists, all Catholic (ibid :250). There were 194 advocates, all except one being Catholic (ibid :245) and 969 civil servants, 95% of which were Catholic (ibid :247). The military comprised 1,110 men, 80% of whom were Catholics (ibid :249).

47. For instance, when a member of a well off family died, a special dinner, called bikare jaun, (food for beggars) was held, a ritual which it was believed would speed the journey of the deceased’s soul from Purgatory to Heaven.

48. The Portuguese initially established trading forts at strategic points along the coast of Africa, Middle East, South Asia and South East Asia (Danvers 1894; Whiteway 1899). However, their monopoly of trading rights to these areas was seriously challenged and they progressively lost their world wide coastal trading outposts as they fell to other Europeans, as well as the Arabs (Boxer 1966).

49. In general, European expansion overseas was initially primarily in the hands of chartered companies, operating under charters provided by their respective governments. In the case of the Portuguese, however, the Lisbon government was directly involved from the beginning. In some places, for example, in Mozambique, such a policy could not be adequately effected and it was compelled to rely on chartered companies (Fieldhouse 1966; Grifﬁths 177 1952; Hendriksen 1978). Through the chartered companies, the respective European governments exercised various degrees of control but in due course they were either phased out or became subservient to the government which began to rule the colonies themselves rather than through the agency of the companies. Thus, for instance, the English East India Company which commenced its activities in India around 1740 enjoyed a considerable degree of autonomy which was gradually eroded with the increase in the British government’s control of its political affairs. Many early British traders in the Middle East belonged to the Levant Company which was

168 Economic deterioration... and external job opportunities

founded in 1581 and dissolved in 1825 (Bullard 1964:20). Some of the members of the Levant Company sponsored the formation of the East India Company and hence, a British trade and information link between the Middle East and India was initiated. The countries in the Middle East were in a state of poverty, relying to a large extent on ﬁshing and sale of pearls.

50. The British occupied Aden in 1839 until they withdrew in 1964. The importance of Aden to the British lay primarily in the strategic control it afforded to the Red Sea, the protection of the route to India, its important bunkering port, as well as the large oil reﬁnery and small industries that existed there (Bullard 1964).

51. According to an estimate in 1961, the Middle East holds approximately 60% of the oil deposits of the world (Bullard 1964:175).

52. In the 19th century, not only was cargo carried, but increasingly immigrants, bound particularly for the New World.

53. Although initially the Portuguese had a seaborne empire of considerable strength (Boxer 1969), it began to stagnate from the 17th century onwards, and the possibility of revival during the expansion of ocean travel in the 19th century was, to some extent, precluded by the absence of a well established mercantile class in Portugal as existed, for instance, in Britain and Holland (Fayle 1933:136). Furthermore, Britain was able to become a formidable shipping power because of the proximity to the ports of coal ﬁelds and large centres of metallurgical activity (Fayle ibid :242).

54. In the early decades of the 20th century, the P & O group began to consolidate its power by the acquisition or association with a number of smaller companies operating speciﬁc world wide routes (Cable 1937:218). Furthermore they extended their services to include cruisers, cargo operations and, in the 1950’s, tankers to transport oil, primarily from the Middle East.

169 Migration and the Emergence of an International Catholic Goan Community

Introduction

n this chapter I examine the role of migration in the emergence I of an international Catholic Goan community (lCGC). Section1 focuses on the nature and extent of international migration from Goa using data obtained from census records, other statistical publications and case histories drawn from Amora and elsewhere in Goa. In an attempt to bring some order to the complex data on migration, Section 2 describes the categories of migrants and the applicability of various typologies. The different ways migration has been organised is discussed in Section 3. International migration involved not only geographical mobility but also occupational mobility and this is explored in Section 4. In Section 5, I examine the reproduction of international migration and particularly the role played by the investment of remittances in education. The changing education provision and access is described in Sec. 6.

170 Migration... and the emergence of a community

1: The Nature and Extent of Migration

The majority of independent international labour migrants, from around the mid 19th century to the latter part of the 20th century, were male with females usually accounting for less than a third of all migrants (Torrie 1879; Pereira 1910, Census 1900-70). The majority of international migrants were and still are from the OCs (1). The high rate of international migration of Catholics Goans in comparison to Hindu Goans has been noted in successive census reports and was conspicuously evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. Hindus who migrated from Goa rarely ventured outside the Indian sub-continent, while Catholics had little hesitation in doing so (Census 1920:8; da Costa 1956; Fernandes 1938; Figueiredo 1978). This different pattern of geographical dispersal continues till today (2).

In order to identify various characteristics of the pattern of international migration, a few case studies with accompanying genealogical charts are presented below. The case histories, drawn from both Amora and elsewhere in Goa, do not exhaust the whole range of migration patterns. Nor are they concerned to illustrate spectacular ‘success stories’ but rather patterns which were common among the majority of ICGs. To disguise identities, names have been changed, slight genealogical adjustments made, and some geographical locations have been substituted. These changes, however, do not affect the authenticity of the data provided. Furthermore, the case studies were compiled at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. Of course, some of the people referred to have since died and the circumstances of others have changed, but the present tense is retained to illustrate the patterns and themes that were evident at the time. They serve to illustrate a number of features of the ICGC which will be discussed

171 Migration... and the emergence of a community in this and the following two chapters. In this chapter, I shall focus on the patterns of migration and jobs obtained, while Chapter 6 will examine marriage and kinship patterns, and Chapter 7, the retention of property and other links with Goa.

Case History 1: Peter

Peter, a Catholic Brahmin from Amora, is 68 years old and recently returned from Kenya where he had been working as a clerk for about 35 years. His grandfather was a subsistence farmer. His father, Oscar, had been a shippie, working as a steward for 20 years on the passenger ship, B.I. which operated on international routes. Meanwhile, his mother remained in Goa, farming and raising 5 children. The port of embarkation was Bombay, and in between trips, Peter stayed at the Amora coor in Bombay. With his migrant earnings, Oscar replaced their mud hut with a large pakka house and sent his three sons (Peter, Gregory and Xavier) to a local English medium school. His two daughters (Irene and Maria) attended the village parochial school. Peter and Gregory became literate in English, but Xavier found academic studies difﬁcult and only managed to become literate in Konkani. Irene and Maria became literate in Konkani but they also spoke a moderate amount of English.

Irene married a Brahmin ICG working in Bombay, who later obtained clerical work in the Customs Ofﬁce in Mombasa, Kenya. On learning of other similar vacancies, he arranged for Gregory to come from Goa and take up a job in Mombasa. Shortly thereafter, Gregory arranged for Peter to come to Kenya, where he took up a clerical job in the British Army stationed in Nairobi.

172 Migration... and the emergence of a community

After World War II, Peter was demobbed, but was fortunate to obtain a clerical job in the Railways. Maria had also married

173 Migration... and the emergence of a community a Brahmin ICG in Bombay, and after a few years they went to Nairobi where her husband obtained a clerical bank job. Xavier migrated to Bombay to work as a cook, but returned to Goa after a couple of years due to persistent ill health, and farmed comunidade lands leased by his parents. He remained a bachelor and lived with his parents until their death.

Xavier’s brothers and sisters periodically visited Goa, and occasionally sent cash remittances and gifts. Since Peter was engaged on ‘expatriate terms’ he was allowed six months overseas leave every four years. Hence, he periodically returned to Goa on holiday and on one of these occasions, married a LCG Brahmin girl, Laura, from Amora whom his parents had selected for him. Laura’s father was also a shippie and worked as a musician on a P&O ship. She had been educated, along with her two sisters, at St. Joseph’s Convent School, in Belgaum. Her brother attended St. Paul’s, a school in Belgaum, run by the Jesuits. Laura had passed matriculation and spoke English fluently. After marriage, Peter returned to Nairobi, Laura joining him six months later when immigration formalities had been completed. Peter was the sole breadwinner, while Laura stayed at home and raised their seven children (Henry, David, Mena, Norma, Victor, Michael and Timothy). Through hard work and considerable personal sacrifice, they managed to educate their children. When Henry and David were respectively 12 and 11 years old, (and Mena 5, Norma 3 years old), Laura returned with them to Amora. She remained there for five years so that her sons could study at the local English medium secondary school. She stayed with her mother-in-law during this period and subsequently returned with the children to Nairobi. Mena, Norma, Victor and Michael studied at Dr. Ribeiro’s Goan School and passed the Cambridge School leaving certificate. Victor won a place to study ‘A’ levels at

174 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Strathmore College, Nairobi, an exclusive private college run by the Catholic Opus Dei Order, which every year selected a number of bright Goan boys to study at its European colleges. David studied ‘A’ levels at the government run Duke of Gloucester School in Nairobi, while Henry obtained a job as a bank clerk. Mena took up a secretarial course, passing Pitman’s shorthand and typing examinations, while Norma went to England to study nursing.

The adverse political climate that developed from the late 1960s onwards compelled the family to gradually split up and leave Kenya. Henry, David, Mena, Norma and Victor went to Britain under the voucher scheme open to Commonwealth citizens who had British passports. All managed to obtain employment within a short time of arriving in Britain. Mena, with her fluent English and internationally recognised qualifications, acquired a job as a secretary. Norma, who had successfully completed her training, obtained a job as a nurse. Henry’s previous banking experience enabled him to acquire a clerical job at Barclays Bank. David and Victor were both keen to continue their studies, but because they did not fulfil the residential qualifications were not eligible for the mandatory State grants for university education available at that time. Nor could Peter and Laura afford to pay for their education. Consequently, they took up clerical jobs but Victor obtained a degree in Computer Science through attending day release and evening classes. After graduation he took up a professional post. A few years later, David who had since married, went with his wife to settle in Australia. He works as an administrator while his wife is employed as a secretary.

Meanwhile, Peter and Laura with Michael and Timothy, who were both under 16, had returned from Kenya to Goa. Although they had wished to join the rest of the family in Britain, immigration restrictions prevented this. Gregory, his Brahmin wife and 3

175 Migration... and the emergence of a community of their 11 children also returned to Goa. The problem of accommodation arose as all 3 brothers, (as well as their sisters), according to Portuguese law, had equal rights to the ancestral house their father had built. Accustomed to independent living in Africa, they were loathe to live together and in cramped conditions. Gregory and his family went to live in his wife’s ancestral house which was empty, as her sister, the other heir, was living in Bombay. Peter and his family joined Xavier, living alone in their ancestral house. Irene, now widowed, returned to Goa to live in her husband’s ancestral house, while her two married children moved from Kenya to Canada and Britain respectively. She Iived alone, supported by her savings and intermittent remittances from her sons, until old age and ill health made her decide to live in the newly opened Old People’s Home in Amora. Maria, also widowed, was living in London with her adult children in 1980.

Peter and family lived in the ancestral house in Amora for a few years but Laura was unhappy about the ‘primitive conditions’. Consequently, she persuaded Peter to use their savings to build a small modern ﬂat in Mira Mar, a growing suburb of Panjim. Peter, Laura and their children (in 1980) live a comfortable urban middle class lifestyle. Peter receives a pension of approximately Rs 3,000 a month from his former job in Kenya which was considerably more than the average salary for professional employment in Goa. Michael completed his medical studies at the Goa Medical School, and although he could get a job in Goa, accepted a lucrative post in Saudi Arabia. Timothy was still at school and hoped, after further studies, to go ‘out’. Peter and his wife maintain regular correspondence in English with their children and grandchildren overseas, who visit Goa periodically. In Britain, Henry married a Brahmin woman; David a Chardo; Victor a Mahar; Mena a Brahmin man, (all ICGs) and Norma an Englishman.

176 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Case History 2: Vincent

Vincent, a Catholic Chardo from Betalbatim, is a retired civil servant and property owner who has always lived and worked in Goa. His father and grandfather were also civil servants in Goa. His father had also spent 3 years working for the Portuguese government in Macao (3).

He has no siblings, but his Chardo wife from Velim has 3 brothers. One, Daryll, practises as a lawyer in Goa, the other two, Jacinto

177 Migration... and the emergence of a community and Marcus are senior civil servants, one in Portugal and the other in Brazil. Daryll studied law in Coimbra (Portugal) and after practising there for a few years, returned to Goa. Jacinto also went for further studies to Portugal and after graduation and marriage to a Portuguese woman, settled there. Marcus had studied at the Liceu in Panjim, and after working in Goa for a few years, accepted a Government transfer to Mozambique. After the liberation of Mozambique in 1974, he went to Portugal, but ﬁnding poor employment prospects there, he migrated, with his Chardo wife and 3 children, to Brazil. Vincent had studied at the Liceu in Panjim after which he obtained a job in the Judicial Department where his father and grandfather had previously worked.

Vincent and his wife have 3 sons and 2 daughters (Pascal, Edward, Hilary, Jennifer and Rosie). Pascal and Edward, after secondary education in Goa, and higher education at St Xaviers College in Bombay, migrated to Spain with the help of their Catholic tutors. Pascal works as an engineer, Edward as a teacher. Both have married Spanish women. Hilary, who has just completed higher studies in Goa and currently works as a musician, is anxious to migrate anywhere as soon as he has the opportunity. Jennifer married a Chardo man in Goa, and they subsequently migrated to Venezuela where her husband obtained a clerical job. Rosie is a college student and future residence depends on whether she marries an ICG. Vincent receives a monthly State pension. With great regret, he sold most of his property as he cannot manage it, and his children have little interest in land. The dispersed family maintain regular contact through letters written in Portuguese and the exchange of visits.

178 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Case History 3: Sebastian

Sebastian, a Catholic Sudra from Amora died after his return from Kuwait where he had been working as a cook for 20 years. He was survived by his wife, Ernestine from Calangute and 5 children.

Prior to migrating to Kuwait, he had been working as a tenant farmer for a private landlord, as his ancestors had previously

179 Migration... and the emergence of a community done. George, a Brahmin from Amora, while working as a clerk in Kuwait, had heard of a vacancy for a cook in a European family, and arranged for Sebastian to take up this job. When his contract with the European family expired, Sebastian managed to obtain successive contracts through recommendation from previous employers.

Sebastian wrote regularly to his family in Konkani, and returned on holiday every 4 or 5 years. He used to send regular remittances to Ernestine who combined farming with domestic chores and raising their 3 sons and 2 daughters (Tony, Nicholas, Roy, Philomena and Goretti). She also supervised, with the help of a neighbour, the building of a large pakka house to replace their mud hut. They also used his remittances to educate their children who all managed to attend a few years of secondary school, where they acquired elementary literacy in English. Through his contacts in Kuwait, Sebastian arranged for his sons to get jobs; Tony as a cook, Nicholas as a waiter, and Roy, who had done some technical training, as an Air Conditioning technician. The elderly Ernestine and the unmarried 26 year old Goretti live in Amora, together with the young children of her daughter Philomena, who recently died and whose Brahmin husband is working as a clerk in Abu Dhabi.

Case History 4: John

John, a Catholic Mahar from Amora, is 40 years old and presently working as a refrigeration mechanic in Dubai. His parents and ancestors have always worked in the village as basket weavers and church servants. After completing State subsidised secondary schooling, he took a technical training course in Goa and subsequently worked there. In 1976, he got a job in Dubai

180 Migration... and the emergence of a community with the help of a private recruitment agent. He intends to work in the Gulf as long as contracts are available. He has recently built a modern house in Amora, and his wife, young children, and aged widowed mother live in it. His wife manages the remittances he sends her, does not do any paid work, runs the home and looks after the children, particularly supervising their studies.

Case History 5: Anne

Anne, a 40 year old married Catholic Sudra woman from Amora has been working for 5 years in Muscat for an Arab family as an

181 Migration... and the emergence of a community ayah (housemaid with responsibility for child care). Her parents and ancestors have always earned their living as agricultural tenants or labourers, and she is the ﬁrst one in the family to go ‘out’.

Her husband, who was working as a waiter in Bahrain, died suddenly. As the sole breadwinner, she ﬁrst went to work in Bombay as an ayah to a Goan family but later, through a recruitment agent, obtained a job in Muscat. Her two children live with her parents in the village, and she sends regular remittances for their upkeep.

She returned to Goa for the ﬁrst time in 1980 for a holiday. She does not know how long she will stay ‘out’ and says it depends on the job situation in the Gulf and the economic demands of her children.

182 Migration... and the emergence of a community

She has two married brothers, one working as a clerk in Bombay, the other as a waiter on a ship, but by mutual arrangement she remains ﬁnancially independent of them.

2: Categories of Migrants and Type of Migration

Since the case studies involve international migration over a long period of time, reflecting both genealogical changes, as well as those in the local and international political economy, it is helpful to classify the migrants in some way. Warner & Scole, in their study of different ethnic groups in the United States of America, used a generation scale (4) because “... it makes possible a more refined analysis of status mobility and progress of assimilation than is permitted by the analysis of historical source materials alone” (1945:31). The proposed scale recognises the analytical value of Warner & Scole’s work, but reflects the complexity of Goan migration patterns.

M1 - ﬁrst generation over 18 to migrate from Goa M2 - ﬁrst generation under 18 to migrate from Goa F1 - Goa reared offspring of M1 & M2 IF1 - internationally reared offspring of M1 & M2 F2 - Goa reared offspring of F1 IF2 - internationally reared offspring of F1 F3 - Goa reared offspring of F2 IF3 - internationally reared offspring of F2 R1 - returnee to Goa over age 18 R2 - IF1, IF2, IF3 under age 18 who returned to Goa R3 - Goa reared children of returnees.

183 Migration... and the emergence of a community

In the above scale, a gender distinction has not been made as it would complicate rather than simplify the analysis. Where gender differences exist, these will be referred to in the text. However, in the case of wives of migrants it is useful to put forward a typology, which will be brieﬂy referred to in this chapter but discussed more fully in chapter 6.

GW - Goa based wives IW - internationally based wives OW - oscillatory wives (who oscillate between Goa and ‘out’).

Having delineated the conceptual categories, a few points regarding them are necessary. Both Oscar (case 1) and John (case 4) fall within the Ml category but it is important to note that while Oscar migrated in the 1900s, John migrated in the 1970s. Yet they were the ﬁrst generation to migrate in their respective families. M2 is exempliﬁed by Pascal and Edward (case 2) who went to study in Bombay. On the whole, it is young international scholars who comprise M2, as migrants who have children in Goa rarely arrange for them to join them purely for residential purposes during childhood and adolescence. Of course, not all international scholars are under the age of 18 as those migrating for postgraduate education are typically in their early to mid-twenties. However, the numbers migrating from Goa for such purposes have always been and continue to be small. This is because only a small number of well-off LCG families could afford to provide tertiary education for their children outside Goa. After 1961, a number of institutions of higher education were established in Goa, thus substantially reducing the need to go ‘out’ for such studies, although some do for specialist studies or to gain the prestige of being ‘foreign educated’.

The categories F1, F2, F3 and IF1, IF2 and IF3 refer to rearing and not birth (as Warner and Scole’s typology does) because place

184 Migration... and the emergence of a community of birth is sometimes fortuitous and depends on the movement of women. Hence, a child may have been conceived and born during the visit of a Goa-based wife (GW) to her husband in Muscat, but was reared in Goa. A number of GWs who have failed to conceive during their husband’s short visits of a few weeks have joined their husbands for about a year or so before returning to Goa pregnant or with a small baby. Children, for educational and other reasons (see below and chapter 6) may sometimes be reared to age 18 in more than one place, and my classiﬁcatory system refers to the geographical area (Goa or ‘out’) where the greater proportion of rearing occurred.

If wives are Goa based (GW) their children are reared in Goa. On reaching adulthood they themselves may migrate and their own children (F2, F3) may be reared in Goa. This is clearly illustrated in the case of shippies where successive generations of men have little alternative but to keep their wives and children in Goa, although occasionally families may be moved to port cities, such as Bombay. Where wives have accompanied or joined their husbands ‘out’, their children are usually reared ‘out’, although as we shall see below, they may spend a few years in Goa. Furthermore, they may still be reared ‘out, but this may mean, for instance, a few years in Kenya, a few in India (not Goa) etc. Children predominantly or exclusively reared ‘out’ (IF1) usually obtain employment ‘out’ and rear their own children ‘out’ (IF2, IF3), although the geographical location may vary.

The categorisation of returnees (R1, R2, R3) does not require any elaboration. In view of the long timescale, M1 and R1 for instance, will be conflated in some cases. Hence, Sebastian in case 3, is both a first generation migrant and a returnee, but because his status was the latter at the time of ethnographic research in 1980 he is referred to as Rl. The classification system will be used in this

185 Migration... and the emergence of a community chapter and subsequent ones as an appropriate shorthand way of referring to different categories.

A number of typologies of migration have been put forward. For instance, Gonzalez (1961) suggests the following: (a) seasonal migration (b) temporary, non-seasonal (c) recurrent (d) continuous (e) permanent. She suggests that temporary, non-seasonal and recurrent migration usually involves individual adults, whose families, either natal or procreative, remain at home. On the other hand, seasonal migration, continuous, and permanent migration, involves complete or partial families. From the foregoing case histories, it is evident that the international migration of CGs is very complex and cannot ﬁt into the typology suggested by Gonzalez because it embodies a diversity of patterns.

Whether it is the individual or family who migrates depends on a number of factors. First of all, the stage in the individual’s life cycle when migration occurs. The majority of international migrants begin migrating when young and single. Hence, they migrate as individuals while their natal family remains in Goa. When a migrant marries, whether his wife accompanies him or not, will also depend on several factors. The most important is geographical location and type of job done. If the migrant is working on the ships or in some of the Gulf States, such as Saudi Arabia, his wife cannot accompany him because men generally can only be taken on bachelor status terms. Hence, (in case 1), Peter’s mother, the wife of a ‘shippie’, and Ernestine (in case 4) the wife of a Gulf worker, had to remain in Goa. On the other hand, Peter (case 1) migrated to Africa and there was no ofﬁcial restriction on Laura joining him later. The majority of those whose wives accompanied or joined their ICG husbands usually remained outside Goa for a long period of time. For some, their migration constituted permanent removal from Goa because they

186 Migration... and the emergence of a community never returned and many died ‘out’. Their children (IF1), born and brought up outside Goa have invariably also remained ‘out’, as have Peter’s and Laura’s children in case 1. Those who married women from the established satellite communities also remained ‘out’. Since the majority of migrants remain ‘out’ for a long period of time, it is important to ascertain who returns.

Cerase (1974:251-9) distinguishes between four types of returnees (a) failures: those who had not ‘made it’ (b) conservatives: those who were interested in making sufﬁcient money to return home and buy land to farm; (c) retired (d) innovators: those who are inspired by what they have learnt ‘out’ and return to implement their ideas. A few ICGs return as failures such as Xavier in case 1, often due to ill health. Some are compelled to return because of sudden loss of job, for instance, during the depression of the 1930s, or because job contracts were not renewed (5). Various studies have indicated that migrants have a ‘myth of return’ (Anwar 1974; Ballard & Ballard 1977). In the case of ICGs, most do not expect to return except for retirement or if their contract cannot be extended. However, some, particularly female domestics, consider returning after a few years. Many ICGs regard Goa as a ‘Pensioners Paradise’ where they can leada susagad (6) life, living on substantial retirement beneﬁts as does Peter in case 1.

Some ICGs (Rl), such as shippies, who return for retirement, always have had their wives and children living in Goa. However, in the case of those who have their wives and children (IF1, and to a lesser extent IF2 and IF3) living ‘out’ with them, the ages of their children is an important consideration in determining when they return. Generally speaking, ICGs prefer their children to have attained adulthood and an independent occupation which they can continue ‘out’ before they themselves return to Goa. However,

187 Migration... and the emergence of a community in the case of many of those who were living in British East Africa, the Africanisation policies initiated in the 1960’s compelled premature return for retirement. Those who had children under the age of 18 (R2) returned to Goa with them. Some R2, on reaching adulthood have since migrated. Others, particularly young women, are working in Goa, mainly in white collar jobs.

From the case studies, it is evident that no rural-rural international migration occurs, but the characteristic patterns are rural to urban, and urban to urban migration. Since Goa is a predominantly rural area, LCGs leave their villages for the cities. There is no evidence to indicate a pattern of step migration which involved rural-urban migration within Goa, followed by urban-urban migration, a common characteristic of a number of migration patterns. Since Goa is a small region, its city, Panjim, is more like the small towns of provincial India and hence, never has and still cannot provide substantial employment for its rural migrants. Consequently, it was the metropolitan and provincial cities, and railway towns in the vicinity of Goa, which served as destination points for international migrants (de Souza 1942).

Since ICGs are orientated towards obtaining long term, secure and superannuated jobs (see below), there is little incentive to change residence during a worker’s lifetime, as there would be for casual labourers or those on short term contracts. Furthermore, if their children are living with them, they prefer not to disrupt their schooling. However, residential change over generations does occur as IF1, IF2, and IF3, on reaching adulthood, migrate to cities where there are better employment or educational opportunities. This is illustrated by case 1, where Peter’s children, born and brought up in Nairobi, migrated to London and subsequently, one of them, to Sydney. Although it is not extensive, secondary migration among the IF1 and IF2 is not uncommon.

188 Migration... and the emergence of a community

The late age of marriage has facilitated the geographical mobility of young single adults, male as well as female. Newly married couples who, by adopting effective pharmaceutical and technical methods of family planning delay raising a family (7) are better able to undertake inter-urban and inter-continental migration.

Returnee migration exhibits a different set of characteristics to out migration. Until around the 1970s, returnees went back to live in their ancestral village, and hence return migration was typically urban-rural migration. However, principally as a result of the investment of remittances in housing and the style of life aspired to by many returnees, rural areas have increasingly become urbanised. Moreover, a number of returnees, such as Peter in case 1, have begun to reside in the cities and towns of Goa where they have built, bought or rented modern ﬂats (8).

3: Organisation of International Migration

The case histories illustrate that migration is organised in two major ways; personal contacts and recruitment agents. Personal contact was the predominant way of organising international migration and it continues to be an effective mechanism although private recruitment agents have gained in prominence. Interna- tional migration has occurred through personal contacts with both non-Goans and Goans, although in terms of the volume of numbers migrating it is the latter which is more signiﬁcant. Europeans were the major category of non-Goans with whom Goans had personal contact from the 16th century. This contact, however, was not restricted to the Portuguese. For instance, from 1787, for a period of almost 20 years, the British army had a garrison in Goa

189 Migration... and the emergence of a community and during this period LCGs were employed as cooks, stewards, and artisans. When the army eventually left Goa for British India, a retinue of LCG workers went along with them (Pinto 1960:1-2). This migration, which was facilitated by initial contact with the British, subsequently led to the migration of other LCGs to meet the demand in military cantonments in Poona and elsewhere for staff in occupations where CGs had already established a foothold.

CGs have continuing contact with Europeans because most of the schools and colleges they usually attend are run under the auspices of the Catholic Church, and they often have some European Catholic staff. Contacts with such tutors enabled Pascal and Edward (case 4) to migrate to Spain. Similarly in Nairobi, a number of ICG boys who attended Strathmore College (case 1) were able to use these contacts to migrate to Spain for higher studies at institutions run by the Order. Direct contact with Europeans is not required in every case. For instance, a Goan priest in Bangalore wrote to an American colleague in California recommending that a CG student be offered a place to study at one of the Catholic institutions in the USA. Similarly CG girls studying at convent schools are helped by foreign nuns to secure places at institutions outside Goa.

The international migration of students has a long history in Goa. A number of LCGs, mainly from upper class and upper caste families, went for higher studies to Lisbon, Coimbra and Paris (case 2). Some priests, since the 16th century, were sent to Rome for further studies. A few nowadays, through ecclesiastical sponsorship, have studied in the USA. Some of the international scholars return to Goa on completion of their studies, but the majority remain ‘out’ where inevitably more suitable and better paid opportunities are available. The ICG scholars also form points of contact which people in Goa mobilise to facilitate further

190 Migration... and the emergence of a community migration.

While the migration of ICG scholars was not insignificant, that of ICG workers was much greater, and it played a major role in the development of chain migration. One very important way this was facilitated was through an indigenously developed institution called coor, a Konkani word meaning ‘room’. Early ICGs established the residential club or coor system in Bombay (Baptista 1958; Metha 1960; D’Souza 1975). The majority were established before 1900 and it is reputed that the first was set up in the early decades of the 19th century (Baptista 1958:47, 91). It was estimated that in the middle of 20th century there were at least 250-280 coors in Bombay situated in Dhobi Talao, Grant Road, Mazagaon and Byculla (Noronha & Correia Alphonso 1916; Baptista 1958:128). The Goan population was initially concentrated in these areas where rents were low and they came to be centres of community life (Baptista 1958:58). In the 1950s the clubs catered for about 50% of the Goan population of 80,000 (ibid:16). About 44% of the clubs catered for international migrants from Salcete, 45% from Bardez, 7% from Ilhas and 4% from Pernem (ibid:91). Apart from approximately three which catered exclusively for women or for families, the rest were for males only (ibid:9). The male clubs were each identified with a particular village, and usually were restricted to or associated with a particular caste. The coors provided a direct means of contact with the village and encouraged migration as they provided a vehicle though which information was communicated about job opportunities and life in the city. The coors existed in tenement blocks and were often unhygienic and dilapidated. However, a village mate arriving in Bombay could be assured of a warm welcome, accommodation and the provision of the basic necessities at a minimum cost, help with obtaining a job and

191 Migration... and the emergence of a community adapting to the new life along with the emotional support and friendship of fellow villagers. For shippies, the club provided a convenient, cheap and friendly place to stay when they were between trips (Baptista 1958:33, 37).

The coors provided a mechanism for continuity to be maintained between the village in Goa and the outside world. With few exceptions, all those who lived in the coors were Catholics (ibid:64; Metha 1960; Haward 1980:303-4) and the feast day of the village patron was celebrated annually. Attempts were made to ensure that Catholic moral standards and observances of various religious practices were maintained (Noronha & Correia Alphonso 1916).

The same principles on which the comunidades were based were also articulated in the coors. Patriarchy was expressed in the restriction of the coors to males; heredity in the fact that only those with ancestral links to the village could live there; collectivity through a corporate life-style and mutual sharing of resources, for instance, at the time of illness and bereavement; and hierarchy through caste exclusiveness. However, over time and with changing circumstances, the hierarchical principle became less easy to maintain. Around the 1970s it seems that shortage of numbers has contributed to the attenuation of caste exclusiveness. Previously those who were not eligible to Iive in the coors usually obtained jobs with live-in accommodation, or made board and lodging arrangements with families. Hence, for instance, the Amora coor was formerly restricted to Brahmins but in time it came to be open to anyone from Amora, and indeed two Sudras, en route to Bahrain, were staying at the coor when I visited it in 1980. However, a young Mahar man told me he never stayed at the Amora coor because of caste prejudice. It seems that whatever restrictive practices operated in the past

192 Migration... and the emergence of a community could no longer be maintained because, since around the 1950s, comparatively fewer Brahmins have used the facilities of the coor. Later generations of Brahmins were less likely to take up the low paid service jobs that their grandfathers and fathers did, and with the higher salaries commanded by white collar and professional employment, they can afford to rent private accommodation where they can live with their wives and children. Whatever may have been the caste composition of the coors in the decades following their inception, by the 1950s the majority came increasingly to be patronised by Sudras, as Brahmins and Chardos were living in private accommodation (Baptista 1958:67). The coor system facilitated the migration primarily of village mates. There is a broad parallel between it and the Chinese lineage system which operated as a recruitment agency (Watson 1974) although it was not as formally and systematically organised, nor did it function as a mechanism for overseas migration.

In addition to the coor system, consanguinal, afﬁnal and associational links have also been mobilised, particularly with respect to migration to other parts of India and overseas. Many associational links originated through attendance at the same school. Since there were only a few schools in Goa which provided secondary education, students were drawn from multiple villages. For instance, the English school in Arpora, Bardez had students not only from the villages of Bardez, but also Salcete and Ilhas. Similarly, there were a limited number of Catholic schools outside Goa which students attended, thus creating links between ICG scholars and their families of different territorial and social origins. Assistance given to facilitate migration is rarely forgotten. For instance, a young woman I met in Bombay told me that she was attending John’s funeral, although she had never met the deceased, because her father, now deceased, had told her that

193 Migration... and the emergence of a community

John had helped him to migrate to Malawi.

International migration was further facilitated by the Catholic Church, although not as in Italy where the Church has several organisations concerned with migration in host countries and migration news was published in bulletins (Schreiber 1976:74). Goan priests and nuns have been able to provide reliable points of contact, sources of information, guidance and support to migrants. This has been facilitated because of the extensive dispersal of Goan priests (Moraes 1972:129) (9). (Unfortunately, at the time of research in 1980, there was no documented information on the dispersal of Goan nuns.) Migrants were and are quickly incorporated into the bosom of the Church, and in the absence of Goan ecclesiastical staff and parishioners, the common religious bond allowed new arrivals to utilise the personal resources and networks of fellow worshippers, and the institutional facilities of the Church to help acquire jobs, accommodation and access to schools. Here the signiﬁcance of Catholicism as a congregational religion must be noted. The mandatory weekly attendance at Mass, and the encouragement to attend other rituals, provides many opportunities to develop support and augment personal networks, thus helping to reduce the isolation and alienation that urban migrants are often prone to.

Hence, most of the migration to the Indian sub-continent, Africa and Europe was arranged through personal contacts, and broadly replicates the patterns found in other studies of chain migration (Philpott 1973; Lindberg 1930). However, throughout the 20th century, there have been a few recruitment agents operating in Goa and Bombay, and these helped those who lacked the requisite contacts. Many ﬁrms in need of staff had their own recruitment agents in Bombay. Through such agents, for instance, Simon obtained a job as a bank clerk in Nairobi, and Edgar a job as a

194 Migration... and the emergence of a community cook with the Kuwait Oil Company.

Recruitment agencies have become a more prominent organisational mechanism for migration since around the 1970s. In the Gulf migration of the 1970s, although personal sponsorship continued to operate, it did so on a smaller scale. Many of those contemplating migration had little or no contacts in the Gulf, either because all their contacts are in other parts of the world, or because none of their family or friends have migrated previously.

However, even those who have personal contacts sometimes resort to agents because they are dissatisﬁed with the attempts made by their contacts to secure them employment in the Gulf. Complaints that relatives and friends are selﬁsh because they want to safeguard their own status and not assist others to ‘come up’ are common. For their part, contacts say they are reluctant to assist because they are criticised for obtaining unsatisfactory contracts, and they would rather remain uninvolved than risk arousing animosity. Furthermore, the intricate formalities involved in obtaining job contracts, visas, air tickets and such like encourage the use of agencies.

These private agencies, a few of which are run by Goans but the majority by non-Goans, operate on formal lines, some advertising job vacancies in the newspapers (see press cutting 3). Their fees are high. For instance, John (in case 4), paid Rs 1,000, and in order to do so, pawned his wife’s gold ornaments, and borrowed money from relatives and friends.

195 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Press cutting 3: Recruitment adverts for jobs ‘out’.

Often relatives and friends are themselves short of cash and some potential migrants are forced to ask for help from well off

196 Migration... and the emergence of a community families in the village or elsewhere. Most middle-class families have themselves ‘come up’ through migration and are wary of lending money to those whose creditworthiness is suspect. As a last resort, some potential migrants borrow from money lenders. Many agents use unscrupulous practices (10). There have been repeated calls from the public for the control of agents, and despite Indian government legislation, fraudulent and exploitative behaviour continues.

Hence, until the last few decades of the 20th century, a formal method of organising migration was little used. The indenture and kangani system (Kondapi 1951; Tinker 1974; 1977:3-7; Cumpston 1953) through which a large proportion of Indian overseas migration occurred, was absent in Goa even though there has been a fair amount of international migration from Goa from the 19th century, as there was from elsewhere in India (Davis 1951:98- 104). Although there are a number of possible explanations (11), the most plausible one, I think, is that many CGs had developed an aversion to agricultural work and because of the cultural attributes and skills they possessed, were in an advantageous position to exploit the numerous manual, non-agricultural job opportunities that arose outside Goa.

4: Jobs and Inter-Generational Occupational Mobility

(a) General background

No statistical data was available during my research in 1980 on the occupations taken up by international migrants in the 19th century although from the references to the coors (Baptista 1958;

197 Migration... and the emergence of a community

D’Souza 1975), it can be deduced that the majority were employed in service jobs in homes, hotels, and on the ships (12). A survey undertaken at the turn of the 20th century by the Provincial Congress of Goans living in British India investigated the literacy of migrants and the occupations they obtained (1910:79-85). The survey had methodological weaknesses and its ﬁndings should be regarded only as indicative of general patterns.

The survey indicated that at the turn of the 20th century, the majority of migrants were from the OCs and as such we can presume the data refer predominantly to CGs. Almost equal proportions of migrants around 1900 were literate and illiterate, although it is unclear whether this refers to vernacular literacy or literacy in Portuguese or English. Presumably a number were literate in a western language because about 20% were employed as clerks. The rest of the migrants were employed mainly as servants, butlers, cooks, ayahs and tailors. Seventy-ﬁve percent of clerks originated from Bardez, 56% of ayahs from Salcete, and 57% of tailors from Salcete, indicating a degree of regional specialisation. This is correlated with the fact that of those who migrated from Bardez, 51% were literate, compared to about 40% each for Salcete, Ilhas and Pernem. Hence, around the turn of the 20th century, the overall pattern for Bardez, (in which Amora is situated) was that approximately 25% of its population migrated; over 75% of these were males, approximately 50% were literate, and the major destination was India, with about a ﬁfth migrating to Africa.

Within this overall context, the speciﬁc pattern for Amora was that 73% of its migrants were literate. This is approximately 20% higher than the Iiteracy rate for migrants from Bardez, and about 27% higher than the literacy rate for migrants from Goa as a whole. Only 23% of Amora migrants went to British India and

198 Migration... and the emergence of a community this is signiﬁcantly lower than that for Bardez (78%) and Goa as a whole (84%). Hence, Amora sent an extraordinary number of migrants to Africa around 1900. There is no quantitative evidence to indicate whether this trend continued, but ethnographic research in 1980 strongly suggests that migration to Africa continued to be extensive. Thus, although there was an overall pattern of migration from the LCGC, differences were evident from village to village.

The data show that the early stream of international migrants consisted of both literate and illiterate Goans. While there is no statistical data available following the survey of the Provincial Congress to establish whether this trend persisted, ethnographic research in 1980 suggests that, not only from Amora but from other villages in Goa, international migrants tended increasingly to be literate in Konkani and often also English. A similar orientation was evident among Goans in the satellite communities such that few children (IF1, IF2 and IF3) remained illiterate. This orientation, in due course, was reﬂected in different job aspirations, occupational diversiﬁcation and mobility.

We saw that the ﬁrst wave of international migrants during the 19th century went to various parts of India and, in particular, to Bombay. While the Hindu Goan migrants obtained casual labouring work and set up as petty traders (13), the ICGs gained entry to a different range of jobs because of their cultural attributes. As a result, ICGs of whatever caste background, freed from dietary restrictions and taboos concerning the handling and partaking of various foods and alcohol, were characterised by a greater ﬂexibility than their Hindu and Muslim counterparts. This enhanced their ability to take up jobs in environments where cultural compatibility between the employer and employee was an asset. Thus ICGs were able to take up many opportunities

199 Migration... and the emergence of a community to work as cooks, butlers, and waiters in private homes, military cantonments, hotels and restaurants, and passenger ships, all of which necessitated personal service to meat-eating and alcohol- imbibing Europeans, and to a lesser extent, Parsis. Indeed, Goan cooks enjoyed a high reputation in British India and Godinho observes that “[A] French chef in the service of Lord Clare gave lesson in the culinary art to a band of Goan cooks and from that time they came to the top of the ladder in that profession” (1925:550). The adoption of the European practice of eating baked and leavened bread, as well as cakes and pastries utilising eggs and animal fats, allowed many international migrants to establish bakeries catering for a European clientele and the satellite ICG population. The ﬁrst bakers in Bombay were Goans and they held a monopoly of this service for a number of decades (ibid:403). Goan women were widely employed in domestic work, while a few opened pousadas (or eating houses) (Baptista 1958:23).

The absence of dietary restrictions meant that employers did not necessarily have to provide separate catering arrangements. Sim- ilarly, ICG women helped in the preparation and cooking of food at all times as they did not observe menstrual taboos. Furthermore, Christian European parents who entrusted daily child care to ICG women were assured that their children were exposed to Christian rather than non-Christian religious beliefs. The enhanced ability of ICGs to cater for western tastes in recreation and dress gave musicians and tailors from Goa a headstart in capitalising on the opportunities that arose everywhere in British India, as well as elsewhere where there was a European presence, such as Rangoon, Singapore, Malacca (14) and Kuala Lumpur.

The British presence in Africa did not, however, provide the replication of service employment opportunities that had arisen

200 Migration... and the emergence of a community in India. The main reason for this was that Africans were employed as domestic servants, cooks, waiters, butlers and ayahs. Consequently, a comparatively smaller number of ICGs were thus employed, and these mainly on the railways in Africa. ICG tailors and musicians were, however, in great demand to cater for both Europeans and the ICG community (Kuper 1973:219-226).

Although the service skills of Goans were in demand in British India there were periods, such as during the depression of the 1930s, when those at the lower end of the occupational scale were most vulnerable to job losses. At such times, the greater job security, salary and prestige enjoyed by white collar and professional employees served as a strong incentive to parents in manual occupations to encourage such job aspirations in their children. Although initially there were not a large number of ICGs employed in white collar and professional jobs, there were a sufﬁcient number within the community to provide models of emulation (Colonias Portuguese 1912:187). Some ICGs, such as those living in Calcutta, tried to Anglicise their Portuguese names (Campos 1919:186-7) in the hope of reaping the employment advantages Anglo-Indians enjoyed in British India (Gaikwad 1967) (15). Another strategy adopted was to apply for British citizenship by naturalisation because in the 1930’s civil service jobs were being restricted to British subjects and parents wanted to ensure that their children obtained such posts (Figueiredo 1936:220). The percentage of IF1 children from manual backgrounds who obtained white collar and professional employment in India was, however, not available from published sources consulted in 1980.

In Africa, very few ICGs, compared to other Indians, went into business, and the majority of those that did, for instance, during the early period of settlement in Kenya, failed to survive the depression of the 1930s (Nelson 1971:121-2). As there were fewer

201 Migration... and the emergence of a community employment opportunities in Africa compared to India for service workers, a proportionately greater number of Goans obtained non- manual jobs. This proportion increased as the children of non- manual, as well as most manual parents, went into white collar, and to a lesser extent, professional jobs. For example, while in 1948, ICGs employed in service occupations compromised 25% of the total Ugandan Goan population, by 1970 the figure had fallen to 14% (Kuper 1973:196-198). The position was similar in Nairobi, Kenya where in 1970 over four-fifths of the ICG population were employed in non-manual occupations (Nelson 1971:139). Furthermore, the children of ICGs employed as tailors, cooks and stewards rarely tended to follow their father’s footsteps but instead sought office work. A few acquired new technical skills and worked as train drivers, car mechanics, photographers and printers (Nelson 1971:259; Kuper 1973:192).

By far the most common occupation found amongst ICGs in Africa was clerical work, and indeed the backwardness of the educational facilities for Africans, particularly in the early days, made East Africa a kind of ‘paradise’ for Goans and other Indians with any experience of clerical work because they could obtain employment with little difﬁculty in the expanding government bureaucracy (Motani 1975; Maciel 1986). The position of ICGs in Uganda is illustrative. Many Goans in the 1960’s in Uganda were second generation civil servants (Kuper 1973). A study of the Ugandan civil service notes that “Goans were admired for their efﬁciency, respected for their honesty and their excellence as clerks became proverbial in East Africa. While the civil service was mainly a stepping stone to a business venture for most of the other Asian communities, it was a life-long career for the Goans. They regarded all risks as dangerous and generally lacked business acumen. Fixed salaries, limited working hours and the prospect

202 Migration... and the emergence of a community of a pension on retirement, made far greater sense to a Goan than the uncertainties and unlimited working hours that went with business... the peak of attainment of most Goans was to climb to the top of the clerical and executive grades in the civil service” (Motani 1972:50).

Until the last decade of colonial rule in British East Africa, ICGs, like other Indians, were on less favourable terms of service compared to Europeans doing equivalent work, and, furthermore, because of a policy of racial discrimination, were banned from advancing to senior posts in the public sector (Mangat 1969:155- 6). Apart from being employed extensively in the civil service, many ICGs were also employed as clerks and book-keepers in nationalised organisations such as the Electricity Board, the Railways and Harbours, as well as in banks, insurance and commercial enterprises.

Service and white collar workers are also found in the Gulf but there are a large number of ICGs employed as technicians in air conditioning, refrigeration etc. The orientation towards the acquisition of such employment, for which many opportunities exist in the Gulf, remained conspicuously evident during ethnographic research in 1980. Skilled manual and white collar employees outside Goa included not only IF1, 2 and 3, but also R2 and R3 who migrated on adulthood.

Female employment in the ICGC has shown considerable change over time. Apart from low caste women who migrated for domestic work, women who accompanied their migrant husbands ‘out’ generally tended not to undertake long term independent employment. Of course, some migrant women who are professionally qualiﬁed, such as teachers, take up employment but, by and large, women who engage in associational migration tend to be primarily responsible for the domestic domain, particularly

203 Migration... and the emergence of a community for housekeeping and child care. Any employment taken up or contemplated must complement, and not conﬂict, with the duties of housewife and progressive mother (see chapter 6). Furthermore, in some geographical areas, such as British East Africa up to around 1950 (case 1), and from around 1970 in the Gulf, they had to be available to migrate with their children for educational purposes. However, IF1, IF2 and IF3 females took up independent employment in large numbers. The late age of marriage provided the opportunity to work before taking up domestic responsibilities. Moreover, women had beneﬁtted from educational provision, like other Indian Christians, primarily under the auspices of the Church in India (Paul 1952:59), the Goan community co-educational schools in British East Africa, (Nelson 1971:221-2; Kuper 1973:290-295) and State provision in Britain (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:25-7). The majority obtained work as clerks, typists, secretaries, nurses and teachers, but an increasing number, particularly in the West, are swelling the numbers in the professions.

(b) Caste and occupation

In the above discussion, I have not specifically addressed the issue of caste and occupation. This is difficult to do because of the lack of adequate information. The Provincial Congress survey (1910) did not indicate the caste origins of respondents. Although there is no way of being sure, one possible explanation is that the lack of such information reflects the community’s ambivalence about caste. The study was conducted by a team of ICGs, probably of upper caste origins, and had they asked questions about caste, they would have been vulnerable to criticisms of elitism. Furthermore, the study was undertaken as an action-research

204 Migration... and the emergence of a community project, not an academic exercise, and the question of caste was probably considered to be of minimal or negligible relevance in designing and implementing policies.

While my view on the Congress study is one of conjecture, it is based on personal knowledge of the ICGC and also on opinions expressed during the designing of the study I undertook of Goans in London in 1979 (Mascarenhas- Keyes 1979). This was an action-research study undertaken under the auspices of the Goan Association (UK) and committee members of various caste origins were actively involved in all stages of the study. My tentative suggestion, made in the spirit of a ‘pure’ researcher, that caste origin be included as one of the questions pertaining to demographic factors, was met with considerable disapproval and was overruled. However, a question on village origin was included, and one of the respondents to the self-completion questionnaire complained, “You are only interested in caste”. Research methodology is obviously a factor here as rapidly conducted personal interviews using a structured schedule, or self-completion questionnaires, do not allow for questioning on sensitive issues as does the participant observation method of social anthropology. Hence my data on caste composition, that of Ifeka (1984) in Goa, Nelson (1971) in Kenya, Kuper (1973) in Uganda and Haward (1976) in Karachi have been greatly facilitated by utilising the techniques of social anthropology. Given the above comments, the correlation between caste and occupation that I shall draw will be mainly qualitative and lacking in statistical precision.

I shall examine the relationship between caste and occupation in the ICGC by considering each occupational category separately, starting with the least skilled. Male employment as cooks, butlers and waiters was not the monopoly of any one caste in the 19th and early 20th century. Hence, Brahmin as well as Sudras took up such

205 Migration... and the emergence of a community posts. The employment of Sudras in such jobs is not surprising as there was a precedent in Goa. However, it was rare in Goa for a Brahmin to work as a cook for someone else or to serve as a waiter in a hotel or cafe. However, employment on the ships and hotels ‘out’ involved working for large impersonal companies and furthermore, the clientele was not Goan, as it would have been in Goa, but exclusively or predominantly European. Imbued with the colonial mentality of white superiority, many ICGs in the 19th century and in a large part of the 20th century, regarded serving Europeans as a prestigious activity, which was augmented by the smart uniform such workers had to wear, the better remuneration compared to that received for similar work in Goa, and the respect ICGs commanded back home for having migrated and succeeded. These factors reduced the loss of status that the upper caste would normally face in undertaking such employment.

However, it is evident that the upper castes never completely overcame their distaste for working in personal service as most were reluctant for their children to follow in their footsteps and they made special efforts, through investment in education, to foster inter-generational occupational mobility. Their example was followed by upper-caste non-migrants in the LCGC so that M1 of Brahmin, Chardo, and to a lesser extent, Gaudde origins, increasingly took up non-service jobs. Consequently, from around the middle of the 20th century, service jobs came predominantly to be done by Sudras. In Amora, for instance, while at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, Brahmin shippies were in their late 50s and 60s, and, hence, started working around the 1940s, Sudra shippies tended to be in their 30’s and 40’s. Of course, some young Brahmins do obtain service employment on the ship, and this is either because of a genuine liking for such work, or a lack of European linguistic ability or literary skills to acquire

206 Migration... and the emergence of a community other work. A few other young Brahmins who are employed on the ships work at the ofﬁcer level. Among Sudras, it is not only the ﬁrst generation migrants who had obtained service jobs but also a proportion of the subsequent generation. Hence, the degree of inter-generational occupational mobility among Sudras is not as marked as among the upper castes. Despite the availability in Goa of subsidised education since 1961 and hence, improved access, many sons of Sudra shippies in Amora and elsewhere, as well as those of Gauddes I interviewed in Salcete, told me they were content - although often their parents had higher aspirations for them - with working on the ships, which offered adventure, status and good salaries.

In the case of female employment, the major service occupation has been as ayahs. Both in the past and present, it is mainly Sudra women who took up this work, as high caste women (and men) did not regard it as respectable employment. Indeed, at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, the few Brahmin women from Amora who were working as ayahs did so because, through death or desertion of husbands, they have become the sole breadwinners. The female children of ayahs, particularly those living with their working mothers ‘out’, tend not to take up the same employment as their mothers, as cosmopolitan living and secondary education has equipped them with social, and sometimes technical skills, to obtain jobs as shop girls, clerks and typists. In the 1970s migration wave to the Gulf, ayahs have not been able to take their children with them because of immigration restrictions. They are usually reared by grandparents and other kin or at boarding schools in Goa and most of those under 18 years old, aspire to skilled manual or white collar jobs.

Turning now to the skilled manual workers, distinctions have to be made between traditional craftsmen and modern technical

207 Migration... and the emergence of a community workers. Among the former, the tailors were most prominent. Al- though tailoring was a lucrative occupation, the social opprobrium attached to it did not encourage other castes to take it up. Self conscious of the stigma, the sons of migrant tailors, particularly IF1, turned to other occupations, with the active encouragement of parents. Consequently, tailoring as a male occupation has gradually declined in satellite communities, and, in places like Britain, is virtually non-existent as it has become common to buy ready-made western clothes. It is important to note the distinction between an occupational skill and a domestic one. Women, of whatever caste, who tailored clothes for themselves or their children, and for others on a paid basis, were not stigmatised but praised for the possession of valuable skills, and many worked in this way (Kuper 1973:235-239).

The new breed of skilled manual workers are trained technicians in air conditioning, refrigeration etc. Since such jobs require education, are associated with a well regarded advanced technology, and command high salaries in the Gulf, they are eagerly sought after by all castes, including the upper castes. Such new occupations are caste-free, and analogous to ﬁndings that some occupations, such as taxi driving in Indian towns, are not caste speciﬁc but attract workers of various castes (Srinivas 1969:76).

As noted earlier, few ICGs engage in entrepreneurial activity. The few who ran bakeries, pharmacies, grocery shops, liquor shops, clothing concerns, insurance and travel companies were not drawn from a speciﬁc caste. The numbers are too few to make any meaningful correlation. Since no CG caste in Goa had a monopoly on entrepreneurial activity in Goa, most of it being from the 16th century in the hands of Gujeratis (Pearson 1975) and Hindu Goans (de Souza 1975), it was the business ability and inclination of enterprising individuals, not caste speciﬁcity, which

208 Migration... and the emergence of a community determined occupational choice.

White collar employment was initially taken up by Brahmin and Chardo ﬁrst generation ICGs, as found among other castes with a literary tradition (Srinivas 1969:81). However IF1, IF2, and IF3, and to a lesser degree F1 and F2, irrespective of caste, have taken up employment as clerks, typists, administrators and teachers. This is best illustrated by statistical data provided by Nelson (1971) in her study of ICGs in Nairobi in 1970. She found that in each of the individual caste categories of Brahmin, Chardo, Gaudde and Sudra, approximately 65% were clerks (1971:147). I suspect that a similar lack of correlation characterises white collar workers in London, although this cannot be substantiated statistically for reasons outlined earlier. Nelson also found that a higher proportion of Brahmins, compared to the other castes, were engaged in professional work (1971:147). Again, I think a similar correlation would probably be found in London but I would expect it to increasingly weaken as young people, of diverse caste origins, take advantage of free or subsidised higher education in Britain.

The above discussion illustrates that only with a very few occupations, such as tailoring, has there been a marked correlation between caste and migrant occupation. Hence, we have a high degree of retention of hereditary occupations in urban areas for the first generation of migrants. Similarly Padwardhan (1974:317) found a high degree of retention of hereditary work by urban Chambars and Dhors because it was profitable to make leather goods for national and international markets. I have shown that conversely, white collar jobs have the least correlation. That some jobs lose caste specificity emerges from Gould’s study (1965) of rickshawalas in an Indian city. He found they comprised several religious and caste groups, and the latter fact he suggests

209 Migration... and the emergence of a community indicates “...how completely the occupational feature of caste disintegrates in the modern economic order” (1965:295). Further evidence is provided from the studies of Gist (1954), Chaudry (1964) and D’Souza (1974) which demonstrates that in Indian cities caste, except in a few cases, is not signiﬁcant in determining occupational choice.

The virtual absence of ritual taboos among ICGs provided considerable freedom to various caste members to pursue occupations of choice. Western medicine provides a good example, as there are many ICGs working as doctors and nurses. A number of the early doctors were Brahmins, in marked contrast to the situation pertaining among Hindu Brahmins in India. Since the profession requires handling people of all castes, including Untouchables, and corpses, few Hindu Brahmins, until after World War II, became (Western) doctors (Srinivas, 1962:54). Doctors, particularly IF1, IF2 and IF3, are of varied caste origins. Similarly, the nursing profession attracted a number of ICG women, of different caste origins, for whom it provided an occupational niche which had little competition for a long time from Hindus and Muslims (Philip 1972:276; Jacobson 1977). Christian medical women in various hospitals in India provided important role models for young ICG women.

Education has been and continues to be the driver of occupational mobility and Goans, of whatever background, strive to acquire some education even if this involves geographical mobility. Not surprisingly, jobs for which some degree of education is a prerequisite have come to enjoy higher status. Those who are in what are considered to be ‘good’ jobs (technical, white collar and professional) rarely fail to display their educational qualiﬁcations, letters of reference etc. and to provide detailed accounts of their jobs, not infrequently with some embellishments. On the

210 Migration... and the emergence of a community other hand, those ICGs and their families who are dissatisfied with their jobs and status because it does not meet their own and the ICGC’s expectations, usually emphasise the institution that they work for. Hence, for instance, I was told that David, a Brahmin, worked for a large hotel in Bahrain, and it was only later that I discovered he was employed as a junior waiter. If David had been a Sudra, there would have been less reluctance to disclose the type of job he was employed in. Hence, although there is a common orientation in the ICGC, there is the greater expectation that Brahmins compared to Sudras will be employed at the upper occupational levels. By drawing attention to this orientation, I do not wish to imply that all Goans were eventually able to obtain employment other than in unskilled and semi- skilled jobs. Many continue to be employed in these jobs for a number of reasons; inadequate European language fluency; limited resources to acquire further education; personal inability and lack of employment opportunities. However, the orientation encourages all, irrespective of current employment status, to use financial and other resources in ways which promote the acquisition of ‘good’ jobs. This orientation, while it may not be manifested in a current job can, nevertheless, be perceived from the hopes, values and other elements of discourse, with its emphasis on ‘making progress’, ‘doing well’ and ‘coming up’.

5: The Reproduction of International Migration and the Role Played by Remittances

The ﬁrst migrants from any sending area are usually pioneers who often serve as pace-setters. The letters of migrants (Lindberg 1930:50-51; Tannous 1942) and their periodic visits home, both

211 Migration... and the emergence of a community of which serve as opportunities to extol the virtues of the new life, provide powerful stimuli to migration of peers and juniors. The enhanced economic condition of the ICG was manifested in the village by improved housing, diet, dress and celebrations of rituals and feasts which endowed him and his family with great prestige. Migrants often exaggerated the socio-economic position they had achieved and were often given to ostentatious displays of wealth. Hence, they tended to portray a somewhat unrealistic picture of life ‘out’.

The fact that the early ICGs were not drawn from a particular social category meant that others could be inspired by their success because they effectively served as a reference group (Merton 1957). A parallel ﬁnding emerges in Lindberg’s account of Swedish international migration where the realisation that the successful international migrants were “just ordinary boys like the rest of us before they left home” (1930:53) spurred residents to migrate. The equivalent of the ‘America fever’ that Lindberg describes was the ‘Africa fever’ that gripped Goans; as one informant told me “everyone was going to Africa, so I went also”. In the 1970s, a common sentiment was that “everyone is going to the Gulf, so I want to go too”. What developed in Goa is what Rossi (1955) calls a ‘climate of mobility’, and while many joined the international migration stream, the children of ICGs were most predisposed to migrate.

Accustomed to a higher standard of living, such children tend to be less likely to wish to revert to a lower one. Deprivation being relative, it is the fear of poverty which partially motivates further international migration when the means to maintaining or attaining the expected standard of living are restricted at home. Moreover, as Taylor notes, “... the presence of a precedent conceivably makes migration more of a reality” (1969:111) for the

212 Migration... and the emergence of a community second generation, who are brought up in a milieu infused with anticipatory socialisation, have access to ﬁrst-hand information of the receiving countries and the migratory experience, and contacts among kin and friends which ease their entry and settlement into an alien environment.

The change in government, land reform, and the accelerated economic and educational progress that followed the liberation of Goa in 1961, contributed to the changing fortunes of different sectors of the population. The LCG upper class, who previously eschewed migration except in special circumstances and on government transfer, by 1980 were more seriously contemplating migration. This is mainly because their financial resources have been gradually eroded by land reform and because of the increased competition they faced for senior civilian jobs and professions of which they had almost a monopoly in the Portuguese era. All those who have benefitted from compulsory attendance at secondary school are loathe to return to farming and other unskilled manual work and instead aspire to jobs beyond this level. The Indian government has encouraged, through subsidies and other means, the establishment of small businesses in a variety of fields, and while many have taken up such opportunities, others, particularly LCG youth, tend to be reluctant to do so. Although there has been an increase in white collar jobs, these have not been sufficient in terms of the number aspiring to them. The fact that a large number of educated Goan girls have also joined the job market intensifies the shortage. Furthermore, workers from other Indian states have competed for and gained jobs in Goa.

However, not only are desired jobs fewer in number, but the remuneration from them is considered by many to be inadequate. The expected level of remuneration has been directly conditioned by the fact that comparable jobs ‘out’ command a higher salary

213 Migration... and the emergence of a community and contemporary international migrants cite this as one of the main motives for leaving Goa. While there are some jobs in the Gulf which enable migrants to amass a large amount of capital quickly, what is highly prized and desired is long term, salaried employment with superannuation beneﬁts. There is conspicuous evidence in Goa of the value of such jobs because of the ubiquitous presence of ICG returnees from Africa who are living on good pensions (case 1) which are often equivalent or exceed the salaries of professional workers in Goa.

The formal recruitment agencies have facilitated the migration of those who did not participate in previous migrations or may have done so only minimally. However, it is not education alone and the new recruitment strategy which is responsible for this, but also living in an environment which is infused with an international migration ethos.

Over the years, Goa has developed into what Philpott calls a ‘migration oriented society’ (1968) as migration is a significant economic activity. International migration is a theme of various local songs and novels (Mascarenhas 1958). It forms a feature in most popular magazines. Often these magazines contain stories of the success of ICGs, both educationally and occupationally, and focus almost exclusively on white collar and professional jobs. They invoke not only admiration but also a desire for emulation, thus perpetuating the ideology of international migration. However, changes in the Goan political economy, the conducive environment, and the favourable methods used in organising migration, cannot sufficiently account for the scale of migration, whether of workers or students, nor for the occupational and geographical mobility that characterised subsequent generations of migrants. To account for this, we need to turn to the use ICGs made of remittances, and under their influence, the

214 Migration... and the emergence of a community use non-migrants made of their income. This will indicate how CGs increasingly operated in a proactive way to ensure the reproduction of migration. Occupational mobility required education which, in the absence of State subsidised provision, in turn required the possession of a considerable amount of money and other resources. To understand how CGs were able to educate their children, it is ﬁrst necessary to examine the other avenues in which they could invest income.

Early ICGs hoped that their employment outside Goa would allow them to accumulate capital with which to buy arable land in Goa (Gomes 1862:57). At that time, land was valued not only for its productivity but also for the status it conferred on the owner. Arable land in Goa, particularly the OCs, had a high scarcity value chieﬂy because only approximately a third was available for purchase, the rest (until agrarian reform in the last decade) being held in perpetuity, mainly by the comunidades. Although a number of ICGs managed to purchase land, the plots were usually about an acre (Repatriates Union 1980:4). Hence, investment in land was very restricted and this contrasts strongly with investment patterns typical of many other migrant situations (e.g. Caplan 1970). Despite their rural backgrounds, ICGs were not keen to invest in agricultural development as few were private owners of substantial holdings. Most were comunidade or private tenants and this, together with insecurity of tenancy, militated against an individual and personal commitment to improving the productivity of a particular plot of land. Since ICGs abhorred trade and entrepreneurial activity, only a few invested their remittances in such enterprises.

Another factor which discouraged investment in land, or agricultural technology or entrepreneurial activity was that these required a lump sum investment. However, the only bank during

215 Migration... and the emergence of a community the colonial era that was accessible to all Goans was the State owned Banco Ultramarino which offered very low interest on savings, and therefore, even if migrants remitted regular savings, their capital was not augmented substantially.

Another potential avenue for investing remittances was gold. Gold ornaments were and still are highly valued but they are not as extensively used as among Hindus. One of the reasons is that the widespread adoption of western dress by the majority of women in the ICGC precludes the use of elaborate ornamentation which is more appropriate when a sari is worn. Gold ornamentation is rarely used to adorn hair dressed in western styles and neither are nose rings, waist belts and such like used. Ornamentation for women is conﬁned to earrings, necklaces, rings and bangles, and a gold chain for men. While remittances were used to acquire gold, the demands were relatively easily met by most ICGs. Remittances were, of course, used for contingencies like marriages, dowries, funerals, paying off debts and ﬁnancing chain migration, as evident in many other instances of migration (Caplan 1970; Philpott 1973).

There were two avenues of investment that were best suited to ICGs; housing and education. CGs exhibit a strong desire towards individual house ownership, and the use of remittances to realise this goal is discussed in detail in chapter 7. Western education offered parents one of the best long term returns on investment and the adoption of this strategy was resorted to by the ﬁrst generation ICGs of the late 19th century. Such investment in education predates that of urban Indians, even the educated, who before Independence used to invest savings in arable land. However, land reform measures and the ceiling restrictions have compelled the diversion of resources elsewhere, mainly into education (Srinivas 1969:87). CGs were already

216 Migration... and the emergence of a community favourably predisposed towards western education because they had over a number of centuries been exposed to it, mainly under the auspices of the Catholic Church. Furthermore, ICGs and the LCGC through kin, neighbours and friends were aware, not only of the opportunities that existed outside Goa for the educated, but also the job security, high salaries, superannuation benefits and status that white collar and professional jobs commanded. Education did not require lump sum investment but regular inputs, usually at monthly intervals, over a period of years. Furthermore, unless children, particularly sons, were very close in age, financial commitments could be spread over time. Moreover, as older children began earning, they contributed to the education of younger siblings. Sometimes, better-off maternal or paternal - including unmarried - relations and god-parents helped to educate the young. Particularly important as financial donors were priests, who had no children but relatively high incomes, and since they were educated themselves, regarded western education in favourable terms. LCGs followed the example of ICGs in investing in education.

Given limited resources, the emphasis was on educating sons, but wherever possible, through thrift, hard work and personal sacriﬁce, parents also tried to educate daughters. Attempts to provide a CG female with post elementary education anticipated possible economic independence as women may elect to or through circumstances remain single, or if married, encounter future socio-economic problems which necessitate total or partial self-support. Wives and dependants constantly fear that men will be enticed by “bad company to squander money on drink” thus bringing shame and possible destitution on their families. As extensive male migration entails the continuous or intermittent absence of fathers, husbands and brothers whose Iives often

217 Migration... and the emergence of a community are, or are perceived to be, at greater risk, women have to be prepared to countenance, through respectable employment, the withdrawal of economic and emotional support through untimely death or desertion. Since Catholic women have to be prepared to be mobile, or if resident in Goa, function as executive heads of households, education is expected to facilitate the acquisition of the confidence and independence required for such purposes. One of the most important motivations, especially among the upper castes, for striving to educate females, particularly until the 1960s when mass English education was not available in Goa, was to improve their chances of marriage to educated migrants (see also Vatuk 1972:78). Of particular significance is that such education was necessary to facilitate the fulfilment of their role in the ‘progressive social reproduction’ of male labour, discussed in the next chapter.

Press cutting 4: Alumni Reunions. Source The GOA Newsletter, London (left), and CONTACT Magazine, 1986 (right).

In the next section I shall examine the type of education facilities that came to be provided and the factors responsible for them. This will indicate that a small cluster of schools and colleges were patronised, and alumni periodically renew links (see press cutting 4).

218 Migration... and the emergence of a community

6: Changing Educational Provision and Access

In Goa, the provision of education in Portuguese medium, as well as Konkani and Marathi, had gradually been escalating around the turn of the 18th century which meant that progressively large proportions of the Goan population had access to primary as well as secondary and tertiary education. Graduates from the various secondary and tertiary institutions were absorbed mainly in ecclesiastical and civilian posts in Goa and, sometimes, elsewhere in the Estado da India. From the mid-19th century onwards, two developments occurred which were signiﬁcant for international migration. Firstly, compulsory education was introduced, initially for those 9-12 years old - later the minimum age was reduced to 7 - living within a radius of 2-3 kms. from a school, and penalties were imposed to ensure attendance (Rodricks 1974:90-1; Varde 1977:12-14). Since there were a greater number of schools in the OCs, either a government primary or parish school, the LCGC had greater access to education than Hindus.

Secondly, specific educational provision in Portuguese for females in Goa was established by the State in the mid-19th century (Pereira 1940:87-8) and published statistics available for the early decades of the 20th century testify to the attendance of a small number of females at single-sex and co-educational secondary institutions (ibid:195-200). Various congregations of Sisters who had a reputation for efficiency in the educational field had also been providing education for females (Moraes 1972:136). Early students were probably of elite backgrounds, but the gradual education of other Catholic females was facilitated by the income remitted by migrant men.

219 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Access to European language tuition, apart from Portuguese, was increased through State provision, initially of Latin classes in Salcete; Latin and English in Bardez; German in Ilhas, and later the opening of a French school in Mapuca, Bardez, and an English school in Margao, Salcete (Rodricks ibid:87; Varde ibid:20). The teaching of European languages was also available at general institutions such as the Professional Institute of Nova Goa, the Lyceums, and the Escola Nacional de Sexo Femino which catered for females only (Varde, 1977; 16-18). In addition, a number of private schools to teach science or languages were established after the State encouraged such activity early in the 19th century (Varde ibid: 8; Rodricks, 1974:83). The demand for English education was much higher than for Portuguese, and this was reﬂected in the fact that by 1950, there were 65 private English medium primary, middle and secondary schools with 13,477 students compared to 10,944 at the Portuguese schools (Varde 1977:90-1) (16). The statistics refer to formal institutions and do not take account of the fact that small English tutorial classes were also available in the homes of private individuals in many villages.

The fact that the Portuguese government permitted English language education in Goa is not surprising since remittances were crucial to offset the negative commercial balance (Almeida 1965:268). On the other hand, the government was perturbed by the reduced attendance at Portuguese medium schools and, therefore, it made the primero grau (ﬁrst grade) compulsory in Portuguese (Varde 1977:90). However, many parents who were anxious not to waste time and resources on Portuguese medium primary education, evaded this by sending their young children to English medium schools outside Goa. A trend had already been established to send older children for degree education at

220 Migration... and the emergence of a community

St Xavier’s College, and Sophia’s College for Girls, in Bombay, as well as to Catholic institutions in other parts of India, since English medium tertiary education did not become available in Goa until the 1960s. Some of the institutions had at one time been under the jurisdiction of the Portuguese Padroado and, hence, there were pre-existing links. A number of the teachers in the schools, such as those in the predominantly Goan parishes in Bombay, were Goan priests (Colonias Portuguese 1912:186).

Parents rarely had any hesitation in sending their children, daughters as well as sons, to study at these institutions, not only because they enjoyed a high reputation for academic excellence (Moraes 1972) but also because of the implicit trust and conviction that Catholic staff would instill similar moral and humanitarian values as themselves. Moreover, the ICG scholars did not suffer from social isolation because many of the students were from the satellite communities. In addition, many parents in Goa had kinship and associational links with members of the satellite communities who provided hospitality to the ICG scholars. Parents who could not afford boarding schools arranged lodging facilities with kin and friends in Bombay, Bangalore, Poona and Belgaum. Some male students, particularly children of shippies and domestic staff, stayed at the coors in Bombay (Baptista 1958:124-5, 138, 147). The extensive provision of Catholic schools and colleges within British, and later independent India, was the outcome, to a large extent, of a deliberate educational policy adopted by the Church. An educational apostolate was epitomised by the slogan “No church without a school” (Moraes 1972:166).

There was a tremendous concern within the ICGC to eradicate illiteracy as this was seen as the main reason why a large number were unemployed, earned low incomes, suffered ill health and did not maintain the high moral standards expected of Catholics

221 Migration... and the emergence of a community

(Provincial Congress 1916:13-21; Reports of Comissão Adminis- trativa do Pundo dos Emigrantes 1934-38). While the Catholic schools and colleges provided mainly academic education, community based organisations concentrated on providing vocational skills. The Comissão was established in Bombay in 1933 by the Governor of the Estado da India which provided most of the funds. Subsequently, branches were set up in Poona, Karachi and Calcutta, as well as British East Africa. The recipients of beneﬁts were primarily ICGs although some funds were channelled to the Goa Hindu Association (Report of Comissão 1934:4) as well as the Gomantak Maratha Samaj (ibid:12 and Appendix:15) (17).

In Bombay, for instance, the Comissão set up a school for weaving (1934:7); commercial classes including shorthand-typing for males (1934:8); tailoring classes which concentrated particularly on teaching women to sew female garments for which there was an increased demand (1934:9); electrical engineering (1935:14); printing (1937:8); and domestic science, shorthand and typing for girls (1934:8-10). In 1938, there were 1,199 students in the various classes and schools run by the Comissão (1938:16). Com- munity schools and Catholic educational establishments could not provide for the full range of studies that ICGs desired but this did not deter the ambitious from pursuing their aspirations. For instance, the Medical School in Bombay around the turn of the 20th century had 100 Goan students (Colonias Portuguese 1912:187). English medium educational facilities available in Goa, as well as elsewhere in India, came to be used not only by Goans living in the Indian subcontinent but also by those living in Africa.

The situation, however, was different in Portuguese East Africa than in British East Africa. ICGs living in the former were interested in a Portuguese education. Since by nationality, and the fact that many ICGs held senior positions in the colonial

222 Migration... and the emergence of a community administration (Henriksen 1978:69-70), their access to educational institutions, both within Portuguese East Africa and other Portuguese colonies was facilitated (Varde 1977:61). As the structure of education provision and curriculum was not dissimilar, there was little problem for international scholars who transferred from one country to another within the Portuguese colonial empire. Adolescents sent from Portuguese East Africa to study in Lisbon or Coimbra boarded at the institution or with Goan and Portuguese relatives and friends.

In British East Africa, since Goans had Portuguese nationality, they were precluded from attending government schools (Nelson 1971:223). Although they had access to Catholic mission schools, parents were often reluctant to send their children to these because of racial discrimination (Nelson ibid:223). A few small private ‘tutorial’ classes were run mainly by educated ICG women but these were only able to cater at an elementary level. In Nairobi it was only by 1940, with the help of a gift of land from the British government, a grant from the Portuguese government, and community subscriptions, that the Goan Overseas Association was able to establish an English-medium secondary school, called the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School, of sufﬁcient standard to cater for the community (Nelson 1971:223-7). Parallel developments took place in other cities and towns in British East Africa where there was a sizeable Goan community (Kuper 1973:290- 295), mirroring earlier similar achievements by various Indian communities (Mangat 1969:133-4). The Goan community schools were always associated with a church and the sacred symbols of Jesus, Mary and the saints adorned the walls of classrooms and halls. Catholic prayers were communally recited at the daily morning assembly and several times a day. Hence, the religious symbolism of Catholicism which was a feature of the educational

223 Migration... and the emergence of a community system in Goa was perpetuated in East Africa.

Until community schools were established in British East Africa, parents who wanted to educate their children had to make use of facilities in Goa and elsewhere in India. Which locality in India, whether Goa, Bombay, Bangalore etc. was used depended on the ﬁnancial resources of the family, the number and ages of the children, and the level of education required. An important consideration was the mobility of mothers who had to accompany young children from Africa and this is discussed more fully in the next chapter. In circumstances where the mobility of mothers was limited, children from the age of ten onwards were sent to boarding schools in Bombay and elsewhere in India as only minimal boarding school provision existed in Goa until around 1970. A cheaper alternative was for children from British East Africa to attend as day scholars and lodge with relatives and friends or less frequently, lodging houses run by ICGs. While the provision of English medium secondary education at ICG community schools in British East Africa from the middle of the 20th century stemmed the ﬂow of international scholars to India for secondary education, the relative lack of provision and access to tertiary education still required Goan (Kuper 1973:206), as well as other Indian students, to go overseas (Mangat 1969:173-4).

The contingent of ICG scholars who went for higher education overseas was considerably smaller than the number who went for secondary education. While secondary education was essential for obtaining white collar employment, higher education was necessary for entering the professions. In comparison to the opportunities available for white collar employment, the number of jobs open in the professions was limited and tended to be the preserve of Europeans in British East Africa. Furthermore, only a few parents could afford to educate their children beyond

224 Migration... and the emergence of a community secondary level, and those that did, managed with savings accumulated through working overtime, thrift and personal sacriﬁce. The majority of students for higher studies went to India, but some went to Europe and USA, where education was considered to be of a higher standard and conferred more prestige. The political ties between East Africa and Britain facilitated entry to colleges and universities there. The USA attracted a few students, mainly those who won scholarships.

The high standard of ﬂuency in English considerably facilitated the successful completion of further education studies. Indeed, initial lack of other European linguistic skills did not prevent ambitious students from expanding their linguistic repertoire in order to capitalise on the educational opportunities that arose in Spain, Italy and France, mainly through the Catholic network.

The majority of ICG scholars from British East Africa who went to study in the West were male. Most young IF1 and IF2 women after leaving school took some form of ofﬁce training to acquire jobs as general clerks, typists and secretaries. Some trained as primary and secondary school teachers at local teacher training colleges, while a few, from the 1960s, gained degrees at local East African universities. A small number went overseas, particularly to Britain, mainly to study nursing (case 1), which did not require as much ﬁnancial outlay as tertiary academic study.

Unlike the students who went to India, those who went to the West (apart from to Portugal) had less opportunity for personal contact with Goans as satellite communities did not become established until the 1970s, although there were a few individuals and families around (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979). Nevertheless, students reduced their social isolation by using religion as a common ground for friendship with non-Goan Catholics. Indeed, a prominent professional ICG from Bombay who visited Britain

225 Migration... and the emergence of a community in 1936 met the Archbishop of Westminster and the Chaplain of the University of London to ensure that the spiritual and material welfare of ICG students would not be neglected during the course of their studies (Comissão 1936:13-14).

At the time of ethnographic research in 1980, it was evident that ICGs in the Gulf rarely made use of educational facilities in the West but usually sent their children back to Goa and other parts of India. Variable circumstances in different Gulf countries militated against the establishment of large satellite communities, although certain places like Bahrain and Kuwait, with amenities more conducive to family life, have fairly large ICG populations. ICG children have access to mission schools there, and while a number spent a few years at these schools, on the whole, the higher cost of education has discouraged extensive use of these facilities. Furthermore, the dearth of higher educational institutions in the Gulf and the limited range of subjects offered reduced the scope of the educational opportunities available. Consequently, students returned to India for higher studies. Since different educational systems operate in India and individual Gulf States, the incompatibility of curricula did not favour the smooth transfer of students from secondary school in the Gulf to colleges and universities in India. As a result, after primary education in the Gulf, parents generally preferred to send their children to India where education is comparatively cheaper, and children suffer no academic handicaps in continuing their education to tertiary level.

Until the 1960s, children were rarely sent for tertiary education to Goa because of the minimal facilities available, but increasingly Goa attracts many students. Some of the new colleges are run by Catholic congregations, a few of which also have English medium secondary schools, augmenting the number of such schools run by the Diocese. The institutions run by the Catholic Church

226 Migration... and the emergence of a community co-exist with other secular, private and government institutions to which all Goans have access. Catholics usually attend Catholic institutions because they enjoy a high reputation, provide religious instruction and appropriate socialisation, and their fees are not out of the reach of many ICGs. Many also provide boarding facilities, and indeed the proliferation of Catholic boarding schools in Goa and other parts of India can be partially attributed to the demands of ICG parents, as well as other Indian parents, for such facilities. For satellite communities in the Gulf, the use of boarding schools enabled both husband and wife to continue residing there. However, women commonly returned from the Gulf to accompany their children to study as day scholars. In cases where mothers remained in the Gulf, the same pattern established by earlier generations of migrants who made use of kin and friends to provide lodgings or intermittent hospitality is followed.

Educational expansion in Goa has also occurred in the technical ﬁeld (18). However, as evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, State provision has proved inadequate and the continuous demand for technicians in the Gulf led to the proliferation of private technical institutions in Goa. This pattern parallels the early expansion of English education to meet the demands of those aspiring to white collar work in India and Africa. Whenever the demands for speciﬁc technical education cannot be met in Goa, either because of lack of facilities, lower standards, or inadequate places, students have gone to Bombay and other parts of India to acquire the requisite skills. During their studies they often lodge with ICG relatives and friends, while a few stay at the coors.

Thus we see that the commitment to educational and occupational mobility has led CGs to behave proactively and seize whatever educational opportunities were available despite the fact that

227 Migration... and the emergence of a community this meant the separation of family members, and considerable hard work and personal sacrifice to accumulate sufficient capital to invest in education over a number of years. The educational achievements of children and their acquisition of good employment testifies not only to their personal capabilities and diligence but, equally importantly, to the fact that parents were successful, through their efforts, in providing financial and other resources. The parental contribution is of considerable significance in circumstances where there has been an absence of State subsidised education.

Not surprisingly, where there are subsidies, increasing numbers of ICGs have pursued higher education. Thus, in Britain, the availability of the State grant system for undergraduate studies enabled many young Goans whose parents fulﬁlled the residential requirements to read for degrees at universities and polytechnics (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:27). Females are not discouraged from pursuing higher studies as is evident among some Asian communities. Consequently, the ranks of professional Goans have been swelled by young women, for whom the secretarial positions to which the earlier generation of female employees aspired to in East Africa, are no longer attractive.

Conclusion

International migration from Goa since the late 19th century has been predominantly from the OCs, and has involved a disproportionately greater number of Catholics compared to Hindus. This differential has been augmented over the years as the reproduction of migration among Catholics has been facilitated by the adoption of the proactive strategy of investment in education

228 Migration... and the emergence of a community in preparation for jobs ‘out’, and the development of extensive networks which promoted chain migration.

Catholic labour migration has been characterised by young, mainly single rural males of various castes, including a small number of low caste females, seeking urban employment. Initially the destinations were the metropolitan and provincial cities outside Goa but within India, but subsequently, cities overseas attracted successive waves of migrants. Ships plying international routes also provided employment for large numbers of Catholic men. International migration of scholars for secondary and tertiary education also occurred. Marriage migration was restricted to those destinations which permitted wives to join their husbands. For a number of reasons discussed in chapter 6, not all wives took advantage of this option. Of those that did, some returned to Goa for intermittent periods, mainly to supervise the education of their children.

The early waves of migrants included both literate as well as illiterate people, but with the large scale investment in education, the ranks of the former increased. Hence, while most migrants were initially concentrated in the service sector, inter-generational occupational mobility of all castes into white collar, and to a lesser extent, professional jobs, gained considerable momentum. Such jobs offered secure, long-term, superannuated employment with career prospects, and encouraged the establishment of permanent satellite communities. Consequently, returnee migration has predominantly been occasioned by mandatory retirement at the stipulated age, or premature retirement due to political changes, such as Africanisation policies in the former British East Africa.

The global dispersal of CGs and the development of multi- caste satellite communities ensured that the emergent ICGC expanded not only through the inﬂux of new migrants from

229 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Goa but also by natural reproduction. To cater for the youth, schools, usually co-educational were established, testifying to the prominent role education played in the cultural ethos of the ICGC. Indeed, it was through attendance at a small cluster of schools that extensive associational networks developed among men and women of different caste and territorial origins. These networks were augmented through residential ties arising from living in particular urban localities and occupational links derived from employment in a small range of organisations within speciﬁc economic niches. Occupational ties were not restricted to men as increasing numbers of women who were brought up ‘out’ obtained employment as secretaries, clerks, teachers and nurses. The emphasis on education and the orientation towards non- manual work enhanced the adoption of a foreign language, mainly English, in the academic and occupational spheres. Networks developed through education and residence are periodically renewed through formal social activities. The consolidation of the ICGC through marriage and kinship is explored in the next chapter.

Chapter 5: Notes

1. For instance, in 1900, 67% of all migrants originated from the OCs. This is partly accounted for by the greater concentration of the total population of Goa in the OCs, particularly in Bardez, which had the highest density of population. In 1900, there were only slightly more Catholics (262,548) than Hindus (260,144) in Goa. Yet the majority of migrants were Catholics. According to the statistics provided by the Provincial Congress (who note that their data is incomplete), around 1900, 18.5% of the Catholic population of Goa had migrated, while only 1% of Hindus had done so (Congress 1910:130). Unfortunately, due to the absence of relevant data with breakdown by religion, there is no statistical way of ascertaining whether migration of Hindus increased from 1900 onwards, but from discussions in 1980 with Hindus in Goa and the ofﬁcers of the Goa Hindu Association in Bombay, it is apparent that whatever escalation occurred, it never came anywhere near the rate of migration of the Catholics.

230 Migration... and the emergence of a community

2. This is substantiated by studies of Goans in Kenya and Uganda where both Nelson (1971) and Kuper (1973) respectively note that the population was entirely composed of Catholics. A broadly similar conclusion can be drawn from the sparse data available on Mozambique (Census 1912, 1940; Henriksen 1978; Isaacman 1972) and Angola (Clarence-Smith 1979).

3. Macau was a Portuguese territory until 1999.

4. The classiﬁcatory scale of ethnic generations developed by Warner and Scole (1945:30-31) is as follows:

P1 - The immigrant generation which entered at age over 18

P2 - The immigrant generation which entered at age of 18 or under

F1 - Native born offspring of P1 & P2

F2 - Native born offspring of F1

F3 - Native born offspring of F2

F4 - Native born offspring of F3

5. This is a possibility for those in the Gulf as indigenisation of the work force gains momentum and the number of foreign workers therefore declines.

6. This is a Portuguese word meaning quiet, peaceful, relaxed, doing nothing.

7. This is an important change which reflects the secularisation of internationally reared offspring, particularly in the West. Unlike their parents, many are not prepared to rely on the Church approved natural family planning methods because of the assumed lower contraceptive efficacy. It also signifies a change in conjugal relationships which is correlated with the rise of ‘love marriages’.

8. There are a number of reasons for this; first of all, few returnees want to share the ancestral house with co-parceners as they have become accustomed to independent living and better standards of accommodation while living ‘out’. Secondly, with their savings and superannuation benefits, many can afford to buy or build urban flats. Thirdly, women who have lived ‘out’ have become accustomed to modern amenities, such as tap water, fridges and cookers and are loathe to take up rural living which entails drawing water from wells, frequent shopping for meat and fish because of the erratic electricity supply, and cooking on wood fires and kerosene stoves. Fourthly, the relative anonymity of urban life is preferred to the parochialism and inquisitiveness of rural life. Finally, after liberation in 1961, real estate and property development considerably increased, and it became possible to relatively easily acquire urban flats. This is particularly reflected in the extensive housing development of Mira Mar near Panjim, and parallel developments, but on a much smaller scale, are evident in the towns of Mapuca and Margao and in villages along major link roads.

9. From the 16th century, there were Goan priests in Bangalore (Dominic 1972:115), Bombay (Moraes 1972:158; Dominic 1972:109), Mangalore (Pai 1981:211-217), Ski Lanka (Moraes 1972:146; Saldanha 1952:130), elsewhere in India (Moraes 1972:147; Dominic 1972:124), Portugal (Moraes 1972:147), South America (Moraes 1972:148), and Africa (Moraes 1972:148; Saldanha 1952:141).

231 Migration... and the emergence of a community

10. Some agents have taken fees and disappeared, others have kept the migrants waiting for months before they found them jobs, and when they did charged a further fee. Often ICGs have discovered, on arrival in the Gulf that the jobs did not match details previously given by the agent in terms of salary, period of contract, fringe beneﬁts and accommodation.

11. There are a number of possible explanations. Firstly, because Indian migration was organised through the British Government, Goans were a priori excluded. However, this implies that the Portuguese could not enter into any agreements with the British regarding recruitment. Yet in Africa, in the late 19th century, they signed agreements with the British to provide labour to work in the mines of South Africa (Duffy 1959; 137-139; Henriksen 1978:120; Richardson 1984:262). Secondly, labour recruitment from India took place from certain regions and embarkation was from select ports. However, one of these was Bombay and indeed there were already a number of Goans living in Bombay then (Baptista 1958; D’Sousa 1975). Finally, since indentured and kangani labour was used mainly for plantation agriculture (Saunders 1984), it could be argued that since the Portuguese had comparatively few estates, mainly in Mozambique (Duffy 1962; 92- 5; Vail & White 1980; Isaacman 1972) and Brazil (Boxer 1969:84-105) there was no equivalent demand for labour from Goa as the British required from India.

12. There were a few early white collar workers in Bombay. They were educated, political emigrees from Goa who sought political asylum in Bombay during the 1822 rebellion and in 1835 when the Goa governor, Bernard Peres da Silva, was ousted from Governorship (Baptista 1958:18).

13. Some ICGs did engage in business and their enterprises are ones Hindus tend to eschew, such as hotels, bars and shops, where alcohol, pork and beef are available.

14. There is a small Catholic community in Malacca which I visited in 1981. They are the descendants of Portuguese and Goans. Malacca was at one time a Portuguese base and some Goans migrated there.

15. For instance, Rodrigues was changed to Rodricks, Fernandes to Ferns. Others dropped their surname completely, and used one of their Christian names as a surname. Hence, Matthew, originally a Christian name, came to be used as a surname.

16. The figure 13,477 refers to Goa only while 10,944 refers to Goa, Daman and Diu, and hence is an over-estimate for Goa. Unfortunately, the extent of over-estimation is not known because specific figures for Daman and Diu are not available.

17. Gomantak Maratha Samaj comprised mainly of Devadasis (temple ‘prostitutes’ and dancers) who ﬂed from Goa when their activities were banned by the Portuguese government in the early 20th century. The organisation tried to ensure they did not lapse into prostitution and even arranged for some to marry.

18. Some technical education has always existed in Goa since the late 19th century but it was not popular for various reasons, such as the use of Portuguese as a medium of instruction, the poor curriculum design, and the lack of employment opportunities (Yarde, 1977:42-8). Curriculum re-organisation and the provision of six scholarships for further studies at technical institutions in other parts of India,

232 Migration... and the emergence of a community

Portugal or abroad increased its attraction in the 1940s, but it was not until 1965 when the government industrial training institutions became established in Panjim that technical education gained a foothold in Goa.

233 Marriage, Family and Kinship in the International Catholic Goan Community

Introduction

n the preceding chapters, I have indicated the processes which I led to the emergence of an ICGC. This chapter explores the procreative and social reproduction of the ICGC. In Section 1, the variety of marriage patterns that exist are described, together with a discussion of their historical evolution. These patterns have implications for territorial links, marriage payments, age of marriage and celibacy in the ICGC which are examined in Section 2. Section 3 looks at the nature of household organisation and the multiplicity of residence patterns that have emerged. The implications of international migration and household organisation for women is explored ﬁrstly, in Section 4, by looking at how the role of mother has been affected, and secondly, in Section 5, at the new responsibilities she has assumed and its consequences for female autonomy. Section 6 brieﬂy outlines how kinship and

234 Marriage, family and kinship afﬁnal links are maintained in the ICGC. This chapter looks at patterns and trends in the ICGC, and in examining social change in the domestic sphere takes as its baseline the structural and cultural characteristics of the local Catholic Goan community as discussed in chapter 3.

1: Patterns of Marriage and their Historical Development

Kurian (1961), in his study of Kerala Christians, resident in Kerala as well as migrants in Bombay, identiﬁes four types of marriage patterns, and with slight modiﬁcations of terminology, I shall use them to discuss marriage patterns in the ICGC (1).

(i) Marriage according to ideas of parents

Such marriages, arranged without the consent of the son or daughter, are uncommon but there have been a few cases. Exceptionally, objections are raised at the altar, and the following case illustrates this.

In Goa, Africa returnees Joseph and Isabel cajoled their daughter, Maria, to marry Daniel who was working in Karachi. However, during the wedding nuptials, Maria refused to marry David. The family suffered acute embarrassment and news of this scandal spread not only in Goa but also to the satellite communities. Indeed, I had heard it when living in Kenya. Many condemned the parents for over-riding their daughter’s wishes and the incident is often recalled when parents contemplate similar action. Maria evoked a great deal of admiration for her courage, as well as criticism for embarrassing her parents. However, she did not

235 Marriage, family and kinship suffer irrevocable damage as she subsequently happily married an ICG man of her choice. The jilted man, Daniel, also later married happily. The fact that the case merited comment in the ICGC testiﬁes to the effectiveness of the international grapevine and lends further support to studies which note the prominent role social networks play in the transmission of gossip (Gluckman 1963a; Epstein 1969).

(ii) Marriage according to ideas of parents with consent of son/daughter

This pattern is equivalent to proposal marriages discussed in chapter 3. As among East Indians in Bombay (Godwin 1972:65), proposals come from either the parents of the girl or boy. Unlike in urban India where Vatuk found that the boy had greater influence than the girl in determining parental choice (1972:84), in the ICGC, gender differences are considerably attenuated. Proposal marriages arranged within the ICGC require the assistance of a wide range of kin and friends. A similar lack of reliance exclusively or predominantly on the kinship network to find partners is evident among East African Sikhs in London (Bhachu 1981:90). Proposal marriages which take place within a single satellite community are relatively easily arranged. On the other hand, those that involve more than one satellite community entail a more complex process. Particularly important, on the ships, and in satellite communities where there has been a predominance of men, are brothers, male kin, affines and friends. They play the role of intermediaries by suggesting one of their friends as a possible spouse for their sister or other female kin. Similarly relatives or friends write to their kin or close friends in the ICGC about eligible persons. For instance, Anne living in London wrote to her brother in Amora (a returnee from Burma) saying that at

236 Marriage, family and kinship a Goan social function in London she had met someone with an unmarried nephew in Goa, who might be a suitable match for his daughter. Sometimes, an international migrant visiting another satellite community may get ‘ﬁxed up’ through the assistance of kin and friends. This happened to Joe, from Kampala, who was visiting his mother’s brother in Poona, and married his friend’s daughter four weeks later.

In the process of matchmaking, photographs of prospective partners are exchanged between families and friends, a process somewhat reminiscent of the ‘mail order bride’ pattern found among Hong Kong Chinese emigrants (Watson 1975:175-6). Fur- thermore, information on the individual and family has to be authenticated and relatives and friends are consulted through personal contact and correspondence. While in a large number of cases the information provided is satisfactory, there are cases where fraudulent details regarding previous marriage, education, job and character have been given. Since marriages often take place during the ICG’s holiday, as a contingency measure, some come prepared with a letter from their parish priest stating that they are unmarried. It is usually the precise nature of the job and income that is disguised, and the general tendency in the ICGC to embellishment, makes it difﬁcult to assess the accuracy of information.

It is only rarely, as when parents fear losing a good prospect, that background information is not carefully checked. Such risks can be reduced if there is sufﬁcient time to make use of the international kinship and associational network to respond to verbal and written enquiries. Those who have extensive networks both in Goa and ‘out’ have a larger pool of prospective spouses to choose from and a greater ability to authenticate information. Adherence to the practice of proposal marriages is an important

237 Marriage, family and kinship way of ensuring caste endogamy. Parents who are particularly concerned about caste take greater care in the selection of spouses than those who are ambivalent or unconcerned about it.

During ethnographic research in 1980, it was evident that it was men working in the Gulf or on the ships who were most likely to ﬁnd a wife through the proposal marriage system (Almeida 1978; Ifeka 1985b) because their absence from Goa and relative lack of contact with the small number of eligible Goan women ‘out’, prevented them from pursuing pattern (iii) and (iv) below, although some would have preferred this.

Similarly, in the early decades of the 20th century when single men went to work in Africa they would return to Goa to marry someone selected by their parents (see case 1, chapter 5). As the satellite communities expanded, many ICGs were able, through proposal marriages arranged by kin and friends, to obtain spouses within their local satellite community. Men born and brought up in Goa or partially reared in Goa are also less likely to ﬁnd the proposal marriage system oppressive. However, IF1, IF2 and IF3 ICGs are ambivalent about proposal marriages, and many are totally opposed to them. Only a small number obtain spouses directly from Goa or other satellite communities through proposal marriages. Often these are men or women in their thirties or older who are shy and, therefore, did not take advantage of courtship opportunities, or previously were ‘going steady’ with either a Goan or non-Goan before they ‘split up’ or who had not yet met anyone suitable. For instance, Ronald, a 38 year old from San Francisco, disillusioned by romance, married 25 year old Jennifer at the end of his ﬁve week holiday in Goa, after she and her parents accepted his proposal, conveyed by his sister-in-law who knew the family well.

238 Marriage, family and kinship

(iii) Son/daughter own choice with consent of parents

Whereas pattern (i) and (ii) directly involve parents and/or other kin and friends in the process of selecting spouses, pattern (iii) does not. This is not to say that parents and kin play no part. Indeed, sometimes parents may introduce their son or daughter to a number of eligible persons at various social functions and then leave them to “ﬁnd out if they like each other”. Couples who have married in this way refer to their marriages as ‘half-half’ - partly orchestrated by parents, and partly managed by themselves. Marriages which develop without initial parental involvement and have been instigated by the couples themselves are known as ‘love marriages’. People will refer to a couple and say “theirs was a love marriage”.

Such marriages are usually preceded by a period of courtship and parents are then asked “to give their blessing”. A number of factors determine consent. Among ICGs who are caste conscious, disparity in caste origins constitute grounds for initial, and in some cases, permanent refusal. Higher caste parents are more likely to consent to the proposed marriage if the castes are contiguous in the hierarchy. For instance, caste-conscious Brahmin parents tend to object more strongly if the marriage is contemplated with a Gaudde or Sudra than with a Chardo; similarly, caste-conscious Chardo parents tend to be reluctant to approve marriage to a Sudra. It is important to note that the concern about caste applies equally to males and females and no pattern of institutionalised caste hypergamy exists. Often caste disparity is mitigated by class equivalence, as in the case of the low caste man or woman who is well educated and earning well. Since education is highly valued in the ICGC, as among the East

239 Marriage, family and kinship

African Sikhs in Britain (Bhachu 1981:84), it increases eligibility. Children prefer to marry with the parents’ blessing, even if it takes a number of months, and even years, to overcome resistance.

(iv) Son/daughter own choice without parents’ consent

Such marriages usually occur without the consent of one set of parents, rarely both. Without statistical evidence it would be difﬁcult to say whether it is men rather than women who ignore their parents’ wishes, but my overall impression is that, if there is a gender difference, it is not a large or signiﬁcant one. This can be explained by the fact that ‘love marriages’ have developed in the context of growing female education and economic independence and, therefore, women are in a relatively similar position to men, who are economically independent of parents, to assert their wishes. In some cases, marriages have been inevitable because of premarital pregnancy. In countries such as India and Africa where back-street abortions are practised, pregnancy necessitates marriage. Indeed, the fear of a scandal forces parents to “give their blessing”. Parental opposition may continue after the marriage, but usually recedes after the couple have had a child. Similarly, Ross found that parental opposition to inter- caste marriage in urban India was short-lived and reconciliation occurred after the birth of a child (1961:272).

Where there has been absence of consent, in the period up to about the end of the 20th century, it was most likely when the disparity between castes was great. Opposition to marriage with a ‘tailor’s son or daughter’ was strongest, even when they were not following the traditional occupation. A number of marriages in the ICGC without parental consent have, however, taken place

240 Marriage, family and kinship between Brahmins and Tailors, Chardos and Sudras, Brahmins and Gauddes.

While parental opposition generally has been strongest over the lack of caste congruity, there are other factors which count even if the couple are of the same caste. For instance, parents may not like the boy/girl’s family, because they do not have a ‘good name’, which usually means some previous scandal has occurred. They may object to the boy/girl’s personality, physical appearance, or character. In the case of men, character deficiencies usually refer to ‘drinking and loafing’, and in the case of women, to being a ‘flirt’ and ‘friendly’ with a number of men. It has been common for couples, particularly those living outside the West, not to date on their own, but to ‘move about in groups or cliques’ which might include some pairs, as well as singles. Hence they are chaperoned not by a senior adult but by the peer group. Gossip among peers affects an individual’s reputation, which rebounds as well on siblings and parents. Hence brothers and sisters, who may or may not be part of the same ‘clique’, keep mutual watch to ensure compliance to appropriate standards of pre-marital behaviour and the safeguarding of the family’s reputation. Parents are reputed to keep ‘their eyes and ears open’ and covertly observe young people at social functions, listen to gossip communicated by kin and friends, and their own children. Sometimes there is parental opposition because of ethnic or religious factors. The opposition, mainly up to the end of the 20th century, has been strongest to non-Catholics, and to those of African descent, but attributes such as good education, professional employment and reputable family background can mitigate or overcome family opposition.

As the ICGC has expanded and become a permanent phenomenon, there has been an increasing orientation towards love marriages (D’Souza 1975:249; Kuper 1975:164). In his study of Syrian

241 Marriage, family and kinship

Christians in rural Kerala and Bombay, Kurian found that self- choice occurred within the community thus perpetuating religious endogamy (1961:69-70). Among ICG satellite communities in British India and British East Africa love marriages involved a greater proportion of inter-caste marriages than do proposal marriages. Love marriages have also led to a greater incidence of inter-ethnic unions. A few Goans in various parts of India have married non-Goans, particularly the Catholic Anglo-Indians (Gaikwad 1967:184-5) who generally follow the love marriage pattern (ibid:148) as do most Catholic East Indians (Godwin 1972: 65) and Parsis (Sahier 1955:289-90). In the West from around 1970, the majority of marriages to non-Goans have been to Catholic Europeans, and a much smaller number to other South Asians and West Indians.

Marriages to non-Goans were not uncommon in Portugal and Portuguese colonies as a soft boundary (Banton 1983:127) existed between the Portuguese and ICGs. On the other hand, a hard boundary (Banton 1983:125) prevailed between ICGs and the British in British East Africa which virtually precluded ethnic inter-marriage. This is less the case in contemporary Britain and other western countries. The historical precedent for such marriages was the unions between Portuguese and LCGs in Goa, but while those were predominantly of low caste LCG women and Portuguese military personnel, the marriages that took place outside Goa involved a cross-section of castes and, indeed, included a number of high caste men and women.

242 Marriage, family and kinship

2: The Implications of Marriage Patterns

(a) Inter-caste and inter-ethnic marriages

While inter-caste marriages are more common than inter-ethnic ones, the processes involved are relatively similar. I shall now discuss them, with a focus on the attenuation of caste and using British East Africa as an example.

As satellite communities have developed globally, a large proportion of the ICG population was born and brought up outside Goa. Consequently, there has been a fairly large pool of young adults among whom marriages could take place. As ICG children were educated in a limited number of schools and colleges run by the community or the Church, there were many opportunities for the development of inter-caste relationships. Many of these bonds of friendship were later intensiﬁed and augmented through work and social activities. The basis for personal relationships were physical attraction, compatibility of personality, interests, education and economic status.

The concentration of Goans in a few sectors of employment, in particular residential areas, together with frequent attendance at western style dances and parties, substantially increased the development of multiplex links within the ICG satellite community. The insularity of the ICG satellite community in British India and British East Africa was partly maintained through the lack of a common lifestyle with other Indians in British India (apart, to some extent, with Anglo-Indians) and, in British East Africa, by the government policy of cultural pluralism (Twaddle 1975) as well as community sentiments (Morris 1968; Bharati 1972; Nelson 1972; Nazareth 1972). Young people progressively acquired

243 Marriage, family and kinship greater freedom to organise social activities with peers whose caste background was of little relevance to them. Indeed, many did not know each other’s caste, or the signiﬁcance of ‘caste’, although they had heard the word being used. For instance, I did not know the caste of my school mates, neighbours and adult friends in Kenya. Furthermore, it was not until I began postgraduate studies that I came to understand the caste system and developed an interest in it as a social anthropologist.

The economic independence enjoyed by young adults, who were in equivalent or superior jobs to their fathers, made it less likely for them to heed the dictates of parents in the choice of marriage partner. This applied not only in the case of young men, but also young women who were relatively free to use their income on dressing well and participating in mixed-sex leisure activities. An insistence on caste endogamy was in striking contrast to the relative equality that the younger generation of ICGs enjoyed in educational opportunity, employment prospects and leisure. Young ICGs saw the retention of caste as an anachronism. This lends support to Kapadia’s view that the factors that accelerate the tempo of inter-caste marriages are co-educational schools, mixed employment and mixed caste leisure clubs (1955:123).

However, it was not only young adults who did not support caste endogamy, but also older middle and lower caste adults who, being in equivalent jobs to the upper caste, were keen to emphasise achieved rather than ascribed status. Furthermore, a number of young adults of middle and lower caste origins were employed in similar or better jobs than the upper castes because of better ability and open competition for jobs, and hence, enjoyed equivalent economic success. Many upper caste parents realised that by insisting on caste endogamy, they would be preventing, what apart from caste considerations, was a ‘good match’ and

244 Marriage, family and kinship this undermined the strength of their opposition. Kannan, in a study of inter-caste Hindu marriages in Bombay, noted that they mainly occurred among the educated middle and upper class and many parents realised that inter-caste marriages were a necessity to secure suitable spouses (1963:350). A number of young Goans also considered proposal marriages as another anachronism, a view shared by some older Goans who had less successful proposal marriages themselves. Kannan (1963:350) found that Hindu parents who could not fulﬁl dowry obligations directly or indirectly supported self-choice and the inter-caste marriages contemplated by their children. There is no evidence to indicate that demographic imbalance was responsible for inter- caste marriages such as Caplan found in his study of a Nepalese town (1975:138-140). On the whole, the ambivalent attitude within the community towards caste endogamy and proposal marriages increased the incidence of ‘love matches’ and inter- caste unions.

In the case of inter-ethnic marriages in the West, patronage of the same parish church, attendance at multi-racial schools and colleges, non-segregated employment practices, and involvement in relatively similar leisure pursuits, has encouraged greater contact and eventually marriages. A study of Sikhs in Canada found that more men than women, both Canada-born and India-born, married outside the community (Srivastava 1974:384). However, in the absence of statistical data, I cannot say whether gender is a factor in inter-ethnic marriages in the ICGC. Personal knowledge suggests a greater degree of equivalence, but the subject is worthy of extensive research. Benson (1981) in her study of mixed marriages in London noted the ambiguous ethnicity experienced by West Indian and English parents and their mixed blood children. In the absence of a systematic study, it is difﬁcult to say whether a

245 Marriage, family and kinship parallel phenomenon exists for ICG mixed marriages. However, it is important to note that Goans who marry non-Goans are not ostracised by the ICGC. Indeed, a number of the principal ofﬁce bearers of the Goan Association (UK) have been married to Europeans, and Europeans sometimes accompany Goans to social functions at the Association’s club as well as other functions organised by the community. Another indication of the acceptance of mixed marriages is the publication of the death in the USA of a European spouse in the local newspaper in Goa (see press cutting 5), and announcement of such marriages in the newsletters of Goan associations in the West.

Press cutting 5: Death notice of a non-Goan. Source: Navhind Times, Goa.

The gradual erosion of caste, and to limited extent ethnic boundaries, has resulted in fewer spouses being obtained directly from Goa, apart from the case of those working in the male dominated Gulf and on the ships. ICGs from Africa and the West do sometimes meet their future spouse while on holiday in Goa but this is the result of fortuitous circumstances rather than special planning.

While elsewhere in India, where western and Indian ﬁlms with their emphasis on romantic love, are regarded as mainly respons-

246 Marriage, family and kinship ible for creating a predisposition among the young for love marriages, in Goa the media is of considerably less significance than influences personally transmitted by internationally dispersed kin and associates. The greater incidence of ‘love marriages’ in the satellite communities has contributed to escalating an orientation in Goa towards such marriages. With educational and occupational expansion there has been a greater opportunity for students from different backgrounds to mix at school, college and the work place. This has also spilt over into social activities. Quite a number of young single women, particularly of upper caste background who have fluency in English, academic and technical qualifications, are employed as teachers and office workers, and enjoy economic independence since it is not a common practice to hand over all or part of their earnings to parents. Many of these young women and their parents are international returnees from Africa where they had been exposed to a more liberal lifestyle.

Love marriages occur not only between young people living in Goa or in the local satellite communities, but, not infrequently, between those living in dispersed components of the ICGC. A number of young Goans from the West periodically visit Goa to see aged parents and other kin, or simply for a holiday. Indeed, as Goa has developed into a tourist resort many more ICGs, without close kin in Goa, spend periodic vacations there. Christmas is a very popular holiday period because there are a number of social functions like private parties and public western style dances during the season, as well as seaside picnics, barbecues etc. Such social occasions, as with many Goan functions, are rarely conﬁned to one age group, and are imbued with a relaxed cosmopolitan atmosphere as ICGs, living in different parts of the world, mix freely with each other and those resident in Goa. At such social gatherings many romances are initiated, some remaining

247 Marriage, family and kinship short lived, while quite a few blossom into a steady relationship culminating in marriage. Typically, at the end of the holiday, the young ICG man or woman returns to their international abode, but the relationship is sustained by the exchange of correspondence.

Such courtships-by-correspondence are facilitated by two factors. In the first place, personal literacy ensures that private correspondence can be engaged in without help or interference from anyone else. Secondly, both men and women currently living in Goa are not averse to living anywhere in the world. For young men, it is one of the avenues through which they can become international migrants. For young women, an international marriage also means improved job opportunities as many have internationally marketable skills such as (Pitmans or Gregg) shorthand, typing qualifications and fluent English. Even if they do not harbour such occupational aspirations, they have been socialised from the cradle to be mobile. Hence, they have come to expect that marriage will entail mobility and, therefore, are not unreceptive to the romantic advances of male ICGs.

Sometimes, for immigration purposes, the commitment to marriage is initially sealed by a civil service while the ICG is still on holiday in Goa. ICGs Iiving in the Gulf or the West are subject to stringent immigration formalities regarding spouses. The bureaucratic procedures cannot be initiated unless there is civil proof of marriage. By performing the secular service in advance, the lCG can ensure that following the church wedding six months, a year or sometimes even later, there are no ofﬁcial hindrances to the couple going to live together overseas.

The fact that (East African) Goans in the West regard Goa as part of the catchment area for spouses contrasts with most East African Asians. For instance, for East African Sikhs, there is no large repatriate community in their respective regions of India

248 Marriage, family and kinship

(Bhachu 1981:96), as in the case of the ICGs whose older migrant generation had Portuguese not British passports and therefore, were restricted from entry to Britain. These ICG repatriates, their teenage and adult children, together with other migrant households in Goa are part of the ICGC as noted earlier, and the single adults are seen as potential partners for ICGs from any of the satellite communities.

Many of those who want to marry partners of their own choice, even if their parents disapprove, particularly because of low caste status, cite examples of successful inter-caste marriages of kin and friends in the ICGC. The fact that the parents of children who had inter-caste marriages did not oppose it or acquiesced eventually is used to counteract arguments from their own parents. Furthermore, it is used to accuse parents of being “narrow- minded and old fashioned” to be so concerned about social origins. Parents whose children (male or female) plan to marry non-caste mates are likely to counter criticism from their own peers with comments like “Well, at least he/she is educated, the family have a good name, he/she is a very nice person, and after all you can’t tell your grown-up children what to do nowadays. They will have to live together so let them decide”. This does not mean that parents are wholeheartedly pleased about such marriages and there have been cases where parents have shown their disapproval by not attending weddings and ostracising the couple. On the whole, however, attempts are made at reconciliation, and for this purpose, liberal minded kin, neighbours, even priests and nuns have been used.

As noted among the Spanish (Aceves 1971:65), CGs similarly are always concerned about “what will people say”, “they will talk”. However, to some extent, a number of upper caste Goans cannot criticise inter-caste marriages because in some cases,

249 Marriage, family and kinship within their own small family circle, let alone a wider kin group, inter-caste marriages have taken place, sometimes with parental ambivalence or disapproval. The international separation of adult children from their parents, particularly in the case of those who were formerly living in British East Africa, meant that the former enjoyed greater personal freedom and were under less direct pressure to conform to their parents’ expectations. Hence, a number of inter-caste marriages occurred, and while some might even have been condoned by parents because partners were from contiguous castes, those between, for instance, Brahmins and Tailors were least likely to have been approved of. However, such marriages have taken place and parents a long distance away could do little to prevent them, apart from writing letters to their children and perhaps attempting to exert pressure through close relatives and friends. However, relatives and friends often are keen to remain uninvolved for fear of being blamed if there are untoward consequences of their intervention.

Inter-caste marriages among ICGs do not pose practical problems as they do in the case of similar marriages among Hindus, particularly in the case of primary marriages (Dumont 1964:93). In the case of the ICGC, the homogeneity of customs, the lack of commensality restrictions, and absence of pollution beliefs makes inter-caste marriages as manageable domestically as isogamous marriages. Nor do children pose a problem. Whereas in inter- caste marriages among Hindus, for instance in a Nepalese town, children may assume the caste status of the father (Caplan 1975:144), the status of ICG children is not of immediate relevance, for instance, for ritual purposes, nor is it of enduring signiﬁcance. The main objection of parents to inter- caste marriage is the loss of family prestige and honour because of the lower social origins of the prospective afﬁnes. However, this

250 Marriage, family and kinship is often mitigated by their high achieved status.

(b) Territorial links

As long as caste was an important criterion in spouse selection, village of origin remained significant because of its correlation with caste. However, marriages in the ICGC compared to the LCGC took place among caste mates whose villages in Goa were often considerably apart geographically. This was because people in different satellite communities, including those on the ships, were working and living alongside individuals of diverse village origins and the initial stages of match-making was set in motion among them. Since love marriages often transgressed caste boundaries, they compounded the lack of restriction to geographically proximous villages. Consequently, kinship and affinal links, particularly as a result of marriages taking place ‘out’, encompass in a social network a considerably greater number of villages than those that took place, and continue to take place to some extent, in the LCGC. At a village social function in London in the 1980s, I noted that spouses of the under 40s were more likely to originate from a wider cross-section of villages than those over 40, who generally had married under the proposal marriage system. Hence, lCGs originating from the OCs, have developed extensive territorial links, many transcending caste boundaries. Thus, a Brahmin from Siolim in North Bardez is affinally linked to a Sudra in Velim in South Salcete, because their children fell in love and married in Toronto.

As among the Syrian Christians of Kerala (Fuller 1974:198) love marriages in the lCGC do not usually involve dowry transactions,

251 Marriage, family and kinship although proposal marriages do. The word ‘dowry’ refers to a gift of cash, or immovable property given to a daughter on marriage usually by parents but sometimes partially or wholly by one or more brothers or other close male kin. Sometimes large dowries are demanded and if the girl’s parents cannot meet the demands, the proposal of marriage is not ﬁnalised. My ethnographic research revealed ambiguity as to who demands the dowry. Sometimes, when talking about a marriage proposal that was not taken up, the girl’s parents will say “His parents wanted a big dowry”. On other occasions, when talking to husbands, I have been told that “I did not ask for a dowry”. Given that children have a considerable say in the choice of partner, any insistence by parents on a dowry can be overruled by the son if he is determined to marry a particular woman. Many CG parents consider that the education they provide a daughter, which involves considerable expenditure, is equivalent to a dowry given on marriage (Kuper 1973:166). If parents have funds available, they will also give their daughter a dowry but if not, or if they can only provide a proportion of the dowry asked for, they will emphasise the education and other skills their daughter possesses which make her a suitable wife for an lCG. Hence in the lCGC, dowry has become optional in proposal marriages, and in love marriages it is unlikely to be a signiﬁcant factor (Kuper, 1973:164).

However, there are caste and territorial differences. For instance, among lower castes in Goa, with limited female education and a stronger practice of proposal marriages, the significance of dowry has magnified from around the 1970s. Almeida (1978) found that among Sudras, many of whom were working on the ships and in service jobs outside Goa, dowries played a very important part in marriages. A similar finding emerges from Ifeka’s study of low caste CGs, whose menfolk are employed as shippies and in

252 Marriage, family and kinship semi-skilled jobs in the Gulf (Ifeka 1985b; Ifeka & Chiragakis 1986:11). For these upwardly mobile low castes, argue Almeida (1978) and Ifeka (1985:14), dowry marriage constitutes a form of Sanskritisation. While I disagree with the application of Srinivas’ (1955) concept of Sanskritisation to non-Hindus, it is important to note that the custom which is being emulated has become relatively out-dated among the CG upper castes. It appears that from the latter decades of the 20th century onwards the incidence of dowry marriage among the upper castes has not been as high as it was formerly as there has been an increasing orientation towards dowry-less love marriages.

(d) Age at marriage

There is a correlation between age at marriage and different marriage patterns in the ICGC. An examination of Amora parish marriage records for the period 1974-80 indicated that the average age of marriage for women was 25, and men a few years older. This average hides such extremes as the ﬁrst marriage of a 40 year old woman to an ICG of 45. The average age for Amora is not atypical for the villages of the OCs or the satellite communities. In Kampala, Kuper noted that ICG women in their thirties were not considered to be ‘on the shelf! (1973:181). Similarly D’Souza found the marriage age in Goa and among Bombay Goans to be comparable to that of western society (1975:249) A late marriage age is also evident in India among the Westernised Parsis (Sahier 1955:289-90; Kulke 1974:44).

The late marriage age in the ICGC can be explained by a number of factors. Firstly, using surplus disposable income earned from international migration, parents managed to educate some or all of their daughters. Education tended to delay marriage and also

253 Marriage, family and kinship made women more independent, assertive, and ‘choosy’ about the man they married. Female education, where it does exist among Indian communities, is primarily given to enhance a woman’s eligibility rather than for employment purposes (Vatuk 1972:78) and to ‘pass the time’ until marriage and before birth of children after marriage (Vatuk 1972:79-80).

In the ICGC, however, female employment is considered to be equally important. The historical precedent for such employment occurred during the Portuguese era when women worked in both the public and private sector, and many were employed as ofﬁcers, telegraphists, clerks, typists and school teachers (D’Souza 1975:253). The high rate of white collar and professional ICG female employment echoes that found in India among other Christians (Gaikwad 1967:109; Godwin 1972:65; Jacobson 1977:93; Caplan1980) and Parsis (Sahier 1955:243; Kulke 1974:105), and in Britain, among Ramgharia Sikhs (Bhachu 1981:85). Female employment and economic independence have contributed to delaying marriage.

Secondly, ICGs are predisposed to giving their daughters ‘a big wedding’ as this confers status on the family. The greater elaboration and consequent price inﬂation necessitated larger savings. To increase the eligibility of daughters some also offered bigger dowries which took time to accumulate, particularly because of the ﬁnancial commitment to new needs for better education, housing and lifestyle. If fathers were dead, sons assumed greater responsibility, often delaying their own marriages, thereby reducing the pool of eligible men at any one time.

Thirdly, since it has been a practice in the proposal marriage system to marry daughters before sons, unless there is a long age gap, marriages of men were postponed until their sisters “were settled”. Furthermore, since sisters generally married in birth

254 Marriage, family and kinship order, the intransigence of an older sister contributed to delaying the marriage of younger sisters, and also of brothers. Those who favoured a ‘love marriage’ wait until the ‘right person’ comes along, and since this depends on a number of factors, including luck, marriage age is delayed.

Fourthly, ICG couples, particularly the upper caste and upwardly mobile, prefer to set up a nuclear household in a separate residence at the time of or a few years after marriage. The provision of a house is mainly the husband’s responsibility. In some cases, men are fortunate enough to inherit their ancestral house, or to marry women who are heirs to the ancestral house. However, in the majority of cases, provision has to be made to acquire a separate house. It has been relatively very difﬁcult to rent or buy houses in Goa, and the alternative is to have one built. Upwardly mobile ICGs favour brick houses with several rooms, and although many houses are built in a piecemeal fashion over a number of years, a considerable amount of money is required initially to design and construct the basic unit. Men prefer to delay their marriage until they have accumulated sufﬁcient funds to facilitate house ownership. International migrants who are able to take their wives ‘out’ with them prefer to ensure they have suitable family accommodation ‘out’ before marriage. In most satellite communities, accomodation is rented, or where mortgage systems exist, as in Britain, homes are bought (Mascarenhas- Keyes 1979). However, since mortgages are dependent on income, it is often some years before an appropriate salary level is achieved to buy suitable housing.

Fifthly, most men enjoy the freedom of being bachelors, and since they are aware that as international migrants with good incomes they are highly eligible, a longer period of bachelorhood does not ruin their chances of an eventual marriage. Indeed, a number of

255 Marriage, family and kinship men claim that they only married when they did, and not later, because their parents wanted to “see me settled before they died so that they knew I would be cared for”.

Finally, because the lCGC spanning all continents is an endogamous unit, physical distance, limited face-to-face contact, and immigration controls can contribute to delaying the match making process, and hence, the age of marriage of both men and women.

(e) Celibacy

Through Catholicism, celibacy has become institutionalised, but other factors, apart from joining the Church, account for the incidence of non-marriage in the lCGC.

Firstly, an individual may have been ‘too choosy’, rejecting numerous proposals of marriage. For instance, Claudia and Milagres, who were both in their 40s (at the time of ethnographic research in 1980), turned down a number of proposals. Milagres, a qualiﬁed teacher, was self-supporting, and Claudia lived on the income from the family farm. Both lived in a large, ancestral house in Amora, built by their father, who was a shippie. However, it is not only women who are “choosy” but also men. Secondly, a family may not be able to provide a good enough dowry. Philomena, whose father worked in Bombay, never married as her family could not provide a dowry as they did for their four other daughters, and they had no sons to help them ﬁnancially.

Thirdly, parents whose children have all migrated, and established homes ‘out’, may choose not to marry off the remaining daughter to ensure there is someone to care for them in old age. Jeanette, youngest daughter of a shippie, was still unmarried by the age of 35. Her brothers and sisters were married and living ‘out’. These

256 Marriage, family and kinship cases usually occur in families who have not made contingency plans early in their family development cycle. For example, by keeping a male posko or female poskem (2), a couple need not fear for lack of care in their old age.

Fourthly, a man or woman may have acquired a ‘bad name’ making them ineligible for marriage. For instance, 45 year old Annette, whose father was a musician in Singapore, had become pregnant, allegedly by a priest, when she was 20, and although she left Goa and had an abortion in Bangalore, the scandal tarred her for life. Or, again, Henry was a ‘drunkard’, having started drinking at a young age, and no one wanted to marry him because marriage would spell penury and unhappiness.

Fifthly, illness – such as tuberculosis in the case of John, and mental ill health in the case of Maria – prevented them marrying. Sixthly, a man or woman who has been thwarted in marrying someone of their choice may resolve not to marry at all. Peter, a Chardo who had fallen in love with Bridgitte, a Sudra, faced ostracism from his family if he married her. He did not marry her or anyone else, but continued a surreptitious liaison with her for 30 years.

Other factors include the desire not to partition property, but this is not very common because of the limited number of ICGs with large private property. While some unmarried men have sexual liaisons, this is not institutionalised as in the case of the Nambuduri Brahmins of Kerala who contract alliances with Nayar women (Kapadia 1955:107-8) or bachelor Sikh Jats in Punjab who have sexual access to the wives of older brothers (Pettigrew 1975:53-4). Among CGs, the bilateral inheritance system and the ability of many women to obtain long term, superannuated jobs spells economic independence and allows women to opt to remain unmarried. The demographic implications on fertility rates due

257 Marriage, family and kinship to late age of marriage, intermittent conjugal cohabitation and celibacy is an area worthy of systematic study.

3: Residence Patterns and Household Organisations

(a) Residence patterns

In view of the complexity of patterns of migration and their persistence over time, a multiplicity of residence patterns has emerged. As noted earlier, CG women who marry migrants expect to be mobile. However, the mobility of women is affected by a number of factors. In some cases, wives are prohibited from accompanying or joining the migrant in the host country. Certain jobs, for instance, those involving working on the ships and in the Gulf, specify bachelor status or only permit high earning men to be accompanied by their wives and children. In countries where many ICGs usually obtain work on short term contracts, even though possibilities exist for their renewal, wives and children remain behind because it is expensive and inconvenient to uproot them and, particularly because it disrupts children’s education. The higher cost of living also serves as a deterrent to setting up family residence ‘out’. For instance, the cost of living is very much higher in the Gulf than in Goa and hence, it is more economical for the wife and children to continue living in Goa where, for many, subsistence needs can be partially met by family farm produce (3). Environmental factors in the host country can be, or are perceived to be, potentially dangerous to the lives of women and children. For instance, until the development in the 1930s of modern towns and cities in East Africa, wives and children remained in Goa rather than face exposure to hazards

258 Marriage, family and kinship such as poor sanitation, infectious and fatal diseases, inadequate family accommodation and hostile Africans. Wives with husbands in the Gulf are generally reluctant to leave the safety of Goa for fear of perceived potential sexual harassment by Arab men. The maintenance of the household farm and property or the care of the aged are rarely reasons for curtailing the mobility of wives. However, where the wife can and does accompany her husband, conjugal separation has been likely after some years of married life because of the emphasis on the education of children and the concomitant necessity to ensure access to appropriate modern education. The diversity of residence patterns has demographic implications and also affects the nature of household organisation. This is best demonstrated by examining the 1980 data on Amora which I shall now turn to.

(b) Household composition

Table 2 provides the distribution of household types, and with some modiﬁcation, the classiﬁcation system is based on Kolenda (1968). The CG population in 1980, the majority of whom were ICGs, had a disproportionate number of people over 45 years old. Females outnumbered males by 3 to 2, the unbalanced sex ratio being partly accounted for by male migration and the universal tendency for women to survive their husbands. The average CG household size was 3.3 persons (4).

From the table alongside we see that the joint family, of whatever type, was not common among CGs of Amora. This is not atypical of the ICGC as a whole. The small CG household size found in 1980 in Amora has been directly inﬂuenced by the diverse patterns of international migration. Households are at different stages in

259 Marriage, family and kinship the developmental cycle (Fortes 1966) and this inﬂuences their composition.

No. % House- House- holds holds

Nuclear Based Nuclear family 96 27 96 27 Subnuclear 66 19 Supplemented subnuclear 06 02 Supplemented nuclear 34 10 Migrant nuclear (with husband 20 06 ‘out’) Supplemented migrant nuclear 31 09 Sub-total 253 72 Joint family Linear joint family 06 02 Collateral joint family 02 01 Supplemented collateral joint 01 00 family Sub-total 09 03 Single Households 72 20 Other Migrant children with 07 02 grandparent/s Miscellaneous 16 04 Sub-total 23 06 TOTAL 357 100

DISTRIBUTION OF HOUSEHOLD TYPE OF CATHOLIC GOANS

Table 2

260 Marriage, family and kinship

Wives, widows and unmarried women of various ages were the heads of a third of all households. Wives head 6% of all households where, typically, husbands were employed on ships or in the Gulf. Wives of shippies and Gulf migrants were commonly heads in a further 996 of households which consisted of the migrant’s wife, children and elderly widowed parent, usually the migrant’s mother.

Middle-aged widowed women whose adult children were living outside Goa made up the majority of the single households. An increasingly common provision for CGs is Homes for the Aged, and one for women was established in the 1970s by nuns in Amora. In 1980, most of the twenty residents were widowed women of wholly or partially independent means who were previously living in single households until ill health and old age necessitated transfer to the Home.

The sub-nuclear households invariably consisted of middle-aged unmarried or widowed sibling sets, either single sex or mixed, supplemented in a few cases by afﬁnal relatives. Usually there was no acknowledged household head, and each individual had an independent income and co-parcenary rights to the house. Some of the ‘miscellaneous’ households consisted of widowed or unmarried women or men living with a resident Catholic female housekeeper. Twenty seven percent of all households were nuclear and typically comprised a middle-aged conjugal couple who had returned after long term residence in Africa, with some or all of their adult children living in independent households outside Goa. A few of the nuclear households, however, comprised the relatively recently married, many of whom had returned to Goa as teenagers, accompanying their parents on premature retirement. In such cases, the husband, and in some cases also the wife, worked in a white collar or professional job in Goa.

261 Marriage, family and kinship

Newlywed CGs prefer to establish nuclear households (Almeida 1978:132; Montemayor 1970:244-7; Ifeka & Chiragakis 1986:17). In some cases, however, this is not possible and patrilocal or matrilocal residence has been necessary, often as an interim arrangement. This largely accounted for the fact that 9% of households comprised a young nuclear unit supplemented by a widowed parent.

In chapter 3, I tentatively concluded that nuclear households were characteristic of the LCGC. With international migration, greater opportunities arose for initiating separatist tendencies. The migrant was usually young and single, obtained employment on the basis of his own abilities and skills, and was employed as an individual in a non-family concern. International migrants had autonomy and decision-making powers with regard to how they distributed their income. Since the amounts earned were far greater than that of their natal household, and since they enjoyed greater prestige and status, particularly if educated, there were more opportunities to erode the subordinate position of young men, typical in traditional families. After marriage, the migrant still retained access to an independent source of income. If his wife remained in Goa and lived with his natal family, the migrant had to decide on the recipient of the remittances; his wife or parents. If the former, his parents resented her economic independence, and were likely to accuse her of not contributing sufﬁciently to the household budget. If the latter, the wife resented her subordination to in-laws, and particularly if they challenged her requests to ﬁnance the new child rearing pattern (see below) which she felt was essential to securing their ‘future’.

262 Marriage, family and kinship

Hence, the ambiguity surrounding filial and affinal relationships provided a fertile environment for hostilities to be generated, thus favouring fissionary tendencies.

In addition, women have achieved a greater measure of independence with the trend for successive generations to be equally or better educated than their predecessors. Hence, younger women, armed with what they regard as superior and modern knowledge have been less willing to acquiesce to the ‘old fashioned ways’ of mothers, mothers-in-law and other senior women, thus facilitating an escalation of inter-generational conflicts. Furthermore, some wives have often spent a period of time ‘out’ during which they independently managed their own nuclear household (D’Souza 1975; Kuper 1973:155; Mascarenhas- Keyes 1979:24). Accustomed to such a mode of living, these women have found it less easy to adjust to any form of extended family organisation. However, they may continue to live in such conditions for pragmatic reasons, for instance, the lack of rented housing, because they are heir to the ancestral house, or have not yet accumulated sufficient funds to establish nuclear residences. Their favourable view of nuclear household organisation has influenced a cognitive orientation towards nuclearisation and magnified the disadvantages inherent in extended family living. It is widely believed in the ICGC, as well as the LCGC, that the ideals of peace and harmony among family members can be best served by nuclear household organisation. A prevailing view is “why live together and fight when you can live separately and be happy?”

Since migrant jobs in particular, but also white collar and professional work in Goa taken up by ICG returnees, guarantees an independent source of income, a greater possibility of setting up nuclear units has emerged. In some cases, the design of a house is amenable to nuclear arrangements. For instance,

263 Marriage, family and kinship an ICG family in Salcete, living in one residence, comprised the parents and three married sons. The father was a retired shippie, with two sons working in the Gulf, and another as a shippie. Their wives and children each had a separate room and separate hearth. However, house architecture in Goa is generally more conducive to communal arrangements and, hence, nuclear boundary demarcation is more feasible if a separate residence is established. Since rented accommodation is relatively difﬁcult to access, to foster nuclear household organisation, many men prefer to delay their own marriage until they have sufﬁcient funds to build or buy a house at or a few years after marriage.

The conflict between kin is not, however, the only factor which predisposes nuclearisation. The one conspicuous, enduring and tangible symbol of success is one’s own house in Goa. Migrants, by virtue of their higher income, are more likely to set up nuclear residence in privately owned homes at an earlier stage than others. The proliferation of large, spacious houses, often reflecting a diversity of foreign and modern designs, is the fulfilment of the ICG ambition to own a house and be master of it. This is discussed in more detail in chapter 7.

(d) Single households and homes for the aged

The orientation towards nuclear household organisation is also responsible for the large number of single person households. As children married and established nuclear households either in Amora, elsewhere in Goa or internationally, the older generation came increasingly to live on their own. In some cases, the last child to marry remained in the parental home, particularly if he or she was to inherit the ancestral house. Unmarried daughters

264 Marriage, family and kinship or sons who remained in Goa usually continued to live in the ancestral house, and on the death of their parents, lived alone until their own death. In cases where the elderly conjugal couple were living without their children, when one died, (usually the husband), then the widowed person lived alone, or less commonly, went to live permanently or intermittently with one or more married children in Goa. In many cases there were no children living in Goa and this was particularly true for international returnees from Africa whose children did not return or, if they did, migrated subsequently. The pattern of rotating care of parents, either jointly or singly between married sons that Vatuk (1972:71) found in urban India, has not become an established trend in any part of ICGC.

To assist in shopping and other domestic chores, a servant was engaged, usually on a part-time basis. Where the old person was incapacitated through ill health, usually a live-in servant was employed. However, the supply of servants has been diminishing as educated children of former servants aspire to better occupations. Moreover, there was an increased demand for servants as most ICG households employed them, often on a regular casual labour basis. Indeed, some families have even engaged non- Goans, recruited specially from outside Goa. Usually these were young boys or girls from poor families known to a Goan priest or nun serving ‘out’ who then arranged for their employment in Goa. However, the employment of non-Goan servants was not very common and the difﬁculty of obtaining servants, particularly capable of looking after the old, has compelled many of the single elderly to live in Homes for the Aged. The increasing availability of such facilities from the mid-20th century has occurred in speciﬁc response to the needs of the ICGC rather than the LCGC or Hindu Goans (5). However, since facilities have become available, LCGs

265 Marriage, family and kinship have also made use of them.

In 1980, there were 24 institutions for the aged in Goa run by nuns from various Religious Orders. There was one home in Amora with a capacity for twenty female residents and places there were continually in demand. The ‘Holy Spirit Home’ in 1980 was run by four nuns of the Diocesan congregation, Handmaids of Christ. The building was formerly a house belonging to an ICG who donated it to the Order as he did not expect to return permanently. There are several other similar examples, and in some cases, owners have built new houses in Goa and donated their ancestral homes for welfare purposes.

The elderly living alone or in the Homes are not, however, socially isolated. Relatives and friends visit them, and sometimes bring gifts of cooked meals. Members of the Legion of Mary and nuns of particular religious congregations whose apostolate includes care of the aged also visit. None of this, however, adequately com- pensates for the absence of children and grandchildren. However, the elderly realise that they themselves have contributed to their lonely existence because it was their hard work which provided their children with internationally marketable skills and attributes that facilitated global dispersal. While they lament the absence of children and grandchildren, they often console themselves and each other by saying “You can’t expect your children to be always with you. You have to consider their future”.

While they are pragmatic reasons for the Homes, they derive ideological support not only from the (western) Catholic Church, but also from ICGs living in the West where such institutions are common, and used by some elderly ICGs. Although immigration controls may be overcome by ICGs in the West, they are generally reluctant to bring aged parents abroad from Goa because there is concern that the elderly will be bored, lonely and suffer ill

266 Marriage, family and kinship health in a less pleasant climate (see also Sharma 1971:197-200). Payment for institutional care whether in Goa or ‘out’ may be borne exclusively by one child or collectively by one or more children, or partially or completely by the elderly if he/she has sufﬁcient savings, pensions or widows beneﬁt. The institutional care of the aged is also common among Parsis (Kulke 1974) but less common among other Indian communities.

4: The Development and Practice of Progressive Motherhood in the ICGC

Household composition is affected by whether wives of migrants reside permanently or intermittently in Goa. An important factor inﬂuencing short-term residence in Goa is related to the role of women as mothers. This has been subject to modiﬁcation during the course of the 20th century with the gradual adoption by many LCGs from agricultural backgrounds of an orientation towards long term, salaried and superannuated employment. As formal education and linguistic competence of universal applicability are prerequisites to the acquisition of desirable jobs, the pursuit of such skills has increasingly gained paramount importance with concomitant implications for the role of women. I shall examine this by focusing on Amora women.

Ethnographic research in 1980 showed that in common with all Goan mothers, Amora lCG women fulﬁl reproductive and nurturing roles but they have additional responsibilities, particularly with respect to the education of children. The combination of old with new roles and responsibilities I refer to as progressive motherhood (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1985). This concept derives

267 Marriage, family and kinship from the fact that ICGs, particularly the educated upper castes, are committed to ‘progress’, (an oft used word), the ideas about ‘progress’ being strongly influenced by prevailing views in western capitalist societies. The concept also implies a dynamic element in that various aspects of mothering have been changed or refined over time, reflecting a dialectical relationship with experiences and perceptions of the ‘modern’ world transmitted mainly by international migrants, and the ability of succeeding generations of women to respond appropriately and challenge what they progressively come to regard as ‘old fashioned ways’.

Progressive motherhood has developed within the context of a transition from a present to a future oriented society (Rosen 1956:208) as many CGs began to operate proactively in the belief that planning and present sacriﬁces were worthwhile to ensure future gains. Progressive motherhood is closely aligned with a strong commitment, by both husband and wife, to a relative subjugation of self interest and correlatively a predominant focus on “children and their future”. Such a ‘child-centred’ perspective implies, for instance, that the independent employment of wives and the care of the elderly are of secondary importance, to be accommodated only so long as the primary objective is fulﬁlled.

There are various ideal attributes and skills that wives require in order to effectively pursue progressive motherhood. Progressive mothers have increasingly been expected to be familiar with, and preferably relatively ﬂuent in, a western language, particularly English. This is in order to provide the same linguistic environment as the non-vernacular schools their children attend. Many ICGs have adopted Portuguese or English as a ﬁrst language. Even when Konkani continues to be the predominant language in the home, women will, nevertheless, encourage their children to learn English. Since such mothers are at least familiar

268 Marriage, family and kinship with English they monitor their children’s progress at school and ‘take up their lessons’. This process involves the mother asking questions in English from the book and checking the child’s answers against the text. Rote learning is a common pedagogical method which facilitates the involvement of mothers with elementary English in promoting educational attainment in children. Mothers who have a good command of English create a more favourable linguistic learning environment which fosters educational competence.

A commitment to progressive motherhood makes it essential that mothers are free to devote time to supervise their children’s homework. In the afternoon and late evening mothers can be seen overseeing their children as they study. A child found staring into space is severely reprimanded “not to daydream” but to “concentrate on your studies”. When children claim to have completed their homework, mothers can be seen ﬂicking over the pages of exercise books to verify this. Older college children are similarly supervised by mothers. Sons are admonished to study hard “so that you can get a good job”. Daughters are cautioned not to “put your mind on boys but to study hard and get a good job”. College romances are not uncommon and mothers are always afraid that their children will have romantic attachments or become involved with ‘bad company’ who devote a disproportionate amount of time to “enjoying themselves at picnics, parties, going to the pictures etc.” to the detriment of their studies.

Mothers use a variety of psychological techniques to sustain their children’s interest and diligence in school work. For instance, a mother whose husband is ‘out’ will say “I will tell Fr. George (parish priest) to come and give you a good scolding or Uncle Paul to give you a hiding if you don’t study hard”. Material rewards

269 Marriage, family and kinship are made contingent on success: “If you pass your exams, I will make you a new dress”. Peers and seniors are held as models of emulation and a child will be told “Look how well Simon has done and what a good job he has. Shame on you! You only daydream or play instead of studying”.

Often mothers may become very demoralised with their children’s lack of obedience and failure to study effectively. Such children, it is often felt, will only do well if they are placed in Catholic boarding schools, most of them run or staffed by priests and nuns, as they are seen to offer the most appropriate environment to “discipline difﬁcult children and ensure they do well in their studies”. However, only those who can afford it place their children in such schools. It is not often sufﬁciently appreciated that children may differ considerably with respect to innate ability, and poor educational performance is usually attributed to laziness on the part of the child and lack of supervisory skill on the part of the mother. The prevailing and predominant object of anxiety expressed by progressive mothers during ethnographic research in Goa in 1980 was related to their children’s education. Any conversation with such mothers inevitably turned to them lamenting the children’s lack of diligence, or the poor standards of the school, or lack of competence of particular teachers.

Progressive motherhood necessitates being able to understand the signiﬁcance of school reports and teachers’ comments. If a child is under-achieving in certain subjects, mothers arrange private ‘coaching’ classes to supplement school attendance. Progressive motherhood requires women to be attuned to the demands and discipline that studying entails and to adapt to a different rhythm of life and perception of time than that dictated by the agricultural cycle. The ‘seasons’ of the agricultural cycle are replaced by the ‘terms’ of the academic year. The period of

270 Marriage, family and kinship peak activity occurs a few weeks before the yearly exams and the harvest anxiously awaited for is good examination results. During the school holidays progressive mothers relax, but not entirely, because children are expected to do some studying so that their “brain will not get rusty”.

Another aspect of progressive motherhood is the concern for the proper nutrition of children and careful and constant monitoring of health. Mothers who are ambitious for their children, and have sufficient financial resources, regard it as essential that they have a proper diet to facilitate the development of ‘brain’ rather than ‘brawn’. The consumption of large quantities of rice is seen as providing strength for agricultural and labouring work but intellectual work is believed to require a varied diet which includes fresh milk, eggs and meat. Healthy eating is also required to decrease a child’s vulnerability to common ailments which would require absence from school and subsequent difficulty with ‘catching up’ with the syllabus. As there is no food which is regarded as ritually polluting, this ensures a greater degree of flexibility in choosing what are regarded as suitable diets. In some of the richer households, children are given shop bought tonics and vitamin supplements to ensure good health and regular attendance at school and college.

Progressive motherhood involves attiring children suitably for school and college rather than for working in the ﬁelds. Daily use of footwear is necessary and in accordance with the policy of the school, children usually require different types of footwear for physical education classes and sports. Most schools have a school uniform, and mothers have to ensure these are clean and in good condition lest a observant teacher makes unkind and embarrassing remarks about a child’s ‘shabby’ clothes. Hair has to be cut appropriately and groomed for school. College

271 Marriage, family and kinship students have greater freedom of dress but attiring such students for college is expensive as peers, particularly girls, compete with each other to wear the latest fashions in western dress. Hence, educating children requires a considerable amount of investment in time and money.

Progressive mothers have to be alert to new ideas and take practical steps to implement them. A good example that occurred during ethnographic research in 1980 was of a husband in Dubai writing to his wife to tell her that he had heard of a growth in the number of opportunities in the computing field. He suggested that their son, who was completing secondary school, undertake some training in this field to facilitate the future acquisition of a job. Her husband was himself vague about ‘computing’ as he was not working in this field and was, in fact, employed as a clerk. His wife knew even less about computing but this did not deter her. She spoke to the college headmaster and other educated people, questioned me, and also wrote to relatives and friends in Bombay and London to ask for information. It transpired that there was a course in computing in Bombay and she initiated plans so that her son would eventually go there for such studies.

Of course, not everyone is equally resourceful but, on the whole, some attempt will be made to read the signs of changing times and respond in an appropriate manner. In a community with a high degree of literacy, a single individual does not have a monopoly of knowledge. From the inception of Catholicism in Goa, a progressively wider range of individuals acquired a broad spectrum of knowledge, with the clergy, nuns and a few elite LCGs maintaining a hegemony of knowledge until remittances enabled many youth to attend institutions of higher education. Those with only a few international links usually rely on priests and nuns as resources. These in turn exploit their wider national

272 Marriage, family and kinship and international ecclesiastical networks. Hence, it would be largely true to say that few ICGs are bereft of any sources from which to gain support, advice and information. This feature of the ICGC is crucially important because it provides the community with a dynamic potential to keep pace with what it sees as ‘progressiveness’. It is a role to which women have to be speciﬁcally socialised and formal education has been and continues to be the key factor in this.

For international migrants and their families and for ambitious LCGs, Goa has tended to be perceived as a backwater and a place to spend the ‘winter of one’s life’. The outside world, particularly the West, is perceived as ‘advanced’, ‘modern’, ‘progressive’, an attitude bequeathed by the Portuguese and augmented by colonial education. Through the global network of kin and friends, information about jobs, living conditions, education and such like percolate to Goa. At the same time, changes in Goa have to be closely monitored. For instance, around the late 1970s, a change in the school curriculum made Hindi mandatory, and failure to pass this subject prevented a child from obtaining a secondary school leaving certiﬁcate, a prerequisite for certain jobs in Goa and access to higher education. To safeguard their children’s future, many progressive mothers made special arrangements for private tuitions.

The role of progressive mother cannot easily be substituted by other women. As a result of the extensive nature of migration, peer women were, and are themselves, likely to be living outside Goa. However, even if they are in Goa, the time-consuming commitment to their own children makes them reluctant to accept additional responsibility. At the same time, mothers feel that few surrogates can be expected to foster children with equivalent love and a dedication to academic success.

273 Marriage, family and kinship

Furthermore, they are reluctant to be an imposition on others. While the age, health and availability of senior women such as paternal and maternal grandmothers inﬂuence their use as surrogate mothers, the major disadvantage is their own relative lack of education and particularly English linguistic skills. The absence of both means that they are, at best, only able to play a custodial role rather than provide the optimum supervisory and learning environment conducive to academic competence. However, grandmothers, kinswomen and friends in Goa provide occasional weekend and vocational ‘mothering’ if children are placed in boarding schools.

Most IGC households in Goa usually employed female servants to help with domestic work such as house cleaning, washing clothes and preparation of meals. The education of children, however, cannot be delegated to servants as these chores can. A similar view was expressed by Punjabi families studied by Sharma (1980:129). The use of paid agricultural and domestic labour leaves the progressive mother free to devote her time and attention to the social reproduction of migrant labour. In the urban satellite communities, mothers devote a lot of time to supervising their children’s studies. If they are also working, then they often employ servants where it is possible, such as in Africa, but when they return from work and during weekends they supervise homework. The ideal of progressive motherhood is a common feature throughout the globally dispersed ICGC, although its practice varies with the environmental context.

274 Marriage, family and kinship

5: Female Autonomy and Responsibility

In a migration-oriented society, from the cradle, individuals in Goa have personal and vicarious experience of ‘marriage through separation’. This aptly serves as a form of anticipatory socialisation, conditioning the expectation and acceptance of conjugal separation. For many ICG women, the absence of husbands is a replication of the total or intermittent separation from their fathers, as well as other male kin, during childhood and adolescence. Such separation has necessitated the development of a greater degree of independence and self-reliance. While husbands are away, it is not expected, as in the case of Pakistani migrants (Jeffery 1976:139) that the migrants’ father or brothers will care for his wife and children, although if they are around, they are a resource that can be drawn on. In a society where the cultural ethos endorses international migration, ICG women do not perceive husbands as deserting them, but rather, as admirably fulfilling their role as breadwinners of the family and ensuring a prosperous future for their children. The husband’s procreative role is fulfilled during intermittent periods of conjugal cohabitation; the wife’s major role as progressive mother can be carried out in the husband’s absence. Hence, separation of the spouses through migration does not preclude the fulfilment of separate conjugal roles (Bott1957).

ICG children in Goa have grown accustomed to the absence of fathers and perceive them as heroes, harbingers of gifts and entertainment and distant authority ﬁgures whom mothers occasionally invoke to exact obedience: “If you don’t listen to me, I will write and tell Daddy not to bring you a watch from Bahrain”. Apart from a perennial anxiety over the education of children,

275 Marriage, family and kinship parents with teenage and adult children are most concerned that they do not acquire ‘bad habits’, and this becomes the additional responsibility of women with absentee husbands. Mothers are expected to ensure that daughters preserve their virginity and ‘keep a good name’ until marriage, and that sons refrain from ‘drinking and loaﬁng’. Until marriage, children remain the responsibility of parents, particularly mothers, and ‘bad behaviour’ is regarded as a reﬂection on the mother’s ineptitude to instil in children the appropriate moral characteristics and rectitude to ensure ‘decent behaviour’.

As with the Muslim women of Kerala whose husbands are away (Saiyed 1976:252), ICG wives who are de facto household heads take executive charge of household management, including ﬁnancial control of remittances and supervision of house building and renovations. Major policy decisions are jointly made during the husband’s periodic visits, and consultations continue via letters, with absent husbands being kept informed of on-going household developments. Through personal letter writing, women can maintain their autonomy and independence from kin and friends if they wish.

Neighbours, including peers and older women, are quick to note evidence of maladministration and moral lapses. These are sometimes communicated directly by letter to husbands or via their own menfolk, evoking stern reprimands and threats of permanent or temporary withdrawal of remittances. Servants with their multiple loyalties, are perceived as dangerous as they ‘carry news’ which can serve the prurient or malicious interest of others. Through the selective use of English, Portuguese and sometimes even Swahili, attempts have been made to maintain the secrecy of information in the presence of Konkani-speaking employees.

276 Marriage, family and kinship

The negligible or limited courtship period prior to (proposal) marriage, and separation in many cases soon after marriage, reduces the development of strong interpersonal bonds between ICG spouses and tends to minimise emotional loss though separation. The ICG wife’s emotional needs are partially satisﬁed by her children and affective ties with kin and friends, but often the latter are limited because of extensive and diverse patterns of international migration. The intermittent mobility of some women, and their different local and international backgrounds, tends to reduce the development of stable alliances and contributes to shifting patterns of co-operation and friendship. Women’s formal networks, which some women with absentee husbands have found useful (Cohen 1977:598) have not developed and hence, co-operation and assistance are personally negotiated and independence and self-reliance are highly valued by women. A baroque ethos which multiplies rituals outside liturgical services (Hambye 1972:182) has been the historic basis of Catholic devotional life in Goa, and these provide women with many opportunities for recreational and emotional catharsis. A few join local religious groups open to both sexes, which focus on speciﬁc devotional activities, such as ‘Legion of Mary’, ‘Sodality’, and ‘Charismatic Movement’. Weekly church sermons provide women with generalised support as themes stress the value of education, obedience of children to parents, the maintenance of high moral standards, and the necessity to have faith that God will look after migrants.

In the satellite communities, co-resident wives usually jointly participate with their husbands in decision making. They also have a considerable degree of autonomy and in the anonymity of the city, are free to follow their interests. Accompanied by husbands and children, they attend various social functions at

277 Marriage, family and kinship private homes, community clubs, or other leisure centres. While most ICG women in Goa, of necessity, pursue separate conjugal roles, those in satellite communities, particularly the young in the West, are increasingly oriented towards joint conjugal roles (Bott 1957).

6: The Maintenance of Kinship and Afﬁnal Links

Since the ICGC is dispersed across a number of continents, there are various mechanisms by which kinship and afﬁnal links are maintained. Wedding invitation cards are distributed locally as well as sent to kin and friends ‘out’. Some close kin living in Goa or a satellite community arrange their holidays so that they can be present for the wedding, and in selecting the date for the rite, the couple take into account the possibility that international kin and friends may wish to attend. International kin and friends who cannot personally attend a wedding, felicitate the couple and their parents by letter, wedding card or telegram, and sometimes gifts are sent.

While the church service is open to all, the social function which follows is restricted to invited guests only. A variety of foods sometimes cooked by outside caterers and a liberal supply of alcohol is available. In the 20th century, it has become increasingly common among ICGs in Goa, as well as ‘out’, to have only one social function in a hired hall and to simultaneously invite guests from both the bride and groom’s side. The number of guests invited can range from 150 to 600. A band is hired and the main activity is western dancing. A short honeymoon is sometimes spent in Goa, if the wedding takes place there, or in another

278 Marriage, family and kinship satellite community, so that relatives and friends can be visited. Photographs of weddings are sent to relatives and friends, as well as videos are distributed more widely using various channels.

Links are also maintained through correspondence. Letters are usually written in English or Portuguese and in some cases in Konkani if the sender or recipient is not ﬂuent in a European language. Young children are also encouraged to write, particularly to grandparents. Technological advancements in the late 20th century have facilitated the more frequent use of telephones and the internet for maintaining contacts in the ICGC.

Visits are another mechanism but they are expensive. Goans in British East Africa who were employed on expatriate terms qualiﬁed for six months leave and subsidised travel every four to six years for themselves and family and, hence, were able to return to Goa and see relatives. ICGs living in the West have to accumulate sufﬁcient funds to pay for international travel and therefore, make less frequent visits to Goa. Those living in Bombay visit relatives in Goa more often particularly in April- May, the holiday season. Kin living in neighbouring satellite communities have face-to-face contact more frequently than those living a distance away.

Unexpected emergencies, such as illness and death, often result in a visit from close kin to the site of the crisis. Most Goans who die ‘out’ are buried ‘out’ but in the case of single men and women working in the Gulf, arrangements are sometimes made (as in Death Notice No.1) for the body to be returned to Goa for burial. This is particularly the case if the employer subsidises travel and related costs.

279 Marriage, family and kinship

Conclusion

In this chapter we have seen that the multi-caste ICGC largely constitutes an endogamous group. Within the ICGC, a number of marriage patterns co-exist. Of particular interest is the ascendance of the love marriage pattern, a concomitant of which has been the increase in inter-caste marriages. In addition, there has been an increase in inter-ethnic marriages, particularly to Catholic Europeans. Correlated with the diversity of marriage patterns has been an increase in marital age of both men and women and a decrease in dowry marriage. The number of men and women remaining unmarried has probably increased.

International migration has resulted in a diversity of residence patterns with families being split up and living in different parts of the world. Nuclear household organisation has been predominant and concomitantly, a number of aged widowed people live in institutions. Where men are absent, women, usually wives, function as heads of household. This gives them both greater autonomy as well as more responsibility. There have also been changes in the maternal role as the orientation to white collar and professional work has resulted in a pattern which I call progressive motherhood. This requires mothers to be responsible for the social reproduction and nurturing of children, as well as ensuring educational success, which sometimes necessitates conjugal separation and geographical mobility to enhance educational access. Progressive motherhood has also facilitated the incursion and increasing prominence of a foreign language, English or Portuguese, in the domestic sphere. These languages have replaced Konkani as the major means of domestic communication in most households in the lCGC. Furthermore, communications by correspondence between dispersed kin and afﬁnes is often in

280 Marriage, family and kinship languages other than Konkani. Correspondence, visits, as well as telephone calls, are major ways in which links between kin, afﬁnes and friends in the dispersed lCGC are maintained.

Chapter 6: Notes

1. Kurian’s typology is as follows: (i) arranged according to ideas of parents (ii) arranged according to ideas of parents, with consent of respondent (iii) Respondent’s own choice with consent of parents (iv) Respondent’s own choice without consent of parents (1961:67). I have substituted Kurian’s ‘respondent’ with ‘son/daughter’ in my typology.

2. A posko (male) or poskem (female)is a person from a poor family who, as a child, comes to live with a better-off family. The posko/poskem occupies an intermediary position in the family, in between children and servants. See also chapter 3.

3. However, some host areas have a lower cost of living than Goa. For instance, Goa, compared to the rest of India, had a higher cost of living during the Portuguese era. Consequently it was cheaper for families to live in Bombay and other parts of India and many did so when they obtained suitable family accommodation.

4. In 1980, the Amora Hindu population, on the other hand, was young, comprised equal numbers of males and females, and had a household size of 4.8 persons.

5. Among Hindu Goans, at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, it was rare to ﬁnd elderly family members cared for by servants or institutions and their attitude towards such practices among ICGs is ambivalent. On the one hand, they envy the material success of the ICGs and appreciate that this contributes to their own ﬁnancial betterment because it provides well-paid opportunities to work as servants, agricultural labourers, masons etc. On the other hand, they regard it as the duty of children to care for the aged, and the alternative arrangements made by ICGs appear far from ideal.

281 Socio-Economic Links of the International Catholic Goan Community with Goa

Introduction

n this chapter, I explore the nature of the international links of I the lCGC to Goa using the village of Amora as a focus. This entails an examination of remittances, housing and land which ipso facto involves a discussion of the nature of the relationship of the ICGC to local society in Goa. The signiﬁcance of these resources varies both with respect to time and migration pattern. In Section 1, I examine the remittance economy, which comprises both remittances from current international migrants and the retirement beneﬁts of returnees. ICGs have invested a large proportion of their remittances in building large, pakka houses and the relationship of the ICGC to housing is examined in Section 2. In Section 3, I look at land tenure and the ways that the ICGC has attempted to retain land rights in the face of a declining household labour force, changes in comunidade operation, and

282 Socio-economic links with Goa post-liberation agrarian reform. In Section 4, some case studies are cited, and these are used to demonstrate the evolution of new modes of production in section 5. By the end of Portuguese rule in 1961 the comunidade had become a moribund institution. A further blow was the establishment of Panchayat Raj in the 1960s. Access to this new politico-administrative unit was open to all resident villagers, both those who had ancestral ties with the village and new settlers. The role played by the ICGC in the contest for power and involvement in the panchayat is examined in Section 6.

1: The Remittance Economy

One of the major consequences of migration is the transfer of cash and other resources from the migrant to family members in the village (1). I use the term ‘remittances’ to cover cash transfers, savings and superannuation benefits. International migration produces high rates of remittances, as studies in Britain of Pakistanis (Dahya 1973:181) and West Indians (Philpott 1970:9- 20) demonstrate. The overall figure for Goa proved impossible to estimate although I consulted a number of the local banks and the Post Office (2). However, some indication of the scale of remittances, the patterns of transfer and use can be derived, at village level, from Amora.

Ethnographic research in 1980 indicated that almost all Amora CG households had cash incomes from salaried employment, the majority (85%) through international migration. Approximately a quarter received regular cash remittances from men working as clerks, technicians, and service workers in the Gulf and as stewards and waiters on the ships. However, despite numerous inquiries, I was unable to determine the level of these remittances

283 Socio-economic links with Goa

(3). About half received cash from monthly pensions, widow’s benefit or interest from lump sum retirement payments. Many returnees from the former British East Africa who were employed as clerks received a monthly average of Rs 2,500, their widows about Rs 1,500, the high rate being due to the fact that superannuation benefits are UK index-linked (4). We can predict a rise in households receiving widow’s benefit as wives, particularly those married to men about ten years older, outlive husbands. Besides pensions, there was income derived from savings and interest from numerous insurance policies, but, unfortunately, I was not able to quantify this (see Note 3).

Various studies have shown that remittances vary in terms of size and regularity. Caplan found that the size of remittances was related to the size of the migrant’s nuclear family and their consumption needs (1970:117), a ﬁnding which has some parallels in Goa. However, because of the complex patterns of household organisation and late or absent marriages, other trends are also apparent. The amount of money remitted depends on the migrant’s income level and the number of dependent persons in Goa. If the migrant is accompanied by his wife and children, the amount remitted to Goa is less than if he lives alone ‘out’. The money remitted to the natal family by single migrants depended on the number of migrants supporting that family. For instance, if two sons are migrants, less money per capita is remitted than if one son is ‘out’. However, remittances by migrants continues not to be systematically organised and, indeed, this lack was and is a continual source of conﬂict both at the time and later when claims to inheritance are made.

Ethnographic research in 1980 revealed that the main avenues for the investment of remittances over several decades has been education and housing. There are various means by which

284 Socio-economic links with Goa remittances are channelled to Goa. To the majority of early ICGs, banking was a novel phenomenon and indeed, few in the past had recourse to it, as they usually invested surplus money in gold. When a branch of the Banco Ultramarino was opened in Bombay, this formed one of the avenues through which money was remitted, but recipients in Goa had to travel to the bank’s headquarters in Panjim which until the development of modern transport links involved a long journey. A common method was to send money through post ofﬁces which were more numerous and accessible. Yet another method was personal conveyance via kin or friends visiting Goa. No one method was used exclusively, and choice depended on size and frequency of remittances, and ability to ﬁnd and trust someone to carry them to Goa. Following the end of colonialism in 1961, the extent to which banks have come to be used has risen with their extensive development in Goa (5), other parts of India and abroad.

If special circumstances arise, one-off cash remittances have been sent to economically independent households. For instance, if there is serious illness requiring hospitalisation, special medical care and drugs, then cash is sent because western medical care, which ICGs use, is largely provided by private practitioners, and is expensive. In such cases, it is not uncommon for various globally dispersed family members, particularly children, to pool resources. Although economically independent family members in Goa do not receive regular cash remittances, they often receive gifts. Many migration studies have also noted the remittances of goods (see Caldwell 1969:163, McFarlane 1972:333, Skinner 1965:68).

Since ICGs are predominantly attired in western dress, gifts often consist of dresses, blouses, shirts, trousers and footwear in vogue in the West. Sometimes foreign materials are sent to be

285 Socio-economic links with Goa locally tailored and the designs are chosen from western fashion magazines such as McCalls, Simplicity and Vogue. At weddings, dances, village feasts and other social occasions many people are attired in their fashionable gifts. A compliment such as “What a nice blouse, it must be foreign” may elicit the reply “Yes it is, my son sent it to me from Canada”. The way people are dressed is a matter of constant observation and comment, and the public display of foreign clothes testiﬁes to the fact that an individual’s international links are alive. Apart from clothes, edible items like chocolates, foreign alcohol, and cigarettes are very popular. Occasionally foreign household gadgets and equipment such as liquidisers, radios, tape recorders, and wrist watches are sent. These gifts are sent by international kin and friends with someone who is visiting Goa, or they will personally bring them when they come on holiday. Recipients often send gifts in exchange, usually delicacies like spiced Goa sausages, cashew nuts and feni, the local alcohol. Since ICGs who are ‘out’ rarely wear Indian garments, items such as saris are rarely sent as gifts. Hence, local clothing is rarely sent ‘out’ unlike, for instance, Pakistanis who send handicrafts, clothes, dresses and Kashmir shawls to kin in Britain (Jeffery 1976:140). Gifts are often exchanged between relatives and friends in different satellite communities. For instance, Paul in Nairobi who is the godfather of Lillian, the daughter of his brother living in Melbourne, sent a gift of clothes to her with his friend Tony, who had gone there for his sister’s wedding.

Often a chain of obligations for gift carrying has been informally instituted as people exchange favours by taking gifts to and from Goa, as well as between satellite communities. However, it is not always easy to ﬁnd someone willing to carry gifts, particularly with the limited baggage allowance available on air travel. Often

286 Socio-economic links with Goa people are embarrassed to ask favours, because they may be refused, and sometimes because they expect offers to take a parcel to be made ﬁrst. If a person declines to take a parcel, he risks giving offence. A common complaint is “At least he should have asked if I wanted to send something to my mother in Goa”. Another lament is “I wanted to send something but there was no one to take it”. Travellers often say “I agreed to take something for John, Mary and Peter and they each said they would send something small. But they gave me such big parcels and it was too late for me to refuse. Now I have to pay for excess baggage and it is very embarrassing to ask them to reimburse me”. Cash remittances are the main way through which radial links between the satellite communities and Goa are articulated, while the exchange of goods serves as a mechanism for maintaining both reciprocal radial links between the satellite communities and Goa as well as lateral links between satellite communities.

2: House Ownership in Goa

Ethnographic research in 1980 revealed approximately 567 pakka residential houses in Amora, of which 131 (29%) were not continuously owner occupied. Of these 131 houses, 31% were completely vacant and unoccupied, while the remainder were tenanted, with some being multi-tenanted, housing 117 tenants.

There are basically two types of contemporary house owners in the ICGC; (i) those who have built or bought a house in Goa out of their own earnings. Such houses have been acquired from around the 1960s and are the property of the international migrant and his family of procreation (see photograph 9); (ii) those who are exclusive or partial heirs to a house in Goa. Such houses were

287 Socio-economic links with Goa built in the early decades of the 20th century and tend to be multi- owned (see photograph 10).

The orientation in the ICGC towards nuclear household organisation, the desire of every married man to own his house, the piecemeal manner in which houses can be built, surplus savings, the availability of comunidade land for residential purposes at a nominal rent, and the limited scope for investing in land, all provided conditions conducive to the rural proliferation of large brick houses replacing small, katcha ones.

PHOTO 9: Modern house built by ICG

Photo 10: House inherited by ICG built in traditional style.

288 Socio-economic links with Goa

Photo 11: Modern apartments owned by ICG returnees in Mira Mar.

The pattern of investment in rural housing has some parallels with the ‘sterling houses’ built in Hong Kong by Chinese emigrants (Watson 1975:155-165). Urban housing stock has also increased in Goa as many middle-aged international returnees, with their life-time savings and lump-sum retirement beneﬁts have built new apartments, with modern amenities (see photograph 11). Some urban residents still have rights to ancestral houses in their villages of origin, while others have sold or foregone their rights to co-parceners.

ICGs who have no prospect or intention of life-long settlement ‘out’ invest money in building houses, usually in the village, but sometimes in urban areas. This is a common practice among those working on the ships and on limited term contracts in the Gulf. ICGs currently living in Africa and the West have an ambivalent attitude to house building in Goa. Those who are sure they will return have already made plans to build a new house or ﬂat or renovate an existing one to which they have acquired sole rights. However, many of the middle-aged in the West, such as in Britain, are house owners there (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:34-6) and are undecided about returning to Goa. The advantage of living in

289 Socio-economic links with Goa

Britain after retirement is proximity to children and grandchildren. On the other hand, the cold climate and high cost of living is a deterrent and Goa, the ‘Pensioners Paradise’, looms as a far more attractive prospect.

A compromise increasingly being contemplated is the purchase of a house in Portugal. Portugal has the advantage of good climate, lower cost of living, relatively familiar language and customs, and a short ﬂight from London which would allow frequent contact with kin. The Goan Association (UK) newsletter usually carries private advertisements for house purchases in Portugal, as well as Spain (see press cuttings 6).

For those ICGs who take up this option, it is not due to the lack of attachment to Goa, but that settlement there would minimise frequent face-to-face contact with close kin. Many still expect to make periodic visits to Goa to replenish memories of the motherland.

Although there are a number of unmarried ICG women in Goa, as well as a number who are ‘out’, it is fairly uncommon for a woman to independently Press cutting 6: Property buy or have a house built. advertisement. Source: The GOA Ethnographic research in Newsletter, London Goa in 1980 indicated that

290 Socio-economic links with Goa women who owned houses in Goa, either as sole owners or co-parceners, have invariably inherited the property from their parents or husbands.

Rights to private property are governed by the 1867 Portuguese Civil Code, amended a few decades later. At the time of my research in 1980, there was no authorised English translation or interpretation, nor any scholarly socio-legal studies available. My own investigation, based on discussion with lawyers and examination of some property disputes, indicates that generally its provisions gave better rights to private property to a wide range of consanguinally and afﬁnally related individuals, both male and female. These bilateral laws are still largely followed and anticipated by almost a century some changes introduced into India by the Hindu Succession Act 1956 (Minatur 1975). While some private property owned by the ICGC is land, the bulk is housing. The large scale increase in housing stock as a result of the investment of remittances since the 19th century has correspondingly augmented the level of transmissible property.

According to Goody (1970:628), a pattern of diverging devolution is usually found in bilateral systems. Comparing the systems of inheritance in Africa and Europe, he notes that in the latter, property devolves on both men and women, and even where property appears to be restricted to males, women are seen as residual heirs who inherit if there are no sons, whereas in Africa, if a man has no male heirs, a son of his brothers, or sisters in matrilineal societies, is nominated as heir (1976:10).

The introduction of the European system in Goa, applicable to the LCGs from the 16th century (Derrett 1965), explains how women came to inherit the ancestral house in the absence of brothers. Women obtain rights to property in Goa not only through a share of the joint property of both parents but also through a share in

291 Socio-economic links with Goa the conjugal estate. The latter can be speciﬁed before marriage through a pre-nuptial contract, but as this is not common, women usually have an equal share to conjugal property with their husbands. On the death of a spouse, the surviving spouse retains a right to half the property which can only be divided on his/her death. The law also provides for children not to be completely dispossessed by their parents. Since houses, unlike land, cannot be easily partitioned, particularly given the orientation of the ICGC to nuclear households, they are often passed intact to the junior generation after the death of both parents. Since parents often die of old age, the junior generation usually inherits the property when they themselves are in their 40s or older, often married with several children.

Goody notes that since diverging devolution is the vertical transmission of property between generations, rather than lateral transfer between the sibling groups, there are tensions between adjacent generations rather than with members of the same generation as in horizontal transfer (1970:628). However, in the case of the lCGC, a tension of both types exists. The global dispersal of siblings means that those living in proximity to ailing parents can cajole them to sign a will leaving the ancestral house to them. Such wills can be challenged but few wish to be entangled in the quagmire of legal processes in Goa, which, like elsewhere in India, take an indeﬁnite period to be resolved.

This complicated process is compounded by the absence of co- parceners in Goa and necessitates giving a local person power of attorney. Not only does this mean becoming indebted to someone but also nagging doubts arise that such a person may be vulnerable to corruption by proximous kin. When steps are taken to divide intestate property, tensions are generated over what share each has already had of the parental estate. Any

292 Socio-economic links with Goa money parents spent on educating children is often deemed, by co-parceners, to be drawing on a share of the parental estate, as in Greece where such expenditure is considered an advance share of the patrimony (Friedl 1959:58). Gifts received by daughters on marriage may also be similarly regarded. Sometimes the death or incapacity of parents has led brothers to provide their sisters with dowry and this becomes a further issue in property negotiations. Those who spent money on maintaining the parental estate want this to be taken into account.

Under the provisions of the law, inherited property of an individual becomes part of the conjugal estate of a couple unless pre-nuptial agreements to the contrary are made, a procedure few resort to. Consequently, afﬁnes also have a claim on the property, and hence tensions can be generated between siblings and afﬁnes. With the rising trend towards inter-caste marriages, there is a corresponding increase in co-parceners of different castes. Hence, a house built by a Brahmin sixty years ago can come to be owned by his Brahmin children and their spouses of different castes and ethnic backgrounds.

The pattern of house building and utilisation has to be seen within a diachronic perspective which encompasses both the pattern of international migration and the developmental cycle. Some ICGs who have accumulated sufﬁcient capital prior to marriage build a house on marriage while others postpone this until they have acquired more capital and by then, of course, they may already have one or more children. Once a house has been built, the pattern of utilisation depends on the form of household organisation which may remain the same throughout the ICG’s working life, or change during this period. A house built towards the latter part of the international migrant’s career is occupied by his wife and children if they are resident in Goa. If they are ‘out’

293 Socio-economic links with Goa then it is eventually used as a retirement home by the couple. If it is built after permanent return in middle age, it is used as a retirement home, as exempliﬁed by the ﬂats and houses built by ICG returnees in Mira Mar. Thereafter, it is either kept locked and vacant, or occupied for brief periods when internationally dispersed heirs return on holiday. Sometimes the whole or part of the house is occupied by elderly relatives, usually unmarried or widowed. They may live on their own or with other relatives, or servants. In the case of internationally dispersed heirs, the pattern of utilisation depends on whether their childhood and adolescence are spent continuously or intermittently in Goa, and during the period of their adult migratory career, the pattern of family organisation they follow. Furthermore, it depends on the number of co-parceners, the nature and extent of international dispersal, and the complexity of residence patterns.

The maintenance of unoccupied houses in Goa is an enduring problem for co-parceners living ‘out’. An ICG is able to maintain his house as long as he has sufﬁcient personal funds but when these diminish, particularly with retirement, the adult working heirs are expected to contribute. The design of houses and the materials used increase the likelihood of damage through rodent, monsoon rain and woodworm infestation which makes frequent maintenance necessary.

Furthermore, funds are required for renovations such as the replacement of cow dung floors with cement, installation of water pumps and indoor flush toilets, etc. All heirs, particularly males, are expected to contribute financially. Contributions are rarely systematically recorded, and since heirs are not living in the same geographical place, co-ordination and co-operation becomes difficult. This lack of systematisation has repercussions when the division or sale of the property is mooted. The difficulties involved

294 Socio-economic links with Goa in seeking the views of the various heirs, dispersed worldwide, and reaching a decision on the value of the property and its method of allocation or sale, are considerable. Correspondence is exchanged across continents, but because collective ownership requires a collective decision on democratic lines, as no one has the prerogative to assume authority, there is often a lack of concerted action. Moreover, because of a sentimental attachment to the ancestral house, and to Goa, few want to arrive at a premature decision and prefer “to wait and see”. Hence, the house may be sporadically or never maintained, leading to large scale deterioration.

For many members of the ICGC, particularly successive generations of heirs, the house is predominantly of symbolic and minimally of instrumental value. It signifies a tangible link with the motherland and the fountainhead of the ICGC. Many, including IFl, IF2 and IF3 ICGs prefer to preserve this link, even if the house becomes uninhabitable in the interim. Since there are many empty or partially utilised houses, there have been frequent requests to the ICGC for housing over the last few decades. Sometimes these come from kin, but more often from the Hindus and Kunbis who came to work and live in the village. Most owners who acceded to such requests felt they were acting on humanitarian grounds by providing accommodation and work in the fields, but in reality, this was an exchange for mutual benefit. Sometimes a relative or friend was asked to care for a vacant house, but this practice was usually followed by those who did not have fields to cultivate, and therefore had no need for labour. With large scale international migration, caretakers were not easy to find, and few ICGs wanted to be indebted to a caretaker. Hence, people other than kin or friends looked after the property, a practice different from that adopted by UK Pakistanis whose

295 Socio-economic links with Goa non-migrant kin look after their houses, collect rents and bank it (Jeffery 1976:140).

Accommodation provided to Kunbi and Hindu immigrant occupants usually comprised the outhouses but sometimes a couple of rooms in the main residential house were made available, and occasionally, the whole house. The agreement between the owner and occupant was rarely in writing, no rent was extracted or the duration of residence determined in advance, it being tacitly accepted that the absent owner could regain use of the house when desired.

Some indication of this pattern of housing can be gained from the fact that in 1980, 33% of Hindu and Kunbi households in Amora were tenants of the ICGC. While owner occupation among Hindus and Kunbis has increased considerably over the last few years as the comunidade has made leases available to them, and through government aid targeting low income groups, the natural increase in their population has ensured that their demand for ‘rented’ accommodation has not abated. Hence, many still continue to live in the houses of the ICGC. The informal occupancy system operated fairly well until the advent of legislation concerning mundkars (6). The mundkar system was widely practised by private landlords during Portuguese rule (Report of the Committee of the Problems of ‘Mundkars’, 1966). A change in the deﬁnition of mundkar in the 1971 legislation brought occupants of houses belonging to the ICGC within the purview of the new law. As a result of new legislation, to regain possession, ICGs have to resort to court proceedings, unless occupants agree to leave voluntarily.

Many ICGs would have remained ignorant or complacent about the threats to their homes, had not the government decided to maintain a register of mundkars and asked, in 1978, for claims to

296 Socio-economic links with Goa mundkar status to be submitted, following which notiﬁcation was sent to absentee owners asking for their objection or agreement to the claims. ICGs living in other parts of India were more aware of impending legislation since similar ones were being implemented elsewhere in India, and hence, many were able to take appropriate action to safeguard their interests to a far greater extent than those living in Africa and the West. Of the 56 claims submitted by occupants in Amora, only 12 had been resolved by 1980, mainly because they were uncontested or withdrawn after amicable arrangements had been privately agreed between the parties, while the others were still pending, as the views of globally dispersed co-parceners were being sought to arrive at a consensus position.

To illustrate the occupancy system followed by the ICGC and the legal problems, here is a case study from Amora, the data being derived from court case notes compiled during ethnographic research in Goa in 1980.

An ICG returnee, James, applied to court for the eviction of a Kunbi John and his family from his residential house. The huge pakka house had been built by James’ father, Peter, who had worked in Africa, and on retirement, lived in the house with his step-daughter Jane until his death. James had remained in Africa, and when Jane married, she went to live in her husband’s house in Amora. Jane allowed John and his family to stay in James’ house, and they did so for 16 years, during which time they helped in the cultivation of James’ comunidade ﬁelds. For about eight years they lived in the house concurrently with a Hindu family who later voluntarily vacated the house on James’ return from Africa, but John refused to do so. During court proceedings spanning about ﬁve years, James and his wife lived temporarily in a number of vacant houses belonging to the ICGC. When the

297 Socio-economic links with Goa case was ﬁnally heard, the court accepted James’ claim that the disputed house was his own residential house and not the dwelling house of a mundkar. James and his wife moved into the house, but he died shortly after, the strain of the court proceedings having contributed to his death. In 1980, his widow was living alone in the house, while their children were all living in the West having migrated there directly from Africa. John stayed in the house of another ICG but planned to move shortly to a house he was constructing with the help of money his son was earning in the Gulf working as a mason.

While the majority of houses belonging to the ICGC are occupied by Hindus and Kunbis, a number are ‘rented’ to relatives or friends of the owners. In a few cases, occupancy rights have been claimed by these people, leading to the view that “you can’t trust anyone”. Hence, many prefer to leave their houses unoccupied and locked up.

3: Changing Land Rights in Goa and Implications for Tenure by the ICGC

The analysis of ICGC land rights in Goa is extremely complicated because of the dual land tenure system (comunidade and private), post-liberation agrarian reform, and the inheritance system. The procedures and difficulties involved in obtaining data on land rights in Amora are discussed in an Appendix following this chapter. I shall firstly briefly outline agrarian reforms and their general implications before considering the specific repercussions on land tenure in Amora.

298 Socio-economic links with Goa

(a) Post-colonial agrarian reform

Shortly after the Maharashtrawadi Gomantak Party (MGP) came to power, it promulgated the Agricultural Tenancy Act 1964 which fixed the rent on paddy fields to one-sixth of their gross produce. This significantly reduced the income of land owners as previously rents were approximately half of gross produce. Two categories were particularly affected; the small landholders and the comunidades. Many small landowners were ICGs who relied on land to provide some of their dietary needs, or in the case of poor returnees with little or no superannuation benefits, to earn their livelihood. It was not uncommon for their land to be cultivated by tenants and the reduction in rent led to a drop in their level of income. Many ICGs, however, were not seriously affected, as land ownership was of symbolic rather than instrumental significance. As long as their ownership rights were protected, the decrease in rent did not seriously affect their standard of living. Indeed, many who were ‘out’ did not systematically collect their rents nor arrange for someone else to do so. A similar situation exists in Pisticci, South Italy, where many people have land rights to small holdings, or there are multiple owners of large ones (Davis 1976). Davis comments “...we seem to be in the presence of symbolic action, rather than manipulation of economic resources.... Symbolic meanings are a luxury permitted by the relative unimportance of the economic value of the land in some sections of the populations....” (1976:295).

The comunidades were more severely affected by the legislation. The reduction in their income prevented many from paying zonn and shares, and in some cases they reduced the amount paid. Auctions were not regularly held and the rotation of leases limited. More seriously, however, it affected their ability to maintain the

299 Socio-economic links with Goa village lands. The problem was more acute in the case of villages with riverside borders, as in Amora. Repairs and servicing of the protective barriers to prevent saline inundation could not be maintained as was done previously.

The Agricultural Tenancy Act was amended in 1976, this amendment constituting the Land to the Tiller Act. It changed the definition of agriculture to include garden produce; hence, besides paddy fields, horticultural gardens of coconut, arecanut, cashew etc. came under its purview. Tillers were made proprietors, and therefore, small non-cultivating landowners were completely deprived of their land. The large landlords had safeguarded their position by adopting contingency measures when they realised reforms were imminent. Most small landowners who were ‘out’ lost all or part of their land as they were not present in Goa to challenge claims to their land within the time period stipulated by the Government. The comunidades lost virtually all their agrarian assets. One of the consequences was that no individual owner was prepared to be responsible for repairs as they were not familiar with such work and few had the financial means to pay for such upkeep. Consequently many fields were destroyed. The problem was exacerbated by the growth of the mining industry as trawlers carrying ore to the ports accelerated the destruction of the protective barriers.

The law generated considerable controversy. On the one side was the Shetkari Association, championing the cause of tenants. On the other was the Goa Agriculturalists’ and Landholders Association which argued that the legislation was politically motivated rather than concerned with the equitable distribution of land. They claimed it deliberately omitted a ceiling clause which led to the complete dispossession of small owners while simultaneously allowing new owners to amass holdings of any

300 Socio-economic links with Goa size. They also argued that, unlike elsewhere in India, where proprietors were given adequate opportunity to reclaim their rented ﬁelds for personal cultivation, in Goa the 1976 legislation was rushed through at short notice. They contended that the comunidades should be exempted from the law as their income was spent mainly on the promotion of religious services, education and charity.

With the reduction, ﬁrst in their income from rent and later the complete loss of land, the comunidades were dealt a ﬁnal blow. Some argued (Menezes 1980:15) that the property of the comunidades should go to the respective village and the ganvkars and shareholders should be paid compensation. As a result of various protests, the law was challenged in the Goa courts and eventually in the Supreme Court in Delhi (Judgements 1977, 1979). This was the position at the end of ethnographic research in 1980.

The land reforms introduced into post colonial Goa were the extension of those initiated earlier in other parts of independent India. In theory, according to Gough, such legislation was expected to regulate crop shares between tenants and landlords, increase daily wages of agricultural labour, give permanent tenure to cultivating tenants and limit the size of owners’ holdings (1980:358). However, in Kerala (Gough 1980:358) as elsewhere in India (Alavi 1975:1239), the bigger landlords have been able to retain most of their land through a variety of subterfuges and only a few tenants have been successful in obtaining properly documented leases, the rest continuing to operate under the former insecure and inequitable terms.

In Goa, the situation is more complex. On the one hand, ethnographic research in 1980 showed that the laws were still being challenged and, hence, in a state of ﬂux. Furthermore,

301 Socio-economic links with Goa

Goa, unlike most other states of India, had only a small number of landlords. This is not only because of the small size of the region, but also because the bulk of paddy land was owned by the comunidades and no parallel institution existed elsewhere in India at the end of British colonial rule. Hence, to examine the impact of land reforms in Goa is to examine its impact on small leaseholders. This is particularly the case with Amora where around 1980 the comunidade owned about 70% of the land, the rest being in the hands of a number of private owners. The situation in Amora is replicated in many villages of Goa. However, there are other villages in the OCs, such as Indiana (Ifeka 1985), Loliem (Montemayor 1970) and Kepem (Almeida 1978) in the NCs where the land is concentrated in the hands of a small number of people. Nevertheless, the size of such properties is considerably less than in many regions in India.

Another difference between Goa and other parts of India is large scale international migration. Elsewhere in India there has been considerable concern expressed over absentee landlordism. In the OCs, the comunidade is the major landlord of agrarian land and as the institution persists despite change in its personnel, absentee landlordism has been limited. However, absentee leaseholders existed and continued to exist at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. Since the numbers of lessees are large, the impact is far more pervasive. In the context of agrarian legislation and long term international migration, I shall examine the nature of the ICGC’s links to land in Goa, focusing on Amora.

302 Socio-economic links with Goa

(b) Effects of agrarian reform and international migration on land tenure

Despite the difficulties in obtaining reliable data, detailed in the Appendix, I am fairly confident that the overall picture, if not the statistical detail, presented below is a moderately accurate reflection of social reality at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. In analysing land rights, there are certain categories of households which can be a priori excluded (7). Of the remaining 605 households, 42% were CG Brahmins, 13% CG Sudras, and the remaining composed mainly of Hindus (227 households) and a small number of Kunbis (44 households). In examining the changing position with respect to land rights and other aspects of the agrarian economy, the unit of analysis is the household. As pointed out in the Appendix, official records cite the names of individuals as the holders of rights and consequently, some households have one or more types of rights to land (8).

In Table 3 below, the distribution of land rights current at the time of ethnographic research in 1980 is provided. The CG category consisted of both ICG and LCG households, although the former comprised the majority (85%). The CG Brahmins and Sudras have been amalgamated into one category because oral historical evidence indicates that the difference that existed previously between them, with respect to access to comunidade land, has considerably attenuated. As mentioned in the Appendix, past comunidade land records are not amenable to analysis in terms of caste, so the proportion of Sudras to Brahmins who had, at any one time, obtained usufruct rights to comunidade land is not known. However, ethnographic research in 1980 in Amora revealed that most, if not all Sudra families, worked as mundkars for batcars. The batcars were a handful of traditional

303 Socio-economic links with Goa elite Brahmin families in Amora who had private land as well as rights to comunidade land. However, with the international migration of Brahmins, plots of comunidade land became increasingly available and Sudras acquired leases. Since these households attempted to emulate the Brahmins, their replacement as agriculturalists by the succeeding generation was severely curtailed as their children joined the stream of international migrants. Within a generation or so, these households evolved into a broadly similar position as the Brahmin households.

A number of classiﬁcation systems of land tenure have been used by other researchers but they are of minimal applicability to Goa because of the small size of holdings, different tenurial relationships and limited market orientation. Consequently, I use a categorisation system unique to Goa and set out below the distribution of paddy land rights in terms of tenurial relationships, but exclude size of holdings because they are very small in most cases. Subsequently, I explain how this pattern evolved and the nature of the social relations of production.

As would be expected, only a small number of households owned property as only about 30% of the village paddy land was private property, the rest being comunidade land. This private property was owned by a number of persons and holdings were small, 54% being in the range 1,001-3,500 sq. m., while 37% were above 3,500 sq. m., with a few exceeding an acre. In many cases, the title to land was still noted in ofﬁcial records in the name of a dead ancestor because partition has not taken place.

304 Socio-economic links with Goa

DISTRIBUTION OF PADDY LAND RIGHTS AMONG AMORA CATHOLIC GOAN HINDU AND KUNBI HOUSEHOLDS Catholic Hindus Total Goan &. Kunbis 334 271 605 hhlds hhlds hhlds % % % TENURE RELATIONS Landless 42 61 51 Priv. prop. owner 6 0 4 Comunidade tenant 34 19 27 Priv. prop. owner & 06 00 03 comm. tenant Priv. prop. tenant 00 01 01 Priv. prop. tenant & 04 08 06 comm. tenant Priv. prop. owner & 00 00 00 priv. prop. tenant Comm. sub-tenant 07 08 07 Comm. sub-tenant & 00 02 01 priv. prop. owner Comm. sub-tenant & 00 00 00 priv. prop. tenant 100 100 100 Table 3

The above table refers only to resident ICG households in Goa in 1980 but taking into account the geographically dispersed heirs, the number of owners was much bigger. However, it was impossible to determine the number of absentee owners as available records were inadequate.

305 Socio-economic links with Goa

The majority of those who held land in the village - both Catholics, Hindus and Kunbis - were comunidade lessees. The sizes of comunidade holdings, like those of private holdings in the village, and in Goa as a whole, were small. Comparisons between CGs and Hindus and Kunbis revealed that 56% of CGs compared to 40% of Hindus and Kunbis had holdings in the range 1001-3500 sq.m. The extent of Hindu and Kunbi holdings of comunidade land is a continuation of a process of inﬁltration that started a few decades ago.

When the Hindus and Kunbis first came to Amora, they worked as agricultural labourers for various CG households. Although initially they did not possess any land, in course of time, they began to do so, as is revealed from the examination of comunidade records from the turn of the 20th century (9). These indicated that by around 1945, 20 Hindus had acquired plots of comunidade land. These plots were small, less than 500 sq. m. and indeed, many of them were very small. Apart from these plots, they also acquired rights to fruit bearing trees, and a few obtained long term leases to non-agrarian land on which to build houses. By 1955, the number of Hindus who had comunidade plots had increased to 31 and furthermore, the number of plots they had, and the total area, had also substantially increased. Twenty years later, in 1975, the number had doubled with 60 Hindus holding plots and the total size of holdings was correspondingly larger. The impact of the Kunbis was more difficult to ascertain, because of the similarity of their names to those of CGs (see Appendix). Some idea was gained from the fact that the three prominent Kunbis who had a substantial proportion of land in 1975 had only very small plots, of less than 300 sq.m., in 1949. It is important to note that the above only refers to official leases held by Hindus and Kunbis. However, unofficial leases of various duration organised through ad hoc

306 Socio-economic links with Goa informal arrangements with CGs did exist and was evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. This point is partially substantiated by Table 3, which indicates that 10% of Hindus and Kunbis were comunidade sub-tenants.

With large scale international migration, good earning power, and the decline in household size, we might have expected a large number of ICGs to reduce the size of their comunidade holdings or perhaps surrender land rights. The large number of landless CG households in 1980 was a recent phenomenon, to a large extent brought about by post-colonial legislation. In India there are large numbers of rural landless and small peasant holders who live a precarious existence and often have to resort to wage labour to subsist. In 1980, the landless and small peasants in the ICGC, however, were not in the same impoverished situation; in most cases, they lived comfortably on their remittances. The landless Hindus and Kunbis in Amora were in a similar situation to other landless in India, although the numerous employment opportunities generated by the ICGC enabled them to supplement their agrarian incomes by domestic work, masonry, carpentry etc. Until the 1960s, the majority of lCGs had some land rights. To understand why land was retained we have to recall the fate of the comunidade system in the 20th century and the signiﬁcance of land to the lCGC.

From around the 1950s when the fate of the comunidade system was in question it became administratively moribund. During this period of instability, an uncertain climate prevailed in Amora and other villages and it became possible to retain leases beyond their former expiry date and to withhold payment of rent to the comunidade because it was not in a strong position to enforce its regulations. Moreover, those who already held usufruct rights to comunidade and even private land, retained them because of the

307 Socio-economic links with Goa possibility of acquiring ownership rights under the new legislation. Those who held sub-leases also retained them because it would improve their bargaining position vis-a-vis the official lessees and indeed, it is alleged that some of them eventually surrendered the sub-lease to the official lessee on payment of a sum of money. For CGs, land used to represent, and in 1980 still did for a section of the LCGC, the basis for subsistence living. In a society where consumer goods, particularly basic and essential dietary items have not been easily and regularly available, and where frequent price fluctuations occur because of changing demand and black-marketing, land rights provided some guarantee against starvation and malnutrition. As one ICG put it “when you have your own field at least you know you will have some rice in the house”. Since Goa has always had a shortage of rice, a continuing incentive existed particularly for the LCGC, but also for the poorer lCGs and those with memories of a malnourished youth, to acquire, maintain or augment land rights not only to cater for subsistence needs but also for the exchange or sale of marginal surplus.

Throughout the period when the subsistence economy was predominant, there was little variation in the diet, and rice, prepared in various ways, was the staple. However, with increased cash resources derived from international migration, ICGs have been able to considerably extend the range of dietary items to include shop bought wheat, milk, eggs, cheese, meat etc. And, hence, there has been a corresponding decline in their consumption of rice. Furthermore, long grain white rice, obtainable at the government sponsored Fair Price shops where a certain amount is guaranteed by the ration system, was considered easier to digest, and more suitable for retired ICGs or those LCGs engaged in sedentary occupations. Domestically produced rice which is short-grain, semi-polished or unpolished was considered more

308 Socio-economic links with Goa suitable for manual workers. Hence, while the demand for rice and supply of a particular type and quality affected the incentive to produce the domestic, traditional varieties, it was not sufficient to risk taking the drastic step of surrendering land rights. Better marketing facilities in Goa after 1961 has, to some extent, guaranteed the availability of rice and vegetables in the market. The dietary requirements of ICGs reflected their different cultural expectations from the LCGC, Hindus and Kunbis. Both convenience and prestige influenced what the ICGC ate. However, the amount of cash that a household channelled towards subsistence items depended on other cash needs. School fees, books, clothes, particular food items, alcohol etc. can only be obtained by paying cash and therefore, the deployment of cash for these items was at the expense of subsistence items which compelled the continuation of domestic production of rice among some ICGs.

For many ICG households, the necessity to retain land for subsistence purposes had decreased which raises the possibility of cultivating land for proﬁt rather than use value. Such changes have been reported in numerous migration studies (see McEvoy 1971:589; Clarke 1973; Gulliver 1955:34; Philpott 1970:14-15). Since 1961, in Goa high yielding varieties of seed rice have been introduced by the government but this has required new technology and new types of fertiliser. This has raised not only the cost of production but has required a willingness on the part of farmers to forsake traditional methods. Part-time farmers, particularly ICGs, are less competent to keep pace with agricultural innovations, or to cultivate cash crops. Such conservatism betrays an increasing lack of interest in land because of the receipt of life- long superannuation beneﬁts and regular remittances, and little inclination to become peasant or capitalist farmers (10). In 1980 it

309 Socio-economic links with Goa was apparent that the retention of land by a signiﬁcant proportion of the ICGC was not for proﬁt from sale of produce.

To seriously consider decreasing involvement in land and particularly to surrender land holdings requires a confidence that the international economy is secure and stable. The ICGC is aware of labour fluctuations, exemplified by the varying labour requirements during World War I and II, and by the sudden expulsion of East African Asians in 1972. Such uncertainty provides a motivation to retain at least a nominal interest in land as a security against unpredictable changes in the international economy. Furthermore, land rights in Goa have been a status symbol. While size of holding is undoubtedly a factor in status ranking, the fact that one owns property at all, given the structural limitations on availability, provides status. Irrespective of size of holdings, land rights in Goa held by the ICGC provides a tangible and sentimental link with ‘home’, and in particular, the ancestral village. Hence the desire for land rights, whether proprietary or usufruct, is in some cases for instrumental reasons, but equally important for many others is its symbolic significance.

4: Case Histories

To understand how comunidade holdings were retained, three examples of the strategies adopted by the ICGC over time are presented drawn from ethnographic research conducted in 1980.

Case History 1: Tony

Tony and his brother Leslie used to help their parents, Xavier and Louise, with the cultivation of the comunidade holdings whenever

310 Socio-economic links with Goa they had spare time between attending school and doing homework. When they were 18 and 19 years old respectively, Tony and Leslie secured clerical jobs in Africa, and left their parents in Amora to continue cultivating the ﬁelds. Returning to Amora on holiday, they married and took their wives with them to Africa.

Tony and his wife, Teresa, had four children, and when the older two were young teenagers, Teresa returned to Amora for their secondary studies. Theresa and the children lived with Xavier and Louise, and during this period Teresa did not engage in agricultural work but cooked for the household and devoted the rest of her time to progressive motherhood practices.

Xavier and Louise continued with farm work, hiring labour for ploughing, transplanting and harvesting. However, with old age, they eventually gave the usufruct rights of two of their four plots to a Hindu, Chandra, and the remaining two to a Kunbi, Mario. Teresa’s sons had, in the meantime, secured white collar jobs on their return to Africa. Leslie’s wife remained in Africa as they had only one son Philip, and three daughters, and since only the son was to be educated to secondary level, Philip was sent to a boarding school in Poona.

In 1975 Teresa and Tony, and the two younger children Derek and Lydia who were now 15 and 16, returned to Amora as Tony lost his job due to the Africanisation policy. The older two children, now married, remained in Kenya. Leslie, his wife and family migrated to Britain. Teresa and Tony managed to regain the usufruct right to their ﬁelds after considerable difﬁculty as Chandra and Mario challenged them under the new Land to the Tiller 1976 legislation.

Teresa and Tony loathed doing any farm work, because they were both unaccustomed to it, and feared a loss of status. Derek and Lydia had gone to college for further studies. In the absence of

311 Socio-economic links with Goa household labour, Teresa and Tony hired labour but gradually they found that the labourers were unreliable, made undue demands on their patronage, expected higher wages, and pressed for full or partial payment in cash rather than produce.

The rice produced was beyond the consumption needs of Tony’s family as they ate a more varied diet including shop bought government subsidised good quality white rice. Furthermore, having lived for a long time in Africa, they had become more accustomed to this type of rice than the local, short grain coarse variety. Hence, they found that they had to make arrangements for the sale or exchange of the surplus, a process which produced marginal proﬁt.

Eventually they surrendered the ﬁelds to the comunidade and at the time of ethnographic research in 1980 had no land or source of domestic rice. They did not regard this as a hardship since they had sufﬁcient cash savings and could rely on contingency resources from Derek and Lydia who were working in Goa as a clerk and teacher respectively.

Case History 2: Baptist

Baptist used to help his parents quite considerably to till their fields when he was a primary school student. Since he did not continue his studies, he worked full time as a farmer in the household’s fields. When he was 17, he gladly seized an opportunity to work as a steward on an international ship while his parents and siblings continued to cultivate the fields. Some years later, Baptist’s sister left home on marriage, but since Baptist’s marriage shortly followed hers, her place was taken by Baptist’s wife, Rosie, so the labour unit structurally remained unchanged. A few years later, Baptist’s younger brother went to work in Africa,

312 Socio-economic links with Goa and the family compensated for his loss by hiring labour. As Baptist’s parents grew old, Rosie took the major responsibility for cultivation, supplementing her labour with hired labour.

Rosie was able to continue full time farm work while the children were young because her parents-in-law looked after the children, helped prepare meals and do other household tasks. However, with their death within a short space of each other, she found it became increasingly difficult to manage household tasks, farm work and progressive motherhood practices. Hence, of the two fields she had, she divided the usufruct rights to one of the distant fields between a Hindu Goan and a Kunbi but retained the rights to the other field which she cultivated with hired labour. Her children helped occasionally but were reluctant because many of their contemporaries did not work in the fields. Not wanting her children to be ridiculed, Rosie rarely called for their help. When she was ill she temporarily leased her field to a Kunbi. Since Baptist did not earn a great deal of money, the family could not afford to buy all their food, as well as clothes, and educate their children. Hence, Rosie had to continue with farm work to produce rice, pulses and vegetables for domestic consumption. When Baptist returned on leave he helped with farm work, more for reasons of necessity as he would prefer to maintain his status by not doing so. Their sons and daughters had little desire to take up farming and hoped to do non-manual work when they finished their studies.

Case History 3: Philip

Philip, his wife Bridget, with their son John and daughter Mary used to cultivate comunidade land. When he was 20, John went to work in Calcutta where he died a few years later. Mary married

313 Socio-economic links with Goa and went to live with her husband in Africa. Philip and Bridget continued cultivating the fields with hired labour, until Philip’s death. Bridget continued farming with the assistance of a Hindu Goan, Gavaskar and his family, who came to Iive in her house. With increasing age and ill health, she became unable to work in the fields or supervise cultivation, and gave Gavaskar usufruct rights, ensuring that she had sufficient rice for her personal needs. In 1970, Mary, her husband and children returned prematurely from Africa, and came to live with Bridget as Mary was now sole heir to the house as John was dead. Since the house was too small for everyone, they asked Gavaskar and his family to move out. They also regained possession of the fields.

Mary supervised the cultivation of the fields using hired labour; neither she, her husband or her children did any agricultural work, as they were unused to farming, and regarded such work as demeaning. Five years later, Mary, her husband and children migrated to Canada. Her cousin Lourdes, who was living in Bombay, agreed to caretake the fields as Bridget had become very old and was moved to Amora Old Age Home where she died shortly thereafter. Lourdes gave the usufruct rights to a young local CG Brahmin woman, Monica. In 1980, Monica’s husband worked as a technician in Panjim, their two teenage sons were at school, and Monica cultivated the fields mainly through hired labour, occasionally undertaking some light field work herself. She had leased a part of the holding to a Kunbi to cultivate pulses after the paddy crop. A small stretch of land was given to a Hindu family to cultivate onion seedlings. When Lourdes periodically visited Goa, she collected rent from Monica; otherwise Monica sent it by post or with someone visiting Bombay. In 1980, the official comunidade lease was still in the name of the deceased Bridget.

314 Socio-economic links with Goa

5: The Development of New Modes of Production in the ICGC

From the above, we can see that there are a variety of ICGC relationships to agrarian land. The complexity and diversity of involvement is a reﬂection of the evolution of pragmatic solutions to particular circumstances. Most of the ICGC, including the Brahmin ganvkars, traditionally utilised the Domestic Mode of Production. When additional labour was required, particularly during harvesting, reciprocal exchange of services was used. Brahmins, and Chardos to a lesser extent, rarely worked for others on a contractual basis and hence, even when there was a demand for agricultural labour, status considerations precluded upper castes from supplying their services.

Since as many males as possible migrated, there was no evidence of the emergence of the ‘share family’ (Epstein 1973:207-211) as in South Indian villages where one male family member migrates to earn cash while the remaining males maintain the farm. With the contraction of the domestic labour unit in the ICGC, the extent to which it coped with the same workload depended on the degree of substitution according to gender and age related tasks. According to Mencher (1978:226) female labour plays a considerable role in paddy cultivation, particularly in delicate tasks such as transplanting and weeding which require nimble ﬁngers and patience. At the time of the research in Goa in 1980, historical evidence was not found on sex segregated tasks, but extrapolated from observations at that time, it appeared that men prepared the land through ploughing, digging and adding organic fertilisers, such as ﬁshmeal and ashes (Kosambi 1975:331), while women sowed and weeded the paddy. Harvesting was done by both sexes, threshing mainly by men, winnowing, par-boiling, drying

315 Socio-economic links with Goa and manual de-husking by women. Under the Portuguese regime there was no official incentive to mechanisation as land was of marginal significance to the colonial economy. Furthermore, Goa reflected the poor agricultural practices evident in Portugal at that time. Hence, the degree to which a household maintained its traditional mode of production depended on the numbers of members absent, and the degree of task substitutability, given structural limitations of sex, age, status and household size.

Since nuclear household organisation is predominant and residential patterns vary, the mobility of ICG women was a significant factor in the mode of production adopted. If the wife and children remained in the village then they may have continued to farm. If absent, nominal involvement in land continued through retention of the official lease and unofficially giving the usufruct rights to other village residents. If an intermittent pattern of village residence was followed, this was reflected in changing degrees of involvement in land, as the examples cited above indicate. The emphasis on education and the acquisition of a job in the international economy has resulted in the decline in the contribution of children to agricultural work. Not only did attendance at school and homework leave less time for agricultural work, but students increasingly shunned farm work because of its association with illiteracy and low status. However, it was not only the loss of the labour of the children which had to be compensated, but also that of wives whose commitment to progressive motherhood dictates that higher priority be given to it than to agricultural work. Not only is the availability of ICG wives to engage in agricultural work an important factor, but also their predilection and capacity for such work. Educated wives had not done extensive agricultural work during childhood and adolescence and, therefore, found it more difficult to undertake

316 Socio-economic links with Goa agricultural work of the type their uneducated ancestors had become accustomed to. Furthermore, educated women, as indeed all educated members of the society, regarded it as demeaning to work in the ﬁelds unless necessity demands this. Hence, they were more likely to favour a supervisory rather than an active participatory role.

Photo 12: A Kunbi labourer

317 Socio-economic links with Goa

Photo 13: A Hindu labourer

Considerations of status remain a significant factor in the mode of production adopted. Status in the traditional society derived from land, not only in terms of the size of holdings, but also the level of involvement in agricultural work. High status household members did not work in the fields but rather hired labour, and the size of the retinue of servants testified to their level of prestige. As

318 Socio-economic links with Goa the economic position of lCGs improved, they too tried to emulate the elite LCG families and withdrew from agricultural work. The lCG women who remained in the village, wives as well as mothers, increasingly took on the role of farm managers. A few did a little ﬁeld work, but on the whole their role became increasingly that of supervisors of agricultural labour and production. A parallel case is found among some Kerala Muslims (Saiyed 1976) although the women there are proﬁt and market-orientated.

As mentioned earlier, there was a virtually unlimited supply of efﬁcient and compliant labour from other parts of Goa (see photographs 12 and 13), and in the post-colonial period, from elsewhere in India. Gonsalves, writing in 1906, noted that Hindus from the NCs came periodically during the agricultural season to work in the OCs (1906:118). Such availability encouraged the ICGC to utilise them without surrendering their foothold in the land based economy. The extensive use of Hindu and Kunbi internal migrants was facilitated by a number of other factors.

Of crucial significance was the considerable fragmentation of comunidade land which led to the usufruct rights to various plots of land of diverse sizes being held by a multitude of small households units. Hence, each ICG household exercised personal autonomy in the acquisition of labour to suit its individual needs, and also in the unofficial disposal of usufruct rights. The modes of production adopted by ICG households were flexible. Since land was not a capital resource, they were less concerned to cultivate fields which produced beyond their subsistence needs. Their consumption needs fluctuated with household size, international migration pattern and financial ability to purchase food. Fur- thermore, ICGs wanted to retain the official lease and the rights and privileges accruing from such possession. These factors curtailed the steady official supply of land to Hindu Goans and

319 Socio-economic links with Goa

Kunbis and maintained their relatively high level of employment as unofﬁcial tenants and agricultural labourers as evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980.

The nature of the relationship between the ICGC and Hindus and Kunbis was that of patron-client which testifies to the persistence of semi-feudalism (Gough 1980). Not only were the Hindus and Kunbis assisting in the cultivation of their patron’s land, but they were usually residing in accommodation provided by him/her and furnishing a variety of services peripheral to the agrarian economy. For instance, they looked after the aged parents and relatives of the ICG patron which was of greater significance before the availability of Homes for the Aged in the latter half of the 20th century. They ran various errands and helped with domestic work when necessary. These ties of loyalty and the multitude of fringe benefits, such as gifts of clothes, food and cash loans they enjoyed, restrained them from acquiring more land from another ICG for fear of alienating their own patron. Furthermore, the acceptance of land from another ICG would prejudice their chances of acquiring more land from their own patron as this became available in due course.

Hence, the strategy the Hindus and Kunbis adopted depended on a combination of factors such as how much land their current patron had, the location of other available land, their chances of acquiring it, the potential effect of new acquisitions on the relationship with their present patron, and their needs at the time. Thus, as plots of land became available through different IGC households, new Hindu Goans and Kunbis materialised to bid for them; some were already resident in Amora, others were new internal migrants.

As mentioned earlier, agrarian reform championed by the MGP government, the formation of tenants and agricultural workers

320 Socio-economic links with Goa associations, mundkar legislation, the profusion of political ideologies, particularly socialist ones, had led to some militancy among workers. This had in turn led to a challenge to the traditional relationship governed by status, and a demand instead for contractual relationships with the result that, at the time of ethnographic research in Goa in 1980, there was evidence of strain in labour relations in Goa. This militancy, coupled with the relative shortage of labour at peak times, led to demands for higher wages, as elsewhere in India (Alavi 1975:1240). Wage levels were higher in the OCs compared to the NCs, and also higher than elsewhere in India, because the large ICGC, whose constituent members individually rather than collectively participate in labour negotiations, have been able and prepared to pay high rates. The deterioration in labour relations affected the relationship to land of some members of the ICGC and motivated an increasing number to wholly give up land holdings.

The honesty and integrity of the Hindu Goans and Kunbis were called into question when a number of them were involved in disputes with the ICGC over the return of sub-leased ﬁelds and occupied houses. While blame for these disputes was partially laid on the government, nevertheless, the ICGC felt that their kindness and generosity were reciprocated by ingratitude and dishonest claims to possession of ﬁelds and houses. The ICGC was reluctant to consciously and collectively acknowledge that it was its international migration which led to the development of a counter stream of immigration. Certainly ICGs had not foreseen that internal migration would develop beyond a temporary phenomenon and they never envisaged that disputes over property would arise as Portuguese law provided only limited provision for security of tenure and occupancy. Hence, at the time of ethnographic research in Goa in 1980, it was evident that the ICGC tended to

321 Socio-economic links with Goa prefer to cultivate land using wage labour rather than tenancy or share-cropping, thus increasing the proletariatisation of labour. While such proletariatisation has occurred elsewhere in India, it has occurred through the rural landowning bourgeoisie adopting capitalist methods of production (Omvedt 1981). However, in Goa, it was evident in 1980 that it was largely due to the rise of a rural bourgeoisie dependent on urban, non-agrarian international resources with minimal interest in deriving proﬁts from land, but keen to retain it for symbolic purposes and some guarantee against any future major calamity threatening their livelihood.

The local village economy has not collapsed as it has in many parts of the world as a result of migration. This is mainly because of the new modes of production adopted by the ICGC and the retention of an indigenous peasantry comprising in 1980 of a sector of the local society who were previously denied such tenure. However, despite the relative stability of the local economy, it was evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, that there was no substantial escalation in productivity. This was due to the lack of investment of remittances in land, and the failure, particularly of the ICGC, to adopt progressive agricultural techniques.

6: The role of the ICGC in Village Re- sources and Administration

Panchayat administration came into force after Goa’s incorporation into the Indian Union in 1961 when universal franchise and democracy were also introduced. Prior to 1961, the main institution concerned with village administration was the comunidade. In 1980, Amora and the adjacent village were served by one panchayat whereas each had a separate comunidade.

322 Socio-economic links with Goa

At the time of ethnographic research in Goa in 1980, the comunidade still existed in Amora but it had been reduced, like its counterparts elsewhere in Goa, from a petty republic to an agricultural co-operative. It was administered by the President and Procurador (attorney) whose positions were honorary, and the Escrivão (clerk). The post of clerk was hereditary in the past but the incumbent Escrivão in 1980 was recruited by the taluka comunidade administration to service, on a salaried basis, a number of comunidades in the taluka. The ofﬁcials dealt with matters concerning comunidade agrarian and non-agrarian resources. Those using these resources, including internal migrants who were not members of the comunidade, consulted the staff whenever there were problems such as the encroachment of land, defects in the wells, thefts of produce, etc. However, all matters concerning the whole village, such as roads, installation of communal taps, planning permission for building new houses or extensions, were dealt with by the panchayat.

In 1980, the panchayat had a secretariat of three paid staff, only one of whom lived in Amora. He was a young Hindu Goan, the son of an internal migrant. The other two, both Hindu Goans, lived elsewhere and commuted daily to Amora. The panchayat secretariat staff processed and implemented the decisions made by the committee, all of whose members served in a voluntary capacity. Each committee member, apart from the Sarpanch who headed the committee, represented a constituency and there were 7 in Amora and 2 in the adjacent village. According to the panchayat constitution current in 1980, seats were reserved for women and those from scheduled castes/tribes. The Sarpanch was elected by popular vote. Each committee member served for a limited term and was expected to attend regular as well as emergency meetings.

323 Socio-economic links with Goa

In 1980, five of the ten committee members, including the Sarpanch, were ICGs and the remainder were Hindu Goans. Two of the Hindus, father and son, were wealthy businessmen who had ancestral links with a neighbouring village while the remainder were low income farmers under the age of 40, who had settled in Amora around the 1950s. These three lived in constituencies where Hindus were an overwhelming majority and hence there was little question of a CG standing for election. The CG committee members were from constituencies where there were either a large majority or significant minority of CGs. All five CGs, including two women, were middle-aged international returnees living on pensions. The men had worked as clerks, the women had been housewives. Four had lived for about 20 years in Africa, while the other had spent a similar amount of time in Bombay. One of the ICG returnees was a bachelor, the other four had adult married children dispersed worldwide. Among CGs, therefore, in 1980 it was evident that it was the retired middle-aged international returnees, with time on their hands, who were voluntarily involved in the panchayat administration. Young CG men were either working internationally or in technical, white collar and professional jobs in Goa. The wives of current international migrants were pre-occupied with the demands of progressive motherhood and other domestic matters which left little time for participation in village affairs. Furthermore, women tend to regard politics, village administration etc. as the preserve of men as indeed it was when the comunidade functioned as the village administrative institution. However, since the panchayat constitution made it mandatory for women to be represented on the committee, two women, both independent and assertive, agreed to serve.

324 Socio-economic links with Goa

ICGs as well as LCGs, both men and women, generally tended to emphasise that they did not personally seek office, whether on the panchayat or in other institutions, but that they were compelled due to public pressure; hence, it was common for selected candidates to deny personal motivation and state “I didn’t want to be on the committee but everyone kept forcing me because they said I could do something useful”. However, successful candidates, failed ones and their supporters were likely to attribute personal motivation and greed for power to other candidates and to allege that corrupt means and bribery were used to muster allegiance. The Hindu Goans, on the whole, seem less covert about their ambitions and since it was younger men who stood for office, they were aware that there were likely to be long term gains from holding such positions. It is interesting to note that a study of panchayats in Maharashtra revealed the intimate connection between committee members and local politicians, who operated for mutual gain rather than to benefit village development (Dubey 1975).

While most ICGs resented the political power that non- comunidade members came to have in the village they were not in conﬂict with internal migrants over resources allocated and administered by the panchayat. To take a simple example; the location of communal taps. The majority of ICG Brahmins and Sudras already had convenient arrangements for acquiring water. Many households had their own wells or shared one with a neighbour. Some had installed electric pumps and taps in the house, others drew their own water supply when required, or hired labour to do so daily. Consequently, the location of public taps was of more importance to Hindu and Kunbi households, for whom access to well water was far more problematic. The position was relatively similar with respect to government grants.

325 Socio-economic links with Goa

Government sponsored small cottage industries in Amora, such as tailoring schemes and machine assembly were primarily taken up in 1980 by young Hindu Goans and Kunbis, and only minimally by a few children of shippies and service workers in the Gulf who were less well off than other ICGs. Money to set up small enterprises, agricultural loans, subsidised housing schemes etc. were avidly competed for by low income groups, but few ICGs, irrespective of caste, qualiﬁed for this or indeed were interested in such income generation schemes. The situation in Amora was in stark contrast to that in other parts of India where rural development programmes have primarily beneﬁtted the farmers and landowners, who were usually the already economically better off high caste (Dube 1958:82-83; Srinivas 1969:83-5).

Panchayat meetings open to the public were attended mainly by those ICGs interested in village politics, or who regarded them as a ‘spectator sport’, as when committee members defended themselves against angry crowds. However, certain issues interested the ICGC. For instance, those living along dirt roads complained about the excessive dust which polluted their cemented and tiled homes. Hence, successful campaigns have been mounted to have village resources allocated to tarmac those roads with high volumes of trafﬁc.

The ICGC also confronted the panchayat over bureaucratic delays, particularly in processing applications for planning permission. Most were engaged in either building new residential houses, or renovating old ones which required permission. Some applications could be processed by the panchayat if within their jurisdiction, while others had to be approved by the taluka administration. There were numerous complaints over unnecessary delays, which could only be overcome by bribery which most condemn but feel compelled to resort to.

326 Socio-economic links with Goa

As apparent at the time of ethnographic research in 1980, the increase in power of the Hindu Goans and Kunbis via the panchayat, government legislation and policies, had soured the previous relationship the ICGC had with them. Such antagonism was compounded by the fact that their numbers had been steadily augmented by a higher marriage and birth rate than the ICGC. While feelings of being ‘swamped’ and ‘taken over’ were expressed by the ICGC, together with the tendency to impute blame to them for the perceived deterioration of the village, fall in standards of the village school, decline in morals etc. there was also an awareness that little remedial action could be taken to restore the former status quo. Many ICGs, who nurtured a romantic and nostalgic view of Amora, complained of feeling “a stranger in my own village”. However, all else being equal, afﬁliation to the same religion forms an important basis for a more favourable perception: for instance, CGs in Amora, when referring to the Catholic tribal Kunbis, say “at least, they are Catholics like us, not like the Hindus”.

The differential perception in terms of religion was further endorsed by the restrictive use of the word ‘Goan’, evident at the time of ethnographic research in 1980. The former geographical segregation of the two religious communities in the OCs and NCs led, among most CGs, to the term Goan being synonymous with Catholic. The legacy was evident in 1980, such that a large number of CGs, often unconsciously, used the word Goan only when referring to CGs (not Catholic Kunbis) and the word Kokno or Hindu when referring to Hindu Goans. This is particularly characteristic of the ICGC whose social interaction with other Goans worldwide has been exclusively or predominantly restricted to CGs.

327 Socio-economic links with Goa

Conclusion

In this chapter I have examined different aspects of the links that the ICGC maintains with Goa, by focusing specifically on Amora. In some cases, because of the pattern of migration, direct economic links were maintained through the transfer of regular cash remittances. Of great significance at the time of ethnographic research in 1980 was the fact that a large number of ICG returnees and dependents were living on substantial life- long superannuation benefits. This has diluted the economic links between globally dispersed family members and encouraged the economic independence of generations in the ICGC. Consequently, an important implication of white collar and professional migration was that its impact was of far greater duration than that of manual migration where remittances occured only during the period of actual employment. However, as with manual migration, affective links are maintained, and some of the ways they are manifested in the ICGC is through gift exchange.

We also saw that symbolic links with Goa played an important role in the retention of house ownership and land rights by the ICGC. Many houses continue to be owned by globally dispersed multiple co-parceners, both male and female. Such links have also led to the large scale internal migration of Hindu Goans and Kunbis and the development of new forms of economic relationships. The multiplicity of socio-economic relationships with the local society in Goa has occurred in the context of male migration, the withdrawal of increasing numbers of women and children from manual labour in the ﬁelds, and changes in the local political economy expressed by various agrarian reforms. The attenuated instrumental links of the ICGC with Amora also decreased the competition for village resources with Hindus and Kunbis. The

328 Socio-economic links with Goa former role of the comunidade and the status and prestige which the ICGC would have enjoyed as ancestral members had been completely eroded by post-1961 changes, the ascendancy of the panchayat system and the enfranchisement of the Hindu Goans and Kunbis.

Chapter 7 Appendix: Problems in Data Collection on Land Rights

It is necessary to point out some of the difficulties involved in acquiring the data and their limitations. As mentioned in chapter 3, 30% of the arable land in Amora was held by private owners, the remainder by the comunidade. The comunidade records refer to 1976, the last time when usufruct rights to land were distributed. When I examined these records in 1980, there were only minimal changes to the 1976 version; for instance, when someone had successfully pursued a claim that they were entitled to the rights of particular plots because the previous lessee had died and they were next of kin. The comunidade records referred only to the land that belonged to the comunidade. However, the panchayat Record of Rights, referred to both comunidade and private land. Therefore, to obtain a picture of land tenure patterns in the village, it was necessary to consult both records. The accuracy of the Records of Rights is questionable as there have been claims that landlords were not notified of the survey and only tillers were consulted (Menezes 1980:9-13). Hence, there were difficulties with respect to each register and in reconciling the material contained in both.

The comunidade record listed 326 lessees of paddy land, 60 of which were Hindus, the remainder Catholics, including Kunbis.

329 Socio-economic links with Goa

The Hindu and Kunbi lessees were usually male while the CG were mainly female. An examination of earlier comunidade records revealed that it was not previously usual for women to hold leases in their names but from about 1940 it became more common due to the absence of men working outside Goa. In the Record of Rights, the same individuals listed in the comunidade records have not always been similarly listed or they were only listed for a proportion of the plot of land. In one instance, a plot of land which had been listed in the name of a single individual in the comunidade register was recorded under 50 names in the Record of Rights, each person with 25 sq. m. of land. Informal conversation with villagers revealed that many claimed to have land rights and, indeed, some could be observed regularly working in the ﬁelds on their own account, and yet there was no record of their names in either the Record of Rights or comunidade register.

Consequently, I decided to record in a series of separate books, with a page to a person, the names of all persons (about 450 in total) with land rights as listed in the comunidade register and Record of Rights. I then proceeded to try and identify the listed persons and this proved to be a more difficult task than I had assumed. In the first place, the records contained official names, such as may be noted on birth, marriage and death certificates, but many villagers were known by ‘nicknames’, abbreviated names, or one of their official names. In some cases, a married woman’s maiden name would be cited. Hence, the same person could have been recorded under different names in different records. For instance, Severina Conceicao Fernandes Pinto was recorded as Severina Fernandes in the Record of Rights, and Conceicao Fernandes Pinto in the comunidade records. Since I was interested in determining the land resources of households, the next problem was to locate the household to which she

330 Socio-economic links with Goa belonged. Her name was not on the household list I was using, which was drawn up by government officials a couple of months before my arrival in the village. Women only appear on the list if they are actual or de facto heads of households, so it was evident that the person I was trying to trace was a wife, daughter, mother, mother-in-law, sister, sister-in-law or in some way had kinship or associational links with the household. To compound difficulties, few people in the village knew her by her official name, and those who were on first name terms with her, called her Sevy. Since she turned out to be a 70 year old woman, only her peers, and of these only those who were good friends, called her Sevy, and in accordance with local practice, everyone else called her ‘Aunty’. After considerable investigation, I found that she was living in the household recorded in the household list in the name of her widowed sister, Filomena Pereira. Although I have cited an extreme case as an example, it indicates the magnitude of the difficulties encountered in attempting to reconcile individuals, households and land rights.

Secondly, a few people had land rights in Amora but were no longer Iiving there, although they cultivated the ﬁelds yearly. For instance, Constance Abreu, a widow who formerly lived in Amora, was living with her married daughter in Siolim and commuted to supervise cultivation.

Thirdly, a number of those listed in both the comunidade register and Record of Rights had died and therefore, the problem was to ﬁnd the current holders of land rights. In some cases, the land recorded in the name of a deceased person was now being cultivated by a number of persons, each with a separate portion of the land, but their rights had not been formally recorded. Ascertaining who the current owners were was hindered by the evasive answers given by various ofﬁcials and the demands of

331 Socio-economic links with Goa some villagers to explain why I wanted such information. Casual questioning of farmers sometimes led them to unwittingly reveal whose land they were cultivating. Usually, the land they were cultivating were dispersed plots in the village, and often recorded officially in the names of a number of persons, some dead, some alive, with whom they had no kinship links. All this information was noted in the land books I kept, and eventually I was able to obtain a profile of the actual unofficial pattern of land tenure that was considerably more complex than that revealed in the official comunidade register and Record of Rights. Quantifying the data was less easy because often people did not know the size of the plots of land they were cultivating (in terms of modern measurement). By consulting very detailed land survey records and using this in conjunction with information in the various comunidade books, village land records, and villagers’ statements, crude guesstimates of size of holdings were arrived at.

Since land rights in the village had substantially changed, it was necessary to discern rights or lack of rights held by various categories of people in the village. In terms of those who had ancestral links in the village, that is, the CGs, an important distinction was between the Brahmins and Sudras. In terms of the new settlers, it was necessary to ﬁnd out the position of Hindu Goans and Kunbis. Ascertaining the caste, religious and tribal background of 1980 residents did not pose a problem, but it was impossible with old records, such as those at the turn of the 20th century which were consulted for the purposes of providing a diachronic perspective. Occasionally the caste of the person was mentioned but this was rare, and since surnames in themselves among CGs give little clue to caste identity, correlating land rights with caste was impossible. A similar problem arose in the case of Kunbis, who do not have names or surnames completely distinct

332 Socio-economic links with Goa from Catholic Goans. For comparative purposes, then, a greater reliance has to be placed on qualitative data in the interpretation of land statistics. In the case of Hindus, the position was simpliﬁed because of their distinct names. As with all records of the past, there is no way of determining, unless extensive historical research is undertaken, how accurate and reliable the information is. While I would have much preferred a greater degree of precision, nevertheless, despite the considerable amount of time and effort involved, this was not possible because over 600 households were involved, almost 1,000 individuals, and the excessive fragmentation of land and the unstable population had considerably complicated matters. On the whole, however, I feel that the picture presented is a reasonably realistic reﬂection of the processes of change.

In this chapter, I discuss the various rights held to arable land in the village. I focused only on paddy land as the amount of other arable land, used for horticultural purposes, was small. Some villagers did have land rights outside the village but it was impossible to state how many because no records were available in Amora and villagers gave evasive responses to questions. About 20 individuals had land rights in the neighbouring comunidades. A few owned private land, some about a quarter of an acre or less of a coconut grove in another village. The few traditional elite families who served in the Portuguese administration and were moved in service to different parts of Goa, bought land at cheap rates in the NCs as well as elsewhere. This chapter is concerned only with land in the village and the neglect of rights held outside the village does not seriously affect the analysis because only a few households and comparatively small plots of land were involved.

333 Socio-economic links with Goa

Chapter 7: Notes

1. Remittances usually refer to cash transfers during the migrants absence, although Connell et al. have extended it to include savings brought back by returnees and any reverse form of either remittances or savings in cash or kind (1976:90). However, even this extended deﬁnition is inapplicable to the ICGC because many retired workers are in receipt of life-long pensions, and on their death, the surviving spouse till death, and children until the age of 18, receive beneﬁts deriving from the migrant’s former employment.

2. Remittances are not classiﬁed separately from other sources of foreign exchange, which in Goa include mining and tourism. Until 1961, Banco Ultramarino was the only general bank in Goa but attempts to examine past records in both Panjim and Lisbon proved futile. In 1947 a quasi-government savings bank ‘Caixa Economica de Goa’ was set up, initially carrying on insurance business on cooperative lines and accepting deposits from the public, municipalities, religious institutions, administrative bodies etc. (Gazetteer 1979:380-1).

3. This is a problem that many researchers of household income face, but I think there was a greater reluctance to answer my questions because of fears that I, a Native Anthropologist, would use the information for my own vested interest (see Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987).

4. In this case I am able to quote ﬁgures for income because I had access to the ﬁles of the Repatriates Union who was dealing with such issues, the local bank where pensions were paid through the Crown Agents, and information from close relatives who were pensioners.

5. After 1961, a number of banks opened up in Goa and in 1971 there were 131 banks in Goa (Gazetteer 1979:381).

6. The relationship between batcar (landlord) and mundkar was governed by a Royal Decree 1901, subsequently amended by the Legislative Diploma 1959, in which a mundkar was defined as the “individual who resides with fixed habitation in the rural property of others, specially or mainly for the purpose of cultivation or watch and protection, the habitation being constructed either by the mundkar or batcar”. However, legislation enacted in 1971 and 1976 defined the mundkar as “a person, who with the consent of the batcar or the person purporting to act on behalf of the batcar, lawfully resides with a fixed habitation in a dwelling house with or without obligation to rend any service to the batcar, and includes a member of his family. A person is deemed to be lawfully residing in the house if, with the consent of the batcar, such a person has been residing in it for a period exceeding one year and the batcar has not tried to evict such a person from the house through court of law”.

7. These are all artisans, such as carpenters, Mahars, tailors, and others for whom it has not been the practice to have rights to agrarian land. Under the

334 Socio-economic links with Goa

comunidade system, a portion of village lands was given to village servants as namassy in lieu of remuneration for their hereditary services (de Souza 1979:75). Even though they live in changed ﬁnancial and social circumstances, they do not seem inclined to acquire agrarian land rights. Also omitted in the analysis are those outsiders who have bought or rented houses in Amora in the 1970s because suitable accommodation became available, particularly for white collar and professional workers.

8. Hence, for instance, a household may have usufruct rights to comunidade land, as well as tenancy rights to private property. In some cases, the same household member is recorded as being the holder of different rights. In other cases, however, the rights are in the names of different members of the household. The same applies in the case of comunidade rights in that more than one adult member in the household may have a separate title. This to some extent explains discrepancies in the ﬁgures for individuals and households.

9. Records prior to 1945 were not easily accessible and would have necessitated time-consuming archival research; however, some earlier records were perused to gain an overall picture rather than statistical data.

10. The four major characteristics of a capitalist farmer are (i) production for the market (ii) use of wage labour (iii) mechanisation (iv) reinvestment of the surplus within the farm. Some writers argue that to be a capitalist farmer would require the display of all these characteristics, and others that only some are necessary, particularly in a period of transition.

335 The Structure and Function of Voluntary Associations in the International Catholic Goan Community

Introduction

n this chapter I focus on the structure and function of cor- I porate groups in the ICGC. I am particularly concerned with voluntary organisations. Although the emphasis will be on formal organisations, I will also refer to informal groupings, which often are the precursors to the establishment of formal organisations. According to Epstein, voluntary organisations “...tend to arise out of the interaction of persons who see the formally constituted body as the proper and more effective way of furthering the avowed aims and interests they have in common” (1961:108). A plethora of associations exist in the ICG, exemplifying the saying “...if there are two Goans, there will be three clubs”. In examining the aims and interests of the voluntary associations, I shall be

336 Voluntary associations concerned to identify how, in terms of their structure, composition and function, such groups foster and maintain the ethnic identity of the ICGC and help the community, at an organisational level, to perpetuate itself. Rao notes that “...a common feature of immigrants all over the world is that they attempt to reproduce their native social and cultural milieu, throwing up diverse types of voluntary associations and institutions” (1974:8). While this is true of ICGs in the various satellite communities, returnees also establish voluntary associations in Goa. In Section 1 of this chapter, I illustrate this by examining the origin, structure and function of the All-Goa Repatriates Union based in Goa. The geographical focus then shifts ‘out’ and in Section 2, I look at the village based organisations in the satellite communities, and show how territorial identiﬁcation with the ancestral village is maintained. Village organisations are complemented by ‘generalist’ organisations, discussed in Section 3, which have a wider sphere of interests and are open to all Goans. In addition, there are a number of informal interest groups which I describe in Section 4. In Section 5, I explore the development and maintenance of links between various voluntary organisations, within speciﬁc geographical areas, as well as worldwide.

1: Voluntary Associations in Goa

As we have seen so far, many ICGs spent a greater part of their working lives ‘out’ before returning to Goa. There is no evidence to indicate that any formal organisation existed prior to 1966 in Goa to represent the interests of returnees. However, in the mid-1960s there were developments both within and outside Goa which fostered the establishment of a Goa-based association. In 1961, Goa was liberated from the Portuguese, and in order

337 Voluntary associations to implement the democratic ideals enshrined in the Indian Constitution, over the next few years a series of agrarian and other reforms were promulgated, as discussed in the last chapter, which had various repercussions on the ICGC. At the same time, there was a large inﬂux of returnees, particularly from Africa, where the new Africanisation policies threatened employment and residence in that continent. Many of the returnees had held responsible executive and administrative posts ‘out’ and their organisational abilities were mobilised to found the Repatriate Goans Association in July 1966. Subsequently, another organisation, called the Union of Goan Repatriates in the North and South Zones was established. It was evident that there was much to lose from a multiplicity of institutions representing similar interests, and eventually in August 1978, the All-Goa Repatriates Union was formed. A letter from the newly elected President to “Brother and Sister Repatriates” encouraged the enrollment of “Patrons, Benefactors, Donors, Life Members...”. He pledged that “[W]hole names and autographs would be inscribed in a suitable memorial glass plate which we hope we shall be able to install in our own building one day”. Hence, the Union saw itself evolving into a permanent institution in recognition of the recurrent reproduction of international migration and return. Ethnographic research in Goa in 1980 found there were plans to acquire premises and land on which to build ﬂats to accommodate returnees with no houses in Goa.

As well as looking to the future, the Union and its precursors were concerned with the immediate problems affecting repatriates and felt that systematic and sustained campaigning action was necessary, otherwise, “...we shall have lost our rightful place in the administration, in all walks of life, in socio-economic activities, thereby hampering the progress and development of the

338 Voluntary associations repatriates”. Such action was considered justiﬁed because of the contribution of repatriates “... to the development and progress of our country by working abroad for over a century and maintaining their families and homes in Goa and keeping the ﬁre burning in their homesteads. They also are and have been a source of earning foreign exchange, thus contributing considerably to the economy and development of the country”.

The Union was concerned that a number of repatriates had been dispossessed of small land holdings, houses and other properties due to the legislations introduced after 1961. Protests against what were regarded as unjust and discriminatory laws were formally articulated by the submission of detailed Memoranda and other documents to local government ministers as well as the Prime Minister. Another area of concern was the delay in repatriates receiving pensions and widows’ beneﬁts. The problem was particularly acute for those who had worked in Uganda where pensions and other assets had been frozen during the period of political instability in the 1960s and 1970s. To redress the problem, ofﬁcial representations were made to the British Minister of Overseas Development as well as Government Agents for East African Administration in Bombay. The Union also pressed for exemption from tax and foreign exchange restrictions. It also attempted, with some success, to obtain privileged access to educational opportunities for the dependants of repatriates, such as a quota of places in the Goa Medical College. As a number of repatriates had prematurely returned to Goa, the Union argued, again with some success, that those with executive and administrative expertise be given preferential access to civil service jobs which were then being taken up by the non- Goans whom the local government was recruiting from elsewhere in India. Ethnographic research in 1980 revealed that the

339 Voluntary associations

Union had also been campaigning for government subsidies to facilitate income generation schemes to assist poorer repatriates, who were primarily those not in receipt of pensions and other superannuated beneﬁts.

The Union acted as the official agent which liaised with both Indian and foreign governments and their representatives. Indi- vidual committee members acted as brokers, advising members on courses of action and dealing with various bureaucratic procedures. Although most repatriates were literate, they lacked the knowledge and skills required to deal with the intricacies of government, both Indian and foreign, and hence, the retired but active members of the Union played an invaluable supportive role. Their help was of particular importance to middle-aged widows who, although they had lived ‘out’, had been housewives and relied on their husbands and male kin to deal with administrative and financial matters. Hence, for instance, few knew how to lodge claims for widows and orphans’ benefit.

In addition to such concrete activities designed to improve the economic condition of repatriates, the Union also implicitly fostered the retention of an ICG identity. Notification of meetings and social activities were advertised in the local press which also carried reports on its activities. These served to signal to Goan society that a specific sector of the population consisted of repatriates who have identifiable needs, distinct from the rest of the population. By arranging social activities which predominantly or exclusively catered for, and were patronised by repatriates, it further served to emphasise such distinctiveness. These activities and meetings provided a forum for reliving the past, for dealing with common problems that have arisen from living ‘out’, and for the maintenance and augmentation of social ties. English was the main, and often the only language spoken at such gatherings,

340 Voluntary associations thus serving to emphasise the distinct linguistic identity of the repatriates. Since members included those who were still ‘out’, and some who were visiting Goa attended the Union’s functions, the sense of continuity between repatriates, their past, and with those who were still ‘out’ was sustained.

2: Voluntary Associations Outside Goa: Village-Based Organisations

In chapter 5, we saw that a number of villages had established coors in India, particularly Bombay. This system of residential village clubs was restricted to India, and in 1980 did not appear to exist in the overseas Goan communities. Besides coors, there are a number of non-residential village associations both in India and overseas. Some villages have an association in most satellite communities. For instance, there is a Amora Association in Bom- bay, Nairobi, Kampala, London and Toronto. Although almost all villages in the OCs have international migrants, only some of these have established even a single international village association. In some cases, although there has been extensive migration from a village, the numbers in each satellite community have not been large enough to justify setting up such an organisation. Hence, for instance, Raia villagers felt that they are too few in number to set up an association in London. If sufﬁcient villagers exist in a satellite locality, the establishment of an organisation depends on the initiative of a small group of international villagers with enthusiasm and administrative skills.

The constitution and objectives of international village associations to some extent parallel the structure and functioning of the comunidades discussed in chapter 3, although various

341 Voluntary associations modiﬁcations have been made in the course of adapting to new circumstances. Membership is voluntary and the two common classes of membership are ‘full member’ and ‘associate member’, the latter usually having no voting rights and lesser privileges than the former. Full membership is restricted to villagers but who qualiﬁes for such membership has sometimes been an issue. For instance, in the 1980s, a membership dispute in an international village association centered on whether full membership should be restricted to ganvkars; to any member of the comunidade which, in effect, would mean ganvkars and non-ganvkars; or to anyone who had lived in or was the descendant of someone who had lived in the village, which would mean the inclusion of those designated as moradors by the comunidade. Since both membership, and class of membership, of the comunidade is an inherited and inalienable right, it cannot be acquired by mere residence in the village. We saw in chapter 3 that in most comunidades, each category of membership tended to be correlated with caste, in that the ganvkars were mainly upper caste and the non-ganvkars lower caste. Consequently, the restriction of membership of this international village organisation to ganvkars would have, in fact, meant restriction to the upper caste; the admittance of non-ganvkars would have led to mixed caste composition. The acceptance of a morador or descendant of a morador meant possibly not only the inclusion of yet another caste, but also minimising the exclusive caste identity of that comunidade. The issue of caste, however, was not clearly and publicly articulated because of the ambivalence towards it in the ICGC, and particularly among the second generation who regard its retention as testifying to the unwarranted existence of old- fashioned prejudices. The membership issue generated a great deal of controversy and eventually led to an amendment to the

342 Voluntary associations constitution allowing a morador or his/her descendants to become members if they had lived in the village for 10 years or more. In order to get away from the retention of traditional hierarchies, one village association produced a draft constitution allowing membership to anyone who was a ‘friend’ of the village.

Apart from the ascribed hierarchical bias, the patriarchal basis of the comunidades has also been reﬂected in international village associations. Women did not qualify for membership in their own right but could attend activities on the basis of the membership of their husbands, or in the case of unmarried women, their fathers. However, this sexism was challenged in the 1980s in one association in London which led to constitutional changes recognising sexual equality. Since this association usually serves as a pacesetter, such change was subsequently replicated in many other village associations.

These challenges to the traditional basis of the village associations is a manifestation of the inﬂuences that the ICGC absorbs from its surroundings. Casteism and sexism are outmoded concepts in the modern, international, cosmopolitan world, and it is hardly surprising that with the orientation of the ICGC towards progressiveness, attempts would be made, despite the opposition put up by conservatives, to jettison such values. In London village associations, for instance, a number of women have served on the committees, and some have held the prestigious ofﬁce of President.

343 Voluntary associations

Press cutting 7: Celebration of village feasts ‘out’ Source: GOA Newsletter, London

The most important function that the committee is charged to organise is the celebration of the annual village feast (see press cutting 7). As in Goa, the celebration of the feast commences with sung High Mass. The language used in the religious service has varied in time and space. Until changes introduced by Vatican II in the early 1960s, Latin was commonly used as the liturgical language. Where there are large Konkani-speaking populations outside Goa, the service is conducted in Konkani. Where a western language is the predominant language in the overseas Goan community, then the service is conducted mainly in English or Portuguese. While the liturgical service is generally similar for the celebrations of all village feasts, the distinctiveness of a village is expressed in the rendition of the village hymn. In the case of the Saligão Association, for instance, the hymn ‘Salve Santa Mae de Deus’ is sung in Portuguese, and although only a few may know the meanings of the words, it is nevertheless sung by all with considerable sentiment, patriotic feeling and nostalgia.

344 Voluntary associations

The Mass is followed by a social gathering, the main feature of which is western style dancing to a band hired for the occasion. In the satellite communities, a western language tends most commonly to be used, although among the older generation and those with bi-lingual skills, Konkani is used as the main or secondary language of communication. Goan food, particularly pork delicacies such as sorpotael is served. The feasts in the satellite communities have been financed both by the sale of tickets and the village association’s own resources derived from membership fees, profits on activities etc. However, as noted in chapter 3, when the village feast is celebrated in Goa, although resources are sometimes pooled by villagers, it is usually financed by the main celebrant, commonly known by the term ‘President’ and his family, who pay not only for the festivities on the feast day but for all the ritual and secular events preceding this in the liturgical year. Such a system has yet to be adopted by international associations as it requires a tightly knit localised population, committed to the attendance of a series of ritual events symbolising territorial identification with a village. Instead, the international village associations have isolated the main ritual event, the feast day, to serve as the medium for expressing communal sentiment and patriotism to their ancestral village.

Continuities between the ancestral village and the international association are also signiﬁed by the actions of individual members of the satellite associations. For instance, ICGs have sometimes celebrated the feast in Goa, and have returned to the village speciﬁcally to attend the main feast day and the novena immediately preceeding it. Sometimes the decision to celebrate the feast is taken to commemorate a special event. For instance, a couple went to Goa to celebrate the husband’s village feast to mark their 25th wedding anniversary. Their adult children living

345 Voluntary associations in Britain and the USA also attended. Another example is that of an aged international migrant who had died abroad and who had expressed a wish to be buried in his ancestral village. His adult children, dispersed over three continents decided that they would jointly celebrate the village feast a few years later when their father’s bones could be transported from Australia for burial in his ancestral village.

At the feast in Goa, it has been common for ‘Holy pictures’ with the portrait of the deity on one side, and details of the celebrants on the reverse side, to be distributed to all who attend the service. Often these are also distributed at the celebration which takes place concurrently in the satellite community in which the celebrant is a member. The international village association, occasionally, as an institution, has been the celebrant of the feast in Goa. For instance, the Union of Amora in Bombay celebrated the feast in 1977, and a group of members travelled to Goa to represent the Union in the village on the feast day.

The majority of ICGs maintain a sentimental attachment to their ancestral village. This attachment is stronger among those who were born and spent some time in Goa but even second and later generation migrants have developed village identiﬁcation. Some IF1, IF2 and IF3 migrants claim not to know which village they originate from. It seems likely that it was the parents of these migrants, who eschewed their low caste status, who fostered an identiﬁcation with Goa rather than the village. When the comunidade was still a viable social institution, those who were proud of their social origins, and particularly those who were ganvkars of a village, registered their sons for membership of the comunidade when they had reached the stipulated age. On periodic visits to Goa, they collected their zonn or arranged for someone else to collect it in their absence. The zonn was of

346 Voluntary associations minimal financial value but symbolically it was very significant because it reinforced the international migrant’s identification with both his ancestral village and with Goa.

Since visits can only be made to Goa periodically, membership of an international village association provides another avenue for maintaining an on-going identiﬁcation with the homeland. Saldanha observes “[T]he various village groups of Goan emigrants is one manifestation of this strong social spirit engendered by the Gaunpons (comunidades) which serve to bind the Goan to his native land, as no other institution anywhere else does” (1952:9-10). Hence, membership of the village association confers a feeling of belonging to a ‘home’, a retention of ‘roots’, and an awareness of historical continuities with the past despite residence in a foreign environment. These feelings are not always explicitly articulated but are implicit in the values and behaviour of villagers. Attendance at the annual feast ensures the reafﬁrmation of village identity. The celebrations are usually held during the day, unlike a number of Goan functions which are held in the evening and, hence, villagers of all ages can attend. Often a number of special events for children are incorporated into the social programme. In addition, some village associations arrange an annual event for children, such as the Christmas Tree Party, at which Father Christmas distributes presents to members’ children. Thus children are given an early opportunity to identify with their ancestral village. Apart from the annual feast, other social gatherings are sometimes held.

A number of international village associations maintain philan- thropic links with their ancestral villages. If there are any community projects that require ﬁnance, for instance, resident villagers will write to the international associations requesting help, or sometimes a member visiting Goa may be canvassed to

347 Voluntary associations espouse a particular cause when he/she returns ‘out’. In response, a special fund raising drive may be initiated or a contribution made from existing funds. In some village associations in London, there have been plans to establish a special benevolent fund to identify and support worthwhile projects. Village associations also support non-village causes which have been set up for charitable purposes such as schools for deprived children and other Catholic inspired organisations undertaking charitable work. Specific assistance may also be given to projects of direct benefit to the ICGC. For instance, the Saligão Association in London has financially contributed to the maintenance of an Home for the Aged in Saligão.

Village associations are not peculiar to Goans as they also exist in other migrant communities. For instance, the Gujerati Patidars in Britain have village associations (Michaelson 1983:36) but their primary role is in the arrangement of marriages (ibid:354-6). By contrast, ICG village associations do not serve as marriage agencies or bureaux in any way, not only because marriage circle endogamy is not practised, but also because, as discussed in chapter 6, marriages are increasingly by self-choice rather than through parental and kin involvement. Barot’s study of a Hindu sect in Britain also reveals the existence of informal village-based committees, who organise meetings to discuss village affairs, channel funds to support village projects, etc. (1980:120-22). Loyalty to the village group is regarded as an act of commitment to one’s ‘home’ (ibid:122). The distinctiveness of the Goan village associations, compared to equivalent ones existing in other Indian communities, rests on a strong religious sentiment. Both Catholicism and territorial identiﬁcation are encapsulated in the ideological basis of the international village associations, and this represents a continuity with the past in Goa. However,

348 Voluntary associations changes in the structure of some international associations, such as the ideological rejection of patriarchy and casteism, and the adoption of a European language as the sole or main medium of communication in all activities, serves to distinguish an ICG identity from the local Catholic Goan identity from which it originated.

3: Voluntary Associations Outside Goa: Generalist Organisations

In virtually every satellite community, at least one generalist organisation has been established to cater for the needs of the whole community. These organisations are broad based in that any Goan can become a member. Patriarchal values were at one time manifested by restricting membership rights only to males, although, from the latter part of 20th century, the trend has been to allow women rights to individual membership. Usually there is a provision for associate membership which allows participation in activities but no voting rights or rights to ofﬁce. In Britain, for instance, associate membership has been requested by non-Goans, usually Europeans, who are courting Goans, or are friends of Goan members. Since the incidence of inter-ethnic marriage, particularly to Europeans, has increased in Britain, the constitution of the Goan Association (UK) was amended so that the word ‘Goan’ now refers to anyone “...who traces his/her ancestry to Goa, or the spouse of such persons” (Rules and Regulations 1982). Through the provision of associate membership, a greater number of non-Goans have the opportunity of being involved in the ICGC.

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The wider based generalist organisations usually co-exist with other specialist organisations. For instance, the GOA (Goan Overseas Association) in Nairobi was primarily concerned to direct the community’s energies and resources to the fulﬁlment of a common interest in education which culminated in the establishment of a Goan school. The GOA in Nairobi did not organise sports and recreational facilities for the community. These needs were met by various clubs like the Railway Goan Institute, Goan Institute and Goan Gymkhana which acquired their own premises (Nelson 1971). On the other hand, the Goan Association (UK) has been the major organising body for providing sports and recreational facilities. In addition, like the GOA in Nairobi, it also represents community interests to the wider society. Hence, the Goan Association (UK) has been represented on various governmental and non-governmental bodies such as the United Kingdom Immigrants Advisory Service, Community Relations Councils, the National Council for Civil Liberties etc. Since membership of generalist Goan organisations is open to all, even though some do not join, a cross-section of the community is represented by them on wider civil organisations. Other ‘generalist’ community organisations have a narrower social base. In some cases these are territorially deﬁned. For instance, in Britain there are organisations such as the South East London Goans, North London Goans, Leicester Goans, Southampton Goans, Southall Goans, each drawing their membership from a limited geographical area. Elsewhere, for instance, in Nairobi, according to Nelson (1971; 1973), caste played a more important role in determining membership.

The formation of multiple club based organisations, according to Nelson, could be explained by ﬁssionary tendencies in the community being conducted in the idiom of caste. Hence,

350 Voluntary associations for instance, she argues that the Goan Gymkhana in Nairobi was established predominantly by Brahmins when they lost the leadership battles to the Chardos for the control of the wider caste- based Goan Institute (1971:205). Although initially caste played an important role in the formation of social clubs, according to Nelson, it only continued to do so as long as there was a strong correlation between caste and occupation (Nelson 1971:245-309). However, by the second generation, the correlation between caste and occupation had become weaker. One of the main reasons for this was that Goan children, of whatever caste background, had access to secondary education at the Goan school which had been earlier established by the broad based GOA (Goan Overseas Association). This, coupled with the growing expansion of white collar occupations in Nairobi, as elsewhere in British East Africa, provided a vehicle for the upward mobility of the lower castes. The fact that inter-generational occupational reproduction was minimal as the children of Tailors, other artisans and manual workers sought alternative employment, served to further reduce the former correlation between caste and occupation. Thus, although Tailors were barred from membership of the various Goan social clubs in Nairobi, their children, who were employed as mechanics, printers and clerks, became entitled to membership (Nelson 1971:275). In most Indian migrant communities, there are caste exclusive organisations (Barot 1980:12; Bhachu 1981:103; Michaelson 1983:33), which replicate the formal caste organisations that have appeared in India as one of the new activities of caste (Srinivas 1962:15-41; Orenstein 1965:257- 260, 285-289). However, in the ICGC, apart from the Tailors associations which had existed in some satelite communities in the 20th century (Nelson 1971:258-260; 275-278; Kuper 1973: 268-278), caste exclusive organisations have become rare. Hence,

351 Voluntary associations social ties in the ICGC progressively came to develop between members of different caste backgrounds who belonged to one social club.

Ties between members of different clubs also developed because of the way in which sports and other activities were conducted. To take the example again of Nairobi, various sports tournaments were held throughout the year in which individuals or teams from the different clubs competed against each other. Tournaments were commonly organised, for hockey, football, badminton, and the card game trook, particularly popular with older men and women.

Press cutting 8, dance advert. Source: GOA Newsletter, London. Moreover, the community was represented in sports tournaments in the wider society. For instance, the members who made up the Goan mens hockey XI, or the Goan womens hockey team, were selected from the teams of the individual clubs. Ties between such team members, therefore, transcended the narrower club

352 Voluntary associations boundaries. Another important mechanism which developed links among members of different clubs, as well as with those who did not belong to any club, was and continues to be, social activities.

Dances are among the most important social events held in satellite communities on a regular basis as well as to celebrate Christmas, New Year and Easter (see press cutting 8). Goan folk dances, such as the Lances and Mando are not integral to such functions but are performed by specialist groups at variety concerts or may constitute one of the events at weddings. Goan dances are based on the western style of dancing in pairs, and for each series of set pieces, a different partner can be engaged. Each series is based on distinctive music of particular rhythm, such as the waltz, foxtrot, tango, rock-n-roll, twist etc. Music is usually provided by Goan bands and, although most of the music is based on popular western rhythms and melodies, it is not unusual for some renditions to incorporate ballads in Konkani and Portuguese, or particular rhythms derived from Goa. Many dances are held in the evening and sometimes run on until the early hours of the morning, but there are also dances, known as ‘Hops’ which are held in the daytime.

Dances and other social events, generally known as ‘Functions’, organised by associations and clubs may be restricted to members only, but are usually open to the whole community. Open functions have a priority system operating in favour of members such as sale of tickets at reduced rates, or offered ﬁrst to members. Some Goans do not become members for ideological reasons, or because they are not interested in running for ofﬁce, or do not wish to consistently use the association’s facilities. While dances constitute major social events, there are ad hoc events such as dramas, variety concerts, sports meetings, fetes and festivals which are also open to non-members. As an association’s activities

353 Voluntary associations may be open to non-members, they provide an arena for the development of ties within the community.

In British East Africa it was necessary for the community to provide its own recreation because in the pluralistic society created by British colonialism, they had little access to western style dances held at the European clubs. In Britain, however, this is not the case, and although race legislation has decreased overt discrimination, covert discrimination continues to exist. However, its strength is not sufﬁcient to completely deny Goans access to social events at discotheques, night clubs, parish churches, universities and colleges (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:41-43). Yet the demand for Goan dances organised by the various Goan organisations has continued unabated, although there has been some decline in attendance among overseas born and bred Goans. There are a number of reasons why this is so and I shall touch brieﬂy on the more salient ones.

First of all, and not surprisingly, Goans enjoy social interaction with their compatriots with whom they feel more at ease than with outsiders. Even where language is not a factor, such as when English is the predominant, or exclusive language used in social interaction, particular modes of speech, forms of expression, humour and type of jokes, are specific to the community. The ability to relate unconsciously to these, instead of learning new codes, makes intra-Goan interaction more relaxing and enjoyable. This is evident not only among the old, but also among younger age groups who have the flexibility and greater opportunity to develop social ties outside the community. Attendance at community events, however, does not imply insularity and exclusiveness since many ICGs have social links with non-Goans, but its indicative of a desire to simultaneously develop or maintain ties with fellow Goans. Specific factors in particular countries also contribute to

354 Voluntary associations the development of greater community solidarity. For instance, Goans who have migrated from Africa to the West have found considerable dissonance between their perceptions of the British derived from their exposure to them in positions of power and afﬂuence during colonial rule in Africa and the mandatory study of British history in the school curriculum, and the reality which confronts them in Britain. As one Goan woman told me “when we were in Kenya we thought the British were great but here we see they are just ordinary people like us”. Others recall their surprise in seeing a white person sweeping the streets, or the incomprehensible English spoken by Cockneys and other working class whites. This exposure has curtailed the slavish imitation of white culture which was inculcated by Portuguese and British colonialism, and correlatively has promoted a greater appreciation of Goan culture.

Secondly, functions cater for a wide range of age groups. ‘Hops’, because they are held in the day time, enable the whole family to attend and parents are, therefore, spared the problem of arranging child-minding facilities. Indeed, in Nairobi, very young children were even taken to overnight functions and put to bed with other children in a room at the club house specially reserved for such purposes. Although, occasionally, a special function is organised for a particular age group, in general, all functions are not age-speciﬁc, and hence, middle-aged parents accompany their young adult children, and kin and friends of various ages form a group to attend the function. The absence of age-speciﬁc functions, which is the principal way in which western discos and other social events tend to be organised and attended, makes Goan events attractive to the whole community.

Thirdly, attendance at dances in western society usually requires an individual to have a partner. The ‘couples system’ is less

355 Voluntary associations common in the ICGC and this increases the attractiveness of community functions. Hence, a family comprising parents and three adult daughters can attend a dance without each daughter being accompanied by a partner. A brother may escort his sister to a dance, or a group of friends, heterogeneously composed in terms of age, sex and degree of familiarity, may attend a function. The absence of the ‘couples system’ helps to reduce the social isolation of the many unmarried males and females, as well as the widowed and divorced who can thereby enjoy the recreational activities organised by community organisations. At the function, different partners of any age, and some not previously known, can be engaged for each set of dances. While a partner may not be acquired for every dance set, an individual can be assured at least of a few dances because certain ‘obligations’ have to be fulﬁlled. For instance, a man has a tacitly acknowledged ‘duty’ to dance at least once with his wife and daughters, as well as with other close kin and friends, even if he does not personally accompany the latter to the dance and may be seated in a different part of the dance hall. Although partners at a dance are not chosen solely on a random basis, and individuals, both men and women, are selected in terms of status, physical appearance and dancing ability, nevertheless, dances and the way they are organised, provide an arena for new ties to be established with unknown individuals as well as for ties to be strengthened with previously known individuals in the community.

Finally, in the satellite communities, but particularly in the West where Goans tend to be dispersed rather than concentrated in one or two areas of large cities (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979:36- 7), activities arranged by Goan organisations provide periodic opportunities for community members who do not enjoy daily face- to-face contact to maintain relationships with each other. For

356 Voluntary associations instance, in London, at large dances held at Christmas and New Year, which are attended by three to four thousand people, friends, acquaintances and distant relatives who have not seen each other for months, and sometimes years, have an opportunity to renew their links. Similarly, a Goan festival in London held for the ﬁrst time in 1985 at the club grounds of the Goan Association (UK), and organised by the Standing Conference of Goan Organisations, attracted large numbers of ICGs (see press cutting 9).

Press cutting 9: Goan Exhibition. Source: GOA Newsletter, London.

Stalls were set up by each village association, displaying memor- abilia of the village, while other stalls sold Goan delicacies and displayed the literature on Goa. Performances of folk dances were held and the whole ambience fostered a strong feeling of ICG ethnic identity. The success of the festival has inspired the Association to hold it at regular intervals. In Canada, the ﬁrst International Goan Convention was held in Toronto in 1988 and several more have taken place thereafter. These events have included a combination of seminars on topics such as diaspora,

357 Voluntary associations culture, language and links with Goa as well as social events which has fostered national and international networking among attendees, some of whom came from outside Canada.

Press cutting 10: Celebration of Feast of St. Francis Xavier Source: Goan Association Newsletter, Calgary, Canada

The existence of broad based Goan organisations thus provides an avenue for identifying with an ethnic organisation and also with Goa. By the provision of social events for all age groups

358 Voluntary associations they enable young children to acquire ethnic socialisation, and for other age groups to strengthen their ethnic identiﬁcation.

As a foreign language has come to be widely used in the satellite communities, and to replace Konkani as a ﬁrst language for many Goans, particularly IF1, IF2 and IF3, an important vehicle for cultural identiﬁcation has been denied to ICGs. Some attempts have been made to revive an interest in Konkani in the satellite communities. A Konkani language class had been set up in Bombay in the 1930s by the Comissão Administrativa do Fundo dos Emigrantes, and had a number of students (Reports 1934- 8). There have also been attempts to initiate Konkani language classes in London, but these have had limited success because textbooks and other resource material were lacking, language teachers were not readily available and more importantly, widespread community support was minimal. This contrasts strongly with various ethnic organisations, for instance, ethnic arts groups in London, who regard mother tongue teaching as one of their main objectives (Baker & Mascarenhas-Keyes 1984).

Another important aspect of the broad based organisations is the annual celebration of the feast of St. Francis Xavier, Patron Saint of Goa (and the Indies) (see press cutting 10). The ceremonial provides another mechanism for symbolic identification with Goa. This is particularly important for those Goans whose ancestral village is not represented by international village associations, and who therefore, are denied a communal mechanism through which identification with the village and Goa can take place. This event also raises the public profile of the community in their new environment.

For instance, in London, the feast of St. Francis Xavier, organised by the Goan Association (UK) has been held at Westminster Cathedral with the Cardinal as the principal Celebrant, and Guest

359 Voluntary associations of Honour at the subsequent secular social function. Catholicism once more provides a vehicle through which continuity of images, beliefs and values is maintained between Goa and her satellite communities. Furthermore, important events in the organisation’s history are commemorated with Catholic rituals. For instance, in London, the acquisition of premises by the Goan Association (UK) was celebrated by saying Mass in the hall, an event repeated at each anniversary. A Midnight Mass service is conducted to celebrate Christmas, the ritual service being sandwiched between secular sessions of dancing and carol singing at the club. Every year a Mass is offered for deceased members, and often on the occasion of the death of an active member, a representative of the Association bearing a wreath attends the funeral.

Press cutting 11: Fund Raising for Charitable Causes. Source: GOA Newsletter, London (left) and CONTACT Magazine, London (right).

The generalist organisations maintain direct links with Goa by supporting various projects and charitable causes. Such philan-

360 Voluntary associations thropic and welfare concerns echo those of other migrant associations, for instance, Greek and Spanish emigrant associations (Kenny 1976:101; Kenna 1986). Sometimes funds are donated to a specific project, such as the Cancer Hospital in Goa. There have been plans to set up sponsorship schemes, such as Help a Needy Child (see press cutting 11). Besides welfare, other projects may be supported such as literary and research activities, and the preservation of Goa’s architectural heritage. These funds are often raised and sent in response to specific requests for financial assistance and may consist of one-off donations or an on-going financial commitment. Annual sums are set aside to fund projects in Goa, and the selection of the project is made at the Annual General meetings when members put forward different proposals which are debated and voted on.

Some of the proposals arise because members have been individually approached by their contacts in Goa or have become familiar with needy causes while visiting Goa. However, for those projects in Goa which involve people with few contacts ‘out’, the associations provide an institutional mechanism for submitting and processing written requests via the General Secretary. Similarly, visitors from Goa who want to canvas support for their projects can formally approach the General Secretary for the opportunity to address members. The associations thus provide a forum for receiving news of and discussing current issues in Goa. Often reports of these events, as well as other news items from Goa, regularly appear in the newsletters of the various associations. Similarly, accounts of the international associations’ activities are reported in newspapers and periodicals in Goa. The support of various projects in Goa provides a vehicle for the development and maintenance of institutional ties to Goa as well as between satellite communities.

361 Voluntary associations

4: Interest Groups

In every large satellite community, there are usually one or more interest groups. Often the groups are quite small and focus on particular activities such as welfare, politics, sports or cultural events. As we have seen in chapter 5, a proportion of ICGs came from the poorer classes. In addition, life circumstances, such as premature death of the breadwinner, immigration controls and procedures, racial prejudice etc. create casualties. While kin do provide help and support, they are complemented or replaced by welfare organisations which are often able to help ﬁnancially, offer requisite expertise, and other resources. This is best illustrated by the Comissão Administrativo do Fundo dos Emigrantes which was established in 1934 in Bombay, and to which I have referred earlier. Welfare was an important dimension of the Comissão’s work (Reports 1934-8). The Comissão helped to support residential hostels for women and equip them with vocational skills in an attempt to overcome poverty and destitution. It elicited the support of nuns and other ICG laity to provide moral and sometimes ﬁnancial help to poor Goans living in the crowded and unhygenic chawls (tenement blocks) of Bombay. Branches of the Comissão existed in Poona, Calcutta, Karachi and Nairobi, and hence, the organisation provided an institutional basis for linking a number of satellite communities. Since the Comissão was funded by the Portuguese Government in Goa, as well as by an organisation called Misericordia in Goa, it also had direct institutional links with Goa.

Other welfare organisations are less formally organised and through their fund raising activities, such as dances, fetes and rafﬂes, as well as through collection and re-distribution of second- hand clothes, shoes and furniture, have been able to care

362 Voluntary associations for the needy. These welfare organisations have usually been spearheaded by an interested individual, who together with a group of like-minded people, sets up a managing committee which plans and implements agreed policies. Some organisations are religious in origin, such as St. Vincent de Paul’s, whose apostolate is welfare, and some branches are run by Goans for Goans in need. In some cases, in different satellite communities, welfare organisations, like the village associations and generalist organisations, support welfare projects in Goa. For instance, funds have been sent from London to support special schools for the needy, the provision of Homes for the Aged, medical facilities and research.

Occasionally, interest groups have arisen in support of political causes. Goans, on the whole, tend to have an apathetic approach to party politics but, both in Goa before 1961, as well as in different satellite communities, informal groups have emerged which have contributed towards debates on political change in Goa. After India’s independence from the British in 1947, there were demands from some ICGs for the abolition of the Portuguese and French colonies which existed in a few isolated pockets of India. However, not only was the demise of colonialism an issue, but so also was whether Goa should become an independent State in India or be incorporated into the Indian Union. Opinions were divided in Goa and the controversy was replicated in the satellite communities where political groups supporting different views quickly emerged. These later disintegrated after Goa became independent in 1961 and was given the status of a Union territory in India. Since then interest groups focusing on Goa politics have been rare in the satellite communities, although the high rate of immigration into Goa from other parts of India had led to concerns expressed in such slogans as ‘Goa for the Goans’. Organisations

363 Voluntary associations campaigning for this had emerged in London. An issue which became prominent in Goa in 1986 was the local government’s opposition to Konkani as the lingua franca of Goa. The government favoured Marathi and this sparked off waves of unrest and rioting, resulting in some deaths. Concerned ICGs in London launched a campaign in support of Konkani in conjunction with the Goan Association (UK) and lobbied the Goa press, the Chief Minister in Goa, the Indian Prime Minister and the Indian High Commissioner in London. In early January 1987, the Konkani and Goa Statehood Committee UK was established in London with the main aim of mobilising “ ... opinion and support for Konkani on a worldwide basis, the raising of funds and the support of causes in Goa” (Simoes 1987).

Political organisations within the ICGC championing the cause of Goans in their new environments have been virtually non-existent. Neither have the wide-based Goan Associations been keen to engage in political activity, although they have provided support to Goans with immigration difﬁculties and those who have been victims of racial discrimination. This is not to say that individuals have not joined various political organisations existing in different countries, and indeed some have gained national prominence as Members of Parliament, but that national politics does not attract community institutional support.

Occasionally organisations are set up to promote particular cultural activities. These usually focus on folk songs and dances like the Mando, Dekni and Lances as well as on dramas. The Theatr (or tiatr) is a form of entertainment which is particularly popular with older Goans and those ﬂuent or familiar with Konkani. It consists of a drama, usually interspersed with comedy acts and singing, and performed by amateurs and semi-professional artistes. Konkani is the medium of communication, and this to a

364 Voluntary associations large extent explains its greater appeal to the older generation and those who are bi-lingual. The staging of the Theatrs is supported by a number of individuals who have expertise in script writing, acting, designing costumes and stage sets. In the 1980s, innovative activities have included Goan cookery clubs which also organise events and competitions. Cultural events arranged by the large Goan organisations attract the participation of various small cultural groups. For instance, the celebration in London by the Goan Association (UK) of the annual feast of St. Francis Xavier included a cultural programme with participants from different cultural groups, including representatives from a Goan cultural group resident in Germany.

Membership of various interest groups creates ties of friendship between ICGs both within a particular satellite community, as well as with geographically dispersed ones. Furthermore, the activities promoted by these groups provide forums through which interactions take place between larger numbers of Goans, thus engendering the development of wider social networks.

5: Institutional Links between Geographically-Dispersed Community Organisations

The numerous Goan associations do not exist in isolation and various attempts have been made to foster and maintain links between them (see press cutting 12). This is the case both with the organisations in one geographical area, as well as those that are widely spatially dispersed.

As mentioned earlier, one of the key activities of organisations in satellite communities is sports, and most have hockey, football

365 Voluntary associations and badminton teams. A number of ofﬁcial sport visits take place between the organisations. For example, a sports team from the Goan Association (UK) visited the Goan Association in Toronto. Similarly, the Goan Association (UK) sponsored the trip of a team of players, their wives, children and supporters to Nairobi for the Golden Jubilee celebration of the Goan Institute.

Press cutting 12: Institutional Ties. Source: Source: CONTACT Magazine, London (left) and GOA Newsletter, London.

Apart from inter-continental exchanges, visits often take place within a continent. For instance, Goans from Sydney and Mel- bourne associations exchange annual visits. Similarly associations in Nairobi, Kampala, Dar-es-salaam and Mombasa have organised periodic exchange visits. These visits may be for a day, a weekend or even longer, and sports and dances form the focus of such institutional visits. In addition, a major event in one satellite community attracts ICGs from elsewhere. For instance, the annual Christmas and New Year’s dance organised by the Goan Association (UK) in London attracts coach loads of Goans from Southampton, Leicester, Manchester and Reading.

366 Voluntary associations

On several occasions, an international Jamboree has been arranged to Goa. The main organisers in London brought together ICGs from Britain and other parts of the world. A programme of social activities was arranged including visits to tourist places in Goa, river boat trips and dances. All institutional visits are commemorated by speeches and gift exchange at a formal occasion. The speeches invariably refer to the Catholic Goan diaspora, the dynamism and adaptability of ICGs, and the value of maintaining international links. The mementos are permanently and proudly displayed in club halls, and photographs and articles on the visit appear in the newsletters of the various organisations. Hence, through the vehicle of formal institutions, ICGs are able to develop and maintain ties with a cross-section of people in a particular satellite community, as well as with members of geographically dispersed satellite communities.

In most of the satellite communities, the Goan Association catering for the whole community usually produces a newsletter. These newsletters contain current information about the Association’s activities, various articles of general interest and also news about other satellite communities. For instance, the newsletter of the Goan Association (UK) has had articles written by Goans in New Zealand and Canada about life there. The newsletters also often contain information about events and activities in Goa. There is usually a scheme in operation for the formal exchange of newletters between institutions in different satellite communities as well as with Goa. In most satellite communities there are also Goan newspapers produced by individuals or groups on either a non-proﬁt making or commercial basis. These papers, which carry news about various aspects of community life, have only a local circulation but are also read in Goa as well as by ICGs elsewhere. Similarly newspapers in Goa such as the Navhind

367 Voluntary associations

Times, a daily newspaper, are also read by some members of the globally dispersed satellite communities.

One magazine which is produced in Goa and widely read both there and in the satellite communities is entitled Goa Today. It includes articles about activities in Goa and worldwide which are of signiﬁcance to Goans. For instance, changing immigration controls in different countries are reported. Special columns written by correspondents in different satellite communities ensure that information about their activities also feature in the magazine. It also publishes information about the various international Goan organisations, lists of ofﬁce bearers, and the activities undertaken.

It often contains, like other Goan newspapers and the newsletters, short biographies of ICGs who have achieved positions of prominence in white collar and professional occupations, as well as those who hold public ofﬁce, or have been honoured by governments and the Catholic Church. These biographies provide role models for the younger generation in Goa and contribute to the development of a migration-oriented society.

The newsletters, newspapers and periodicals of the ICGC are written in a European language, usually English. Hence, the distinctive linguistic characteristic of the ICGC is also expressed within an institutional framework. Through the publication of newsletters and magazines, and their wide circulation, the insularity of individual satellite communities and Goa is minimised, thus fostering the integration of the satellite communities and Goa into an international community. This mechanism also contributes to the preservation of an ICG ethnic identity, and the high proﬁle of this community in the wider Goan society and internationally.

368 Voluntary associations

Conclusion

In this chapter I have examined the role of various institutions in the ICGC. Of particular interest was the All-Goa Repatriates Union, a distinctive feature of the ICGC, which served the interest of repatriates in Goa as well as anticipating the needs of future repatriates. By allowing participation to those who are still ‘out’, it ensures a transcendence of the geographical boundaries that separate returnees in Goa from those who are non-resident.

In all satellite communities, community organisations exist which have limited or wide membership. Limited membership is usually premised on ancestral village afﬁliation. Activities organised by these groups foster an ICG ethnicity, which comprises both territorial patriotism to Goa, in some cases speciﬁcally to the ancestral village, as well as an international identity. While Konkani has always had a place in the ICGC, it use has been more evident in particular age groups and some categories of migrants. Depending on geographical location, English, and to a lesser extent Portuguese, has risen to become a common language of communication at meetings, functions and other events. Hence, a European language has been incorporated into the recreational sphere, thus augmenting the linguistic distinctiveness of the ICGC.

I have shown that multiple lateral linkages are maintained between the plethora of institutions worldwide, as well as radial links with Goa, thus further fostering the ethos of an ICGC. The various organisations, in different ways, ensure a territorial iden- tiﬁcation with Goa and at the same time manifest organisational changes in structure and activities which exemplify adaptation to the foreign milieu. Hence, they assist in the articulation of a speciﬁc ICGC identity. Furthermore, through the provision of

369 Voluntary associations various activities they foster the development of ‘communitas’ (Turner 1969).

370 Conclusion: Colonialism, Migration and the International Catholic Goan Community

Introduction

n this chapter, I provide both a summary of the main conclu- I sions to emerge from this book and also to suggest further avenues of study and new methods of investigation. In Section 1, I return to some of the major questions that were raised regarding migration and social change in chapter 1. One of the most important consequences of migration was the emergence and maintenance of the ICGC. The various characteristics of this community are summarised in Section 2 and comparisons with other migrant communities are brieﬂy explored. Finally, in Section 3, I discuss the theoretical and methodological implications of the approach advocated by this study.

371 Conclusion

1: Patterns of International Catholic Goan Migration from Goa

Consistent with the ﬁndings of various migration studies, this book has shown that international migrants come from particular geographical areas, in this case, the Old Conquests (OC) of Goa. In view of the spatial distribution of ethnic groups in Goa, this geographical speciﬁcity simultaneously meant that the greater proportion of international migrants were Catholics. The restriction of international migration to particular sectors of the population has also been found in other Indian studies.

However, we have to note a crucial distinction between Indian migration and ICG migration. While in the former, migration has been predominantly of speciﬁc castes, in the latter a cross-section of castes have migrated. The religious and caste difference is accounted for by (a) the pervasive adverse impact of Portuguese colonial policy on a cross-section of the population living mainly in the OCs; (b) the considerable degree of cultural homogeneity across all castes; (c) the mobilisation of kin, village and religious resources in the organisation of migration and adaptation to alien environments; and (d) the diversity of urban employment opportunities available ‘out’ which were potentially accessible to all.

These factors, singly or in combination, ensure that migration from Goa is extremely complex and does not parallel the relatively simple patterns evident elsewhere. Since a number of castes have migrated, it is important to determine whether any correlation between caste and international migration exists. As noted earlier, caste identiﬁcation is extremely problematic because of

372 Conclusion the absence of diacritical signs and the reluctance of ICGs to be questioned on caste. Notwithstanding this, however, the main correlation is between caste and occupation, and the nature of this correlation has changed over time. During the initial phases of migration in the 19th and early 20th century, upper as well as lower caste migrants obtained jobs as cooks, butlers and waiters on the ships, in hotels and private homes.

During the latter part of the 20th century, however, these jobs were predominantly, but not exclusively, held by low caste ﬁrst or second generation migrants. Correlatively, during this period, a greater proportion of international migrants in white collar and professional jobs were from the upper and middle castes. This differentiation has arisen for a number of reasons. The upper caste migrant manual workers were better able to invest in the education and upward mobility of their children as they were initially comparatively better off than the lower castes. Secondly, they were more predisposed to regard non-manual jobs in a more favourable light and hence, took various practical steps to ensure children fulﬁlled parental aspirations.

The signiﬁcance of sub-cultural values and cognitive orientations is highlighted by the fact that in the post colonial period, unlike in the colonial period, Sudras have had access to secondary education which is state subsidised in Goa and yet, in certain villages, they preferred not to complete their education but attempted instead to obtain service jobs on the ships. This was partly out of a spirit of adventure but it was mainly due to the fact that these young adults and their parents live in a cultural milieu that favours contentment with such work. By contrast, the few young Brahmins 1980 who were working in such occupations on the ship were less content and suffered from status dissonance.

373 Conclusion

The correlation between caste and occupation has been considerably attenuated, however, among those who have spent a greater part of their childhood and adolescence ‘out’. There has been a greater degree of upward mobility among lower castes living ‘out’ than there has been among the Goa-reared children of international migrants. Hence, those who have been living ‘out’ have become more progressive than their conservative brethren in Goa. Part of the reason for this is that in Goa the geographical distribution of the population in nucleated villages and wards enhances caste insularity and the development of sub- cultural values. On the other hand, in the towns and cities where the satellite communities are located, the increasing relative absence of residential, educational, employment and recreational segregation has facilitated greater inter-mingling among castes and the further development of cultural homogeneity. There- fore, occupational diversiﬁcation has become increasingly evident among lower as well as upper caste ICGs living in different parts of the world.

The relationship between gender and migration is suggestive and supports the view advocated by Moroskovasic (1980) and Philaza- cklea (1983) that female migration merits speciﬁc investigation in its own right. This study has found that while both sexes migrate from Goa, it is adult men of all castes who migrate for employment, and women of upper and middle caste who migrate to fulﬁl conjugal and maternal responsibilities. It is predominantly low caste women who migrate independently for employment and the intensive study of this is an area which merits future research.

Excluding such female movement which accounts for a small proportion of all migration, the pattern of independent migration from Goa is exempliﬁed by men, while that of associational migration is illustrated by women. While the migration of men has

374 Conclusion been usually for their whole working lives, that of women varied with respect to their maternal, not conjugal, responsibilities. Hence, the residential pattern of some wives ﬂuctuated between Goa and ‘out’. However, the period ICG mothers spent in Goa was not to familiarise their children with the native language and culture, which is the major reason why many South and South East Asian migrants send their children home from overseas, but to improve their access to western secondary education, and, therefore, to non-manual jobs. Patterns of mobility of women have been affected by changing secondary education provision and access in different international localities. Where good local provision has been established, or where boarding school facilities were available in India or elsewhere, then women’s mobility between international locations and Goa or other parts of India have tended to be less.

The study also indicates that not all wives accompanied or later joined their migrant husbands. While the ideal has been nuclear family unity, the important factors which prevented co-residence ‘out’ were immigration controls, and the lack of suitable education facilities and adequate accommodation. Hence, it has rarely been conditions in Goa, such as maintenance of the family farm or care of the aged which prevented the associational migration of wives and children.

Age is correlated with patterns of migration. The international migration of male and female children and adolescents, either independently or with their mother has been usually for educational purposes. The migration of adult men has been for employment and of women mainly for conjugal and maternal functions. Return migration to Goa has been characteristic of men and women in their late 50s and over. The existence of young international scholars and old returnees are interesting features

375 Conclusion of ICG migration which are rarely parallelled elsewhere.

Another important feature has been the large scale acquisition of salaried and superannuated jobs by international migrants. This ensured not only long-term secure employment but also life-long ﬁnancial security for the migrant, his wife and dependent children. It also facilitates the economic independence of generations and contributed to the development of individualism.

The study demonstrates that while ICG migration was initially reactive, it increasingly became proactive. I hesitate to say that this is a unique feature of ICG migration because I think many researchers are guilty of adopting the reactive model in their studies of migration, thus denying the possibility of a proactive component. The proactive nature of ICG migration is epitomised by the plans for inter-generational geographical and occupational mobility. This entails an orientation towards child- centred marriages; thrift, sacriﬁce and hard work on the part of parents to ensure investment in education; the development of female mobility, autonomy and acceptance of increased responsibilities; the adoption of progressive motherhood practices; the encouragement of foreign linguistic acquisition through usage in the educational, domestic and recreational spheres; the reliance on non-kin and institutional care of the aged; the delegation of domestic chores and farm cultivation to hired labour under the management of female heads of household; the increased perception of land in symbolic rather than instrumental terms; and the ability to capitalise on employment opportunities irrespective of global location.

The proactive nature of ICG migration has contributed considerably to Hindu Goan and tribal internal migration, which in turn has inﬂuenced immigration into Goa. This pattern of inter- connected migratory ﬂows is also evident in other parts of the

376 Conclusion world (Richmond & Verma 1978). It has contributed to the upward mobility of those who were previously at the bottom of the socio- economic hierarchy as well as to the low status of new immigrants who have taken up jobs vacated by them (see also Castles & Kossack 1973).

Besides initiating and sustaining new and different migratory ﬂows, ICG migration has contributed to the economic development of Goa. It helped to stem the tide of economic degeneration under colonial rule and through investment in personal, residential housing, created employment opportunities in construction for members of the local society in Goa. Further employment opportunities were also generated by the demand for labour on the small farms and in private homes. Such development, however, has created a long-term dependency relationship in that, so long as international migration continues, certain employment opportunities will exist in Goa. Conversely, if the former collapses, the latter will suffer adversely.

The present study serves to strongly highlight the integration of international migration in the economy of the sending society. It demonstrates also the validity of regarding migration as a process as it has permitted us to identify the factors initially contributing to migration; the nature of the dialectical relationship between initial and subsequent migrations; and the changing implications of migration both within Goa and ‘out’.

2: Ethnogenesis of the ICGC

Through various policies and practices, the Portuguese colonialists socially constructed a local CG community (LCGC) in Goa. The development of a LCGC has been the result primarily of

377 Conclusion external historical events. What occurred, as Barth notes in his general discussion of ethnic groups and ethnicity, is that “.... a pre-established cultural contrast is brought into conjunction with a pre-established social system, and is made relevant to life there in a diversity of ways” (1969:30). The LCGC came to be characterised by Roman Catholicism, Christian first names and Portuguese surnames, a modified caste system with some occupational specialisation and caste endogamy, a high degree of cultural homogeneity, ambivalence towards Konkani, and territorial identification with the ancestral village or comunidade. From the 19th century onwards, a part of the LCGC evolved into the ICGC, and I shall now bring together the strands of the process of ethnogenesis which have been discussed separately in this book.

Singer (1962) suggests that the first stage of ethnogenesis occurs when a portion of a population becomes distinguished in terms of certain factors within the context of a power relationship. International migration constituted the first stage as it allowed a sector of the population to become differentiated from the LCGC by residence and/or recourse to economic resources outside Goa. Furthermore, with the higher income at the disposal of the migrants and their dependants, many of whom were still living in Goa, an asymmetrical power relationship developed between the ICGs and the LCGs. Hence, while the former had access to resources both within and outside Goa, the latter were confined to competing for the meagre resources available within Goa. The unbalanced power relationship that existed between ICGs and LCGs was duplicated, but to a greater extent, in the relationship that developed between ICGs and the Hindu Goans and Kunbis in Goa.

378 Conclusion

In the second stage of ethnogenesis, according to Singer (1962), members of the distinguished population segment are ‘assigned’ a particular social role and fate. However, this formulation assumes an unwarranted passivity on the part of the differentiating segment. On the contrary, I would argue that the ICGs set about determining their social role and fate rather than having one assigned to them, which Singer found among Negro-Americans and which he suggests is paradigmatic for other emergent groups (1962:424). As noted earlier, the ICGs adopted a proactive role in determining their destiny and were instrumental in creating a self- perpetuating cultural ethos which favoured progress. The concept of progress which informed their thoughts and actions derived initially from the Portuguese upper class in Goa and was sustained by contact with the western urban petty bourgeoisie in different parts of the world. The ICGs have been minimally interested in acquiring capital assets and in entrepreneurial activities as, for instance, were other Indian communities, in East Africa (Morris 1968; Mangat 1969; Ghai 1965) and Britain (Aldrich, Jones & McEvoy 1984; Nowikowski 1984). Rather, the ICGs were keen to establish themselves in white collar and professional jobs which they hoped to achieve within a generation or so. This strong achievement drive (McClelland 1961) was manifested in its positive attitude to western education and language. I have indicated how educational access was enhanced through the provision of church and community schools. The latter were supported largely by concerted and coordinated community action.

The drive to set up community schools is evident among many migrant communities, and these either replace or supplement existing state provision. One of the key concerns of such schools is the transmission of the ancestral language as Warner & Scrole

379 Conclusion note for European immigrants in America (1945:220-253). The elders of such communities recognise the need to develop bilingualism in order both to retain their cultural heritage and adapt to the new environment. Such a view, however, is not usually shared by the young, second generation resulting in conﬂict between parents and children (Warner & Scrole 1945:231). However, such a stressful situation has not arisen among ICGs as bilingualism has not been considered to be commensurate with progress.

While in some families both Konkani and an European language (English or Portuguese) was spoken, the former was used predominantly by those who had spent some or all of their childhood and adolescence in Goa, or had not had access to facilities to learn an European language. While it is true that some migrant communities have discarded their mother tongue, this is because they have developed in isolation from their motherland. Hence, for instance, the Indian communities in the Caribbean speak English and Creole, rather than Hindi or any other Indian language (Tinker 1977:13), but they are the descendants of indentured labourers not free migrants, who through force of circumstances retained minimal or no links with India. Yet, as I have argued in this book, the ICGs retained strong kinship and institutional links with Goa which could have provided avenues for the maintenance of Konkani, the ancestral language.

The demise of Konkani had been encouraged by Portuguese colonial policies which intended to wipe out Konkani and this trend subsequently received an additional impetus by the orientation of the ICGC to progress in the western mould. Hence, virtually no arrangements have been made either in homes or institutions in the satellite communities to teach Konkani, and where minimal facilities did exist, as for instance, in Bombay, the aim was to develop literacy in Roman orthography in the expectation that

380 Conclusion this would later facilitate western language acquisition. Most Goans in British East Africa, except for the older artisans, spoke English ﬂuently (Nelson 1971; Kuper 1973) and the 1957 census of Tanzania found that 31% of Goans regarded English as their mother tongue.

This trend among ICGs towards the adoption of English as a first language was particularly evident among the young. Not only in Africa but also in British India, English widely came to be used as a first language, paralleling the usage of Portuguese by ICGs in Mozambique, Angola and Portugal. Younger generations of ICGs, brought up in different countries, rarely learnt Konkani, and among the older generations, those who continued to use Konkani as a first, and often only language, were either employed in manual jobs, or were only literate in the vernacular. In Goa too, in a number of ICG families, a foreign language, particularly English, has come to be used as a first language.

The ascendancy of a foreign language as the major medium of communication in the domestic, educational, occupational and recreational spheres accentuated the cultural homogeneity which increasingly come to exist among ICGs. Whereas the syntactical and semantic differentiation in various Konkani dialects served as diacritical markers of origins, a standard western language disguised them. Since English language teaching was provided in mixed caste not single caste schools, differences in linguistic usage among a cross-section of castes was minimised. The desire to jettison ascribed status in favour of achieved status provided an additional motivation for lower caste ICGs to encourage European linguistic ﬂuency in their children. Hence, the pathways to upward mobility among ICGs are not through an acceptance of caste ideology and claims to superior caste status through the adoption of the norms and practices of a superior reference group,

381 Conclusion as it is among Hindus following the process of Sanskritisation (Srinivas 1952:32; 1962:44-57; Harper 1968; Bailey 1957) but by a repudiation of caste and its replacement by class. Writing about caste in modern India, Srinivas notes that “[C]aste is so tacitly and so completely accepted by all, including those who are most vocal in condemning it, that it is everywhere the unit of social action” (1962:41). In overseas Indian communities, the significance of caste is generally much less, usually only a prestige label in those communities deriving from indentured labourers who maintain minimal links with India (Mayer 1967). Among ICGs the significance of caste has progressively declined; in some sectors of the population it serves as a prestige marker; in others to circumscribe the boundaries from which spouses are selected; and in still others as the idiom through which interpersonal conflicts are expressed, particularly providing a residual explanation of behaviour. It is class not caste which has become the modern basis for internal stratification in the ICGC, but status groups within each class sometimes may use caste as a factor in ranking.

The ascendancy of class as the basis for hierarchy is also related to the growth of individualism. It is individuals who study, obtain jobs on their merits, and have major or total control to dispose off their incomes. It is individuals who rise or fall in the hierarchy, although their success or failure does redound on family members. It is individuals who have become primarily responsible for determining their marriages and inﬂuencing the rearing of their children.

As a result of the linguistic practices of the ICGs, not only males but also females were able to master an important pre-requisite vocational skill to acquire non-manual jobs. Among ICGs, female emancipation has been well set in train, and consequently, the high rate of female and male employment in non-manual jobs

382 Conclusion comprises the socio-economic role that ICGs have carved out for themselves in almost all receiving countries where sexual segregation and limited competition for diverse jobs does not apply. In some countries, such as Britain, female autonomy has become further manifested in property ownership, as many young, single women in their 20s and 30s live independently in their own ﬂats, bought by raising a mortgage against their own earnings.

The third stage in the process of ethnogenesis, following Singer (1962), entails the development of social structures within the differentiated population. The primary mechanism for this has been marriage within the ICGC which has become a largely endogamous group. With the rise in love marriages, these structural links have come to traverse caste boundaries. This has contributed to the diminished significance of caste endogamy as the last bastion of caste ideology. Furthermore, kinship and affinal links transcend geographical boundaries so that ICGs in different parts of the world are inter-connected through affective ties. Affective ties are not restricted only to kin and affines but embrace a wide range of friends. Through education at a small cluster of institutions, enduring social ties are formed. That this is a particular feature of the ICGC is evident when it is contrasted, for instance, with Muslim Pakistanis in Bristol whose children are not encouraged by parents to maintain ties with other Muslim Pakistani children at school because this may adversely affect the family’s honour (Jeffery 1976:129).

Again among ICGs, employment in the civil service and a few ﬁrms, and participation in recreational pursuits held by community organisations, enhanced the development of associational ties. The possibility of participation in regularly held communal leisure activities has been particularly important for those who have few kin, particularly those with whom they feel relaxed and able

383 Conclusion to relate to. Studies in urban India have shown that where multi-caste social ties have developed in the workplace, even with village mates, these do not carry over to other arenas of life, and back in the village urban workmates return to caste segregated behaviour (Gould 1965:295-301; Rao 1974:517-8). Such compartmentalisation, however, has been minimal among ICGs and social ties developed in one context permeate multiple areas of Iife. In some cases, the affective ties have been further consolidated by material ones as afﬁnes of different caste backgrounds shared co-parcenery rights to houses and other property in Goa.

In the final stage of ethnogenesis, Singer (1962) suggests that the further development of the emerging ethnic group depends partly on the nature of the structures developed, the content of the group’s self-image, and the shared conception of its destiny. In the case of the ICGC, this is best epitomised by the development of a corporate self-awareness through the proliferation of voluntary organisations with specific, but overlapping bases, for membership. These organisations enhance the community’s self-image as one which is simultaneously international and cosmopolitan as well as attached to Goa, the motherland. They help to keep the memory of Goa alive and, hence, maintain territorial identification with Goa. One symbolisation of this, for instance, is that covers of the newsletter of the Goan Association (UK) depicted the map of Goa, focusing on the OCs, or geographical scenes from Goa. The Association’s logo consists of two interlocking coconut palm trees, evoking memories of the palm fringed beaches of Goa. Such institutionally derived mechanisms of territorial identification complement those achieved through other means, such as affective ties with relatives in Goa and symbolic ownership of property in ancestral villages. Unfortunately, the relative

384 Conclusion stagnation of Konkani had deprived the community of literary sources, and there has been a dearth of literature, too, in English, which derived inspiration from Goa although at the time of ethnographic research in 1980 there were signs that the situation was going to be remedied.

The significance of multiple mechanisms for instilling territorial identification with Goa was poignantly brought home to me by a 38 year old man in London. He had been born and brought up in Nairobi and had lived in London for over 15 years. He was an active member of the Goan Association (UK) and had held office for a number of years. In 1982, he visited Goa for the first time “just to see what it is like”. He stayed in the ancestral house built by his grandfather. With great emotion he told me: “I really felt at home. I can’t explain it but in my heart I felt a great sense of belonging. I will return on holiday and take my wife and children”.

The extensive individual and institutional social networks, the cultural homogeneity, and the patriotic feelings for Goa which characterise the globally dispersed ICGs has produced a strong sense of community sentiment resulting in an international community. MacIver and Page state that “...love of gossip is always a certain sign of community sentiment in any group” (1961:295) and the effectiveness of the international grapevine has been attested to a number of times in this book. D’Souza, writing with respect to Catholic Goans in Bombay, but which I think can be applied to all the satellite communities, says “...the emigrant Goans behaved as a part of the Goan extended society” (1975:2). Hence, I disagree with the contention of MacIver and Page that no international community exists in the world (1961:302-3). It is in this context, then, of extensive and dense international kinship and associational ties that the Death Notices with which this book opened become meaningful. The name of the deceased, his village

385 Conclusion of origin and the city or country where he worked, together with the international whereabouts of the bereaved, enables an ICG to place the deceased or bereaved within his network. Depending on the nature of the link, religious obligations such as prayers and attendance at the funeral and associated ritual events, may be necessary. Additionally, condolences may be expressed through social visits or correspondence, depending on the geographical location of the bereaved (see Mascarenhas-Keyes 1986 for more details). Correspondence, telephone calls and social visits within and between satellite communities, as well as with Goa, are important mechanisms for maintaining links between kin, afﬁnes and friends, and violation of obligations can lead to temporary or permanent estrangement. This book has demonstrated how in the ICGC, multiple radial and lateral links emanate from and to Goa, the fountainhead, and the satellite communities, as well as between them, creating a veritable spider’s web.

To what extent do other migrant groups constitute international communities? This question is difﬁcult to answer because data that would be available if a multi-polar model were used is absent. However, the available Iiterature using the bi-polar model is suggestive. For instance, Thomas and Znaniecki who studied Polish migration say “...when many members of a community are settled in America and keep contacts with their home, America appears almost as an extension of the [Polish] community; it is a part of the latter land simply emigrated to another country” (1918:11). As there are also many Poles living in Britain as a result of several immigration waves, it would be interesting to explore the radial and lateral links between such globally dispersed Poles and Poland. Similarly for the Irish and Italians and most importantly the Jews whose diaspora is extensive. The existence of an international community among the Chinese is

386 Conclusion brieﬂy alluded to by Watson, who, having looked at the links between Chinese in Britain and Hong Kong, says that “...the Chinese community in Britain cannot be understood in isolation from its extensions on the continent” (1977:184) as Holland, Belgium, West Germany and Scandinavia are new frontiers for Chinese restaurant development. If other migrant groups are international communities, it is possible that their socio-economic composition may be more limited than in the case of the ICGC. The limitations may be, as in the case of the Chinese, to migrants occupying a speciﬁc economic niche worldwide, or in the case of South Asians, migrants of the same caste.

Finally, I shall turn to the boundary maintenance behaviour of the ICGC. In this context, it is necessary to recall Banton’s fruitful distinction between hard and soft boundaries (1983:125-127). The former is difﬁcult to cross, while with the latter, instead of a sharp distinction between members and non-members, there is a continuous gradation.

Since I have shown that the ICGC had its origins in the LCGC, it is important to look at the ethnic relationship between the two. While religion, diet and culinary practices are common, there are also different characteristics. Indeed, the distinctions between the two communities did not crystallise in my mind until I realised the significance of a number of comments by some ICGs in London made to me as the researcher of the film ‘Shadow of the Cross’. Referring to the Catholics portrayed in the film, I was told “they are not like us”; “The film had nothing about Goans like us”. These comments were made by relatively young Goans who had been born and brought up outside Goa. Until such valuable native feedback (see Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987) I only had a ‘hunch’ about the extent of the dichotomy between the LCGC and the ICGC. The differences between the two can be briefly summarised

387 Conclusion as follows: in the ICGC English or Portuguese is the major medium of communication while in the LCGC it is Konkani; hierarchy is determined predominantly by class not caste as in the LCGC; non-manual work in an urban, industrial economy is the major occupation whereas in the LCGC it is predominantly manual work in the rural agrarian and agro-related economy; sexual equality is increasing while patriarchy continues to be dominant in the LCGC; love marriages and inter-caste marriages are frequent whereas proposal marriages and caste endogamy prevails in the LCGC; and western dress is commonly used, while in the case of the LCGC women are intermittently attired in saris and dresses, men in western dress. The conﬁguration of similarities and differences allows for a soft boundary to exist between the two ethnic groups. In the 1980s, those ICGs most similar to the LCGs were the ﬁrst generation migrants to the Gulf while at the other extreme, were the third generation migrants living in the West.

However, the existence of an international community does not necessarily mean that, as in the case of the ICGC, there are multiple differences between it and non-migrants. The distinction may be only economic with the international community deriving its resources from the international, urban, industrialised sector and the non-migrants being conﬁned to utilising resources from the local, rural, agrarian sector. Cultural continuities may persist, and data derived from studies using the bi-polar model are suggestive. Thus Watson notes that the majority of Chinese in Britain “...cling tenaciously to their cultural heritage and continue to identify with kinsmen in rural Hong Kong” (1977:182). Similarly, most Sikhs in Britain (Ballard & Ballard 1977:40-41) and Muslim Pakistanis (Saifullah-Khan 1977:77-8) continue to adhere to the values of their homeland. Particular attention is paid to mother-tongue teaching of children reared in Britain (Watson

388 Conclusion

1977:198; Saifullah-Khan 1977:85; Ballard & Ballard 1977:50). Thus cultural continuities with the homeland are maintained and ethnic differentiation inhibited, unlike the case of Catholic Goans. A closer parallel to the Catholic Goan case is that of the Catholic Irish migrants, for whom Gaelic, the mother tongue, became of diminished signiﬁcance (O Grada 1980; Fallows 1979). Fallows argues that during the process of assimilation and adaption to America, the Catholic Irish created a sub-society”.... that became distinctively different from the rural culture they had left in Ireland ...” (1979:44).

It is also necessary to look at inter-ethnic relations outside the homeland. In recent years, a soft boundary has come to exist between the ICGC and Catholic Anglo-Indians, East Indians and Mangaloreans. For instance, in London, Anglo-Indians frequently hold dances at Wimbledon Town Hall and such functions have been patronised by many ICGs. Similarly, at the Asian Chaplaincy in London, where Goan priests have served as Directors, committee membership and attendance at numerous religious and social activities, entailed the free intermingling of ICGs and other Asian Catholics, some culminating in marriage.

Religion, as well as some degree of cultural consonance, also serves to create a soft boundary between Goans and European Catholics in Britain. It is important to note that this was not the case in British East Africa where covert apartheid policies created an exclusive boundary (Banton 1983) between Europeans and ICGs. In parish activities in London, for instance, where the encapsulating society is premised on democracy, racial prejudice can be partially surmounted by reference to concepts of Christian brotherhood, and equality between men. Similarly, ICGs who see the Europeans denuded of the political and economic power that colonialism gave them, tend not to regard them as superior, and

389 Conclusion therefore as being amenable to symmetrical, not deferential, relationships. In Britain, for example, there is greater social contact between ICGs and whites in comparison to other South Asians (Ballard & Ballard 1977:47; Saifullah-Khan 1977:76), except Pakistani Christians (Jeffery 1976:159-160). Despite this, however, the degree of cultural assimilation (Gordon 1964) can never be total as, for instance, has occurred in the case of the Catholic Irish in America (Fallows 1979:145). This is mainly because of the dark skin colour of ICGs and the negative perception of it in Britain and elsewhere in the West. While there is a limit to the degree of cultural assimilation, has there been structural assimilation in the case of ICGs? According to Gordon (1964:71) structural assimilation occurs when there is large scale entrance into cliques, clubs and institutions of the host society at a primary group level. The commonality of religion has facilitated the process of structural assimilation in the case of ICGs in Britain to a greater extent than for other South Asians, since in the absence of community churches, the local parish church and afﬁliated club provides an institutional framework for contact. This has fostered some degree of inter marriage and it remains to be seen whether there will be an escalation of such trends.

Where religious and cultural differences exist, the boundary inevitably tends to be a hard one. Thus there has tended to be very limited social interaction between the ICGC and Hindus, be they HGs or other Indian Hindus, and with Muslims. Attendance at non-Catholic rituals is generally not well regarded by the Catholic Church and there is little affinity between the culinary and social practices of Hindus and Muslims and ICGC. This is compounded by linguistic difficulties. Indeed as Barot notes for East Africa” [E]ast African Asians with limited proficiency in English used Swalhili to speak to each other” (1980:125). The distinctiveness of ICGs from

390 Conclusion

Indians is attested to by the epithets they were previously known by, such as ‘The Irish of India’, ‘Italians of the East’; their separate enumeration for some years in East African censuses, and the self- image of many ICGs that they are not Indians (Tinker 1977:120; Kuper 975:58). However, in the post-colonial period, the tendency towards exclusivity has become less evident. Finally, at the time of my research in 1980, it was evident that the colonial legacy persisted in the maintenance of a hard boundary between the ICGC and those of African origin. Indoctrinated in the belief that Blacks are inferior, even where religious and cuItural differences are not acute, minimal social interaction has occurred. Thus, for instance, ICG social functions in London have been rarely attended by West Indians and Africans.

3: Theoretical and Methodological Im- plications

In order to understand the pattern of international migration from Goa, I have argued that the bi-polar model is inadequate and should be replaced by a multi-polar one. The study would have been totally unrealistic if it had been informed by the bi-polar model. This is best epitomised by the fact that to analyse the domestic economy of a single-person female-headed household in Goa required the recognition that the pakka house she inhabited was built by the remittances of an ancestor who worked on the ships, and is maintained by remittances of his grandchildren currently working in Britain, while the widow is ﬁnancially supported by the superannuation beneﬁts derived from her deceased husband’s former employment in Africa. This illustrates the complexity of migration patterns from Goa and the importance of utilising the multi-polar model. However, I do not

391 Conclusion think the multi-polar model is appropriate to Goa alone but has general applicability, and can be used within a regional, national and international frame of reference.

The multi-polar model is not merely a representational model, in other words, an elegant, diagrammatic representation of reality, but an analytical model. As such, each of its components, as well as the system as a whole, requires intensive investigation and critical analysis so that a comprehensive understanding can be gained.

Such an approach has implications for methodology. Social anthropologists usually undertake research single-handedly. The normal period of ethnographic research is fourteen months and an equivalent, or slightly longer period for analysis and writing up. This study involved a total of twenty four months of ethnographic research mainly in Goa, but also Bombay, Lisbon and London, and almost double the amount of time in analysis and writing up. Furthermore, as a Native Anthropologist (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987) I had the beneﬁt of personal knowledge from childhood of Goan communities in East Africa and Britain. However, to do justice to the multi-polar model of migration that I have put forward, I would argue that a team approach would be the most suitable. Since I have proposed, and followed, an approach which has advocated perceiving migration as a process, amenable to diachronic analysis, I suggest that one of the members of the team should be a historian.

Prior to undertaking this study, my training in anthropology minimised the signiﬁcance of history. While my interest in the history of Goa was motivated by personal as well as professional reasons (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1987:190), I hope this book has demonstrated its relevance to anthropological work. I agree with Wolf that it is necessary to “...search out the causes of the present

392 Conclusion in the past. Only in this way could we come to comprehend the forces that impel societies and cultures here and now” (1982:ix).

By delving into Goan history we were able to see the processes involved and features which characterised the social construction of a LCG community in Goa. Hence, I would concur with Grillo, who in his study of the emergence of nations and states says: “[I]n traditional anthropology the emergence of identity was never seriously considered. Within a synchronic frame of reference, such as was usually employed, the coming-into-being and historic variation of identity cannot constitute a problem ... But it is in history, the flow of past events, that emergence and variation appear, and only through history can we understand them” (1980:11 - emphasis in original). Furthermore, without examining the Portuguese political economy, both in terms of its infra-structure and super-structure, which encapsulated Goa for a number of centuries, we would have had, I contend, only a trivial account of the factors leading to migration, the types of migration generated, and the reasons for a specific section of the population, that is, LCGs, taking to large scale international migration. Further, by examining the political economy of British colonialism, it was possible to ascertain its influence, both direct and indirect, on the global dispersion of ICGs.

However, the study of political economy is relevant not only at the macro-level, but also at the micro-level. Hence, by delving into the history of the comunidades and Portuguese personal laws, it became clear why international migrants invested only minimally in land in Goa, why they built houses instead, and educated their children, thus reproducing, with some modiﬁcations, their own migration. Another crucial contribution of history has been in the interpretation of changing linguistic patterns among CGs. It was only through an appreciation of the discrepant status accorded

393 Conclusion to Konkani and Portuguese under colonial rule, that it became possible to understand the basis for the widespread adoption of western languages by the ICGC both in the domestic and extra- domestic domains.

Besides historians, social scientists from other disciplines would make a valuable contribution to studies of migration. This is particularly important when many people are moving from subsistence and marginally monetarised economies to environments where the market forces of supply and demand, articulated through the medium of money, provides the all-encompassing context in which migrants live their lives. Many LCGs moved from subsistence paddy cultivation in rural Goa to non-manual, salaried occupations in different urban centres of the world. To understand such types of transition and its implications requires the expertise of a social scientist trained in economic and political analysis.

This study has drawn both methodologically and substantively on a number of social science disciplines rather than social anthropology alone. This is largely because the nature of the problem dictated such an approach but also because my academic background included some training in economics, sociology and psychology. To conclude, I would argue that we should adapt our methodologies to suit particular problematics rather than constrain the problematic to ﬁt a methodological straitjacket.

394 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist – Constraints and Strategies in Research

Introduction

ritish social anthropologists, at home as well as abroad, B usually do ﬁeldwork in ‘exotic cultures’ (Sarsby 1984: 130). However, for the ‘native anthropologist’,1 research occurs within the ‘non-exotic’ socio-cultural context of primary socialization and requires, as will be shown, a professionally induced schizophrenia between the ‘native self’ and ‘professional self’. This paper addresses itself primarily to the problems of professional access to information and role deﬁnition in a context where ‘my people’ ‘do not perceive the investigator as special, exotic or powerful’ (Cassell 1977: 413).

Section 1 discusses the factors leading to the adoption and the implementation of a multiple-native strategy. Section 2 examines the ways that permanent kinship and associational links affected the legitimation of research, and required strategies to

395 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist overcome constraints on access to information. In Section 3,I demonstrate the value of using Self as Informant, borrowing the concepts of transference and countertransference developed by psychoanalysts. Since anthropological praxis involves not only ﬁeldwork, but also writing texts, in the ﬁnal section of this paper I examine some of the issues involved in producing texts destined for both native and academic audiences.

I: On becoming a multiple native

Outsiders attempt during ﬁeldwork to become marginal natives’ (Freilich 1977) and to negotiate a temporary ‘social space’ within the society. However, the problem is reversed for the native anthropologist who has to transcend an a priori ascribed social position in the society in order, like the Outsider, professionally to relate to the whole spectrum of native social categories. The problem is compounded when the native anthropologist is located in a very complex society, such as is found in Goa.

Goa, a tiny region situated on the west coast of India, had been under Portuguese rule for 450 years, with the result that the indigenous population comprises both Catholics and Hindus. Since the mid-nineteenth century, large numbers of Catholics, in comparison to Hindus, have migrated and established globally dispersed satellite communities, with the result that the majority of Catholics in Goa are part of an international Catholic Goan community which transcends geographical boundaries.2 I was born and brought up within the conﬁnes of the Catholic Goan community in Kenya and, on subsequent settlement in Britain ﬁfteen years ago, became an integral member of the Catholic Goan community in London (see Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979). My two previous month-long visits to Goa as a child and teenager had

396 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist not sensitized me to its social and cultural diversity which was richly manifested in Amora,3 my focal village, with its population of just under 3,000 persons. From 1979 to 1981 I set up an independent household in the heart of Amora with my European husband, in a bungalow rented from a Catholic Goan living in Bombay.

Apart from a few tribal Kunbis, Amora consisted of equal proportions of indigenous Hindus and Catholics, and there was some residential segregation. The Hindus, who had begun to settle in Amora thirty years previously, were mainly poor low-caste farmers and casual labourers employed by Catholics. The Catholics, who had ancestral links with Amora, were predominantly Brahmins, moderately educated, with good cash incomes derived mainly from current remittances or pensions from technical and white- collar employment outside Goa. They lived in large, moderately furnished houses, usually dressed in Western clothes, ate meat, and drank alcohol, while the Hindus lived in small huts, wore Indian-style clothes, and were largely vegetarian and teetotallers. Konkani (the local vernacular), English, Portuguese, and some Swahili were spoken by different sectors of the society.

Within this heterogeneous society, I was identiﬁed by natives in terms of a complement of immutable characteristics: international Catholic, Brahmin, female, married, educated, middle-class (but of recent peasant origins). However, I was extremely reluctant to conform to behavioural patterns and modes of thought culturally expected of my ascribed position because of my respect for cultural diversity cultivated through anthropological training, and my intention to operate as an anthropologist. Although there were some continuing difﬁculties, described in greater detail below, in legitimizing my research interests and methodological approach, initial verbal acceptance encouraged me to venture into non-

397 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist stereotypical forays across multiple boundaries. However, I was dismayed to find that I courted considerable criticism and ridicule and it became apparent that, as a neophyte, I was unprepared ‘for the more sophisticated task of studying (his) own society’ (Srinivas 1966: 157). I longed for an outward sign, such as a large badge, saying ‘I am an anthropologist’ and therefore should be granted ‘diplomatic immunity’. Furthermore, various categories were responding to my overtures with confusion because, although I initially made some cultural concessions, such as sitting cross- legged on the floor eating vegetarian food with Hindus, my specific native identity was still transparent.

The situation was compounded because the nature of the research required periodic visits to other parts of Goa and interviews with government officials and other ‘big men’. My first interview with a ‘big man’ proved fruitless; on greeting me he exclaimed “You’re so young. I expected a man or an older woman”, and then proceeded summarily to dismiss all my questions. Furthermore, I did not acquire, as Outsiders usually do, someone to sponsor me or mediate between Self and natives. I had decided against engaging a native research assistant because his/her socio-economic characteristics would circumscribe access to sources of data (see Berreman 1962). I was also reluctant to use key informants (see Casagrande 1960) because of my belief in the necessity of obtaining first- hand rather than socially and personally ‘percolated’ information. Trapped in a multiple-bind situation, my intuition suggested I wholeheartedly adopt a multiple-native strategy with a chameleon- like virtuosity, in the hope of achieving a higher degree of cultural consonance in different contexts than I had previously managed. This strategy generated different sorts of problems and considerable personal anxiety and anger, which I discuss later in this paper, but for the moment I shall briefly describe how I

398 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist became a multiple native.

The ‘props’ used in what was, to a large extent, a ‘dramaturgical exercise’ (cf. Goffman 1982) were language and the large wardrobe of Western and Indian clothes, footwear, ornaments, and other accessories I felt compelled to acquire. As Pelto points out, because styles of clothing are important signals of social status and role, the ‘fieldworker can always influence local attitudes towards him by adopting particular habits of costume’ (1970: 227). When visiting ‘élites’ and ‘big men’ I wore ‘executive’ London- style clothes, high-heeled shoes, fashionable accessories, lipstick, a hairstyle that added a few years; I presented my visiting-card and spoke English in ‘elaborated code’ (see Bernstein 1971). A broadly similar ‘scholarly’ image was essential when I went to interview sailors in the tavern, which respectable Goan women never enter. With lower-status Catholics, I dressed in clothes tailored in local materials and fashions. I reserved loose sun- dresses, slacks, and other casual wear for research sessions spent with international returnees living in a city beach-side residential area. For periods spent with Hindus, particularly when attending rituals and ceremonies both in Amora and their distant ancestral villages, I dressed in a sari, plastic sandals, smothered my face with white talcum powder, adopted the oiled plaited hairstyle adorned with flowers, and wore gold jewellery and a ‘clip-on’ nose ring. This evoked favourable comments from Hindus - “You look like one of us” - and derisive ones from Catholics - “You look just like a Hindu”.

Outsiders inevitably have to deal with the native language problem and, to some extent, I was confronted by a similar one. Like most international Catholics of my generation, I spoke English, not Konkani, as a ﬁrst language.

399 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist

However, I did not wish to engage a Konkani-speaking interpreter because, professionally, I was aware of epistemological limitations (Owusu 1978) and, personally, I wanted to redress the effects of cultural imperialism. Consequently, I took an intensive language course in Goa, which considerably improved my previous minimal facility in Konkani.4 With the overwhelming majority of Hindus, Kunbis, and a smaller number of Catholics, who spoke only Konkani, I conversed in this language, and gradually learned to switch to the dialect of the specific group I was with. Among those who spoke both English and Konkani, I acquiesced in their preference for using English. With traditional Catholic élites, who were multilingual but preferred to speak Portuguese in social gatherings of peers, my limited fluency in Portuguese enabled me to intersperse conversations with token words which often elicited approval. I colluded with Africa returnees by conversing in Swahili, the language they resorted to when transmitting confidential information in mixed company. Language was called on to play a predominant rather than a complementary role when natives dropped in unexpectedly to visit me. Caught, so to speak, in my ‘home clothes’, usually a plain frock and casual hairstyle, I had to rely on my linguistic repertoire to articulate the multiple- native strategy.

The operation of the multiple-native strategy was considerably facilitated by my residence in an independent household; hence I was exempt from the patronage of a resident native which would probably have circumscribed my autonomy (see Beteille and Madan 1975; Srinivas 1976). Furthermore, by working alone not only did I have the freedom to be psychologically mobile (Powdermaker 1966: 291) but socially mobile too. I did not have to ensure that a ‘team performance’ was maintained (Goffman 1982: 85-108), and I could continuously and intuitively reﬁne impression

400 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist management through heightened sensitivity to verbal and non- verbal behavioural nuances.

Gender served as a further advantage as cultural elaboration of dress and demeanour was articulated by females. I feel certain that it was only by becoming a multiple native that I was able to achieve a high degree of empathy with respect to each social category. Furthermore, unlike at the beginning of ﬁeldwork, when different natives tended either to ‘put on a show’ or remain reticent, when my ascribed identity was opaque they relaxed and interacted in a far more ‘natural’ manner, thus improving the quality of data obtained.

II: The signiﬁcance of permanent kinship and associational links

The Outsider is usually incorporated into native society by acquiring a temporary ﬁctive kinship position (Middleton 1970). However, like a few other anthropologists (Nakleh 1979; Loizos 1981; Stephen and Greer 1981), I was already a permanent component of a web of kinship and associational relationships. These were continually reinforced by visits from my parents (Africa returnees who lived in a nearby town), close kin from my ancestral village, overseas siblings, and international Goan friends holidaying in Goa.

Hence Catholics located me within an international kinship and associational network. In contrast to this, Hindus and Kunbis identiﬁed me in terms of my husband’s foreign status, referring to me as ‘hippie’s wife’. Both identiﬁcations served to obscure the fact that my presence in Goa was for professional purposes.

401 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist

For instance, I was expected by ‘relations’ as well as villagers to fulﬁl a host of kinship obligations and I suffered rebuke when I declined. At ﬁrst I used to regard such visits, particularly to dispersed geographical locations, as a waste of time for anthropological training had socialized me into the ‘single village mentality’. To make virtue of necessity I resolved to regard the information gleaned at such events as ‘grist to the mill’, which facilitated the cultivation of an all-Goa perspective to serve as a backdrop to my focal village.

Kinship and associational links ensured that my past was not a closed book, as is often the case with the Outsider, since many Catholics knew that I had previously held the reputable jobs of secondary school teacher in Kenya and secretary in London. Although educational standards are high, there is little familiarity with the aims and practices of the social sciences. However, a few who ‘knew about anthropology’ strongly suggested I should study the tribal Kunbis who, because of their different dress, diet, and customs, were regarded as ‘exotic’ and hence, unlike themselves, the appropriate objects of anthropological study. It was considered strange that an educated, married woman would return from ‘modern, advanced Britain’ to the ‘primitive village’ to ﬁnd out how ‘ordinary’, let alone ‘exotic’, people lived.

Initially many thought that it was my foreign husband who had come to do research and, at the beginning, invitations were always extended to him to ‘show you Goa and how we live’. Not only was I not studying ‘exotic’ people but the subject of my research was not ‘exotic’ either, since it focused on the patterns and consequences of international migration, and Catholics saw themselves as much a part of the process as I was.

I was made acutely conscious of Agar’s comment that “Ethno- graphy is really quite an arrogant enterprise” (1980: 41) as

402 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist there were many remarks from Catholics to challenge my claim to special expertise, the implication being that any Goan with time on their hands and the ability to inveigle funds from an agency could do the ‘research’.

With the Hindus, the conventional Outsider’s excuse of ignorance and curiosity about an alien culture was more acceptable, although perplexing, in gaining entry because the cultural segregation between the two communities was acutely evident. My research interest in the Hindus derived from the fact that their recent settlement in Amora and the agricultural labour force they constituted were directly correlated with the international migration of Catholics. However, Hindus perceived that it was my ignorance of Hinduism, typical of Catholics, which was the basis of my interest in them. Consequently they always invited me to any religious ceremony taking place in Amora or their distant ancestral homes. They admonished me when I did not take copious notes of their descriptions of deities and explanations of religious events, saying ‘Why aren’t you writing that in your book?’ My real research interest was perceived as tangential to what they discerned as my ‘research’, and while I was able to broach the issues I was interested in, conspicuous note-taking of such information had to be avoided.

Unlike the Outsider who can become a ‘neutral conﬁdant’ (Berre- man 1962: 11, 19; Goffman 1982: 159), kinship and associational links made it credible that the information I was seeking was not for innocuous ‘research’ purposes but for personal motives. The Outsider usually has potentially greater access to information because asymmetrical power relations and his ignorance are conspicuous. As Jarvie points out, ‘The ﬁeldworker as humble supplicant is obviously not often the case. Many people would not tolerate the white stranger snooping around were it not that

403 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist he belongs, as far as they are concerned, to the powerful white society which they hesitate to brush with’ (1969: 508).

While I had considerable success in asking direct questions about migration patterns, the need for extensive questioning on a variety of topics was rarely understood. Even my parents and siblings found such questions exasperating, and often said ‘but what has this got to do with your research?’, and beseeched me not to ‘cross-examine our friends’. Questions perceived as peripheral and tangential to my ‘research’ indicated an unwarranted inquisitiveness, and indeed epitomized the type of Goan who is most feared: the one ‘who becomes your friend to get all your news’, the one ‘who minds everybody’s business and not just their own’. Further, even if I could be trusted to keep my promise of conﬁdentiality, there were some fears that other literate natives who dropped in casually at my home would have access to privileged information. I do not wish to imply that ‘my people’ were excessively paranoid, but intimate knowledge has an ominous and indeﬁnable potency in an environment to which international migration has contributed to making competitiveness, insecurity, and anxiety endemic.

To depersonalize information and alleviate anxiety, I resorted to techniques gained outside anthropological training. I pre- coded quantifiable data in a format suitable for computer analysis, and in the presence of natives recorded data numerically on computer sheets. The significance of the numbers could only be discerned in conjunction with a master sheet specifying what the figures represented. With qualitative information I conspicuously made notes in my personal version of (Pitmans) shorthand, and the nature of the symbolic system employed made it virtually impossible for anyone else but myself to decipher notes.

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Like the Outsider, but to a greater degree, I had to resort to covert investigation to get ‘back-stage’ information. I often had to be seen consciously to be discarding my professional role and operating as an ordinary native. ‘Chatting’ was invaluable here, and once the art had been mastered, I had access to various arenas of ‘private’ information. Since I prepared and cooked our own meals, and was genuinely interested in learning to cook traditional dishes, there were numerous occasions when ‘cookery lessons’ surreptitiously covered a multitude of topics. Cooking and related activities were perceived as legitimate concerns because they attested to my being a ‘good Goan wife’ who made considerable efforts to provide her foreign husband with the full ﬂavour of Goan cuisine.

It also became essential to participate in numerous ‘innocuous’ activities such as various religious services. Such regular and frequent attendance by an Outsider would have been perceived by natives as conspicuous evidence of professional status and interest in learning ‘native ways’, but in my case it was seen to testify to my being, unlike most young people, a very ‘devout Catholic’. Attendance at novenas at the numerous village chapels and wayside crosses was perceived as a pious measure to remedy my childless condition. Of course, not all natives were ‘fooled’ and a young teacher remarked, ‘You are not concerned about praying; you are going to everything because of your research’.

For the Outsider, as well as the native anthropologist, ﬁeldwork entails the ‘balanced reciprocity of relationships and information’ (Mayer 1975: 28). However, the demands for reciprocity were different with respect to different social categories. With Hindus, as well as Kunbis and poor Catholics, reciprocity approximated the measures an Outsider would resort to: I wrote ofﬁcial letters, acceded to requests to take photographs, lent money and food-

405 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist stuffs, paid bus fares, etc. However, with middle- and upper-class Catholics, the fact that I was native, young, and female removed any reticence that older Catholics, and women in particular, had of questioning me about the minutiae of my life. Ablon, who studied middle-class Americans with whom she was culturally identiﬁed, points out that the ‘diminution of cultural barriers leads to increased personal visibility of the anthropologist’ and demands for intimate information (1977: 70). Like the natives, I had little hesitation in divulging impersonal information but was wary of disclosing personal details. Furthermore, since it was obvious that through ‘galivanting around the village’, as my behaviour was referred to, I had undoubtedly gathered ‘salacious information’ and there were many attempts to prise it out of me. Hence, with most Catholics, reciprocity led to a heightened vulnerability of Self, and I generally circumvented questions by resorting to evasive answers, lightning and subtle changes of conversation, partial answers, half truths and so forth - the very strategies I tried to steer ‘my people’ from. While everyday native social interaction, particularly for women, was articulated in the exchange of ‘personalized’ information, I could only engage partially and cautiously in this activity because had I acceded to their excessive demands, not only would I have epitomized the ‘bad native’ but also breached professional ethics.

III: Self as informant

A belief in naïve empiricism has led anthropologists ‘to turn the ﬁeldworker into a self-effacing creature without any reaction other than those of a recording machine’ (Nash and Wintrop 1972: 527). However, recent publications have compelled us to recognize the existence of the ‘personal equation’ (e.g. Malin-

406 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist owski 1967; Beteille and Madan 1975; Okcly 1975; Rabinow 1977; Cesara 1982) and that, in a world of already constituted meaning (Rabinow and Sullivan 1979), anthropologists are interpreters, not mere recorders of cultures (Agar 1982; Hammersley and Atkinson 1983; Ellen 1984).

Devereux, in his book From Anxiety to Method in the Behavioural Sciences, recommends that we must use ‘the subjectivity inherent in all observations as the royal road to an authentic, rather than fictitious, objectivity’ (1967: xvii). I would further argue that we should incorporate the creative use of emotional reactions of Self and Other as methodological tools in fieldwork. Like Okely (1975: 182) I think social anthropologists should explore analogous methods to psychoanalysts, as I found during fieldwork that I intuitively made methodological use of the concepts ‘transference’ and ‘counter-transference’6. Earlier in this paper I described the strategies used in becoming a multiple native and alluded to the hostility directed at me, and the self-anxiety and anger it generated. In the absence of a research assistant and key informants who would have served as social and psychological buffers (Wintrop 1969: 68-9), there was not only a heightened exposure of Self to Others, but correlatively a greater psychological retreat into Self. In the face of stressful experiences in the field, I began to turn ‘anxiety to method’ but this was an intuitive response, not dictated by any prior training.

Anthropologists continually invite diverse comments as natives try to make sense of their behaviour. However, more so than the Outsider, I became an enduring topic of village comment precisely because I was a native who, by my activities, was constantly challenging multiple norms and values. The most conspicuous areas were non-conventional relations with low-status Catholics and with Hindus, and inappropriate behaviour for a married

407 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist woman. Women anthropologists (e.g. Golde 1970: 8; Dube 1975: 175) have noted that the behaviour of a female ﬁeldworker is more closely scrutinized than that of a male. Although Catholic Goan women enjoy a considerable degree of autonomy and independence (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1985), nevertheless, my absence from the home and widespread research contact with men provoked numerous snide remarks and jokes from all sectors of society. My husband’s Anglo-Saxon reserve and conﬁnement to the private domain of the home engrossed in philosophy books conformed to local expectations of a scholar and served to magnify my enigmatic and public behaviour.

The constant barrage of criticism made me initially very angry and demoralized, and I would self-righteously defend myself by proclaiming my professional status: ‘I am an anthropologist; it is my job to mix with all sorts of people; my husband is capable of looking after himself.’ Furthermore, initially I told my critics the truth and said I found walking around the village alone and familiar relationships with low-status people very stimulating and enjoyable; not surprisingly, this only served to increase my ostracization. I experienced a great deal of coldness and withholding of information and this in turn increased my anxiety as, by losing rapport with certain sectors of society, my investigation was suffering. Consequently, I adopted a number of strategies.

First of all, I began to regard all comments on Self as valuable sources of information about the society. I recorded the transference reactions (not as systematically as I now wish I had done), analysed them, and used them as methodological tools to indicate areas for investigation. For instance, I would constantly ask myself ‘why is criticism made of this aspect of my behaviour and not that; why do some criticize/praise my actions and others do not; when

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I mention the criticism or comment to another social group, or members of the same social group, why do they respond in the way they do?’

Second, in order to ensure that I maintained rapport with different critics, and was not seen to be unequivocally identiﬁed with particular sections, I discreetly and selectively resorted to the manipulation of reality. Hence, for instance, I would return from a few days spent with Hindus in their ancestral villages, and tell Catholics what I had begun to realize they wanted to hear: it was very uncomfortable sleeping on a cowdung ﬂoor; toilet facilities were abysmal; I was weak from living on a vegetarian diet; and that to my horror I had discovered nits in my hair. Furthermore, no longer did I rationalize my involvement with Hindus because I had chosen to do such research but because ‘my European professor in London would be angry with me if I did not obtain real information on how Hindus lived’. This strategy evoked sympathy and commiseration and, equally importantly, provided a focus for extensive discussions on the nature of Catholic-Hindu relationships. Hence, with various social categories I periodically tried to take the role of Other and this served not only as a diplomatic exercise but also allowed me to ‘get into the native’s skin’ and see things from multiple perspectives.

It was not only criticism of my behaviour which used to anger me but also the views expressed by natives on a variety of topics. The anger stemmed from a conflict of values, and I would agree with Ablon when she states ‘the potential of actual value conflicts with our informants becomes more real when we deal with persons who live and interact within our own cultural world’ (1977: 70). Initially I would give vent to my anger and argue vehemently, but I was acquiring the reputation of a ‘fishwife’, particularly because women, even educated ones, do not challenge male views

409 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist on politics, economics, and religion. Women took me aside and told me to ‘stop ﬁghting with the men’, and accused me of being inebriated. Consequently, I decided to adopt an approach used by psychoanalysts with respect to counter-transference. I allowed myself to experience the anger but controlled its expression by the adoption of a ‘professional attitude’ (Winnicott 1960). I noted and analysed my reactions and attempted to use them with equanimity to stimulate further discussion and hence generate data.

Of course, psychoanalysts use transference and counter- transference as therapeutic methods, but I did not see my role during fieldwork as akin to that of a therapist. While I agree with Huizer (1979) and Kielstra (1979) that anthropologists can operate effectively as social activists, my interest in Goa was in ‘pure’ research rather than research in ‘the service of humankind’ (Spradley 1980: 16-20). Hence it was important not deliberately to try to change native behaviour, and to adopt strategies that would not prevent access to the whole cross-section of the population. The stresses of fieldwork are legion (see Henry and Saberwal 1969) and anthropologists have resorted to various measures to alleviate stress such as short vacations, excessive eating, social isolation of Self (see Pelto 1970: 223-25). However, since stress seems to be the sine qua non of fieldwork (Kobben 1967: 46), rather than escape from it I suggest that we could usefully integrate it into fieldwork methodology. Simultaneously, the strategy helps to maintain emotional balance as it reduces the vulnerability of Self and increases resilience to adverse comments.

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IV: The implications of writing texts for a native and academic audience

‘A reflexive awareness of ethnographic writing should also take into account the potential audience for the finished product’ (Ham- mersley and Atkinson 1983: 227). For the native anthropologist, it is the academic as well as the native context which significantly affects the writing of anthropological texts. For most Outsiders, post-fieldwork contact consists of sporadic correspondence with a few natives, while for the native anthropologist interaction with ‘my people’ is a life-long engagement.

Since my return to London and the Goan community here, letters and personal enquiries have always included the questions ‘When will the thesis be finished?’ ‘When will we be able to read it?’ Some have even raised provocative questions about academic verification: ‘Who will examine your thesis? Do they know about Goa? If they don’t know about Goa, how will they know that you are right?’ In producing an anthropological text for an audience which includes natives, the native anthropologist shares the concerns of the Outsider about respecting confidentiality, protecting individuals, and keeping the field open for further research (Barnes 1967: 205-12). However, there are additional issues. Natives, like everyone else, want to be portrayed in the most advantageous light and will feel betrayed if this is not done. Furthermore, the demands of science must be finely weighed against those of humanity (Kloos 1969: 511) as publication of certain material may lead to long-term disruption of the anthropologist’s personal relationships (Nakleh 1979: 349) as well as those of his kin with other natives (Stephen and Greer 1981: 129),

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During the writing up of the thesis, I found myself being somehow compelled, in comparison to other students, to devote a disproportionate amount of time to history, Reflecting on this recently, I have identified three main reasons, apart from a theoretical attraction to a diachronic perspective. First of all, despite the fact that I have always emphasized to natives that I am a social anthropologist whose concern is with contemporary society, it is the minimal historical material contained in my previous writings (Mascarenhas-Keyes 1979, and short articles in the Goan Association (UK) Newsletter), that has aroused greatest interest. Indeed, I am sometimes publicly referred to as ‘our historian’, and Amora natives enquire, ‘Have you finished writing the history of our village yet?’

Second, my personal reasons for undertaking the research involved a desire to locate an autobiography within a cultural biography. The decision to read social anthropology after gradu- ating in psychology, the choice of ethnographic area and research problem were determined primarily by a quest for self-knowledge. Perhaps anthropological research is inherently autobiographical (Crick 1982: 16) and all academic research is ‘really all about the perfection of one’s own soul’ (Barley 1983: 10). Given this emotional involvement, there is the danger of egocentricism referred to by the native anthropologist, Deimos J. Jones: ‘the insider may depend too much on his own background, his own sentiments, his desires for what is good for his people’ (1970: 256). However, as Aguilar points out, such dangers ‘can be mitigated with relative ease once one is aware of them’ (1981: 23).

Third, I have been responding to the demands of the profession, which socializes anthropologists to look for ‘exotica’. For a native anthropologist, the ‘exoticism’ of one’s own society is less apparent, and hence I have been beset by an unconscious

412 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist need to look for ‘extraordinariness’. Conscious recognition of this was facilitated by introspection and recent participation in Outsider research. By delving into historical material, particularly Goa’s unusual colonial experience, I have sought to draw out its ‘uniqueness’ and ‘exoticism’. I felt compelled to explore the ‘exotic’ through history in order to highlight the ‘exotic’ of the ordinary, contemporary situation. Hence the native anthropologist, in order to operate within the conventional model of knowledge generation, has to ‘discover’ or ‘uncover’ the ‘exotic’ by utilizing a different level of reality than that given by the ethnographic situation. Furthermore, the Eurocentric bias persists in the academic pressure to highlight certain features, such as caste, which have ‘exotic’ appeal to European audiences (Asad 1973).

‘When we publish, our eye is more often to our colleagues than on our informants’, noted Barnes (1967: 205). However, academic feedback takes place mainly in an ethnographic and methodological vacuum (Crick 1982: 17-18). In addition, the culture of Academia, about which we know only a little (Caplow and McGee 1965; Boissevain 1974; Bailey 1977; Flatt 1976), influences the various stages of research, including script production and promotion, in ways which have so far remained invisible, particularly to neophytes. The pursuit of ‘objective ethnographic accounts’ or the ‘definitive ethnography’ is illusory (Nash and Wintrop 1972: 531; Agar 1982: 784; Devereux 1967: 207) as evidenced by contrasting accounts of the same culture (e.g. Mead 1935 and Fortune 1939; Redfield 1930 and Lewis 1951). Furthermore, professional natives have criticized a number of texts produced by Outsiders for inaccuracies in the translation of cultures and have suggested a dialogue between native and foreign professionals (Owusu 1978).

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However, since cultural phenomena are differently interpreted by anthropologists, native or Outsider, as well as natives, I would go further than Owusu and suggest a continuing dialogue between anthropologists and ‘my people’, a dialogue which has so far begun and terminated with fieldwork. Although texts have found their way to the held (Barnes 1967: 205), this has been haphazard, and furthermore the asymmetrical power relations that pertained, particularly during the colonial era, probably militated against natives contesting the point of view developed by the powerful Outsider (Nash and Wintrop 1972: 531). I propose that we take seriously Parkin’s tentative suggestion that a commitment to reflexivity include native reflection on anthropological texts (1982: xii-xiv). Such reflection should be from a cross-section of natives, not a selected few. In cases where the level of literacy precludes appraisals of written texts, native feedback can be obtained to other mediums of discourse, such as oral accounts (Josselin de Jong 1967) and ethnographic films, whose potential has yet to be exploited (see MacDougall 1978; Henley 1985). I suggest that native feedback be used to complement academic feedback in order to advance our knowledge and understanding of culture and society. Such ‘multiple triangulation’ (Denzin 1978) would also reduce the dangers of ethnocentricism of Outsiders and egocentricism of native anthropologists.

Conclusion

This paper has provided a case illustration of the conduct of ﬁeldwork and script production by a native anthropologist. Unlike the Outsider, who becomes a marginal native in order to gain access to natives, I have shown that for me it was necessary to become a multiple native in order to transcend the limitations

414 Annex A: The Native Anthropologist of an a priori ascribed position and to deal with the cultural complexities of the field situation. Furthermore, since the native anthropologist, unlike the Outsider, is an intrinsic and permanent part of a complex web of kinship and associational relationships, I have indicated the strategies used to legitimize research, and provide assurance that information collected during fieldwork is for professional and not personal interests. I have shown that fieldwork exposed me to a considerable degree of stress, and argued that anxiety can be turned to method. By using Self as Informant the culturally induced sources of stress can be subjected to systematic analysis and used as a methodological tool in fieldwork. Finally, I have shown that because the dialogue with natives does not terminate with fieldwork for the native anthropologist, as it does for most Outsiders, their demands, as well as those of the profession, influence the production of anthropological texts. I have concluded by suggesting that anthropologists should not only welcome academic feedback, but also systematically solicit and analyse native feedback from a cross-section of natives in order to obtain a more penetrating insight into culture and society.

Acknowledgements

The research on which this paper is based was supported by an SSRC studentship from 1978 to 1981. I would like to thank Lionel Caplan, David Parkin, Shaun Keyes, John Thome, Teotónio de Souza, Patminder Bachu, members of the Anthropology Research Students Thesis Aid Group and ASA 1985 conference participants, for comments on earlier drafts of this paper.

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Notes

1. A plethora of names has emerged to label anthropology at home (see Messerschmidt 1981: 13). There are also different categories of native anthropologists (Stephen and Greer 1981: 124). I use the term to refer to an anthropologist, who through and from birth, is an active and integral member of the society studied.

2. Since Goa was until 1961 a Portuguese enclave within India, the term ‘international migration’ is used here to refer to migration from Goa to elsewhere in India as well as overseas.

3. Pseudonym.

4. No facilities for learning Konkani are available in London, either at universities or within the Goan community.

5. Goa is the current mecca of Western hippies’ and while international Catholic Goans differentiate between different categories of Europeans, the Hindus and Kunbis use the generic term ‘hippie’ to apply to any white person, irrespective of age.

6. The two terms have been deﬁned in a number of ways by psychoanalysts and I am using the broad de6nitions where transference refers to the patient’s emotional attitude to the analyst, while counter-transference refers to the analyst’s emotional attitude to the patient (see Heimann 1950; Winnicott 1956, 1960; Rycroft 1968) and by extension of these terms to anthropology, we can substitute anthropologist for psychoanalyst, and native for patient.

Note: This essay is reproduced from Anthropology at Home, Anthony Jackson (ed.). London and New York: Tavistock Publications, 1987.

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448 Glossary

GLOSSARY

Afﬁne Person related to another through marriage e.g. an in-law Agnate Person related through descent from the father or male’s side Ayah A woman working for a household as a governess, nursemaid, maidservant, domestic help Batcar Land or house owner Caste Traditional categories in the Hindu caste system categories are the four varnas: Brahmin (priests); Kshatriyas (kings, warriors, administrators); Vaishya (traders) and Sudras (artisans, labourers, agriculturists, craftsmen, service providers). Outside the varnas are the Untouchables Communidade Ancient village community structure Confraria Brotherhood made up of a select number of male members of the Roman Catholic community in a village Consanguine Person related to another by blood e.g. brother, sister Coor/kudd Residential room provided in ﬂats and houses for Goan migrants Co-parcener A joint heir Emic A description of behaviour or belief from the perspective perspective of the native of the society Endogamy Marriage within a social group Etic A description of behaviour or belief from the perspective of the observer/outsider of the society Exogamy Marriage outside a social group

449 Glossary

Feni Alcoholic drink made in Goa from the fruit of the cashew tree or sap of the coconut palm tree Fidalgo Son of a nobleman or high status person ganvkar Village landlord and male descendants Ghor-zavoi Son-in-law who comes to live in his wife’s parents’ house Jajmani A system of reciprocal social and economic system arrangements between families of different castes within a village community in India Hindu Joint A family living together consisting of all persons family lineally descended from a common ancestor, and includes their wives and unmarried daughters Matrilocal Residence of a married couple with or near the wife’s parents Mestico Individual with mixed Portuguese and Indian blood Neolocal Residence of a a married couple separate from either the husband’s or wife’s parents New Hinterland of Goa conquered by the Portuguese in Conquests the 18th century (NCs) Nuclear Family consisting of father, mother and their family children Old Conquests Coastal parts of Goa which were conquered by the (OCs) Portuguese in the 16th century Patrilocal Residence of a married couple with or near husband’s parents Posko/poskem Male/female adopted in the expectation of providing care for the family, particularly the elderly

Shippie Person, usually male, who works on a ship

450 Glossary

Sub-nuclear Part of a nuclear family, usually comprising one family adult with children Susegad Relaxed, laid-back attitude to life Taluka Administrative division theatr or tiatr Konkani-medium Goan theatre Vangad clan Zonn A share in the proﬁts of the communidade

451 Index

achieved status, 30, 251, 381 324, 339, 341, 346, Africanisation, 188, 229, 311, 359, 362, 380, 385, 338, 434 392, 397, 424, 427 Angola, 153, 231, 381, 424, 426 Brazil, xxv, 49, 76, 118, 132, ascribed status, 122, 244, 381 150, 178, 232 associational links, 395, 401– Britain, xxi, xxiii, 8, 18, 27, 31, 403 37, 55, 153, 169, 175, 176, 204, 208, 209, Bahrain, 20, 182, 192, 211, 226, 225, 228, 240, 242, 275 249, 254, 255, 283, Belgaum, xvi, xix, 42, 77, 174, 286, 289, 290, 311, 221 346, 348–350, 354, bi-polar, 31, 32, 386, 388, 391, 355, 367, 379, 383, 445 386–392, 396, 402 Bombay, xv–xvii, xxiii, xxviii, 10, British colonialism, 153, 158, 14, 21, 27, 37, 38, 43, 354, 355, 393 44, 68, 77, 116, 129, 130, 154, 155, 172, Canada, 31, 44, 68, 176, 245, 174, 176, 178, 182– 286, 314, 357, 367 185, 191, 193, 194, caste, xix, xxii, xxiv, 10, 13– 199, 200, 221, 222, 17, 19, 20, 25, 29, 224, 225, 227, 230– 30, 268, 280, 293, 303, 232, 235, 236, 242, 315, 323, 326, 332, 245, 253, 256, 272, 342, 346, 350, 351, 279, 281, 285, 314, 372–374, 378, 381–

452 INDEX INDEX

384, 387, 388, 397, 164, 301, 315, 342, 413 347 celibacy, 96, 102, 122, 129, 234, Goan Association (UK), xxiii, 256, 258 205, 246, 290, 349, comunidade, or village 350, 357, 359, 364– communities, 58, 63, 367, 384, 385, 412 64, 84–87, 89, 90, 119, Gulf, xxv, 5, 19, 22, 37, 57, 72, 122, 124, 125, 135– 73, 81, 181, 182, 186, 147, 151–153, 157, 195, 203, 204, 207, 158, 160–165, 167, 208, 212, 214, 226, 174, 192, 215, 282, 227, 231, 232, 238, 283, 288, 296–304, 246, 248, 253, 258, 306, 307, 342, 346, 261, 264, 279, 283, 378, 393 289, 298, 326, 388 coor, 172, 191–193, 424 Homes for the Aged, 261, 264– cultural factors, 18 266, 320, 348, 363 dowry, 99, 100, 127, 128, 245, house ownership, 216, 255, 251–253, 256, 280, 287–289, 291, 328 293, 422, 424 inter-caste, 240, 242–245, 249– Dr Ribeiro Goan School, xxi 251, 280, 293, 388 education provision, 170, 223, interest groups, 337, 362, 364, 375 365 English, 380, 381, 385, 388, International Catholic Goan 390, 397, 399, 400 Community, xviii, 3, 46, ethnogenesis, 377–379, 383, 74, 170, 234, 282, 337, 384 371, 397 ganvkar, 85–88, 97, 124–126, Karachi, 155, 205, 222, 235, 135–138, 140, 143– 362, 433 147, 158, 159, 162– Kenya, xx, xxiii, xxvi, 17, 153, 172, 175, 176, 185,

453 INDEX INDEX

201, 202, 205, 231, Middle East, 37, 44, 154–158, 235, 244, 311, 355, 168, 169, 425 396, 402, 439 Mozambique, 5, 21, 22, 75, kinship links, 37, 332 76, 111, 127, 153, 163, Konkani, xvii, xxi, 57, 61, 65, 168, 178, 231, 232, 71, 106–109, 114, 116, 381, 433, 445 123, 130, 131, 165, multi-polar, 35, 386, 391, 392 172, 180, 191, 199, mundkars (tenants), 150, 296, 219, 268, 276, 279, 298, 303, 321, 334 280, 344, 345, 353, nuclear households, 101, 255, 359, 364, 369, 378, 261–264, 280, 288, 380, 381 292, 316 land tenure, 101, 160, 282, 298, Padroado, xvi, 50, 53, 76, 77, 303, 304, 329, 332 104, 106, 129, 221, lateral links, 32, 35, 287, 386 438, 441, 446 Local Catholic Goan political economy, xv, xxiv, 12, Community, 36, 46, 14, 35, 36, 64, 157, 74, 82–84, 96, 106, 183, 214, 328, 393 114, 121, 235 Poona, xvi, xxiii, 11, 21, 43, London, xviii, xxii, xxiii, xxv, 77, 129, 190, 221, 222, xxvii, 21, 32, 62, 131, 237, 311, 362, 434, 167, 176, 188, 205, 440 209, 236, 237, 245, Portugal, xxiii, 5, 6, 15, 22, 251, 272, 290, 341, 48–50, 52, 75, 76, 78, 343, 348, 350, 357, 93, 110, 118, 126, 127, 359, 363–366, 385, 131, 132, 143, 148, 387, 389, 391, 392, 150, 151, 153, 169, 396, 416 178, 225, 231, 242, love marriage, 27, 231, 239– 290, 316, 381 242, 247, 251–253, 255, 280, 383, 388

454 INDEX INDEX

Portuguese colonialism, xiv, Toronto, xxv, 251, 341, 357, xvii, xix, xxvi, 36, 39, 366, 442, 457 64, 82–84, 122, 123, Uganda, 17, 153, 202, 205, 231, 153 339, 435, 439, 445 Portuguese schools, 220 progressive motherhood, 267– voluntary associations, 34, 336, 271, 274, 280, 311, 337, 341, 349 313, 316, 324, 376, 457 zonn, 87, 88, 122, 125, 126, Propaganda Fide, 53, 77, 129 132, 133, 135, 143, proposal marriages, 98, 99, 158, 299, 346, 451 117, 236–238, 242, 245, 251, 252, 254, 388 radial links, 35, 287, 369 remittance economy, 3, 11, 18, 21, 25, 26, 29, 31, 32, 34, 36, 170, 174, 189, 211, 214–216, 220, 262, 272, 276, 282– 285, 287, 291, 307, 328, 334, 391, 437 repatriate association, xv, xxviii, 20, 215, 334, 337–341, 369 spider’s web, xiv, xv, xix, xxvi, 35, 386 syncretism, 54, 55, 79, 80

Tanzania, 153, 381

455 STELLA MASCARENHAS-KEYES: PUBLICATIONS AND CONFERENCE PRESENTATIONS

2011 Colonialism, Migration and the International Catholic Goan Community. Monograph. Goa: Goa,1556

2011 ‘The Role of Portuguese and British Colonialism in the Migration and Settlement of Goans in Britain’ presented at the conference Goa: 1961 and Beyond, co-organised by the Indian Institute of Advanced Study (IIAS), Shimla; Goa University, and Centro de Estudos Sociais (CES, Centre for Social Studies), Coimbra University, held in Goa, India.

2011 ‘The Goan Diaspora’ paper presented at the Global Goan Convention hosted by the Goan Association (UK), London, Eng- land.

1999 ‘Diaspora and Identity: Education and Marriage Strategies in the International Catholic Goan Community’ at a conference co-organised by the École Pratique des Hautes Études, Sorbonne: Lusophonies Asiatiques, Asiatiques en Lusophonies, Third Interna- tional Meeting of Lusotopie, Goa, India.

1998 ‘International Migration from Goa: the Role of Global and Local Economies, and Social and Cultural Factors’ in T.R. de Souza & J.M. Garcia (eds.) History of the Portuguese in India for the Commissao Nacional para as Comemoracoes dos Descobrimentos Portuguese, Lisbon, Gulbenkian Foundation.

1997 ‘Catholic Goan Food’ in J. Kuper (ed.) The Anthropologists Cookbook, London: Kegan Paul International.

1993 ‘The International Catholic Goan Community: Versatile Marriage Strategies and their Implications in a Global Context’. Paper presented at the School of Oriental & African Studies, London University seminar series on Global Families: Global Communities, London, England. Author’s publications and conference presentations

1993 ‘Language and Diaspora: the Use of Portuguese, English and Konkani by Catholic Goan Women’ in P. Wilkins, S. Ardener and K. Dyson (eds.) Women and Second Language Use, Oxford: Berg.

1993 ‘International and Internal Migration: Changes in the Identity of Catholic and Hindu Women in Goa’ in G. Buijs (ed.) Women Crossing Boundaries: Dilemmas of Changing Identities, Oxford: Berg Publications.

1990 ‘International Migration: its Development, Reproduction and Economic impact on Goa up to 1961’ in T.R. de Souza (ed.) Economic History of Goa, Goa: University Press.

1989 ‘Migration, ‘Progressive Motherhood’ and Female Autonomy: Catholic Women in Goa’ in L. Dube & R. Palriwala (eds.) Structures and Strategies: Women, Work and Family in Asia, New Delhi, Sage.

1988 ‘Sorpotael and Feni: the Role of Food in Catholic Goan Ethnic Identity’. Paper presented to Oxford University seminar series on Culture and Ethnicity: the Role of Food, Oxford, England.

1988 ‘Modernisation and the Status of Aged Catholic Interna- tional Returnees in Goa’. Paper presented to Association of Social Anthropologists Annual Conference The Social Construction of Youth. Maturation and Ageing, London, England.

1988 ‘International Catholic Goan Community’. Paper presented to International Goan Convention ’88 organised by The Goan Overseas Association, Toronto, Canada.

1987 Migration and the International Catholic Goan Community. Ph.D thesis, School of Oriental and African Studies, London Uni- versity.

457 Author’s publications and conference presentations

1987 ‘Death Notices and Dispersal: International Migration among Catholic Goans’ in J. Eades (ed.) Migrants, Workers and the Social Order, Association of Social Anthropologists Monograph, London, Tavistock Publications.

1986 ‘The Native Anthropologist: Constraints and Strategies in Research’ in A. Jackson (ed.) Anthropology at Home, Association of Social Anthropologists Monograph, London, Tavistock Publica- tions.

1979 Goans in London: Portrait of a Catholic Asian Community, published by Goan Association (UK).

458 About the author

Dr Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes bio-details:

• Born and brought up in Nairobi, Kenya.

• Attended the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School in Nairobi.

• She has been living in England since 1970 and has four sons.

• She was an active member of the Goan Association (UK), serving on committees, and as General Secretary. She was the President of her village association. She is currently the Patron of the Goan Welfare Society, UK.

• She completed all her university studies in Britain. She holds a Ph.D in Social Anthropology, an M.A. in Higher and Professional Education, and a B.Sc. in Psychology.

• She is the author of the book Colonialism, Migration and the International Catholic Goan Community based on her doctoral research in the Department of Social Anthropology, London University. She has also published several academic

459 About the author

papers and given talks at national and international conferences on her research on Goans. Rt. Hon. Valerie Vaz, MP and Shadow Leader of the House, hosted a reception for the book in 2012 at the House of Commons attended by Goan MPs and MPs linked to Goans by marriage, as well as representatives of the Goan Association UK and other Goan organisations.

• She has been a university lecturer, and a senior social researcher and policy adviser in several British government departments.

• In addition to academic research on the international migration of Goans, she has undertaken research and evaluation projects on a range of topics in UK and overseas. She has provided brieﬁngs for British Government Ministers, written several reports and given numerous conference presentations.

• She currently works as a freelance social science consultant undertaking assignments in UK and overseas. She trains British civil servants to use research evidence in policy development and delivery; and teaches in UK and overseas universities, including in China and Brazil.

460