Frederick Noronha
On being tasked to pass on a book to a friend, this reviewer could not resist the opportunity to go through ‘Fun and Folksy Foxes’, and jot down a few observations and comments here. Its subtitle is ‘The heartbeat of a village in erstwhile Portuguese Goa’ and this is Mel D’Souza second book on a related topic.
This 132-page Canada-produced book could best be described as a book documenting the Goa of the past, romanticising it a bit while doing so. At the same time, it fills a vital void by describing an era which has been hardly focussed on, and now faces the risk of getting speedily forgotten.
A para on the back cover describes the book thus, and explains its raison d’être: “Mel’s sentimental attachment to the old country and his Love for rural life is reflected in the amusing stories of Goa during the halcyon days of the mid 1900’s.”
Mel’s first book, in 2007, both written and illustrated in his charming style by him was called ‘Feasts, Feni and Firecrackers: Life of a village schoolboy in Portuguese Goa’. This work complements and supplements the earlier book, and the text and art takes the topic further in a way that also makes the reader feel that there isn’t much overlap in both.
This book, just published in 2025, ISBN 978-1-7773674-2-8, comes from the Canada-based author-artist, a senior citizen, who can be contacted via melvilledesouza01@gmail.com
Inside the book, the subtitle of the book reads “more stories of a colourful village in erstwhile Portuguese Goa”. It features his recollections from his school days in the Goan village of Saligão from 1947 to 1962. There are references to the then prominent village school, Mater Dei. (Like its co-triplets in nearby Bardez, St Joseph’s at Arpora and Sacred Heart, Parra, this school too prepared generations of boys for migration to the English-speaking, Brit-ruled world.)
35 chapters in this book take us to various aspects of the village of the past. Schooldays, village characters, quirky or memorable individuals and priests, fights of those times, Christmas and Ganesh as celebrated then, even the odd tale of unrequited love.
Much of the book could be read as applicable to the wider Goan reality, even while offering specific stories from Saligão. For instance, the short, well illustrated chapters of village toys, football, and the sounds of rural Goa is a common tale. Stories dealing with the old oil mill (ghanno), rice, cashew, and much more are also relevant to Goa as a whole.
Some of Mel’s earlier work features here too. In the ‘annex’, there are the sketch-based Goa portraits that Mel has created in the past, focussing on the peculiarities of the village under focus and more.
These full-page illustrations (done earlier in full-colour too in A4 size) show the monuments of Old Goa in one, seen from a bird’s eye view and creatively done. Another view-from-the-skies gives an insight into life in the Goan village—tiled roof homes, paddy fields, coconut groves and beach. Nostalgic for an elder generation seeing Goa change fast in diverse ways.
Sketches titled Day of the Fox and Feast of Names are specifically related to the village under focus. One imagines the local feast being celebrated by expat communities across the globe, while the other looks at the tongue-in-cheek family names that identified different folks there. For instance, two teachers named Edwin in school get identified as Edwin Bodvo (Angel) and Edwin Mundkuto (Firewood), based on their family names!
Some known names of individuals also show up here, including restaurateur Gines Viegas. There is a fascinating introduction to the shops of Saligão, in their diverse localities. ‘Socla’, literally the lower end, is a location in the village. Old doctors like Dr Avelino, are remembered, as are village barbers and Patru’s Tavern.
We’re reminded how schoolboys gave a light hit on the nape of the neck after a haircut (called a ‘pappdi’), and how a candy got locally called a pippirmit….
What lends to the charm of this book charming is both the style of its illustrations,and also its simple, nostalgia-style of selecting topics and explaining on the same. Some critic might say that the work romanticises the past, or focuses on a world that is no longer with us. But the justified counter-view could well be that it’s anyway important to have multiple visions of reality, and also to keep records of the world as we know, or knew, it.
Mel suggests that his earlier writing put him in touch with others, who in turn clarified something he had earlier written about. This filled in the gaps in the local and oral history of the village. But this is a light read, not heavy history.
This is a mix of local history, reminiscences, and some imagination. The latter comes only in small measure though. Believe at your own peril the story that the word ‘balkao’ or balcão (balcony) finds its origin in bal+kahm, reflecting the impressive work created by some called Balthazar or Balkrishna who completed his work (kahm).
This book freezes in time the ‘matchbox’, a quaint bullock-driven cart for four people to sit in, have a slow trot and travel distances. This was around even in the Goa of the 1970s, but is hardly left even in our imaginations today (pg. 118).
Mel’s chapter on the quaint village names given to villagers of Saligão mentioned above is, this time, accompanied by short poems of some. Such unusual family names included kombo (cock), caulo (crow), goro cul’lo (white crab), dukor (pig), tal’lo (sardine), bebo (toad), and so on.
One section of this book looks at the sporting prowess of Francis Xavier ‘Half-Crack’ from Dar-es-Salaam. The writing is sensitive, not dismissive, and often leaves behind quaint stories.
Some of the stories contained in this book are in the process of slipping out of living memory–walking from Old Goa to Panjim; an image of taking the canoe down the river; and the old-world carreira which saw its demise sometimes in the early to mid 1970s.
We are also told this: “Saligao [then] neither had nor needed a local newspaper. The only local news that mattered was official announcements by the comunidade (village council), and these were broadcast by a town crier called the parpoti. She was a tall scrawny bedraggled woman, whose strong soprano voice belied her frail frame. She was barefoot and carried a bamboo rod that came up to her chin.”
Diaspora Goa continues to shape our imagination, which adds to what we believe and how we see ourselves….
