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 This is really a waste of space! Being Goan “Oh, these Goans!” exclaimed my Goan friend who lives in Borda, South Goa. “Are you not a Goan?” I asked. To which she replied. “I am talking about Goans from Goa.” I then realised there were many types of Goans. Goans from Bombay who used to consider them a class apart. They love everything Goan but cannot ever think of living in Goa. They just spend a few days in Goa to stock up on feni, sausages, vinegar and masalas. They always talk about how much property their family once owned and about the great summer holidays they had spent as children. Then there are the Goans from Africa. Many have returned to Goa after the introduction of Africanisation. For many, the stay in Goa was a short stay while their children were settling in the UK and elsewhere.   They are an affluent lot who belong to the educated class of artists, doctors, lawyers, accountants, businessmen, etc. As an outsider living here, I have noticed that in ...

  Alhambra Amongst the world’s greatest treasures, the Alhambra sits in serene silence on a hill in Granada, Spain. I have been in love with it for a long time, and a couple of years ago, I spent as much time as I could there. Like a girl I had had a crush on for a long time, I loved every moment in her company. Always in my heart.         The Alhambra is a citadel and a palace atop a hill, overlooking Granada, Spain with complete majesty. To say that at first glance it is awe-inspiring would be the understatement of your life. It was built by Moorish kings in the 12 th  and 13 th  (although there was a Moorish fortress there since the 9 th  century) centuries and, to this day, it is recognised as one of the finest examples of Moorish architecture. Granada was the capital of the Moorish kingdom until it was captured by Ferdinande and Isabella in 1492.   On a rocky hill of difficult access, on the banks of the river Darro, protected by the mou...

My forever Yesterdays (First published in the Twilight Of the Exiles)   By Cyprian Fernandes   Soft, sweet, gentle things, kisses from a whispering Nairobi breeze on any evening. I remember one of the other loves of my life: Nairobi. My friends, many colours, many thoughts, many dreams, trust, loyalty, poverty and riches, you don't count as money or wealth. Watching the world go by in Nairobi National Park or fishing somewhere, anywhere! Having tea (or coffee) with a pretty girl at the Tea House of the August Moon opposite the Kenya Cinema. What is it that psychologically tricks our taste buds into thinking that fruit and veg grown anywhere else other than Kenya lacks taste, aroma, that just plucked freshness, and just does not taste of that Kenya sweetness? And why is this particularly true of those gorgeous matundas (passion fruit) that I used to eat by the kikapuful (basketful) at one sitting, topped off with a couple of slices of pineapple. And what about the m...

  This, I hope is the start of many similar stories I have gathered from friends and will include some of my own experiences. --    Marcelin Gonsalves arrived in Bombay (later to be known as Mumbai) from Nairobi as part of an official Kenya delegation heading to Japan. This is his story: We had a couple of days at a pretty upmarket hotel before heading off our safari eastwards. Being a seasoned traveller, I took my time getting out of bed from my morning siesta and even more time getting out of my shower. Suitably relaxed, I headed for the cocktail bar. It was one of that easy kind of mornings, as the Goans say, “sussegade” (relaxed, laid back). Outside the hotel, I knew, was anything but sussegade. Bombay’s human, motor, handcarts, scooters, animals, and every other type was legion. I was always amazed at how easily human beings cut in and out of traffic. People had also got used to the eternal honking … a language only they understood and humans and traffic it seemed we...

  Mother Teresa pulled out of her saree pocket and gave me this little prayer card I have stuck on the frame... She came out of her humble bed and met me outside her bedroom (the brown wooden shutters of her bedroom are above my head, as I knelt down for her blessings... m On Fri, Sep 26, 2025, 6:29 PM muriel Alvares < alvaresmuriel2@gmail.com > wrote: Thank you, Cyprian; I consider myself blessed - I missed mentioning that in July 1996 (a year before she passed away) while on a business trip to Calcutta, I barged into Mother Teresa's home, she was very ill in bed, however, she came out and blessed me, she passed away a year later, September 1997! My great wish of meeting Mother Teresa in person was fulfilled with her laying her hand on my head and blessing me - I have one picture taken by a Goan gentleman, with my little Minolta camera, who was visiting at the same time - shall fwd it to you, truly a MIRACLE and BLESSING... Our daughter, Melissa, was in Rome for her beatific...

  One of many photographs was clicked at just as many parties at Olivia's home in Nairobi! Pole Sana! IN KENYA, Goans were blessed with many superstars. The late Olivia Ignatia Martha Theresa Fernandes (wife of the late Sennen Nazareth) was born into a family of superstars, of which she was the guiding light. Leandro (Nairobi Heroes) and Alex (Nairobi Heroes and Kenya) were both household soccer superstars, the late Alba (Collegians) and Bertha (GI Nairobi, Kenya and other clubs) were both stunning hockey stars, and Marjorie had many gold stars to show for her own skills. Olivia will always be remembered as being among the first to reach for the sky in many ways. This was the family of one of the greatest achievers in colonial East Africa. Goans in East Africa excelled even when the colour bar threatened to stop them in their stride. Olivia allowed nothing to stop her on her mission to succeed. Olivia was the first Goan to reach for the sky as an air hostess. I will always remember...