bbl schedule

 https://www.espncricinfo.com/series/big-bash-league-2024-25-1443056/match-schedule-fixtures-and-results

A message from Mervyn Maciel from his Hospital Bed

Morning my dear friends. Want to write to each one of you but I am exhausted! Thanks for everything. You have done much for me. Being discharged today after three long weeks. Have to live with pain for the rest of my life!

Home at last, thanks to all of your prayers and kind wishes!

From Mzee Mervyn Maciel to all of you.

Morning Skip. Please don’t think I am or have been ignoring you – quite the opposite hard to spill it out with diminishing gufu (strength).

Wish they could establish what is causing the chronic bleeding in my brain region.

I want to sing again and write so much however gufu na shindwa mimi (lack strength is hampering me.

Please thank everyone for their prayers and for enriching my life.

I was the dunce in the family: My brothers Rev Joseph SJ and the late Wilfrid are my heroes. I owe them so much, also my darling Elsie and each of my loving children, including Conrad who suffered so much during his short life.

Our faith kept us going during those painful days in Marsabit (NFD) when my poor Els had to be flown out to Nairobi under oxygen tents. How much my darling Els must have endured during her very tender years!

My bongo wants to spill so much but lack of gufu na shindwa (hampering) mimi.

I have had a great life, an amazing life, wonderful children, three great grandsons. What more can I ask for. The Lord will shut me up.

My faith has been my anchor in life through the rough and smooth times. A precious gift given to us to cling to always.

Remember I was the dunce of the family, always interested in the girls, song and dance.

Please inform all my rafiki that I am not ignoring them, I love them always. I value their friendship always: Francis Noronha and my late friend Felix Pinto, Mel D’Souza without whom my second book would have seen the light of day.. Tony Fernandes who despite his disability does so much, put us all to shame. Dear Braz, a great write, a man who contributed much to the history of Kenya. I hope I have not left anyone out. .. My apologies if I have.

Can’t forget my cousin Jock Sequeira, great orator, singer and entertainer to whom I owe so much. Please tell his family and mine to save me writing individually (as if they would listen to that).

Sorry to give you kazi minghi. Please also thank Mike Owuor (Editor of the Sunday Nation) who I got to know through you. He has been very helpful and wanted me to write  on the forthcoming commemoration of the SS Tilawa being held in Durban SA on the 23d of this month, the day the ill fated passenger ship sank making orphans  of my two brothers and I. But thanks to my maternal grandfather Sebestain D’Sa of Zanzibar, I can write this today.  We brothers owe everything to him. He was a very pious man who strengthened our faith. He was a living saint and should have been canonised. But there was discrimination even in those days.

Sorry to be rambling but I must tell you that a Japanese Jesuit in Belgaum, whose Mass I often served at, gave me a holy picture to St Joseph with a prayer for a happy death. “ Oh death where is thy sting”.

Will stop momentarily as I might be making you work overtime without pay.

Will be back to trouble you.

Bwana Skip inform Terry Price of my situation.

FERDINAND J.E. RODRIGUES

 

In Memoriam

FERDINAND J.E. RODRIGUES

Born 10th December 1933, and died 11 August 2018

THE EULOGY

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Celia – Ferdie’s youngest daughter.

On behalf of my mum and our family I would like to thank all of you for coming

today to pay your last respects to our dad. And to thank all of you for your

messages of condolence and support since our dad passed away.

As all of you will know, dad was a very organised and well prepared man, so

much so he even got me to the church for my own wedding before the priest!

Well in keeping with that, dad wrote part of his own eulogy for us. Which we

have added onto and will now share with you.

Born 10th December 1933, in Jinja, Uganda, under British Administration,

where our grandfather was serving in the Forestry Department. At the very

tender age of 6 he and his two elder brothers were sent for schooling in India,

whilst their parents had to work in Uganda. Indeed those were during World

War 2 days and there were no adequate schools in Uganda.

Dad finished High School in Poona at the young age of 15, it would have been

earlier but he missed a year because of a bout of typhoid. He was too young to

be employed and so he was sent to the School of Accountancy and ended up

with a Diploma in Commerce. Later he went on to qualify as a Fellow and

Graduate of the Institute of Chartered Secretaries and Administrators. Dad was

successful in Outward Bound Courses, at Loy-toki-tok Kenya, and then at

Eskdale in the Lake District. He was also a Council member of the prestigious UK

Trade Marks, Patents and Designs Federation; a member of the British Institute

of Management and of the Institute of Travel Agents.

Again, at the very young age of 16, he joined his dad and his two elder brothers,

by entering into the British Civil Service as a simple typist and he went on to

pass the Executive Officers examination. Over a career of 21 years dad was

promoted from a Junior Assistant Secretary, to Assistant Secretary, to Senior

Assistant, to Principal Assistant and at the time of his early retirement he was

Under Secretary in the President’s Office. Dad survived the Coup by Idi Amin.

He served under President Obote and President Idi Amin with great respect,

dignity, distinction and trust for dad and with no political involvement. In fact he

was one of only three rewarded by the Uganda Government’s award of the

Uganda Republic Medal.

During his outstanding civil service career, dad carried out many special

assignments and to mention a few - He was fully responsible for the

administration of the 3rd Inter African Public Administration Seminar; for the

13th Commonwealth Parliamentary Association Conference, the Organization

of African Unity Summit, the Commonwealth Medical Conference, and above

all, he was put in overall charge of the arrangements for the Visit by Pope Paul

VI to Uganda and to the whole of Africa in 1969. He always remembered that

President Obote told him that he was in charge of all the visit and that finance

was not his problem. The Vatican honoured dad on the success of the visit in

the form of a knighthood – Knight Commander of the Order of St Gregory the

Great. He was also honoured by the Queen, with the Uganda Independence

Medal.

Dad was Secretary to the Commission for the integration of the Local

Government Judiciary into the Uganda Government Judiciary. He was also

Assistant Returning Officer in the first Uganda General Elections; Secretary to

the Commission of Inquiry into Immigration Officials, and Secretary to the

Committee for the Prerogative of Mercy (I.e. for people sentenced to death).

Dad drafted the Memorandum and Articles of Association and the Rules for:

The Goan Association in the UK, (which still stands), for the Bexley and Bromley

Advocacy; for the British Organization of People of Indian Origin of which he

was the General Secretary. And various others. All of which are still in full force.

Dad was Rover Scout Leader, Secretary of the Outward Bound Trust of Uganda,

and a member of the Outward Bound Trust of East Africa. He was Secretary of

the Uganda Mountain Club, held various positions at the Entebbe Goan

Institute, including President and Vice President. He was also an Entebbe Town

Councillor, Governor of various schools in Uganda and in the UK and Director of

the Lions Club. Dad was President of the UK Goan Association and held other

senior positions on the Board. Together with a few other Entebbians, dad

founded the Uganda Reunion, which is still going strong.

Sports wise - he played football, volley ball, hockey, table tennis and cricket. In

fact in Uganda he was called a Sticky Wicket as he was invariably sent in as the

opening batsman. And he was still there, when all the others had been bowled

out! Dad was the Uganda National Champion in Darts, and voted the Sportsman

of the Year by the Entebbe Goan Institute. He successfully climbed Kilimanjaro

several times, Mt. Kenya. Ruwenzorri, Elgon, Moroto, Ben Nevis and

Snowdonia.

Dad was always proud of us, his children, and our achievements. He was

heartbroken when Desmond passed away. Desmond by dint of his hard work

and dedication rose to be Captain (four stripes), with British Airways. Susan a

Professor, Malcolm in the education Department, and Celia an Architect. Dad

felt that we all had achieved all that he wanted for us.

But now, I believe that dad has gone to a better place to be in the company of

his beloved son Desmond, his brother Leo, his parents, and his in-laws. As his

older brother, uncle Armand said; to die completely a person must not only

forget but be forgotten, and he who is not forgotten is not dead. Dad will not be

forgotten. He will live in our hearts forever. He leaves behind a lasting legacy.

There is hope and inspiration for all of us in the life he lived.

Mavis would now like to share more of our personal thoughts of dad.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mavis – Ferdie’s daughter-in-law.

Ferdie was brother to Armand, Placie and the late Leonido. They were close

knit, enjoying each other’s company, playing pranks on friends and languishing

in the freedom and idyll of their young lives. They enjoyed an intellectual

heritage from both parents, their mother having trained as a medical doctor.

Armand describes Ferdie as being simply, one of a kind.

Ferdie was husband to Blanche for 57 years starting life together in Mombasa,

then Entebbe, Goa and England. Blanche recalls a life which was wonderful in

Entebbe especially, enriched within a community of Goans and other cultures–

friends whom they’ve continued to maintain strong links with in England.

Family life was important to them both not just involving their children but also

their own parents and extended family.

Blanche also remembers their collective love of travel – which they have passed

on to their own children. - fond memories of packing 6 people into their bottle

green VW beetle and driving to Heysham to take the ferry to Belfast for a

summer break at Uncle Rene’s home, or a fantastic family adventure on board

ship with Rover the dog to meet Uncle Savio in Goa.

Ferdie and Blanche also enjoyed time time together on many holidays – to

Scotland for example – travelling along & exploring the entire coast from West

to East.

Ferdie was Dad to Desmond, Susan, Malcolm, and Celia; also father-in-law to

Gerry and myself.

His children describe him as extraordinary, a giant of a man not just because

they were in awe of those achievements we have heard about – but because he

was extraordinary as a father. He invested so much time, energy, & tender love

into his family. He would roll up his sleeves without thinking twice to get

involved – cooking the staple gammon and pineapple when Blanche was away,

or gently declining an invitation because he had a pressing engagement – which

usually meant that he wanted to do the ironing.

To Ferdie – the small successes were just as important as life’s big

achievements. He was as equally proud, for example, of his incredibly fast

touch- typing skills as his many accolades. As a family man, he didn’t just relish

playing sports with the children, or organising boating trips, museum visits,

holidays here and abroad, he also proof-read and typed many of their

dissertations, theses and books. He may not have known the detail they studied

about computing, chemistry, biology or architecture, but he was always able to

give invaluable feedback and advice.

He was practical too, making things from scratch like a baby-changing table for

the grandchildren with handy storage for nappies wipes and changes of clothes

– or the elaborate pitched roof for the fish tank made using just the right twigs

foraged from Bostall Woods.

Besides this, we remember also how he fixed - time and again the Formula 1

pedal car which made speedy journeys through 4 sets of grandchildren.

People were important to Ferdie – he invested time to get to know a person. He

had an easy manner which meant that he could tailor his conversation to make

you feel at home. He would take time to enquire about you and to understand

what was important to you.

Helping others was also in-built into Ferdie. He could not see others in difficulty.

He would spend a great deal of time working through complex legal matters to

assist someone who had asked for his help - or would work tirelessly to iron-out

an injustice – because it gave him pleasure to use his skills in order that life be

made simpler for others and for their roads to be easier.

He was blessed with the most wonderful sense of fun. Ferdie loved to hear a

good story. He appreciated the good planning construction delivery and timing

of a story. He himself was a master at this. He was asked frequently to raise

toasts at weddings and to give speeches at special events and celebrations. He

had a life packed with experiences and he would use these to pepper

conversations and make them come alive, holding us in thrall for long periods

and always finishing with a bright sparkly laugh. Like the story of how a flat tyre,

had when he was out with Uncle Placie in Uganda was solved by stuffing it

effectively with grass until they reached a real tyre repair shop. We will

continue to repeat those wonderful stories and pass them on. It will give us

such pleasure to do so.

We cannot imagine that this giant is stilled, but we reluctantly let him go with

the promise of meeting again.

This giant has earned his rest.

I will finish with powerful words from his daughter Susan which sum up the

essence of a beloved father:

“An extraordinary man raised me. He believed in me. He inspired me, although I

never really told him. I hope he understood how much he’s done for me. And I

miss him.”

For those who perhaps don’t know me, I’m Jake, a grandchild of Ferdie’s and I

will be sharing some memories of our grandad on behalf of the grandchildren.

Wise, dependable and witty, Ferdie Rodrigues was our grandad.

I first met grandad almost 18 years ago on 29 November 2000, the day I was

born, but my earliest memory of grandad begins in the living room. If grandad

wasn’t taking me cycling round the block or making paper aeroplanes with me,

he would get the electric train set out and we would lay it down around the

front room, using video tapes to make tunnels and bridges. Now of course the

train did just go around and around the circuit, and I’m sure eventually it was us

driving him round the bend rather than the train, but grandad always seemed

invested in our interests, as big or small as they were.

I’m sure most kids are fascinated with dinosaurs at a young age or even 10

years later, and Liam and I were no different. I can distinctly remember trying to

teach grandad the names of the toy dinosaurs that I had and he more often

than not, would deliberately mispronounce their names for our enjoyment, only

for us to sternly correct him of course! Liam’s memories of grandad stem from

the grandad’s cheekier nature. He often liked to make fun of us in Konkani or

Swahili, and even to this day we’d have no idea of what he was saying, but there

was always that faint grin, especially after he told us what the words meant but

we always knew it was going to be cheeky. Grandad would always tell us stories

of his younger days, like when he was chased by a rhino in Africa or his

numerous Kilimanjaro climbs, and we’d have to just check with grandma if he

was telling the truth – most of the time he was! When we were younger and

had started to lose our teeth, grandad would always tell Emily and I that the gap

in our teeth likened us to members of the Acholi tribe, who he’d met on many

an occasion, and I’m sure we’ll be saying that for years to come.

As with many things, when we would play cards on a Saturday evening, grandad

would typically say that he didn’t want to play – he was too tired, the games

went on for too long or he was just bored. Slowly but surely grandad would

make his way to the table without fail just to “check no one was cheating” and

eventually he would make his way into the game. When we were younger,

grandad would sit with us and coach us to become good at rummy, showing us

the best move to play in each situation. Liam and I remember grandad for being

an excellent card player, who as all sportsman do, would make excuses when he

didn’t win and would always show off his jokers in rummy – a trait we’ve

definitely inherited. Grandad was the first to teach me to play chess and after I

managed to beat him a few times, we’d switch to draughts or carrom and to

this day I don’t believe I’ve ever beaten him at either!

Emily was one of the lucky few allowed to give grandad Indian head massages

and he’d always ask her how much he should pay her, knowing at such a young

age, Em would be satisfied with even the smallest price. Em and I would help

grandad collect apples from the big apple tree in the back garden so he could

make apple pickle. Em was taught the entire process and grandad let her taste

the apples from different jars, so she would be able to understand and

appreciate the different flavours. I can distinctly remember Emily trying to make

her own pickle under grandad’s supervision – the apple doesn’t fall far from the

tree! As my mum previously mentioned, grandad devoted love and attention to

our pedal kart and would call us Schumacher or Hamilton. He would tell us of

how Patrick and Jessica were fast drivers and that we should try and be faster

and of course we tried and tried with only a few accidents here and there. And

as a result, grandad would always fix the kart ready for another grand prix in the

garden.

My fondest memory of grandad is perhaps one of my most recent. Not the days

of playing cricket in the back garden, neither when he would laugh at Liam and I

about our football teams, but when I told grandad that I had become Head Boy

at Bexley Grammar. Of course, I was proud of my hard work, but in some ways,

it seems grandad was more impressed. Without fail, both grandad and grandma

would ask me about my new responsibility and meeting with the headteacher,

but it wasn’t until Speech Day that I realised that my hard work had made

grandad very happy indeed and that is a moment I will savour for the rest of my

life.

Naturally, it’s a fact that without grandad we would not be here today and he

lives on in each of us as grandchildren: in Patrick, grandad’s determination,

Jessica, his dependability, Emily, his eloquence, Liam, his sporting prowess, in

Amaaya, his considerate nature, in Joshua, of course his cheekiness and I’d like

to think I’ve got grandad’s “sense of humour”. We will all miss grandad, but we

have faith that his legacy will be succeeded by us, by our parents, and by his

numerous friends and family.

Since grandad was an avid Arsenal fan, everyone has their faults, I feel that it’s

only right to end on a quote from Arsène Wenger, former Arsenal manager,

when he left the club this year:

“Thank you for the memories. My love and support for ever”

From an earlier piece by his daughter Susan Rodrigues:

Dad, a sossegado, sat in a nest of vipers. Amin, a king cobra, gave the impression that he could hypnotise his prey and his bite often resulted in death. Thankfully, Dad was born with natural instincts. Something that he would need, sitting in the company of Amin, surrounded by people with shallow smiles and guarded eyes. The post-coup cabinet members were silently unravelling a maverick’s monologue and like a ghost reached visceral tacit advice. Flatter frequently. Conceal concern. Accept apartheid.

Dad encountered apartheid before. Entebbe, his hometown, had exclusive clubs: Only Europeans. Only Asians. Only Africans. But the Goan club in Entebbe welcomed all. Neutral. Goa was part of the Portuguese Empire for 500 years and like Portugal was neutral in the two World Wars. Ships took refuge in Murmagoa harbour, until Britain found a way to force Germany to scupper their own ships in Murmagoa. It violated Portuguese neutrality but still Portugal remained neutral. Amin’s coup violated democracy. Dad remained in position. The new government, with new African faces, displayed the new pecking order. New apartheid hues, tribes.

Amin was Kakwa/Lugbara and Apollo Milton Obote’s father was a chief of the Lango ethnic group. Others in the pre-coup government disappeared in a veil of family’s screams. No-one appeared at our home to lead Dad away. Perhaps Amin kept Dad in his position because he knew dad was impartial, astute and experienced: Dad managed Pope Paul VI’s first visit to Africa and he handled the encounters of warring Countries’ Presidents for that event, without any of them starting an Africa war.

Amin may have thought that dad would handle everything without fuss despite the aftermath of a coup. But I often wonder how dad dealt with this change in tribal hierarchy.  A public meeting supposed to signal a peaceful transition from Obote’s to Amin’s government. But opponents vanished. A sossegado had courage to sit in a viper’s nest.

Pope Paul VI’s first visit to Africa

 “You can’t run a church on Hail Marys” said Archbishop Marcinkus, the papal banker, the second most powerful man in the Catholic Church. He allegedly had Mafia connections, consistently denied knowledge of any wrongdoing and he was never arrested. But my dad talked about him with cordiality, despite the fact that the Archbishop told the press, “It’s easier to organise a trip to the moon than a trip for a Pope to Africa!” Unfortunately for him, on 19^th March 1969, Pope Paul VI during a mass at St Peters Basilica announced his decision to visit Uganda later that year. The first visit to Africa by a Pope.

In June, the Uganda Parliament passed a budget, which included estimates for the papal visit. President Obote told dad to arrange the visit and “money wasn’t an issue”. He had one month to prepare for a papal visit to Uganda for all in Africa. Where to start? Dad probably started to recite the Rosary. But dad was a very organized man. So much so he even got my sister, Celia to the church for her wedding before the priest. We depended on dad. Strangers depended on dad. He was thoughtful, meticulous and tactful. A methodical man with good people skills.

So dad and the Archbishop with their organising abilities, including clockwork and precision ensured that an East African Airways plane, escorted by four jet fighters, arrived at Entebbe Airport in the afternoon on July 31^st 1969. The Archbishop was on the plane. He brought the Pope to Africa and what happens next is down to dad’s arrangements. Several minutes later the Pope appeared at the plane’s door. He smiled. People yelled. He waved. Many cried. The Pope came down the steps, wearing a white cassock, a red cape and a white cap. People danced and drummed, wearing skimpy, colourful, national dress. The crowd roared.

Dad was at the airport. He was an oasis of silence in the ululating of the crowd. In dad’s plan, the relevant people would be at the right position at the correct time and they would tow the same line: Which was a difficult thing to do in Africa. Dad’s plan unfurled. He watched with anticipation as Obote and his wife welcomed the Pope on the tarmac. Excitement followed by tension. A combustible melting pot. Perhaps dad started a Novena to ‘Our Lady of Perpetual Help’ when Obote introduced President Nyerere of Tanzania; President Kaunda of Zambia; President Mobutu Sese Seko, the military dictator and President of Congo (now Zaire); President Kayibanda, the first president of Rwanda; General Yakubu Gowon of Nigeria and General Emeka Ojukwu, a rebel leader of the State of Biafra in Nigeria. Political instability masked with sociability.

We were at our grandparent’s home watching the Pope’s arrival on a black-white TV. We were rapt until my grandmother told my brother to stop watching our dad and watch the Pope! Desmond, Malcolm and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Dad was on the TV! We didn’t know the Pope and in any case we had not seen our dad for days. So we ignored our grandmother. We kept watching our dad and our grandmother carried on watching the Pope.

The Pope, in an open car, flanked by bishops and escorted by policemen, went through a tunnel of humanity, lined with Uganda and Vatican flags. Groups danced, throngs waved palm-leaves, parties ululated and thousands clapped. All peaceful. Dad’s plans were about to crumble when the motorcade took two hours to reach the venue for the Pope’s first task because of the size of the crowd. But we forgot that dad almost certainly anticipated this possibility. The Pope’s scheduled continued.

The Pope closed the episcopal conference. In the evening he went to a State dinner at Nakasero State Lodge and retired to the Papal Nuncio seat at Nsambya. The next day, he celebrated a mass at Kololo Airstrip, went to Parliament, Mulago Hospital, Nsambya Parish, then commissioned the construction of a church in Kisenyi, went to Lubaga to open a hospital, then he returned to the Papal ambassador’s residence where he had a series of meetings with diplomats, Church leaders and Muslim representatives. The next day, he went to Namugongo to honour the Uganda Martyrs and after the mass he went to Rubaga.

On the last day of the visit, Archbishop Poggi and Marcinkus visited dad at Apolo Hotel (now Sheraton Kampala Hotel). Dad had stayed in Kampala at the hotel for the papal visit. The bishops told him that the Pope wanted to meet his family. So Dad phoned mum, mum got us dressed in smart clothes and a government car with entourage arrived. We were chauffeured for 22 miles through several police patrols and roadblocks. When we arrived Celia was asleep. In a private audience we met the Pope and he blessed us, gave each of us a medallion, gave mum a rosary and dad was knighted.

Obviously, if you have my dad you can run a visit on Hail Marys. 

  Audry Abraham recollection of the Pope’s visit

We lived in Kakira  near Jinja.  The day of the Pope’s visit, mum said we left at 4-5am in the morning. Dad drove with all of us in the car except my older brother Canute who went there as a cadet. We took sandwiches, drinks, blankets as it got very cold early hours of the day. Thousands of people were there.  Mum remembers being close to the altar and says when all the bishops came, they blocked her view with their mitres on. That evening we stayed at Bella’s Vaz’s house who lived in Kampala. My sister, Noela remembers that we all slept on the floor as that’s what people did in those days. The next day we went to the blessing of the Martyrs. Mum said she knew Idi Amin when he lived in Jinja as a soldier- before he became the president. He used to box and mum and dad used to go and watch his boxing matches!!