Alda De Souza, April 1, 1949 - June 15, 1990

by Lui Carvalho Heaton

Alda was my friend.

I first spotted her in 1961 on my first day at School. I had moved from The Sacred Heart School in Mombasa to Dr Ribeiro's and I noticed her and her 'gang' of friends immediately. She was the heart of this little group, she was bubbly - as someone said to me recently - and fun-loving, slightly noisy, with an impish sense of humour and a sunny disposition. Right from the start I wanted to be in this gang. Luckily I was admitted to it!

Alda was one of the most popular girls at school, with friends and admirers in all classes, a fantastic ''all-rounder'' being equally good academically as well as in sport. She was always ready to take on responsibility and was respected by her peers as well as her teachers for this and her other fine qualities. I cannot think of anyone who did not like Alda.

I was soon to discover that she was also very kind and wise beyond her years. She was the only person who I took criticism from, without going off at the deep end or wanting to stick pins in her for even daring to criticise me. Because she knew me so well, she was always right about me. I shared my joys and sorrows with her and I like to think that there were one or two times at school and later, when I was of support to her. And when we left school we stayed in close touch.

In 1966, I went away to Sophia College in Bombay, fell seriously ill, came back to Nairobi to do my A levels and it was great to have Alda's friendship through those trubulent years for me 1966 - 68. We met every Saturday in town and did ''The Walk'' round town as we used to do other Saturdays while we were at school. I then went away to Liverpool University and we stayed in touch and she gradually became my point of contact with ex-classmates and later the Goan community, the keeper of their stories for me. I saw her every long vacation I had at home during the English summers. In 1970 we had both come to similar crossroads in our lives, when we had to decide to let go of people we were hanging on to needlessly. So we went away to Lawfords Hotel in Malindi for 2 weeks where we had an absolute ball fending off compliments and offers of drinks and worse from men - waiters, hotel guests, tour reps ….heady stuff for us then. Needless to say no one was worthy of our attention! And we had many a laugh at their expense while we chain-smoked and got drunk on Campari and Sodas, all the while thinking we were so sophisticated..….

When I married in 1973 Alda was my bridesmaid and did a wonderful job maintaining peace between my Father and I, both of us being at loggerheads over what MY wedding (which of course HE was paying for) should be like. All this a mere week before the wedding!! Alda, always the consummate diplomat, always able to put herself in other people's shoes flitted between my father and me soothing both of us. Quite a feat!

When Justin was born in 1980 Alda became his Godmother and she continued her keen interest in me and my family, always remembering Tim's, my children's and my birthdays.

When she moved to Australia we wrote to each other regularly. She was stoic about her illness, laughing it off treating it so lightly that I could not understand her long stay in hospital. We continued to correspond while she was there and one day her letters just stopped. I wrote to her for nearly a year until one day a letter arrived from a friend of hers to say she had passed away the previous June. She was only 41 years old. And I was devastated and angry at what I perceived to be the injustice of it all.

Alda, was my contact with the Goan community. I could be shamelessly lazy about maintaining connections with old friends because I knew that when I next contacted her I would catch up with everyone. When she passed away this was gone. It is only recently, through DRGS that I have been renewing some of these old ties and with this process has come a connection with Alda herself, which I am very happy about. Because our loved ones never leave us, even though they depart this ''mortal coil''

Alda is with me still through momentos I have of her. Listing them gives me an odd sense of comfort:

Memories of her, recently renewed by talking about her to particular friends.

All her letters which, being a hoarder, I still have.

And a gold chain and camel pendant I got her for her 40th but was meant to give her on our next joint trip to Goa, or my first visit to Australia which did not happen in her lifetime.

And The LP's she so generously used to buy me when she was working and I still a student, keen on possessing the latest music, but short of money.

Photos of us at school which I have shared with the 65 Newsgroup.

And photos of that holiday in Malindi.

Photos of my wedding .

Photos of a joint holiday in Goa with my family.

Oddly enough I can still recite her last address in Australia before she went into hospital: 7/2 Blue St., North Sydney, NSW. I know with my daughter Tessa living in Sydney too, I would have seen so much more of Alda and she would have maintained her connection with my family through Tessa.

And perhaps best of all, a song she taught me, which I think sums up the 'Fun' Alda for me. We sang it the top of our voices and in a strong Indian accent of course! :

Oh to be in England!

English people bathing in the sun to get a tan,

Pouring oil upon themselves,

Just like a frying pan.

Funny thing about it is

They're turning rosy red.

Next day when the peeling starts

They're crying in the bed

Oh to be in England

Now that spring is here

Oh to be in England

Drinking English beer……..

She is still with me and still makes me smile with joy!