Contact Newsletter

The Alumni desk is pleased to present the 2nd edition of CONTACT, a newsletter for and about the DRGS Alumni. We take this opportunity to thank all the many ex-students who took time from their busy schedules to complete our survey and provide us with input, enabling us to forge ahead. It is, without doubt, that our beloved DRGS has fostered bonds that span, not only oceans and continents, but also the passage of time, as you will see in this edition of CONTACT.

We once again wish to reiterate that besides being a tool of social communication, this newsletter is also aimed at providing an outreach to those of our alumni who might be in need of solace, or a helping hand. Please let us know, in confidence of course, of any of our fellow alumni who might benefit from such an outreach.

Furthermore, in an effort to build a comprehensive alumni email address database we ask for your support in getting all DRGS alumni registered, and thus assist us in growing our Alumni.

We now would like to draw your attention to the plans already underway by the London, U.K. chapter of the DRGS Alumni where the next Memorial Mass and Reunion is to be held. It promises to be a gala event and we urge as many worldwide ex-students as possible to support this event.

On the last page of the Newsletter you will find links to our survey/comments form which we urge you all to take a moment to complete. We are open to all suggestions and would ask as many of you as are interested, to please send in article submissions. We plan to focus the next edition of Contact towards the UK Reunion and would especially like to hear from alumni residing in the UK.  All relevant topics are welcome including articles on unusual and/or inspirational hobbies which any of you might be involved in. The closing date for article submission for the next CONTACT – UK Reunion Issue is September 15, 2014. For this issue we are looking for alumni with businesses or class groups to sponsor half page ads. All proceeds will go towards the 2014 UK Memorial & Reunion effort. Details will be posted on our web site. Together we can produce an awesome CONTACT, so please send in your submissions.

In closing, we hope you will enjoy this 2nd edition, the theme of which is again Nostalgia – the journey of our alumni spanning the passage of time. We have health and gardening matters, and we end with a message of Easter, apropos to the season of the year. 

Enjoy....

Dr. A.C.L de Sousa combined medical brilliance and foresight with statesmanship and a profound sense of responsibility to the land he lived in. A pioneer journalist, a great politician, an active social worker, an accomplished leader of many facets, a devoted husband, loving father and wonderful friend he was. Born on May 10, 1883, in Carmona, Goa, he left the village, disillusioned with village jealousies and petty politics.  In Bombay he studied medicine at J.J. College of Medicine.  On arriving in Kenya in 1915, he was appointed Government Medical Officer in Mombasa. Thus commenced an epoch so eventful that it ended only with his death on July 17, 1958. In 1919 he married the charming and gracious Dr. Mary Matilda Pereira of Mazagon, Bombay, whom he met while at medical college. He entered private practice with his wife and lived at his beautiful home in Parklands with their children, Theo de Sousa, Dr. Peter de Sousa and Aura de Sousa Rodrigues.  

Writing was in his blood. His forceful notes were masterly political writings loaded with sound facts, fearless arguments and logical criticism. No subject did his prolific pen not adorn. He was gifted with a flair for eloquence which could sway a mob or charm the most cultured audience. He expressed his frank and studied opinion on every subject affecting his community. He wrote freely for the ‘Democrat’, later for ‘Fairplay’ a weekly he helped to found, then for the ‘Colonial Times’ and later for the ‘Goan Voice’, of which he was founder and editor. A worthy tribute to him would be to compile all his literary works in one single volume – newspaper articles, editorials, funeral orations, messages of sympathy and appreciation, speeches at condolence meetings and brochures, to capture the spirit of the man and extent of his contribution the Goan and Indian community in Kenya.

Whatever he touched in public life, he adorned. As a public worker he rose in the eyes of all communities of Kenya. His opponents said he was overambitious. If ambitious he was, his ambition drove him to work for his people. His work was so much behind the scenes that people had no real knowledge of the extent to which he served the community. His understanding and love of the necessity of education is his greatest work. He is one of the few Goans who never swerved from the path of rectitude for personal gains – if so, he would have been a millionaire. Brutally outspoken and serious looking, the lion was not as fierce as he was painted. Within him was a heart of gold and wells of kindness and compassion.

A great Goan, one of the first to step on the shores of East Africa, he will be remembered with 5gratitude for his service and for the Indian Maternity Hospital, built as a result of his efforts, the Goan Overseas Association of which he was founder and President, the Desai Memorial Library, the East African Goan Conference. the Goan Housing Scheme, the Indian Association, and the Indian Medical & Dental Association. He was a member of the Legislative Council from 1934 to 1938 and of the Nairobi Municipal Council for many years. Described as the greatest protagonist of Goan Education in East Africa, in fact, the architect of Goan history in East Africa, if not for his fighting spirit and dynamic personality, the Goan School in Nairobi or for that matter any Goan school in Kenya would not have seen the light of day. With his tenacity and whole-hearted support of the Goan community he achieved the goal of separate schools for Goans. This whole-hearted support, except for the sullen rancor of a few discordant voices, he enjoyed to the end of his days. Death restored him to his rightful place among the eminent Goans for his unsullied probity, undisputed services and splendid name.

I was only four when grandpa passed away. All I know of him is from what mother shared with us, her five children, as we grew up, from letters from my uncle, Peter de Sousa and his wife Sofia and from numerous friends of the family from Nairobi. Mother was wheel chair bound for 22 years till she passed away on June 17, 2013 but in all those years, each day as she looked at the photographs of her parents on the mantelpiece and we lit a candle and prayed, she would reach out, touch the picture frames, lovingly smile and say, “my papa, my mother” testimony to wonderful persons that they were, Dr. A.C. L de Sousa and Dr. Mary de Sousa.

Dr. Alan de Sousa Rodrigues, eldest grandson of Dr. A. C. L. de Sousa, now living in Goa, has spent 36 years in the field of education as a teacher and principal. He attributes his passion for education, writing and his fiery temper when fighting injustices and depravity in society today, to his maternal grandfather.

Back to school memories - Fr. Cremins would come to teach us Catechism once a week. In later years, he christened my two youngest children. I loved playing cricket in school, with the boys and Lucy Patricio, who became my lifelong friend. Once I smashed a window whilst batting and Papa had to pay!  Lucy Patricio, Anthony Alvares, Netty Joanes, Bridget & Addy D’Souza , Ida Noronha, Cajie Noronha are names that come to mind - all school friends- some of whom I am still in touch with today – Lucy, Bridget and Anthony in particular as they too live in London, Addy in Canada & my dear friend Netty who sadly passed away in Canada. I dearly miss her love of life and her laughter.

I left school in 1943 after Senior Cambridge exams - passed English, Science & Geography, but failed Geometry. Papa was not happy! but my Mama told him that Geometry was not really going to help me achieve much! Master Lobo presented me with a book “Inorganic Chemistry” for having passed Science.  This book in later years, I passed on to my eldest son Larry.

All my friends had left school too 1943 and we joined the Goan School ex -Students Association - Franklin D’Souza, John Mascarenhas & Gladys D’Souza were active committee members, organising picnics, Badminton, Hockey and dances - happy days of our youth. Through this ex-students Association I met my Jerry (not an ex-student) at a Badminton game on an outside court at The Portuguese Hotel 7where Jerry was staying. Jerry 13 years my senior, remembered, that he first saw me when I was still at school: Lucy and I were bouncing a ball from the school bus window when the bus stopped – Jerry was standing near Bombay Bazaar and he caught the ball and gave it to the teacher Lydia Almeida, who made Lucy & I write 500 lines “I must not play with the ball on the bus”! Lucy nicknamed Jerry “chepekar” as he was wearing a hat and both remembered the ball incident when he next met us at the Badminton game. Badminton champ FR Pereira, also played against us that day – he was to become in later years, my son Larry’s godfather. Jerry & I married in 1947- the love of my life and whom I lost aged 90 in 2005 – so deeply missed, with an ache that won’t go away.

My school days, good, bad, naughty but always remembered with love - the education, the school, my teachers - the many friends made, the many friends now departed over the years. With Lucy, Bridget and Anthony we often reminisce - with my children, I tell of experiences at school and my education - with my grand-children I say “ yes Granny was a schoolgirl once in a wonderful school in a special place called Nairobi.”

My mum’s memoirs go on to recall happy, sad and idyllic days in Nairobi and then onto our life in England. Her dear school pals remained a constant in her life and held steadfast to the grave. Despite her blissful days there, my siblings and 1 went to Catholic Parochial School (CPS) initially - my brothers continued at St Teresa’s while I went to Loreto Convent Valley Road/Msongari. When I showed Mum the DRGS website, created by Merwin D’Souza – a visionary extraordinaire - my mum drifted into nostalgia and reeled off the names of most of her peers, older teachers and founder members etc. from the old black and white photos.

School days are a precious memory among our souvenirs - while I loved my convent education at CPS/ Loreto, I do ponder only occasionally, on what it would have been like to have the co-ed experience in my senior school years. What I do recognise and acknowledge is the undeniable pride a DRGS ex-student must have in firstly being “Goan” and then a product of a school, founded, built and predominantly staffed by Goans.

Mafie works in the academic field as an Examinations Officer. She was the PR Director for the Goan Association UK and produced their Ruby Anniversary brochure in 2006. An avid reader, she also enjoys scribbling light hearted articles. She says that cryptic crosswords and playing Badminton keeps her grey matter ticking over nicely and “ dem bones dem bones” supple! She is married to Steve Desa (ex-Kisumu) and they have a son Clifton, married to Eilish Quinn.

It's important that I begin my story with a “disclaimer” (a) because I am at the “chronologically gifted” stage of my life (b: 1933 d: undecided as yet!), and (b) because I am afflicted with MRD, (Memory Retention Deficit). My dear wife might even suggest that I also suffer from SAD, (Specific Auricular Dysfunction), a condition peculiar to aging husbands, (although it's no sin being selective about your hearing).

I begin with the disclaimer because while the events that I describe are factual and clear, the exact dates may be off a smidgen, or more!! If I have inadvertently misrepresented any person in my narrative, I apologize without reservation. I apologize also, if I have misspelled any names, I never was very good at spelling. The question marks in parenthesis denote a lapse in memory of first or last name.

My time at DRGS began in 1939. I actually attended kindergarten at Holy Family School in 1938 which at that time was located beside the Holy Family Church, (now the Cathedral) with three of my older siblings. I was baptized in the Church on December 17th, 1933. My Godfather was Francis Lobo, and my Godmother was Henrietta D'Sa. I still have my baptismal certificate to prove it! (in case there are any questions!)

Although I lost touch with Henrietta a very long time ago, I have been in touch in recent times with Francis, and Johnny, and Clara at some of the Moira functions that my wife Barbara and I attended in Mississauga, Ontario. My father was a good friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lobo Sr. many years ago which is one of my sweeter memories.

I have titled my narrative: “Reflections a.k.a. Thanks for the Memories ...a tribute to:” because as I went along in life, I would, from time to time, reflect on my time at DRGS. I remembered well the people who touched my life. I came to realize that there were many sweet memories that I have learned to savour. As I aged I came to cherish those that contributed to the positives in my life. They added much in many little ways to my development as an individual.

I REMEMBER PRINCIPALS:

The first Principal of DRGS was a Ms. Laval (I believe she was of French origin). I don't remember much accept that I recall her treating me very kindly. The second Principal, to the best of my recollection, was a Mr. Desai. It seemed that he was only around for two or perhaps three years.  Then Mr De Mello arrived ; followed by Mr. Carvalho who stayed for a number of years, (1944/'45 until approx. 1949). After him I think it was Mr. Cardozo.  And, in the year that I completed my Sr. Cambridge (as they called it then, 1950) it was Mr. DeSousa (?).  I of course stand to be corrected.

I REMEMBER CLASSMATES AND FRIENDS:

From my earliest days, I remember the “big boys” and “big girls” as we called them, only because they were older (and perhaps bigger?). Some in my memory:

1.  Johnny Lobo, of course, one of the best all round athletes DGRS had produced in my view, and in my time. I say athlete because he played and excelled in all sports, including track and field, one of the best at football, great all round at cricket, at hockey, and if my memory serves me right, at badminton as well.

2.  Roberto Santiago and his brother Xavier were two of the best football players out of DRGS in my time.

3.  Anthony Alvarez, a virtuoso violinist, and as I understand, later played with the London Symphony. He should have been recognized as a great one much sooner.

4.  Joseph Lobo, Johnny's older brother, who played in goal for the Moira “B” Team when we won the football seven aside Inter Village cup in 1949. I had the privilege of playing right wing on that team, and we celebrated our win at the Goan Gymkhana. GO MOIRA GO!! The best!!

5.  I remember Mirabeu Da Gama Rose, his brother Renaud, and sister Sylvia. Although ahead of me in school, Mirabeu was a keen debater. He no doubt did well as a lawyer in Nairobi in later years.

6.  Ignatius, (Joe) Baretto who later went on to study Medicine in England. We chummed around a lot there. After completing his studies, he, much later emigrated to Canada and eventually settled somewhere in Saskatchewan. I had the pleasure of meeting him once again in the late nineties.

7.  Among my school mates: Olympio (John) Carvalho, my classmate, Class of '50, and one of my best friends in school. Good footballer and hockey player, later as I understand, a Nairobi Tennis Champion. I was very grateful to have been able to renew that friendship in Canada before he passed away.

8.  Aloysius Mendonza even then a great hockey player, who I understand played and captained the Kenya hockey Team in several Olympics. He was also a good all round cricketer. I played both sports with him on the school team.

9.  Reggie Monteiro, was also a great hockey player, great stick handler, as I understand it, he too played for Kenya. In my time he captained the school cricket Team, and was a good all round cricketer as well, I played both sports with him on the school Team, as well as his brother Ernest.

10.  I remember Stanley Noronha, another excellent hockey player with whom I had the pleasure of playing on the school team as well.

11.  Auggie Alvarez, my classmate, and good friend. He was gifted, and excelled at Chemistry and Physics. And, while we never studied Astronomy at school, I remember very clearly that Auggie once responded to an invitation (1947/'48) in the East African Standard for all Nairobi students to present 10a paper on why Eclipses of the Sun and Moon did not occur more frequently. His reply won the contest over all other students including from the Prince of Wales and King George V schools. I remember thinking that he had a very inquiring mind, and would have made an excellent Science teacher under different circumstances. He visited Toronto in the late nineties. Much to my regret I never met him as I happened to be visiting in Winnipeg at the time. He died in England sometime later.

12.  Pamela (nee Braganza) Gracias, with whom I still correspond twice a year and Kathleen (nee DeSousa) Andris with whom I corresponded until her death a few years ago. Both of them classmates, Class of '50. Pamela won every prize, every year in every subject starting in Std. 1 to the end of our Schooling. Kathleen was the youngest of us, and together with Pamela had both just turned sixteen in 1950. Olympio was seventeen, and I was about to turn seventeen.

So many others whom I still remember, where to stop? There are many more individuals I remember well, but space doesn't permit me to mention.

I REMEMBER TEACHERS:

But I don’t want to forget the teachers who were responsible for my formation and my academic successes then as in later years, while studying Civil Engineering in England. Just prior to the age of twelve/thirteen I had an epiphany moment, I realized that “goofing off” wasn't going to get me anywhere. Mr. Barros, whom I shall never forget and to whom I shall forever be indebted, “woke me up” in Standard six (as it was called then). I owe him a great deal. Once in a lifetime one meets an individual who so inspires one, that the moment becomes a “life changer”. Mr. Barros was that person for me.

Then there was Sandy Tavares, my Math Tutor, who made me understand math: algebra, geometry, and, including trig, and eased my brain into calculus – a subject I took to in my later studies in Engineering. I am indebted to him.

Anthony DeSousa, my tutor in English Literature and English, a good man and teacher. He took a great interest and coached us in Hockey, and Track. In 1949 he entered four of us in a Goan Institute relay race ; four young boys not quite sixteen against some of the strongest runners. There was Anthony Pereira, one of the best runners that DRGS had produced, me (the weakest!), Manuel?? and another whose name slips my mind. Anthony kept pace with the “big boys”, Manuel our second leg lost some distance, I lost more, and so did our anchor. We ended up fourth as a team, but Anthony DeSousa wasn't entirely disappointed. He was an inspiration.

Isadore DeMelo, another great teacher ; a gentle, and I would add, a shy man, with a talent for teaching. I seem to remember him teaching us French in our last year, and he did very well. Since it was my mother tongue, I did well anyway.

Then there was John Lobo, our Science teacher. John was an inspiring teacher, and was good and passionate about his subject.

So many memories, and so little time to say: “Thank you” to those who were dedicated teachers, and those who were classmates, and are remembered as good friends, “straight shooters”, with whom I 11had the privilege, and a lot of fun, playing with, and competing against in school.

For all of us, our Goan roots brought us together at DRGS. I owe mine to my parents. My wonderful mother was Lucile Dias (nee Vidot) born of French heritage in Mahe, on the island of Seychelles. She met and married my father in Kisumu in 1919. Upon separation in 1938, the children all went to live with Mother, and became tri-lingual. French at home, English at school and Swahili much of the time, a language that I’ve regrettably forgotten. My father, Dr. Edward Dias, was born in Moira, Goa in 1887. He completed his schooling in India, and studied medicine in Edinburgh and Glasgow where he obtained his F.R.C.P. & S and L.R.C.P... He did his Residency at the Rotunda in Dublin where he qualified as an Obstetrician and Gynaecologist. On completion of his studies in 1916 he received a Colonial appointment as Medical Officer of Kenya. He was stationed in Kismayou which was, as I understand it, a part of.

Kenya at that time. My father died in Nairobi in 1962, and is buried in Langata Cemetery. His father, my grandfather, was also born in Moira, Goa. Daniel Dias, completed his studies as a Chemist in India and at some point went to Zanzibar in 1893/'94 where he opened his Chemist shop with a partner, and called it: Edward St. Rose. Daniel moved the shop to Mombasa in 1896, the first in all of Kenya, and at some point opened one in Nairobi as well. This one was closed soon after his death. He died while on a visit to Poona in 1917, and is buried there. Edward St. Rose was inherited, and run by my step uncles, Anicet and Charles Dias.

I know that we shall all meet again and thank you and regrets won't be necessary in the hereafter. I leave you with this :

Somewhere, under a bluer sky,

In a higher realm than where eagles fly,

In a land of beauty beyond our knowing,

With trees and flowers and water flowing,

And mountains of unearthly grace,

Our loving Lord has made a place,

..........And, one day, through an open door,

We find that glorious evermore.

Adieu, till we meet again!

Tony Dias, Class of `50. On completion of “A” levels, he travelled to England where he graduated in Civil & Structural Engineering in 1955. He immigrated to Canada in 1957. He lives in Brantford, Ontario with his family.

Gone were the days when I could spend a half hour with a patient. I started to hate my daily grind, wherein I gave a patient a cursory greeting, then turned to my desktop computer to hammer away at the keyboard, all the while pretending to give my patients my undivided attention. The medical examination would be perfunctory at best, and typing out the prescriptions would take the rest of the 15 minutes visit, after which I would breeze out of the room to see my next patient. I made a decent income, but I was also spending over 60 hours a week doing it, to the detriment of my family life and pursuit of other interests.

Our two children were almost through college, and my wife Sue, who is considerably younger than I am, still enjoyed her work as a registered nurse, assisting in special Gastroenterology procedures at a local clinic. We had both lived fairly frugally, in order to put together a decent sized nest egg. We had sought the advice of a financial advisor over the years, and had invested our savings in supposedly safe retirement mutual funds, within our 401k plans. For those not familiar with the concept, the 401k and similar plans are what the Internal Revenue Service defines as a savings plan in which employees of small and large corporations including universities, can invest a portion of pre-tax income, and the employer chips in an additional percentage to encourage saving money for retirement. Compound interest is supposed to result in a doubling of the money at then prevailing interest rates, within 20 years. The IRS collects its “pound of flesh” when the money is withdrawn after retirement, when a workerʼs yearly taxable income is less, rendering the IRSʼs take somewhat less than the proverbial pound. In addition to maximizing contributions to our 401k plan, we were able to save even more in separate conservative mutual funds, so 20 years ago, I was confident that our nest egg would reach ostrich like proportions, over time.

Then came the stock market crash of 2008. Our financial adviser informed us that we had lost roughly one third of our savings. Regrettably, I had paid scant interest to my portfolio, leaving it to the investment adviser to oversee and advise me. I have never had any interest in playing the stock market, or investing in individual companies,believing this to be a glorified form of gambling against professional investment sharks who are much better informed, and often have the additional advantage of insider information. The projected growth of our nest egg was likely to be minuscule over the next several years, thanks to low interest rates, and inflation was expected to eat away at the egg, depleting it much faster than anticipated. In short, the expectation was that the ostrich nest egg would rapidly shrink to chicken size.

The message from the investment adviser was clear; I would have to postpone my retirement for a few more years, and save a lot more bucks. I was supposed to plan to live for about 20 years after retirement, at age 65. My wife Sue would probably outlive me by about 15 years. We were to plan for retirement in two phases; one for both of us for about 20 years, followed by a second phase of about 15 years, for Sue. That added up to about 30 plus years of living expenses, which would barely taper down after the first 20 years, even with smaller living quarters, for one person living alone.

I had already given notice to my employer, the University of Rochester, that I would be leaving in June of 2013, but they were anxious to retain my services in some form, because of the scarcity of physicians in my field. I still enjoyed teaching, and  doing a limited amount of out-patient clinic care,and fortunately they offered me a fairly well compensated part time position, for as long as I wanted it, working 30 hours a week, which specifically allowed for more face to face patient time. I was also provided with help from an experienced Physicianʼs Assistant, who would take care of most of my hated paperwork, in addition to other direct patient care functions.

Thus began my partial retirement. I was happy to continue my doctor patient relationship with patients, many of whom have been with me for more that 20 years, and were delighted that I would be staying on. That unsettling feeling of financial uncertainty, from knowing that a pay check would no longer be forthcoming suddenly disappeared. The nest egg would be growing, not shrinking.

My wife was happy that I would still be busy enough not to pace restlessly around the house, resisting the impulse to interfere with or micromanage her activities. She plans to continue to work at least until the age of 62, when she becomes eligible for her social security payments. At 67, she could claim a higher payment based on my contributions, if I were to predecease her.

My golf buddies are happy because I will be available for more outings. The woodchucks and geese that frequent the fairway surroundings are probably unhappy at the prospect of being clobbered more frequently, by my errant golf shots. I now read a lot more that just medical journals.I exercise more frequently, and have taken an interest in Cosmology. We now take time to nuture the friendships we have made over the years, and have started to travel more. Full retirement for me may not come until I am 70 years old, but I expect that by then, I will have had a suitable period of transition with less work, and more play.

Am I optimistic about the future? The answer is yes. I am very thankful for all I have. I am well aware that I am very fortunate to be in the position I am in. Many people have worked a lot harder and longer, and have little or no savings. I do not begrudge the fact that I pay higher social security and Medicare taxes based on my higher income. However, I would feel cheated if I were to be asked to forgo a portion of my Social Security income after full retirement, based on means testing. Our Social Security system is going to be insolvent within less that 50 years, if nothing is done to fix it.  However, I am convinced that any such fix is likely to take more from those who have some means, to provide for those who have none. I can grudgingly accept that there will always be poor people who never had a decent chance at earning a living and will need help. It just irks me that some of those who have means, and a decent income, splurge it on material goods and entertainment, often go into debt, with no thought of saving for the future, and then expect to be taken care of by taxpayers.

Our mentors at home, as well as our teachers at the DRGS taught us the wisdom of working hard and saving for a rainy day. I am so glad to see that so many of us have been able to thrive, many in positions of some wealth and leadership, in so many parts of the world. Many of my class of ʼ64 mates have retired, and yet have remained active in their communities. I envy them a little, and soon hope to join their number. Happiness is difficult to define, but I am convinced that wealth does not guarantee it.

Olavio is currently an Internal Medicine specialist with the Strong Medical Group, and also an a Assistant Professor in Clinical Medicine at the University of Rochester. After finishing his 'A' levels at Strathmore College in Nairobi. Olavio graduated from the University of Navarra, Pamplona, Spain, where he received his MD.PhD degree. He worked in Nigeria for four years, then moved to Rochester, New York to join his family and complete his Residency in Internal Medicine at St Mary's Hospital, where he later served as Chairman of the Dept of Ambulatory Services. He is married to Sue and has two children.

A visit to Lake Naivasha renewed memories of the beautiful and awe-inspiring scenery of the Rift Valley and the abundance of wildlife. Floriculture industries encircle the lake, yet well-managed beautiful secure picnic and short-stay accommodation is easily accessible. During a meal of succulent grilled steaks, sausages from Limuru and lake fresh Tilapia, Maura De Souza gave me a history lesson on Mombasa. Her grand father (A.C De Souza) established the first Goan run bar (1908) in Mombasa, which is still thriving and managed by the family today.

I couldn’t get to the bar, but a lazy day at the Mombasa Serena Hotel followed by a trip to the Goan Institute sufficed. The cuisine at the GI, washed down with a few Tusker’s, was incredible. The charm of the old town remains and the markets still sell Victorias, Pepetas and Halva in abundance.

From Mombasa onwards to Unguja and Stone Town in Zanzibar with its labyrinth of streets, alleyways and impressive ancient brass studded wooden doors. Sunday demanded mass at St Joseph’s cathedral where one can meet Goans very much at home in paradise. Relaxing on the sun drenched beaches is a must, snorkelling in the crystal clear archipelagos and enjoying fresh crab curries and mandazi’s for breakfast is a lifestyle of dreams.

New buildings herald the changing landscape of Dar es Salaam. The GI is thriving and Oyster Bay still retains its exclusiveness. Here, I was privileged to visit Anthony Almeida, the first Tanzanian architect majoring in modernist architecture. Among his many notable projects is the impressive Vasco de Gama Memorial in Malindi.

Back in Kenya, driving past sweeping views of the Aberdares and their majestic peaks, we arrive at the exclusive and private Mt Kenya Safari Club. A playground for millionaires, formally owned by the late William Holden and now the seasonal home of Stephanie Powers. Here celebrities including Sinatra, Ava Gardner and Ernest Hemingway spent many hours propping up the bar. Hemmingway, once severely injured in East Africa, had to be rescued by a ship captained by no less than Edwiges Abreo - Antoinette Abreo’s uncle!!!

A night spent at OI Pejeta lodge, formally a retreat of Khashoggi and set within a thriving game reserve, is a must. Spectacular dawn views from the bedrooms allow momentary glimpses of Mt Kenya silhouetted against an incredible African sky.

Finally, back to Nairobi and onward to a very grey and blustery UK, but with the knowledge that, ‘paradise lost’ is no more!

Thank you to the ‘Visit Africa’ team for an incredible ‘life experience’ and congratulations on their 30th anniversary.

Julian Fernandes (formally from most schools in Nairobi but latterly from the DRGS) has lived in the UK for over 45 years with his wife Ava and has 2 children Marcus and Tanya. After studying electronics in Sussex, Julian moved to London and begun a career in the private sector, developing business IT solutions for major organizations. He has held senior Marketing, Sales and Business development roles in the IT industry, established his own Consultancy Company and has worked in Europe, the US and of course Africa – his first love.....'

If  I'm ever reborn, I want to be a gardener—

there's too much to do for one lifetime!

- Karl Foerster

So here's me thinking that allotmenteering is all about giant cucumbers and juicy tomatoes...well it is if you're lucky!!!!

When I first applied for an allotment I was warned that having an allotment is not fair weather gardening and over the years I have found this to be true. My rough hands, stained fingernails, crotchety back, wrinkled face etc. are testament to this as there is no respite (I’m sure old age has nothing to do with it!!). Why do you do it I hear you ask? Simply it’s a hobby and I enjoy it for most of the time. Of course there are times when I ask myself the same question particularly when I'm out there during the height of winter with negative temperatures and heavy frosts barely able to feel my hands & feet . But jobs have to be done and I know that come the Spring I will reap (no pun intended) the benefits.

Around the end of September, after harvesting, and when I put the beds to ..... bed, the real work begins. My plot is divided into 4 sections simply for crop rotation. I won’t bore you with the details but to the uninitiated it simply is not planting the same crops in the same place every year to reduce the risk of crop specific disease and pests. Each of the sections have to be dealt with separately depending on what I intend to plant in each section. Then there's the pots to sterilise, the fences to mend, the seeds to order and so on and so on......

I greet this time of the year with enthusiasm because usually my garlic and Spanish onions are planted and my plot is manured and limed in preparation for planting in April. That ain’t happening this year. The weather has not been kind to us here in the UK with relentless storms and rain. My allotment is so water-logged that even the ducks have kept away! Ironically I spend a huge amount of time improving the drainage on my allotment!!!! Although allotmenteering is not fair-weather, gardening there is very little I can do there right now. Maybe I could try growing rice. I guess I’ll just take the opportunity to rest my dodgy back, visit my manicurist and check out the Botox clinic!!

Why are husbands like lawn mowers?

They are difficult to get started, emit foul smells and don't work half the time.

Did we mention ......Afra Fernandes nee DeMello, lives and maintains her shamba in London, England?    

You may recall Class of 68's Dr Baldip Khan's article, "Giving Back in our December 2013 issue, see: Contact, December 2013 Issue . We are very pleased to inform you that the “give-back” endeavour undertaken by the Class-of-68 working in tandem with Dr. Khan (Kenya), raised funds which were used towards the purchase of computer equipment for the Parklands School. Kudos to the Class-of-68 for this noble and awesome initiative.

We are also pleased to inform you that under the Presidency of Norman DaCosta, the Committee of the 2012 Reunion, Toronto Chapter, acknowledging the progress made by the Class of 68, agreed to supplement their efforts by a generous donation of CA$2000.00 to the School. The money donated is being utilized toward the purchase of an additional computer and other learning tools. A huge vote of thanks is extended to Norman DaCosta for his direction in this “give-back” effort to our Alma Mater and other related charities....it should also be noted that the committee also made donations to the Goan Welfare Society, Kenya and an orphanage in Goa.

On behalf of Baldip Khan, Principal and faculty of Parklands School, and this Alumni Desk, we wish to extend much appreciation for the generosity of spirit the Class-of-68 and the 2012 Reunion Committee have displayed. (Photos: Dr Baldip khan presenting computer equipment to deputy Principal, and presenting software and letter to Principal Luseno)

This is the day that the Lord has made

by Rev. Fr. Ayres Fernandes, Class of 67

A certain kindergarten teacher was telling her students the story of Jesus. There was a little boy in her class who came from a non-Christian family. He was listening to the story very attentively because it was all new to him. As the teacher related how Jesus was condemned and nailed to the cross to die, the boy’s countenance fell and he murmured, “No! That’s too bad!” The teacher then went on to tell how on the third day Jesus rose from the dead and came back to life. The boy’s eyes lit up with delight and he exclaimed, “Totally Awesome!”

On Good Friday we hear the story of the suffering and death of Jesus. Like that little boy we too feel bad. On Holy Saturday, we hear the rest of the story and with that little boy we exclaim “Yes, totally Awesome!” At Easter we begin to sing “Halleluiah” that we have not sung during Lent. (Psalm 118:24). Why do we rejoice on Easter Sunday? We rejoice because our faith in Christ has been vindicated, truth has triumphed over falsity, justice over injustice and tragedy has changed into

comedy. It is like watching an episode of Batman. There we see an innocent and helpless victim being attacked, robbed, kidnapped, assaulted and tortured by a wicked assailant. We feel so sad about the bad guy’s triumph and when the victim is almost at the point of hopelessness and death, down from nowhere comes Batman to the rescue. He battles and defeats the bad guy and rescues the innocent victim and we feel happy at the triumph of justice.

The story of the suffering and death of Jesus on Good Friday is the story of the triumph of falsity over truth, injustice over justice, of evil over goodness. Jesus was falsely charged of crimes he did not commit and unjustly sentenced to a death he did not deserve. His good friends betrayed him, his trusted companions deserted him and his number one man denied him. The people he loved demanded his crucifixion and preferred to have the bandit Barabbas released in his place. It is a story of betrayal and lies, dishonesty and meanness, unfaithfulness and wicked violence directed against an innocent and apparently helpless victim. All this comes to a climax on Good Friday when we see Jesus scourged, mocked, dragged along the way, nailed to the cross where he breathes his last and is buried in the tomb. If that were the end of the story that would be a bad story, a tragedy. But glory be to God it is not.

Death is not the end of the story. Jesus rises from the dead in all glory and majesty. He is vindicated.  His enemies are shamed and confused. He regains his eternal glory with the Father. He is the Lord who will prevail over all humankind, his enemies included. This is good news for us his embattled followers.

It is good news to know that truth is immortal. We can supress Truth, accuse it of being a lie, condemn it, torture it, kill it, bury it in the grave but on the third day Truth will rise again. Remember this and do not give up on it. Do not give up on Truth; do not give up on Justice. Do not give up on doing what is right. True will always be true. Just will always be just. Right will always be right even when the world around us would have it otherwise. We must learn to believe in the sun even when it is not shining, knowing that by and by it will shine again. It is the end of the story that counts. That is why the Church asks us at Easter to rejoice and be glad. Even when we are going through difficult times: through betrayal, unjust discrimination, lies, misrepresentations; even when the enemy seems to be winning the battle in our lives. Easter reminds us that Christ has won. And we know that in Him, we too shall overcome all things. Easter is not just about God’s resurrection, its also about elimination of slavery. A unification of conscience and faith. The stone in the tomb was a hindrance to see reality. If you want to know the truth and experience His love, learn to remove the stone that blocks the way for you to see the light of God as well.

May you find the renewal of hope, health, love and the spirit of God. I wish all the DRGS Alumni’s and their families, the Joy and Peace of the Risen Lord! Halleuiah,

Praise the Lord.

Rev. Fr Ayres Fernandes completed his initial religious studies in Goa and Delhi and obtained his doctorate in Liturgical Theologya after studying in Rome. Fr. Ayres Fernandes is currently the National Secretary of the Liturgical Commission for the Conference of Bishops, India. On January 26, 2013, Fr Ayres celebrated our first DRGS Alumni Memorial Mass held at Basilica de Bom Jesus in Old Goa

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