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It is the measure of an institution when its ex-students remain connected and united so many, many years after bidding it farewell. The Dr. Ribeiro Goan School is the noted institution that cemented a foundation of almost familial bonding within its student body. The DRGS Alumni have weathered the test of time and distance and have, over the past years, been reconnected and reacquainted with old friends, faculty, neighbours and fellow ex-students. It is a testament to our beloved DRGS that we still hold dear this connection and the wish to continue what had been started in our childhood years.

To this end, the Alumni Desk is proud to introduce a new venture which we hope will not only continue to maintain the re-fostered friendships of yore, but will also continue to reconnect and be the transient strength of an aging and widespread ex-student community. The goal of this newsletter is not only to serve as a tool of social communication, but, perhaps, also to become an outreach to ex-students who might be in need of a friend or just a friendly listening ear. Ex-students are encouraged to let us know, in confidence, of any of our fellow alumni who might be in need of solace or a helping hand.

At the alumni desk we are also working towards reaching as many ex-students as possible and are relying on your involvement and assistance to help us achieve this goal. We are looking to locate and connect with ex-students who have slipped out of our reach. If you have knowledge of these missing alumni, we ask that you contact us. The continuance of the DRGS alumni depends on all of us pulling together to make it work. The growth of the alumni has been exponential over the past 10 or more years. Through someone who knows someone, word of the website has circulated and members who have been seeking contact with their old school chums have been happily reunited and have renewed their old friendships, albeit perhaps only through this electronic medium, but they’ve connected nevertheless.

On the last page of this newsletter you will find information about a brief survey which we urge you all to take a minute to complete. Importantly, too, we are looking for submissions from any alumni willing to join in this venture. Your input and participation will enable us to produce the kind of newsletter you would like to see.

The theme for this first edition of the newsletter which we hope will continue for many more years, is Nostalgia – a journey back to where we started. We then segue into The Traditions of Christmas, in keeping with the season of the year. 

Take a look & enjoy .....

My father, Dr. Rozendo Ribeiro, was born in Porvorim, Goa on February 17, 1870. He was the seventh child in a family of ten children. He was orphaned at a very young age and was left under the care of a very strict uncle and had to endure severe discipline. Every day, no matter what the weather, they walked to school located on a hill three miles away. After high school, he went to the College in Panjim for higher studies where he studied medicine. Upon graduating as a doctor he started a private practice in Ponda but could barely make a living.

 When he heard that some of his friends were leaving for Mombasa and Zanzibar to work for the British Government, he decided that he too would like to venture to Africa. So he enrolled for English lessons, borrowed some money from a friend and departed for Mombasa in 1899. He was very lonely and ill, so he decided to go to Nairobi as the railway line had just been built. The next two years in Nairobi were very difficult as he lived in a tent and examined patients in a room made of packing crates. The Indians who were brought from India to work on the building of the railway 5lines built small houses and he bought one in Victoria Station.

In 1902 a number of people were dying of a mysterious illness. The British were very concerned by the situation. My father diagnosed that the illness was an outbreak of bubonic plague that was caused by a poacher who was hiding animal hides in his home. The British were taking no chances and ended up burning down all the homes in the area and Indian Bazaar, including his medical office, in order to eradicate the disease. Since he was instrumental in diagnosing the disease and solving what could have been a major catastrophe and preventing many, many deaths, he was awarded some land by the British Government.

All the calls he made to the patients’ homes were made on foot and when swamps or streams had to be crossed, he hired two locals to carry him across. In 1907 he tamed a zebra and rode it on his rounds. As he became more established, he went back to Goa, paid off his friend’s loan and married Margarida Lourenco from Margao in 1908. Before returning to Nairobi, he donated the zebra to the Bombay zoo.

In 1914 he was appointed Vice-Consul for the Portuguese Consulate and was responsible for issuing passports among his other duties.

He compounded and dispensed his own medicines and made some anti-malarial pills. The formula was sent to a manufacturer in England and the pills were sold everywhere as “Dr. Ribeiro’s Anti-malaria Pills”. They were very popular and effective.

Although he had some major setbacks in life, he never had any resentment or ill feelings towards those who harmed him. His simplicity and love of nature were remarkable. He loved his pet African gray parrot and dog and regularly tended to his garden and fruit trees. In 1950 his eightieth birthday was celebrated at Nairobi City Hall with a special party by the doctors to honour his 50 years of medical service in the community.

In 1929 he donated a large sum of money to fund a school for Goan children. Initially he loaned one of his properties for this most essential educational purpose. The school was completed in 1932 and bore his name as “Dr. Ribeiro’s Goan School”. It had an excellent reputation for high academic standards and was key to assisting the Goan community in Nairobi to become established and grow as those who graduated could obtain higher levels of employment than their parents.

Around this time he was awarded the Order of the British Empire (O. B. E.) by the British Government for all his service to the Nairobi and Kenyan communities.

After retirement, he loved to read his daily newspaper and go on long walks. Unfortunately, he had a haemorrhage behind the eyes and lost his eyesight. This was very depressing for him and he died on Feb 2, 1951. His memory will live in our hearts forever.

Rosalia DaCosta nee Ribeiro is the only surviving offspring of Dr. Rosendo Ribeiro. Rosalia has the distinction of being among the first students to enter the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School in 1931. As well, she is one of the four first female students to have successfully graduated O Levels from Dr. Ribeiro’s.  Rosalia, at age 89, resides in Toronto, Canada, with her husband of 65 years, Arthur DaCosta.

The great Albert Einstein once famously declared: IMAGINATION is more powerful than KNOWLEDGE.

Was he right?

There are those who believe that “imagination” is the most powerful force ever discovered.  Certainly, your imagination can travel where your body never will.

Last Saturday morning, as I lay in bed contemplating penning this Article for my Alma Mater,  I allowed myself to be gently transported some five and a half decades back into the hallowed grounds of my dear Dr. Ribeiro Goan School.

What images emerged?

I saw a (relatively) innocent 13 year-old in long, long shorts (I was truly a nerd then) munching away at his omelette sandwiches under the flag pole in the hot, noon-day sun....

I saw a brilliant, young Math/Science teacher who, on occasion, would let his temper fly.....an enraged bull, his tongue would curl in rage as he rushed towards his hapless victim...

And I saw a suave, handsome Irish Priest who clearly thought nothing of caning my tender,  young bottom for one of my minor (or so I thought) transgressions (even though I had got up at 5 a.m. to be his altar boy a few hours earlier).....

Suddenly an idea dawned...Guess what, methinks I could actually do a lot with this “imagination” vs. “knowledge” thing.....I could truly put it to the test....

To the kitchen I headed, knowing that Saturday morning was “bacon and eggs” day.....my one,  weekly cholesterol-laden indulgence....“Deb”, I said to my spouse.....”Do you think you can rustle me up some omelette sandwiches today?”

Darling that she is, she responded “No problem, Ive”.

Moments later, I opened the kitchen sliding door and slid into my favourite deck chair......In the bracing, near-winter air, I began to munch on my omelette sandwiches, gently closed my eyes and whispered: “IMAGINATION, good buddy............it’s all yours...now go do your thing.”

And then....slowly, ever so slowly, out of the mists of time, the first image to appear was that of my delightful geography teacher, Ivy Monteiro....she of the twinkling eyes and dazzling smile.

“Today, Ivan” she smiled, “we were going to talk about the contours of land masses...let’s skip that and instead talk about the contours of our minds.

The first thing to always remember is that YOU ARE YOUR THOUGHTS.....WITH YOUR THOUGHTS YOU MAKE YOUR WORLD.

Secondly, never forget the difference between THOUGHTS and ATTITUDE.  Put simply, THOUGHTS are WHAT you think; ATTITUDE is HOW you think.  This distinction is priceless and one you must cleave to for the rest of your days.   Because it will not be the events in your life that will matter so much but HOW YOU CHOOSE TO FRAME SUCH EVENTS IN YOUR MIND....the latter, my dear boy, is ATTITUDE”......

Slowly she faded away......And then, dear Hedgewidge Nunes, my history teacher, gently emerged.  Over his horn-rimmed glasses, his high-pitched, gravelly voice intoned: “Ivan, I am going to be honest with you....it is not important how many wives Henry VIII killed...that’s all about “YESTERDAY”.   “YESTERDAY”, however, must always be seen in the context of “TODAY” and “TOMORROW”.

He continued: “Remember, Ivan, how I used to crystallise all that was important in our history book by asking my students to bracket together specific words?   Well, let me crystallise my message for you thus:   Any man can deal with what TODAY will bring:  it is when we burden ourselves with the missteps of YESTERDAY and the trepidation of what TOMORROW may have in store that we mortgage the promise of TODAY”.

Dear Hedgewidge had hardly slipped away when the warm and endearing Roldau Menezes came into view.... ..”Ivan, my boy”, he smiled, “all that stuff I talked about in chemistry class....acids, alkalis and all....that stuff is not really going to matter in your life......Remember, rather, that the CHEMISTRY that you will have with your fellow life-travellers will remain the lifeblood of your relationships.   It is very difficult to define CHEMISTRY, but put it this way.....just make sure that when you finally settle on your life partner, the most important ingredient in your relationship will be that magical word: CHEMISTRY.   Why?....Because that is the first face you will see on the pillow next to you, every morning, for the rest of your days”........And then, in a whisper of a breath, my dear Roldau was gone.....

Moments later, my English teacher and hockey maestro, Anthony DeSouza emerged......With his knowing eyes and soft smile, he began: ``You remember, Ivan, when we studied “PRECIS”, we learned the art of compressing a number of words, a number of messages, into a concise, succinct whole....Let`s do that with this business of living.   Our entire life can be put into précis thus:  ``When you are born, you come in crying while all around you are smiling....Live your life such that when you die, all around you are crying......and you are smiling”.

`Mr. Anthony` had hardly departed when, in a billowing, swirling, white mist I espied the handsome, chiselled profile of my beloved Principal, Francis Commerford.... “Ivan”, he smiled... “I want to talk to you today about one subject in our syllabus....the one we call “Second Language”.....No, not Latin,  not French.....The “Second Language” I want you ever so much to embrace and make an integral part of your being is “The Language of Love”.   Latin and French speak to the mind; the “Language of Love”, my dear boy, speaks to the heart.  Love springs from a goodness at the core of your being.  You must gently tend, nurture and harvest this goodness for the rest of your days.

Who can make you a creature of love? Jesus Christ, our Almighty Teacher. You know why? Simple!

Because God IS Love.

And here’s the best part.....As the journey of your life slowly unfolds, the more and more you believe, deep in your heart, that you are returning to God, the less and less you will fear departing this world. Unencumbered by the fear of the “hereafter”, you can make the “here and now” even more beautiful.

Finally, Ivan.................”

Suddenly, all was shattered!  The kitchen sliding door was pulled open and my loving and lovely wife poked out her head:  “Ive!”  What on earth are you doing?  No cap!  No coat!  No scarf!  No gloves!   You’re going to catch your death of cold, for crying out loud!”

I quickly bounded out of my beloved chair and, with the remnants of my omelette sandwiches carefully in hand, hurried back into the house.

I tried to clear my head...

“Wow! What just happened?”

And then, it dawned.....Einstein, the old codger, WAS right......

All I was left with was this final thought:  “DRGS, my old buddy, you were my crucible of KNOWLEDGE.....but IMAGINATION trumped you this morning....big time...”

And, then, it was back to the business of living....

Reality beckoned......

Ivan Araujo (class of ’58) went on to a career in municipal finance in Kenya and Canada, culminating in his serving as Chair of a North American Committee on “Excellence in Public Financial Reporting”  (1998-2000).   A Voice of Kenya Radio and Television Newscaster (1972-1975), Ivan is married to Deborah (nee D’Souza). He is blessed with 2 children and 3 grandchildren and resides in Thornhill, Ontario.

Why did I attend the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School ????

by Ray DeMello, Class of '65

...ostensibly, to be educated, and age with wisdom and good sense!

I am not entirely sure that I attained that goal, but I did age!

Let me be clear though....

There is absolutely no truth to the persistent rumour that Mr. Sandy Tavares, the Primary School Headmaster, opined rather loudly that my presence in the classroom "was only to warm the bench!" While this sentiment might have had some weight.....I did have reasons for being at school, mostly to do with mischief.

You see, my Dad (bless his misguided confidence in me!) was a strong pillar of support for me, and invariably believed that I could do no wrong! My Mother, mind you, had her own opinions. I do digress...

As I was saying, my Dad was always on side, and dismissed all the protestations of many of my teachers who complained about my erratic academic performance and errant ways. My response was that they lacked a sense of humour! My Dad seemed to hear me, and frequently aided and abetted my scholastic misadventures! Not overtly to be sure, but surreptitiously!

For instance, if an aggrieved teacher sent a note home in my calendar, he would sign off on it, ask almost no questions, and certainly make no mention of it to my Mum. I am almost tempted to say that "Mum" was the word! My mentors at school were not aware of this father-son conspiracy.  Please don't ask Joan because she never fails to give me an earful, and continues to insist that I had `dibs' at the school because of the influence my Dad allegedly wielded!

Being in school was great fun, but unfortunately the 'being educated' bit kept getting in the way.  Perhaps harassing the staff was the best part, though sometimes the consequences were draconian.

My math teacher Mr. Torcato was quite vulnerable. He seemed to be disinclined, but perhaps, more the point, quite incapable of maintaining any kind of discipline, and as a result there was a distinct lack ongoing decorum in his classroom. He did try to be firm, and to this end, hid a long and thick 'fimbo' under his suit jacket. As the discipline in the classroom degenerated, he would, with a fitful flourish, whip out his disciplinary weapon from under his jacket (or maybe elsewhere!), and brandish it menacingly. The class would fall silent, and anyone who dared any level of impertinence would feel the pain of Mr. Torcato's brand of discipline. Some though did feel the pain! A very decent and kind person overall.

Rev. Father Luis, our Religion instructor, had a somewhat different approach. Affable and warm for the most part, he had a penchant for 'pairing up' students, or simply opening up for playful and innocuous discussion the who's dating who scenario. Part of religious instruction clearly! This was his warm and fuzzy side.

Retribution however, for not keeping pace, misbehaving, or being remiss on the homework front, was swift and severe. The most common form of punishment was to have your ear pulled to the point where you felt with a painful degree of certainty that you were about to part company with it!  At this precise moment your ear was suddenly released and a full blooded smack on the face followed! I can confirm from personal experience that even the smack felt like instant relief !

Then there was of course the redoubtable Mr. Hedwige Nunes whose unorthodox processing of historical facts and colourful language endeared him to his students. His naval and legal background made him a formidable personality, and rarely did any student engage in any form of hi-jinks during his class. The punishment that he generally meted out was a rasping admonishment complete with thinly veiled threats and mild expletives (sometimes Hindi-tinged), culminating with a swift smack. This did not happen often, and when it did, by the end of the period all was forgotten!  He had an engaging style and communicated history data vey effectively. That most of his students scored high “O” level grades in History is testimony to his superb teaching skills.

Mr. Anthony de Souza, the English and Latin teacher seemed to have got it right in that he taught and encouraged. A Latin scholar and English teacher par excellence, Mr. Anthony was a sophisticated educationalist with an exceptional command of the English language. His communication was powerful, though his sometimes biting sarcasm was on occasion inadvertently misplaced, and this did not make him very popular in some quarters. In retrospect, it almost seems that this was the only way he knew how to punish, and in a strange and perverse way, it also was his sense of humour. On balance, a very well respected individual.

Dr. Neves Pereira, the Headmaster of the Secondary school, was a commanding individual who took discipline and academic excellence to a new level. Interestingly enough, if you were a musician or musically inclined, you were immediately his favourite. Ask Terry Pinto!

Generally of a stern disposition, he was nonetheless loved and respected, and most certainly provided a fresh and invigorating perspective for the school.

Through all of these experiences, I've managed to come away almost unscathed! I was never a high achiever, nor did I ever endeavour to be one, though I must say I am rather proud of my four (4) “O” levels and University of Cambridge Oral English Certificate etc...!! Further, I would challenge anyone to come forward and match my lethal academic combination!

My sojourn at the Dr. Ribeiro Goan School was extremely memorable, and even if I could go back in time and have the same opportunity again, I would not want it to be any different.

Ray completed his A levels at Kenyatta College, graduated with a Business Degree in the UK in 1972.  Moved to Toronto, Canada in 1973 and worked in the Electronic Industry.   Ray is married to Hyacinth (de Souza) with one daughter, Hazel.

I re-settled back in Kenya in 2010 having been away for 13 years working abroad. Having decided to retire early, I looked around for how I could start giving back to a society that had been so very kind to me. Somehow out of primary school, secondary school, university, my most emotive links have always been with my secondary school, a sentiment which is shared by many of the alumni of the Dr Ribeiro Goan School. Over the years I had wondered what happened to all those classmates with whom I had had so much fun. Imagine my delight and surprise when I suddenly got an email saying that Eva Fonseca of our class was trying to contact all of our Class of 68 as part of an a larger group started by Merwin D’Souza.

On a daily basis I enjoy interacting with my classmates. We have met up and enjoyed a Class of 68 Reunion in Goa and several mini-reunions around the globe. Combining my wish to give back to society and discussing with classmates about doing something more meaningful than just enjoying each others’ company, we decided to help our alma mater. A few classmates were skeptical of the sustainability of the endeavour but on the whole the class has been very supportive in terms of ideas and/or funds.

Although some classmates were already committed to many charities or assisting family members, we managed to raise KShs 76,000/-. I revisited our ‘wish list’ and then had to think about the logistics, sustainability and what actually could be done with this amount. The headmaster, Mr Luseno also contributed his ideas on how the funds could best be utilized. After discussions with him and classmates, it was decided to create an e-learning centre by buying a couple of computers for the school. The school has plans and is seeking funds to build a library where our computers will form the nucleus of the e-library, both for research and fun reading. Until this long term plan comes to fruition, the computers will be added to those in the computer lab which already has 10 computers, much short of the school's need of about 30 computers.

The project has taken longer than expected with delays caused by key people being on safari, the school having to concentrate on exams, other events and being on holidays. So where are we at the moment? The school will be installing a wifi network when it reopens in January, after which I will purchase the computers. I have also initiated links between the school and the Desai Memorial Foundation which donates books. An ex-student from the Class of 77 is helping the school move forward on this initiative.

Mr Luseno is also going to pursue links with another old boy who is in a senior position at the Safaricom Foundation, a leading mobile company here. He is very excited to find that all these initiatives for helping the school are finally getting off the ground. The potential to help our old school is endless. It is very encouraging that the headmaster, the school board, the staff and the parents are doing as much as they can to create a great institution for learning. I was amazed to see the smart school bus which the parents had managed to buy through a harambee effort – much better than the cattle truck that we had!

Dr. Baldip Khan studied molecular biology in the UK and then worked at the Kenya Medical Research Institute as a researcher in malaria and HIV/Aids. She then worked for the International Atomic Energy Agency and has retired in Kenya and is trying to become a goody two-shoes!

Shingles (also called Herpes Zoster) is a disease by the same virus that causes chickenpox. After you have chickenpox, the virus remains dormant in your body. It may not cause problems for many years.  As you get older, the virus may reappear as shingles. Although it is most common in people over age 50, anyone who has had chickenpox is at risk. About 20% of people who have had chicken pox will get shingles at some time during their lives. Shingles is more common in people with weak immune systems. Factors such as illness, trauma, and stress are known to trigger or start shingles. Most patients who have shingles get it once in their lifetime, however, those with a weak immune system may get it more often. Unlike chickenpox, you can't catch shingles from someone who has it.

Early signs of shingles include burning or shooting pain and tingling or itching, usually on one side of the body or face. Rashes or blisters appear anywhere from one to 14 days later. The pain can be mild to severe. If shingles appears on your face, it may affect your vision or hearing. The pain of shingles may last for weeks and in some cases patients can experience severe pain for weeks, months, or years after the blisters have disappeared. This condition is called post-herpetic neuralgia.

There is no cure for shingles. For many patients, shingles clears up on its own in a few weeks without medication. Several anti-viral medications are available to treat shingles' symptoms. These medications should be started as soon as possible after the rash appears and will help shorten how long the illness lasts and how severe the illness is. This is especially important when shingles affects the eyes. The earlier viruses are treated, the faster recovery is and the less likelihood of post-herpetic neuralgia occurring. If pain is severe, consult your physician.  

A vaccine is available in some countries which may prevent shingles or lessen its effects. Consult your physician for advice on its availability, effectiveness and whether it is compatible for you based on your own allergies.  Anecdotal evidence suggests the Shingles incidence rate may be higher in our community than other communities, kindly fill out the Newsletter survey to help better determine its impact to our DRGS community.

Most of my family and friends know me as a gardener or THE gardener. I'm no gardener, I just enjoy all aspects of gardening...getting down and dirty! I'm from the 'stick it in the ground and see what happens' school of gardening! Over time and through trial and error I have learned what suits my garden soil and what will not work no matter how hard I try. I got to a point where my garden was self-maintaining and had no room to grow any more. My two options were to find another hobby or move house and start afresh! That's when I came up with the idea of renting an allotment (Shamba).  I applied for and received half a plot of land (about the size of a tennis court). My excitement soon turned to horror when I saw the plot, completely overgrown with brambles and all manner of weeds including bindweed. And to add to my misery the soil was heavy clay. Did I feel like giving up? You bet I did. But having paid a year's rent in advance and with encouragement from a neighbour who had experienced the same problems, I persevered. This same neighbour told me that an easy starter vegetable to grow is courgettes (zucchini). I happily germinated a whole packet of seeds (about 20 seeds) and planted up. What he didn't tell me was that happy courgettes reproduce like rabbits. I swear, and this is no exaggeration, that by the end of the season, I must have harvested more than 200 courgettes. And if not harvested they grow into marrows some the size of my thighs (and trust me that is BIG)! Now four years down the line I have two half working plots and I'm virtually self-sufficient with veggies from at least May to January....weather permitting of course.

My allotment is by no means picture perfect or the sort that features in gardening programmes or magazines. My bean trellis is a mish mash of poles, canes and string but my beans stand proud, no regimented lines of tomatoes nor do my carrots have the fine tilth that would produce perfect carrots, but the short stubby orange shapes are beautifully sweet and organic. I learned that none of this matters...the small potato is just as tasty as his big brother (size really doesn't matter!). Of course not everything is rosy in the garden. I've had my share of disasters...last year tomato blight ruined my entire crop... all twenty plants....not a single tomato to call my own. The mice ate the peas before they germinated and the pigeons decimated my broccoli crop before I realized I needed to net them (the broccoli not the pigeons)! Nonetheless, life's rosy at the allotment and the joy of picking and eating my own organic produce makes me happy. Doesn't take much to make me happy!

Allotmenteering is not a fair weather hobby and with winter fast approaching there is much to do to prepare for next season's growing. But, more of that another time.

Afra Fernandes nee DeMello, lives and maintains her shamba in London, England.

At this time of the year, the bright, dazzling lights of the commercial world are certainly inviting us to gaze at the array of ‘legitimate attractions’ to make our Christmas celebration a special one. We would be lucky, if after our Christmas Service, our grandchildren would bug us to visit the Christmas crib, while we struggled to wish friends whom we may not have seen for ages. With or without grand/children, take a break and spend some time gazing before any crib. We will notice the gaze of Jesus falling on the poor shepherds whose hearts was filled with gladness. That divine gaze also falls on the Magi, and overwhelmed with humility, they pour out their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Towards the end of his life, the gaze of Jesus fell on the city of Jerusalem and we are told that Jesus wept out of compassion and sadness because of what was to befall its people 70 years later.

On July 8 th , the gaze of Pope Francis fell on the immigrants being held on the island of Lampedusa.  He remarked: “The culture of well-being, that makes us think of ourselves, that makes us insensitive to the cries of others, that makes us live in soap bubbles, that are beautiful but are nothing, are illusions of futility, .... In this world of globalization we have fallen into a globalization of indifference. We are accustomed to the suffering of others, it doesn’t concern us, and it is none of our business.”

Therefore, the invitation this Christmas 2013, is to once again turn to the Nativity Scene and gaze at the person of the child Jesus lying in the manger. “He does not want to overwhelm us with his strength. He takes away our fear of his greatness. He asks for our love: so he makes himself a child.  He wants nothing other from us than our love, through which we spontaneously learn to enter into his feelings, his thoughts and his will - we learn to live with him and to practice with him that humility of renunciation that belongs to the very essence of love.”

Sometimes it is easy to forget the true meaning of Christmas. The busy traditions of the season and the appealing advertisements for material goods can leave the pure and simple truths far, far behind. Let us remember that the Christmas heart is a giving heart, a wide open heart that thinks of, and gazes on others first. The birth of the baby Jesus stands as the most significant event in all history, because it has transformed all manner of hearts for almost two thousand years...”

Underneath all the bulging shopping bags/carts, where else can our hearts direct our gaze? Allow His gaze to first fall on YOU! Then you can be both the shepherd and the Magi.

Fr. Tony Fernandes, a priest of the Religious Congregation known as Salesians of Don Bosco. Ordained 36 years ago and worked in India, Kenya and Tanzania. At present in the U.K. working at St. Dominic Savio Youth Retreat Centre, Cheshire. Fr. Tony has been an inspirational shepherd to his flock of '64 goats

Christmas in Australia

by Natalie CostaBir

For my family, Christmas starts weeks before the 25 th of December as we lay the foundations for a future feast. My sister and I twist together what feels like thousands of kul kuls(aka carambolas/cormolans) though once fried and sugar-dusted by Mum they seem to only fill one or two tins, maybe partly because we start eating them immediately. We put up the Christmas tree and Dad twists the lights around it, before he heads outside to hang up the paper stars, carefully tying them over the front lights so that every night they shine beautifully when he switches them on. We also have two bamboo stars brought all the way from Goa and covered in crepe paper annually by Dad to remind him of his childhood days in Kenya.

We used to go to midnight mass but with age catching up, we go to an earlier mass so that we can all have a good night’s sleep.

On the day itself, we bring together a mix of traditions from the places we’ve lived before. We wait till all of us are awake and present before opening the presents. The baked ham studded with cloves and covered in foil sits on the kitchen counter. In the late morning, Mum and Lisa crack their way through a bowl of cold, fat, succulent prawns and oysters, fresh from the Sydney fish markets.

Sitting under blue skies in the sunshine, it seems unbelievable that any part of the world can be experiencing a snowy Christmas. The only time we’ve had a white Christmas here was a year with particularly bad bush fires –when ash came raining down, carried by the fierce winds.

It’s mostly Dad who enjoys the outside weather though – because Christmas is one of those holidays where the women really do slave away in the kitchen! Luckily Dad knows how to support us – he comes into the kitchen around 11am and cracks open a bottle of wine. We’re in the middle of an English tradition by now – the turkey is sizzling away in the oven, causing the already sweltering kitchen to get even hotter. Surrounding the turkey are potatoes, crisping up and browning; orange pumpkin; and very unseasonal parsnips that Mum always manages to find in the supermarket. I’m chopping up tomatoes and avocado for a salad, Lisa is assembling the gravy and the dog and my niece conscientiously maintain a clean kitchen floor by grabbing anything that drops off the counter.  Mum stirs sarapatel on the stovetop and heats up sannas.

The table is laid, the turkey adorns the table and we’re about to eat. But wait, there’s one more tradition to go – we pull the Christmas crackers, put on our silly hats, read out at least one terrible joke and then, finally, Dad starts to carve the turkey. There’s a brief hiccup as he demands a sharper knife, then a reverend silence as slices of white meat falls to the side. The dog rests his drooling chin on my foot. I rest my drooling chin on my hand, eyes locked on the bacon-wrapped chipolatas. And then it’s a free for all as we pass plates up and down the table to be loaded up.

Dad finishes his first lot of turkey and moves onto sarapatel. The once snowy tablecloth is marked up like a war zone – but we consider that the sign of a good feast. Three helpings later, and everyone is complaining about how full they are. That stops when the sweets emerge and people find they do, in fact, have a bit of room for some more. There’s the Christmas cake, there are crunchy, sugary kulkuls; melt-in-your-mouth nankatais; doce de grao and coconut bolinhos; and slices of soft bibinca, made by Mum over hours in front of the grill. Lisa and I also scoff down chocolate ice cream and custard-smothered Christmas pudding – looking forward to being future diabetics, no doubt.

Afterwards, we sit around sleepily. ‘I won’t be having any dinner.’ I lie, as we slowly decant food into containers and into the fridge. Our energetic partners jump in the swimming pool to cool off – another bit of Sydney tradition, but the rest of us sneak off for a nap.

Our relatives come over in the evening and the present opening starts all over again. Some more Christmas cheer!! A couple of hours later, we’re all back in the kitchen, assembling turkey sandwiches and eating custard out of the fridge and generally acting as though we haven’t eaten all day. As we eat again, it’s cool enough to sit under the stars – the ones in the sky and the paper ones lit by bulbs, and enjoy the soft chirping of the cicadas.

Written by Natalie CostaBir, corroborated by The CostaBir family of Sydney, Australia. John CostaBir, class of 64, resides in Australia with wife Jacinta two daughters and a grandchild.

Christmas in Goa

by Melba Quiterio, Class of 64

Home made stars and cribs, sparkling lights all around the house, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, Christmas carols playing softly in the background - well, that's what Christmas looks like in most Goan homes.

What is it that attracts people from all over the world to this former Portuguese colony, especially during this month of December? Although the Portuguese ruled Goa for almost 450 years, they were not successful in converting the entire population to the Catholic faith. Yet, the Goans, and more so the Catholics, have imbibed so much from the Portuguese influence. The traditional festivities of the Portuguese became a part of the celebrations of the Goan Catholics, Christmas being one of them.

Christmas in Goa was always meant to be a time for family and friends to get together and celebrate; where the old and young alike would join in the fun and celebration. Preparations for this season of festivity would start well in advance with the ladies of the house preparing an extravagant assortment of goodies; while the men and children would be busy making the star and the crib from scratch. The whole idea of getting all the family members involved in these preparations was to foster feelings of love, togetherness, sharing and caring. The Christmas lunch (or dinner) which is an elaborate affair would include dishes like pork sorpotel, sannas, xacuti, roast pigling, cabidel etc. This was significant in the sense that all family members would partake of this meal and even those who live in a another city or village or foreign country, would come home on this occasion.

Today undoubtedly, life in Goa has changed in several ways and such family traditions which form the essence of the Christmas spirit, have taken a back seat when sweets like neureos, dodol, bebinca cake etc, are so easily available in the market, why worry about making them at home? Stars and Cribs, and even fully decorated trees are available in plenty for those who do not mind spending a pretty penny.

And yet in so many villages of Goa, unfazed by the materialism of the modern world, the true spirit of Christmas is still very much alive, and thanks to the cooperation of the villagers their high spirits and their concern for the village community. It is not a rare sight to see live cribs (depicting the birth of Baby Jesus in a stable), moving through the village streets during late evening hours of the day.  People of all religions rush out of their homes to get a glimpse of these cribs and join in the carol singing as well.

Dressed in their finest outfits, stitched specially for the occasion, people attend the midnight Mass, at the village church, where the parish priest ushers in the Christmas season in a prayerful spirit coupled with messages of peace, joy and love. Following the midnight Mass, some parishes even organise a little get together for its parishioners, where games like Housie or spot games are conducted, while all enjoy coffee and cake, mingle with one another and exchange Christmas greetings.

19During this entire season, from 25th Dec to 6th Jan, the youth are also busy organising and participating in the carol singing competitions, crib and star making competitions, one act plays etc. Sweets are distributed among the neighbours and friends; Christmas cards are sent across the cities, countries and continents; gifts are exchanged and visiting relatives and friends is also an important part of this season.

Reaching out to the poor and less fortunate by way of food, clothing, toys and gifts etc is another characteristic feature of Christmas celebrations in Goa.

Many youth groups pay visits to orphanages and the homes for the aged and spend time with the little children and the elderly, singing carols, playing games and distributing gifts - in short, making them feel loved and cared for! After all, isn't this what Christmas is all about?

It isn't about having the best clothes or the most expensive decorations or the finest food.  Christmas is a "FEELING" a feeling of hope, happiness and serenity as people of different religions unite to celebrate this global feast, to commemorate the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, on that silent and holy night, more than 2000 years ago.

Melba Quiterio nee Fernandes is widowed and lives alone in a splendid ancestral home of Portuguese architecture which is over 200 years old, in Goa. Melba has two daughters and one son and is a proud grandmother to 6 grandchildren with another one on the way. Melba was the chief organizer of the very successful DRGS Memorial Mass held at the Bom Jesus Cathederal, Goa, in January, 2013.

A White Christmas

by Joan doRosario, Class of '64

Christmas in Canada is as aesthetically different from the ones we knew back in Kenya, as one can possibly imagine. November is the harbinger of winter, when the leaves on the trees have long since fallen, and the bare, barren branches announce the arrival of an equally barren season. Were it not for Christmas, we’d probably all slip into a state of maudlin depression, or worse.

The middle of November heralds the arrival Santa with a massive parade through the city’s downtown core. All the major stores and businesses provide dressed up floats as the city awaits the VIP’s arrival. Santa and his entourage finally make their appearance and Christmas in Toronto is underway. The parade is the starting bell for the commercial season. Stores are all lit up to entice residents into a spending frenzy. Homes are decorated and a feeling of anticipation permeates the city.

The Goan community in Toronto still maintain many traditions imported from their countries of origin. The Christmas parties and soirees start by the end of November. The Goan Overseas Association host the St. Francis Xavier’s feast celebration during the first weekend of December 20which Goans look forward to, not only for the social meet-and-greet it provides, but also for the bazaar of Goan goodies presented by Goan caterers that are sold at this event. Most families still hold fast to the tradition of kuswar making, and although many have tempered the tedious dosh-strirring and kul-kul rolling with easier western style seasonal baking, the traditions of Christmas preparations still exist. We probably throw ourselves so wholeheartedly into Christmas just to break up the tedium of a long, dreary winter, or perhaps because it is, after all, the season of joy and hope. Whatever the reason, we look forward to the excuse of family and friends to overeat and over-drink.

December 24 th rolls around and we’re already exhausted. By Christmas Eve, siblings, their families, and extended family have gathered together at a prearranged home. Everyone’s peering out anxiously for snow. After all, what is Christmas without the white stuff, eh? Midnight Mass is a tradition most Goans still maintain, although it seems that many now tend to go to the

earlier-than-midnight services. If we’re lucky, as we mostly seem to be, the snow lies thick on the ground and for this one night of winter, no-one’s complaining. We wrap up warmly and linger outside the Church after Mass, drinking in the beautiful white fluff falling softly like puffs of giant cotton balls against the dark, black of midnight. It is the most wonderful time of the year, as peace descends upon the earth. We travel home to indulge in traditional egg-nog or warm cider with trays of savoury snacks followed by trays of kuswar. Many Goans still observe the tradition of the after-midnight-Mass parties, and those energetic enough set out for rounds of carol singing and bon-homerie.

On the big day itself, we all stagger downstairs to the main family room where we look for signs of Santa having visited. The younger children are all agog clamouring to open theirs gifts while the older family members just want a strong cup of coffee and to be left alone. But it’s Christmas, and we all gamely join in the proceedings. Gifts are opened and exclaimed over, “OMG! Just what I

always wanted”, is the mantra that goes round. And even if one felt, “what the heck were they thinking to get me this,” a happy smile is worn and all is well. It is Christmas after all, and the awful, gaudy bracelet is accepted with good grace. Breakfast is generally missed in favour of the heavy Christmas meal to follow. Many have Christmas luncheon instead of Christmas dinner. Whichever they choose, however, is a long drawn out over-indulgent gourmet extravaganza.

Evening comes and the ground is still covered with thick layers of the fluffy, soft output from above.  Often, our family might drive to City Hall where a massive skating rink has been set up in the square around the lighted Christmas tree that towers high over the impressive municipal building. The skaters in the family quickly get on the ice while the non-skaters sip hot chocolate from the nearby vendors, and look on.

And suddenly, after the months of preparation and anticipation, it’s all over. Christmas Day has passed and we’re now looking forward to bringing in the New Year.

Joan doRosario proudly claims the status of being a 2nd generation DRGS ex-student - mother and family attended since 1931. A very dedicated supporter of the DRGS alumni and presides over the Toronto 2015 Reunion Committee.

Xant Nixa, a Konkani Version of Silent Night (Video)

Performed by Lucina Pinto  (wife of Godfrey Pinto, Class of 64), Savio Menezes, and Saozinha Rodrigues.

Our deep appreciation to the above performers for sharing this musical gem. We take this opportunity to extend our sincere appreciation to Dr. Lucina Pinto who has supported both DRGS and Class of 64 efforts with so much enthusiasm. Lucina so gamely conducted the choir at the 2013 DRGS Memorial Mass in Toronto. Lucina's exceptional musical talent brought together a memorable ensemble of voices that held the congregation enthralled. Indeed, it goes without saying, we are very fortunate to claim Lucina as a member of our DRGS family