BASILIO MONTEIRO
[The writer is Chair and Associate Professor at the Division of Mass Communication and Director of the Institute for International Communication at St John's University in New York.]
Goa is referred to in the Mahabharata as Gomanta, which translates as the region of cows. It is also sometimes referred to as Govarashtra. Goa has played an influential role in Indian history. Given its strategic location and centre of trade, and from its earliest known history, Goa was frequented by seafarers, traders, and missionaries. The Portuguese were only the latest in a long succession of outside powers to establish an organised political system which lasted for centuries and had profound consequences.
Understandably, Goa has undergone continual transformation, leaving an indelible mark on its cultural and socio-economic life. People came, stayed, and left, and each encounter left something behind. Over centuries, Goans learned to adjust to new rulers, new religions, new languages, new customs and new economic realities. What emerged was not a culture untouched by outsiders but one continually shaped by encounter and adaptation.
Goa and Goenkars of today
Today, however, with the soaring economic value of almost every asset, tangible or intangible, movable or immovable, Goa, the land where seemingly anything goes, has become the centre of attraction. Post-colonial Goa has captured the imagination of people from far beyond its borders and compelled many to claim a piece of it as their own.
There is, however, an important difference between the outsiders Goa absorbed over the centuries and the increasingly extractive relationship with Goa that we witness today. Much of the present attraction is no longer simply about coming to Goa, living among Goans and becoming part of its social and cultural fabric. Increasingly, it is about acquiring and monetising Goa.
Every inch of land seems to have acquired a price. Hills, fields, forests and riverfronts become real estate. Clean air, open spaces, beaches and even the peace and quiet of village life become commodities to be packaged and sold. The concern, therefore, is not merely about who comes to Goa, but what they come to Goa to do and what will remain of Goa.
Since 1961, as per the Census 2011, significant migration from mainland India following the end of Portuguese rule has dramatically changed Goa’s population. Ethnic Goans have become a virtual minority, accounting for roughly half of the population currently residing within the state. A large settled population now lives in Govarashtra, the “fertile cow region”, enjoying the good life and freedoms that Goa offers.
As much as many people publicly manifest an aversion to colonialism, sometimes to score a political point away from the public face, there is often a glowing appreciation of the “left-over socio-cultural colonial artefacts", which command enormous marketing value and social prestige. Real estate peddlers rarely miss an opportunity to advertise a “Portuguese House", often simply because it was built during Portuguese colonial times, irrespective of its actual architectural style.
Geography and topography, however, are apolitical and obey their own natural forces. For those living within the boundaries of the “fertile cow region", life continued largely in villages without too much fanfare. People learned to live alongside one another. Communities developed around fields, rivers, forests and villages, and over generations evolved their own rhythms of living. For those beyond its boundaries, however, Goa increasingly became a “brain-itching curiosity".
As the old saying goes, the grass is always greener on the other side. For real estate barons, Goa’s perceived “high culture” of a place where “anything goes” offered a perfect marketing strategy to attract the “culture-aspiring” from outside the old colonial ring. Deride “colonialism” for political gain, but embrace the colonial lixo (trash) because it can be turned into high-priced merchandise. That commodification has now moved far beyond colonial artefacts. A hill is valuable because villas can be built upon it. A village because its “sossegado” can be marketed.
The “fertile cow region", Govarashtra, becomes Goa, perhaps through the compulsions of linguistic economy. But Goa is more than a name on a map. Its topography helped cultivate its culture and way of life: what people ate, what they wore, how they organised themselves, how communities formed, and how people related to the land and to one another.
The “hunter-gatherers” of the original Govarashtra kept adjusting to new environments and new influences. In many ways, this ability to absorb influences without entirely surrendering a sense of self is part of the Goan story.
When does a person become a Goenkar?
Perhaps it is when they speak the shared language, eat the shared cuisine and participate in communal rituals. For someone to be recognised as amchoch to, “one of our own”, the individual ought to be seen as immersed in and participating in the life of the community. The Athenian Greeks called such participation leitourgia, or public service, a word commonly associated among Catholics with liturgy.
By participating in this leitourgia of community life, one develops a sense of belonging and gradually absorbs its ways of thinking, being and feeling. Eventually, it is not the individual who has to proclaim that he or she belongs. The community itself says: “amchoch to...”
What, then, is a Goenkar?
Understandably, there will be myriad answers, all within the broad landscape of what one may consider being ‘Goenkar’, an exercise shaped partly by our own imagined expectations.
Perhaps this is also why the question cannot be answered simply by asking where someone was born, where their parents came from, how long they have lived in Goa, or whether they own a house here. Goa has always received outsiders. Its history makes that abundantly clear. The deeper distinction may lie between those who gradually become part of the life of the place and those who see the place principally for what can be extracted from it.
One can acquire a piece of Goa without necessarily becoming Goenkar. One can own a house without belonging to the village around it or acquire a river view without feeling any responsibility for the river itself. Ownership and belonging are not necessarily the same thing.
Cultural contexts shift and evolve with changing politics, economics, educational opportunities and technologies. Human beings themselves keep adapting as technology and mobility reshape the conditions in which they live. The ever-accelerating movement of people has drastically affected the “fertile cow region", Govarashtra, just as movements of people have shaped it throughout its history.
The Goenkar of today is, therefore, both like and unlike the Goenkar who lived a hundred years ago. The circumstances are different; the pressures are different, and the world around Goa has changed enormously. Yet something persists through those changes: the relationship between people, community, culture and place.
Cultural identity is not static; it evolves as time and circumstances change. Traditions evolve as the societal trellises keep unfolding. Thus, being Goenkar is an ongoing evolution, even though nostalgia may drive us to take a peek and celebrate the glorified past.
