Last week, work took me to the taluka (sub-district) of Salcete for a three day sojourn. If you look at it closely, there are many different “Goas” all over the place, each quite different from the other. Salcete struck me as being markedly diverse in many ways. Do you agree?
Back in the 1970s, a visit to Salcete meant a half-day affair. Going over there from Bardez (via Tiswadi, then still called Ilhas) meant a journey via three buses and two ferries. So, you couldn’t spend much time there. By the time you got in, it was time to think of the return.
In the then not-so-crowded city centre, was a restaurant where everyone met everyone else. Without mobiles or even landlines, you just kept an appointment by meeting up there at the earlier-fixed time. Of course, there was Longuinhos for more elaborate meals and functions.
People in Margao then seemed more fashionable, especially the womenfolk. Probably this had to do with the heightened out-migration from that area happening then.
Sometime in 1979, we schoolboys had to catch the early morning train out of Margao. It meant spending a night at the village of Sirlim, a tiny but hospitable place, where a friendly priest, Fr Suresh Godinho, put us up with hospitality and warmth.
Sometime along the way, a ‘Protect Water Protect Life’ padyatra (foot march0 taken out by the late campaigner-politician Matanhy Saldanha for the National Fishermen’s Forum, transported some of us through coastal Salcete. As youngsters in our 20s, we encountered another Salcete, one of humble, honest, hardworking fishermen, who welcomed us into their hovels, and fed us with tasty, flour-coated bangdas (mackerels) for the morning’s breakfast.
Till the mid-1990s, and before the Konkan Railway made its contested arrival in Goa, trips out of the State often meant heading to Margao. By that time, the bridge over the Mandovi was ready, making travel somewhat easier.
Though Christian Saxttikars (the only minority-majority sub-district of Goa) shared a religion with some of us, they did come across as rather different. They were strong in their feelings, quick in their emotions, and speedy to speak out against what they saw as going wrong.
For our generation, Goa encountered the fury of Salcete emotions in full blast during the Konkani language agitation. In the Christmas of 1986, the place was like a battle zone.
Almost one generation earlier, Salcete (and some other parts of South Goa too) had played a historic role in tilting the results of the ‘Opinion Poll’. Had it not been for the block voting there, Goa could have surely and sadly been a tiny part of giant Maharashtra today.
Salcete politics worked itself out in very different ways from that of the rest of Goa. While there was an internal ‘code’ of how it worked, very few understood its algorithm. Fewer still discussed it.
Even in the 1970s, the MGP managed to get a win for its candidate ‘Luta’ (Menino Jesus) Ferrao, playing on the harsh local cleavages of the area. It won by a very narrow margin, and a court battle, making it to the assembly rather late in the day. But it won.
In the 1980s, the Congress held sway over Goa (despite repeated dissidence by anti-Rane factions). Salcete was then a key part of the jigsaw the then dominant party to stay in power.
It would not be wrong to say that besides the Congress, and on the rare occasion even the MGP, even the BJP played the Salcete game skilfully to manage local sentiments and benefit the most from it. Likewise, the AAP also made its presence felt (in seats which the BJP could not win) while the RG managed to tipple the results in 2022, without attracting too much attention.
Prior to this, there were some totally unpredictable political games. The countermanding of two assembly and the South Goa parliamentary seat elections, was a bizarre Salcete ploy. This took so much time to understand, and after two decades, the case also ended in the acquittal of all the accused.
In the 1980s, one saw issues relating to the aboriginal Gawda population being taken up in Salcete (as in some other parts of Goa). Ironically, these would come up strongly whenever an election was shortly due.
Linguistically, much of Salcete felt alienated after the 1987 Official Language Act tricked those who were most strongly in favour of Konkani. It gave Konkani official language status -- of sorts. But that too, only in the Devanagari script, which Catholic Saxttikars (like other Goans of their ilk) were largely unfamiliar with. Their own dialect suffered both neglect and ridicule (even from their own coreligionists up in north Goa). It was assigned to just be the language of the comedian in the tiatr.
Because Margao is so far away from the state capital, it also became that much more difficult to access jobs (sometimes higher education too, though that got more spread out over recent times). Those who had political connections could get government jobs, but the rest had to think of migration, leading to so many empty homes, with long term consequences we can only speculate over.
In short, a visit to Salcete is like going back in time.
It’s unlike the Bardez coast, where tourism landed in the 1960s itself. Tourism reached Salcete in the 1980s, to spread fast. For instance, a village like Cavalossim (and nearby) was at one stage setting up five five-star hotels.
Till date, Salcete covers itself in its clothes of religiosity. The late journalist Mario Cabral e Sa would sometimes half-jokingly say that this concelho was converted by the Jesuits during their early intensely Conservative phase. The Christians created by the Dominicans or Franciscans were different, he suggested.
Today, you can still hear a chapel bell tolling at 5.30 am and then playing hymns at 6 am, to make sure the devout are up and starting on their day bright and early. If so much bread-making skills come from Majorda, it isn’t without reason too.
Out migration, both on board the ship and via the Portuguese passport route, has changed the social structure of the area. One can only guess how this would affect things in the long run. Politicians, not sure about which way the Salcete wind will blow, seem little concerned about the long-term interests of the region and its people. We have no statesmen here, only politicians.
The cuisine, language, mansions and tiny homes (housing is still an issue for Goans which seldom gets discussed), changing social role played by women (more due to out-migration and their education), the flat and fertile geography (till you reach Quepem), the attitude of the people there (honest but emotional), differing patterns of outmigration... and more, reminds us of the diversity that Goa has long had.
Do we think it’s important enough to be preserved?
