I’m not converting or anything. Not that you can convert into an ethnicity. It’s really something that you’re born into. Or is it? I am Bangalorean, though I’m not born here nor am I of Kannadiga ethnicity. Being Bangalorean or Goan is really a state of mind. “Goa is a state of mind…. A piece of paradise.” Right?
Anyhow, let me not deviate from the start! This is a book review. A book which I picked up earlier this year, because I was looking for books by women from around the world. I’ve always been interested in such books, because I want to understand women’s social and political thought; how women perceive the world around them, their country or region, and the regional past which has shaped the contemporary, in society, culture, and politics.
This particular book, Becoming Goan, by Michele Bambewale, is relevant to me now, because I’m planning a trip to Goa this week. I’m first going to Sarth Ayurveda, for a therapeutic retreat. If it seems to be working well for the 5 day program, I will probably stay a few extra days.
I’m also going to visit my good friend Roshni, who has settled into Goa in the last year, though she’s originally from Bangalore and ethnically Malayali via Kolkata. We are all really an amalgamation of all the places and peoples we absorb into our lives. Even the author of this book is a mixture of her experiences from childhood in Pune to adulthood in different parts of India and then the world.
Bambewale recognizes that oral histories and communities of storytelling are often lost. “This is my herstory of living in Siolim today with my socio-economic, geopolitical, gender, race, religion and language biases,” she says.
However, sometimes this also makes us insular, because we seek out people like us. Bambewale writes, “As a society, we already live in silos. Social media is pushing us to become even more insular. We divide our world by language, colour, education, occupation, neighbourhood and anything else we can find”.
Book Review:
Coconut.
Your first thought might be of Kerala. In Becoming Goan, Michelle Mendonco Bambawale brings coconuts, mangos, and jackfruits to life in Goa.
Goa? You might be a little surprised. We all go to Goa. For the luxury resorts with beaches, shacks with beers, bars filled with loud Bollywood music, gambling on floating casino boats. And we believe that to be Goan culture and lifestyle. “If I knew little, they knew much less, but that did not stop them from being an authority on not just quarantine times and vaccines, but food, property, tourism and the Goan way of life” (Chapter 1).
Bambawale writes short sentences and simple sentence structures over 250 odd pages, showing her own truth: that Goa was an amalgamation of cultures and peoples, existing long before tourism hit this coastal state. This is a book that cautions us as global citizens, to be aware. In this case, awareness of Goa’s truth and its story. And of tourism and what it does to the world around it.
How many of us trek to Goa for a seaside vacation? Longing for fresh air, Bambawale writes that we end up “throwing water and beer bottles” in Goa and making it a mess (Chapter 2). Goa is not just a tourist’s paradise, with its casinos and nightlife on the beach. It’s home to the Goan people, where they reside quietly in their villages as more and more of the cities become commercial real estate for resorts and hotels to encourage tourism.
But this tourism is not eco-friendly or culturally competent, the author cautions us. This tourism is about “bhangra beats” and “chicken tikka served with a side of mutter paneer” (Chapter 2). This tourism is a globalized Starbucks and McD’s world, and the true “Goan essence is disappearing” (Chapter 1).
The author situates Goa in its historical and geographical/ topographical spaces, showing its rich diversity due to various influences that created linguistic bridges. The book documents individuals, families, and their stories– encapsulates them in a few short paragraphs, as if coming back to Goa was like receiving a warm hug from a long lost aunt, and then being able to give it back.
She also educates readers about the history of tourism and what incidents created the industry to become what it is today. She discusses, albeit briefly, that there is an influx of international influence now, to the point where sign boards are written in Russian, among other languages. But perhaps for a land that already has many influences: Kannada from the south, Marathi from the North, Hindi from the country, English from education, and Portuguese from the past, this is a time for a new movement to be added to the mix. Sure, it won’t retain the pristine and peaceful villages where one can ponder over time; but it is the movement of today, which will be a part of the past of tomorrow. We also get to learn of some of the legal battles, at least some of the basic issues and ideals fought for by Goan groups: land, mining, etc.
The book is somewhat awkward, almost as if it’s still in draft form. Often it is notes, pasted in a random order with titles about Goa. There are long lists, of things to remember and people to pay attention to. It’s almost like a tour guide book, presenting the off-the-beaten path. There’s no thread that connects the various stories and thoughts together. Bambawale writes of different people and their activities in the state, especially around her own home in Siolim. It’s worthy as a series of blogs, but awkward as a book.