Machine translations are detestable, but even professional academic translations often fail to convey the exact punch of the original. I wanted to title this column “Timor Domini”, but changed my mind, fearing that my editor might decide to replace it, in order to be gracious to the common reader.
Incidentally, a couple of days ago, a well-known Goan activist burst into my FB Messenger introducing himself as someone I should recognize from the days when I was tending the Xavier Centre of Historical Research in its baby phase at Miramar. He was part of the Jesuit community of pre-novices in the same building in the late 1970s. Apparently, he opted to change his life course, but by remaining more faithful to prophetic Jesus than to the institutional Church which cannot risk being too fond of prophets. My activist friend believes that I could assist his campaign of denouncing the exploitation of the poor Catholic land-owners in Goa, who he considers to be ignored and even victimized by Church authorities in Goa. His grudge against me was that my style of writing was too subtle and sophisticated for the common reader.
Getting back to my undeclared title of this column in Latin, it is borrowed from the Book of Proverbs in the Bible. The full phrase is “Timor Domini principium sapientiae”, meaning “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”. In the pre-liberation days, which were also pre-Vatican days, God of the colonial church favoured Latin, rather than Konkani. The Goan faithful measured the solemnity of their Church feast by the stipend they paid to the guest-preacher.
It was customary in those days to praise the President (Mordomo in Portuguese lingo) of the festivities, who paid the costs, if he could get a red-buttoned cannon as preacher who could quote lavishly from Biblical Latin, even if he forgot at times to translate it to the native audience into Konkani. Untranslated Latin carried more punch, or at least the gestures tended to convey it better than in Konkani.
In Goa, we knew about Timor, not “Domini” but a Portuguese domain in the Indonesian Archipelago. It inspired fear and trepidation as a very distant destination for those who were deported by the Portuguese colonial regime. The first mass deportation took place during the so-called Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, which was preceded by several smaller rebellions against the British rule in the vicinity of Goa, involving the Phond Sawants and several Desais.
The Dipagi Ranes had revolted in Goa against taxes imposed on their lands by the Portuguese authorities. They practiced acts of violence in and around Sankli, Divcholli and even in the neighbouring provinces. The British demands were used as pretext to arrest and deport them to Timor, along with those listed as wanted by the British. Earlier it was planned to deport them to Mozambique, but the British pressed for distant Timor and provided sea transport in H.M.S. Prince Arthur, under the command of Captain James Tronson. It left Goa on 1st February 1859 with a cargo of over 100 families, including men, women and even 1 year old babies, whose names and ages can be consulted in the Monsoon correspondence in the Goa Archives. Obviously, the forced passengers were accompanied by military crew, and also by a priest Agostinho Coelho and his servant. There is no indication that any of those deported returned.
It should interest us to know how these warrior groups from Western India integrated themselves into the Timorese society and what may have been the contribution of their descendants to the present-day Timor. There were more who made their way to Timor, condemned to 10 years of deportation for crimes of violence or homicide. However, Timor was also a chosen destination by some job seeking Goans and by priests who opted to exercise there their spiritual mission. Among these was Dr. Belarmino Lobo who spent nearly 30 years in Dili and served also as President of its Municipality.
Fr. Alvaro Monteiro from Caranzalem and his brother Dr Longuinhos Monteiro, who studied at the Goa Medical College, distinguished themselves in serving the Timorese people since mid 1950s. Dr. Monteiro, had married a native Timorese, both now deceased. Their only son, graduated in law in Indonesia, got himself into the resistance movement alongside FRETLIN, and was chosen by the UN Delegate for East Timor, Sérgio Vieira de Mello to be the Prosecutor General of Timor. His role was critical in the Peace and Reconciliation Process, and continues to be critical as the Chief of the National Police Force of Timor.
To conclude, I risk overstretching my imagination by linking the Marathi / Konkani heritage of the Desais of Konkan with the traditional justice of the Timorese expressed as nahebiti or fear-free relationship of accommodation. The Desais and Ranes of Goa may have sighed with relief on hearing nahebiti on their arrival. Or did they popularize the expression in Timor? This principle of adjudication in Timorese traditional justice became known worldwide through the UN reports of the Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation in East Timor.
(Teotonio R. de Souza is the founder-
director, Xavier Centre of Historical
Research, Goa)
