Still, ‘Poskem: Goans in the Shadows’ makes a strong point about the power of exclusion.
The villages of Goa, long ignored by tourists and outsiders, yet much-discovered in recent times by the owners of second homes and by artists in residence, remain secretive places. Stone lions perch beside the gates of so-called Portugese villas, which are set back in overgrown gardens, with their tiled roofs pulled over their heads. Dogs bark at passing strangers, who are nevertheless likely to find the scenes enchanting, and the ubiquity of the pets a sign of warmth and homeliness.
Later, however, they might hear stories of maggots festering in untended wounds, of animals tied to chains all day, because they have been kept for a purpose, and little else. It is difficult to reconcile such things with the outward beauty of the village houses; the smiling, if wary, people; and the abounding festivity of the villages themselves. But they are all aspects of Goan reality.
Fashion designer and writer Wendell Rodricks, who, in the early 1990s, anticipated a trend by being one of the first well-travelled and urbanised Goans to move back to his village home, is well-placed to bring its secrets to light. He explains that his friendship with his Goan neighbour, Rosa, prompted him to write this book, as a kind of tribute-cum-apology for what she had endured.
Rosa was a poskem, the Konkani word for “adopted child”, but one laden with pejorative and discriminatory connotations. For these abandoned children, taken in by well-off families, were then brought up as servants. “For the outside world”, says Rodricks elsewhere, “it seemed like they were treated with love and care despite not belonging to the family bloodline. In reality, they were treated as bonded labour, weren’t allowed to marry so they would be in servitude always, and were not given salaries or inheritance despite being given the family name.”