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ISLAND OF IGNORANCE -
Edgar Martins (1998)
I have just returned from the Island of Ignorance where I had been working for a few years. I had concluded that I would rather enjoy ' poverty in freedom than riches in Slavery. My days on the island, I chose to end as I had spent my time in a gilded cage. The door was open and it was my prerogative to choose. I had gone there through agents in Bombay who never warned me of the dangers I was to encounter on this tiny island. The statistics were deceptive, the money looked tempting and besides, in today's modern bureaucratic world, poverty needs a passport. The fish in Goa would not bite and the cost of living had skyrocketed. Our cashew seed, mangoes, shrimp and valuable fish stocks were not meant for us. The country needed foreign exchange and what better way is there when one is poor than to send our youth abroad to be debased and our products for the enjoyment of those who will send us 'solid' money. I left hoping to come back with savings to build a house and to give my wife and children the amenities of civilization. Alas, now that I am back, I realize the battering my dignity took from the citizens and government of the Island of Ignorance. This tiny island used Indian rupees as their currency and its economy was controlled by India which appeared then much more prosperous. Till about 40 years ago Britain ruled this island which was part of an archipelago, and India too. Movement to this island was unrestricted. But suddenly beneath the sands of this place there were discovered valuable diamonds and this island to suit the greed of the British was separated from the archipelago and declared independent. Diamonds are a girls best friend and of the British too. The king of the larger entity has ever since attempted to reunite the two islands. But Britain and the U.S. who exploit the diamonds will not hear of this. This pattern, Britain has followed since it went out to rule the waves in the name of Britannia. So I flew to serve on this island. In my baggage, I carried a Bible and a rosary to be able to be closer to my maker - for comfort and solace when I found the going tough. But the infidel who checked my baggage confiscated these and I was told rudely not to question his discretion. I took a cab to my new home. I had been warned that I could not drink. I was to teach at a school. When I started work, I noticed that I was paid a third of the wages of the local teachers, corrected 4 times the work of the 'duffers' I was teaching. My salary was a third of the amount a mother received when a child was born to keep him well fed and to grow up an imbecile. I silently resented my position and the affront to my dignity.
The locals could and did drink copiously and were immune to searches. Police would not dare enter the compound of a local to search it - the area of the abode was vast. At birth the government assured each and every citizen enough land to live. The expats outnumbered the locals and they received no benefits from the king who ruled to look after the benefit of the locals. The shops and stores are well stocked and comparable to those in America. Water for use is obtained from desalination of the sea water. Every little thing is imported based on the export of diamonds. Nothing is manufactured. There was on this island a church which was by a strange coincidence allowed to be built by a previous king when the island was poor. The other churches were temporary shelters that had to be rented. The population believed in polygamy. Servants were obliged to surrender their passports to the masters which were returned only at the time of departure. They were forced to work from dawn to dusk and were paid a meager wage which by Indian standards were fair. Food, accommodation and clothes were provided. Every year the master changed his entire wardrobe and discarded his Gucci shoes, Dior suits and the dresses of his many wives. All is left to the servant to choose and many gathered things that they could take to India to benefit their families and friends. Go to the airports of any Indian city and you will notice Indians returning from the Island of Ignorance happily tugging huge mattresses and valises - toys discarded by their employers. The roads are like the autobahns, wide and spacious. Driving is hazardous. If bumped from the back and the culprit is a local, do not argue but drive away and accept your lot. If one does not heed this rule, one is left to bear the expense of repairing the vehicle of the local who is to blame in the first place. The road to the airport is a straight run and often littered with carcasses of battered cars which are promptly removed like a murderer who hurriedly removes traces of his misdemeanor. I have even seen some look like concertinas or split in two. These are American cars - gas guzzlers. The toll is horrendous. Many an Indian and his entire family has been wiped out and the Indian government powerless to intervene. The young boys of the island are spoilt. Even before they are allowed to drive, they steal the car keys from their fathers and race each other on the local roads. A favourite road is the one leading to the airport. If driving it is advisable to drive in the middle lane and to watch the three mirrors for oncoming cars at breakneck speeds and driven by these young desperados. The right and left lanes are left free for them to whiz by. If unlucky, you are sent forthwith to meet your maker. Rape of domestics. Ill treatment even by members of the royal family is common. A Filipina who murdered the rapist had to run the gamut of being sentenced to death, imprisonment, length court battles after her and other governments. Even if innocent, the onus is on the expats and their lives are at the mercy of the family of the rapist. The Filipino was lucky to return to her native place where she breathes the air of freedom after having seen hell on the Island of Ignorance. Many have accomplices in their evil ways. Here the British and the Americans collude with the King of this island. Open a newspaper and read the advertisements for nannies wanted from Asia for the British expats or local families. When over there I was curious to learn that a Goan wanted to test the waters. He advertised for a British nanny to do light housework. The British Embassy immediately went on the offensive and requested the local government to investigate the matter. How could an ex-colonized expat dare to put such an insulting ad in the local newspaper? He was hauled before the police and warned never again to repeat such an insult and the paper was warned never to accept such ads. I ask myself, where is the Indian government when its citizens are debased outside its borders? They are only concerned with the diamonds and our cash which helps the economy. Edgar Martins
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