Some readers have requested me to post the extensive review rather than just the link. I have copy/pasted the document and generated a pdf file that is posted below:
So, what were conversions all about?
Frederick Noronha
Religious conversions have become a hot issue of discussion in today’s political discourse. This is because different religions take diverse approaches to it (from open conversions to embrace-and-extend kind of conversions). Besides, proselytising of some kinds are seen as unacceptable in South Asia.
In this context, a just-released book called ‘The Denaming of Goans: Case Studies of Conversions in Medieval Goa’ that discusses contentious topics, comes at a critical juncture and is likely to rustle more than a few feathers.
Its author, Bernardo Elvino de Sousa (77), traces his roots to the village of Aldona but is based in Switzerland. His training is in Chemistry but he writes with passion about History. This is like another expat Goan, the US-based Themistocles D’Silva, who has written a couple of books on the history of the tiny yet colourful village of Arossim in the Mormugao taluka. (Sousa has a PhD in organic photochemistry and spent a lifetime working for giants like Ciba-Geigy.)
Like the proverbial glass which is half-full or half-empty, one can read this book any which way. Depending on our own biases, it is possible to come to very conflicting conclusions about its contents.
‘The Denaming of Goans: Case Studies of Conversions in Medieval Goa’ consists of fifteen chapters. All, except Chapters 1, 13, 14, and 15 are case studies of different experiences in changing one’s religion or having it changed. Sousa goes in depth into the issue, sometimes basing his conclusions on the writings of other authors.
It is interesting how simply emphasising another set of writers can totally alter one’s perspective. It has been said: What you see depends on where you stand.
Unlike many scholars who have focussed on this topic earlier, Sousa chooses a wider range of authors, and his location in Western Europe obviously makes this easier for him to do. Unlike some books which shaped and heated the Goa debate intensely (Priolkar’s ‘Goa Inquisition’, Gomes Pereira’s ‘The Hindu Temples of Goa’), this one might be a bit more complex to use to score political points and build campaigns over. Simply because it reminds us that life is far more complex than we’d like to believe.
One gets a hint of what is to come from the introduction of the book itself.
Sousa notes that religious conversions in those times meant complete and all-encompassing change. It changed identities, names, culture, deities, rituals, places of worship, eating habits, restrictions and taboos, the musical instruments one used, clothing, and “even hairstyles”.
Yet, he hints, nobody “except a wet baby” likes change. The clue to why this nonetheless happened perhaps lies in understanding the WIIFM (or, the What’s In It For Me) question.
Sousa writes: “Why did the son of my ancestor Ramu Prabhu belonging to the fourth vangad of Aldona’s comunidade convert and take the name of Agostinho Sousa? Why did the Hindus generally speaking accept to convert: was it due to bribery, threats or torture as Priolkar suggests, or other forms of duress? Or, for the poorer sections of society, was it a means of escape from brahmanical subservience? And why did people belonging to the higher castes of Brahmins and Chardos convert? Were there win-win situations where the converts stood to benefit from a change in religion? Or for all these reasons and more? In short, what was in it for them?”
He elaborates the stories from those times through case studies.
But he also cautions the reader to consider each case on its own merit. Sousa clearly mentions: “No claim is made that these cases cover all possible causes but I am confident that they should encompass those that led to at least a majority of the conversions.”
From there, Sousa looks at the diverse stories of changes of faiths. The first converts of Goa, he points out, were the Muslim widows forcibly married to Portuguese men in the early stages of their rule here. He calls this “Albuquerque’s failed experiment with interracial marriages”.
Interesting, this side of the story seldom if ever features in the current discourse. Obviously, this is mainly because it doesn’t fit into the political narrative sought to be built on the back of a selective reading of history.
From there, Sousa studies the conversion of a prominent local leader in Chorao. He presents a story of how alien rule offered him opportunity in times of adversity. Financial pressures in the life of Loco Sinai (who became Lucas de Sa) coming from entirely different quarters were warded off through a strategic switch of religion.
A case of a group’s return to Aldona and the conversion of a rajah of the Malabar Coast are also focused on. Sousa calls the conversions of the gaunkars of Carambolim “a pragmatic decision of convenience”. In another case, he sees it as stories of “espionage and betrayal” or even slaves paying the price for the freedom. The exploitation of children, racism of the European clergy, and betrayals are among the other issues tackled.
Goa has been rather polarised in its approaches towards its past. In the pre-1961 era, everything (or almost) was written from a pro-Portuguese perspective. Today, the boot is on the other foot. If one reads the works influenced by colonial, anti-monarchial, religious, anti-clerical, Free Masonic, and radical perspectives, you would almost feel as if you’re reading perspectives on many different places. Not the same region.
Rowena Robinson, an earlier researcher in the field, has quoted the many reasons for which people opted to change their religion, as given by different authors. These range from the voluntary (Heras, D’Costa), to material rewards combined with threats of violence and torture (Priolkar, RP Rao, Rui Gomes Pereira), the Inquisition (Priolkar), and a choice between “the cross and the sword” (BG D’Souza).
Boxer pointed to the “carrot and stick”, Pearson suggested that Portuguese rules were tempered by political realities (religious intolerance in Diu was reduced as the Portuguese feared the influential trading caste of the vanias or banias would leave, bringing commerce to a standstill). Diffie and Winius argue that the goal was military rather than commercial.
Late historian Teotonio R de Souza has contended meanwhile that village-life centred around the temple and “every activity was initiated and concluded with offerings to family and village deities” thus “conversions altered social life in significant ways”.
This book, for some time available on Amazon only as an ebook in our parts of the globe, makes the debate more accessible. It opens up more inaccessible earlier studies and connects the same in interesting ways. In doing so, it carries with it the risk of repeating some of the biases of the past. Or even some coming up from us ourselves.
For instance, writers from Goa and beyond seem outraged by the attitudes of figures from the past (including Francis Xavier) whether on race or their faith. But, as this book’s subtitle reminds us, if some such attitudes seemed Medieval… it’s because they were Medieval!
What’s nice about this brief book is its ability to weave history into a story. But how our politics and academia will see and interpret this is anyone’s guess.
