A Goat Grazing: 1957 to 1963

By Richard Johnson, November 2006 For the uninitiated, Goethals Memorial School (GMS) is located in Kurseong at the foothills of the Himalayan mountains in India. Boys who attended Goethals were generally known as Goats or Goethalites. In 2007 Goethals celebrates its Centenary which has brought about this reection. My connection with Goethals started in the 1940s my elder brother Maurice went to Goethals (rst row, third from the right). Other well known identities in the photograph are Matthew Lobo (GMS teacher extraordinaire and mentor) Bro. Fitzpatrick, well known to generations of Goethalites. I can hear the voices of Mum and Dad We must try to give Richard the same opportunity as Maurice My father worked in the Burmah-Shell Oil Company and used to get transferred to various parts of India every few years. In true Anglo-Indians tradition, my parents wanted me to have an education in a good English school and they felt that not changing schools would be desirable. So, when my father was transferred to Muzaffarpur in 1956, they sent me to Goethals the following year. The toy train is an early memory being sick the windy roads the fear the unknownThen arriving at the school being overwhelmed by the size of it all the grand main building waiting in the Parlour my father left - the thought of sleeping in a dormitory with so many others the lights went off and there was a lot of crying. Then there was another day it started with mass I remember kneeling in front of the altar with the mighty banner Thine Will Be Done. Did that mean I would never see my mother again, I thought sobbing! A visit from family was few and far between - it was just too expensive. My Mum and sister Cynthias (pictured) visits were very special in those early days. I remember giving my sister very clear instructions and it was my only request Dont kiss me in front of the boys. A request she duly ignored!
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The rst sight of the school food was a strong memory the tuck room was visited on a regular basis and the contents of the personal tuck box brought from home lasted about a week then there was a few weeks of starving then I ate the food served in the refectory, and I still eat everything! There are also memories of someone at my table spitting in a tin of jam so that no one else would want any at least from that tin! And the time when we were so fed-up of peanut butter that balls of peanut butter were thrown on the ceiling and they stuck there. There were consequences. St. Patricks day was memorable for the good grub and so were those other special days. There were also those special add-ons to the meals that people paid extra for eggs and side dishes and things that smelt good more because others had it. However, you could get a swap done for doing some elses homework at times! Then, there was the box man Blackie. That must have been racist and I have got to say, I feel funny saying the word now but those days seem to have been so simple I think. Any excuse to go to town or Darjeeling was gobbled-up and so were the MoMos which were cheap and delicious and ice creams at Keventors (Pokie, Glenn, Lawrence and yours truly pictured)! I often wonder why the nostalgia is so strong when it comes to the GMS experience it must have to do with being away, the separation, the isolation and from that, the development of strong friendships. I still (forty-six years later) identify smells, colours, music, tastes, fears with those seven years of my life the texture of stewed eggplant (brinjal) still gets to me! Strong experiences are etched in my behaviour though the source or the memory is fading. I remember a bleak time I was being bullied and it was relentless it went for about a year and a half. The culture was well, youve got to do something about it. I couldnt. Then, quite unexpectedly, a guy by the name of Patrick Bland came up to me one day and gave me a strategy. Do you know how to hit? he asked No was the reply from this meek and mild twelve year old. He taught me simple stuff dont hold your thumb under your ngers, dont bend your wrist and now you have to do it What? Well, the next time he says anything to you hit him just hit him and you must hit him in the face right on the nose. I did. He was all but knocked out and things changed instantly I was never bullied again. In that very macho male environment, this was an important message and I can still hear it. It had an important inuence on me I took up boxing and developed a keen interest in physical exercise and weightlifting. As I write this piece now, I am 60 years old, I go to the gym ve days a week and I can still bench press 80 Kg. Those bonds of friendship were so important and they still feel important to this day they are the special people who helped me through as friends and condants Babs (aka Arun Gazi, Glenn,
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Lawrence, Mohan, Pon Mei, Tony, Eugene, S.K., Patrick, Bruce, Jeff and many more. Croker was an interesting wilderness- close full of stinging nettle and leeches I have early memories of gangs having hiding spots camps I suppose and sometimes you captured someone from an opposing gang and took them in and tortured them with stinging nettle sounds awful and dangerous now, but it was all innocent fun. The other visit to Croker was when the football went over the fence on rst eld and cry went out Fishers! Then the team of nominated shers went down to fetch the ball or rather to nd the ball. Some used this as a great opportunity for a smoke. I never took to smoking maybe I was just a goody-two-shoes I just hated the taste I still remember it Charminar I recall. The gangs were serious business I remember being involved in a gang ght ( I cant believe Im writing this it seems like an out of body experience) it came to a head and a ght was arranged a particular time and the place was on second eld I was in the same gang as Glenn (Storey) and Archie (Scott) and I can only remember the one I had to ght it was Thorpe (I cant recall his rst name) who was with us for a short time, he did regular push-ups and was very strong I dont know why I scored him! I was certainly not the strongest in our gang. I must have lost the ght because I cant remember it! It was sometimes hard to appreciate the work of the teachers and I now nd myself taking a very critical view as I have been immersed in teacher education for the past twenty six years. But it all must be put in context. I do reect on a safe and caring environment. Sr. Felix (pictured) was soft and caring when you needed it most when you were unwell and then there was the trip to the inrmary for Horlicks many spoons in a mug with a drop of water and mixed into a thick paste if there was any left it was made into a drink. That Flu epidemic in 1957 was a fearful time for all when one of the students lost his life. Then, there were the brothers and lay-teachers memories ood back of all shades the rules, the enforcement, the strappings for my bathing shorts being on the wrong line the inspections with a clean handkerchief and shining shoes I dont have inspections any more, but I always have a clean handkerchief and shining shoes I wonder why! I also always hold a cup by the handle, quite elegantly, people have remarked thanks to Bro. Kyle who accidentally bumped into me and spilled my hot coffee all over me with a comment referring to the incorrect way I was holding my coffee cup! Bro. Moynahan (pictured in his ofce and with his class of 63) has a special space in the memory bank as my teacher for the last two years and as a mentor and great person. While I believe that all my friends and teachers had an impact on my life probably none more than Bro. Morrow (pictured with the prefects of 1963).
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The annual play was a leading feature of the year. Yes, I remember the Mikado of 57 and A Royal Jester (pictured) in 1962 with Mohan as King Ortensis, R.Johnson as the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Basant Lama as the Prime Minister, Babs Gazi as the Commander in ChiefIn 1963 we were doing The New Boy the teacher who was directing the play took ill. Mohan Shivdasani and I decided that we could direct the play and conveyed that to the brothers. We were allowed and could not help but notice Bro. Morrow, down the back of the hall with his usual very red face and arms folded, just watching. As usual he didnt say much. Then one day he asked to see me after rehearsal. I shivered. Johnson, he said if you decide to take up teaching next year, we will pay for you. Then he turned around and walked away. This was the most inuential line anyone has ever said to me. I was not a high academic achiever, I was always around the middle of the class and in my earlier years I had experienced the bottom ranks and yellow cards. I never imagined myself doing further studies and suddenly somebody (and not just anyone) had planted a seed and offered me a scholarship and in return I would be required to teach with the Christian Brothers for a few years. As circumstances would have it, I didnt take up the offer but I did do a Commerce degree (St. Xaviers, Calcutta) and gave private tuition to test if I was interested in teaching. I have taught since then and I now have six degrees in Education, my last being a Doctorate (PhD). The fact that I nished my schooling in Goethals was through the generosity of the Brothers. In 1961 my father had just retired and could not afford to re-enrol me. We were then living in Calcutta and very near Calcutta Boys School where I was enrolled till my father received a letter from the Principal, Bro. Ponise (I still have the letter) offering to waive the fees for my nal two years. This is the kind of concern and compassion I recall behind those tough exteriors. Other memories of staff members are of tough Tunu and Khuttoo and Rassick (I was never sure why we called him that) and I also remember umbrellas going up in the front row when Bro. Foreign spoke the front row had to protect themselves from the spray! I remember Mr. Chakraberti (Chemistry teacher), I didnt do Chemistry, but he had that special ability to relate to students. Mr. Roy, our Physics teacher got a raw deal from a group of us. We had an uncomplimentary name for him relating to his laugh. It must have made life so difcult for his son, a fellow student and an outstanding one at that. The result: I dropped Physics and academically, to this day, I have an embarrassing lack of knowledge in the sciences, particularly Physics. You had the last laugh Mr. Roy! Matthew Lobo was one of those inspiring teachers. It was Matthew Lobo who arranged that memorable trip to Darjeeling which included the Mountaineering Institute and us meeting the famous Tenzing Norgay (pictured). I also recall the name of a student Avari facilitating that meeting.
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I have fond memories of him and Mr Pascall, our Hindi teacher (pictured wither Bro. Morrow) for some reason. I remember Bro. Rowe (pictured supervising his favourite Maze Drill) his rst joke to start his Mathematics lesson was always about the cowboy who took his son to be enrolled in school. He saw Trigonometry on the Mathematics curriculum Give him plenty of that, said the cowboy, hes the worst shot in the family. We always laughed heartily but is was more at the image of Bro. Rowe telling the joke and the crimson face that followed! I have strong memories of Mr. McKenzie - tweed jacket - meticulous writing of copious notes on the chalkboard. He broke his right arm and we were delighted - no more copying of notes, we thought. He appeared in class, right arm in plaster and proceeded to write on the board with his left! St. Marys, the Jesuit Noviciate was an important place and the source of inspiration through the regular visits of luminaries such as Fr. Summerton, Fr. Reilly the great Spanish footballer, Fr. Arroyo (pictured) and so many others. The Crusaders and Sodality were signicant organizations run by the priests. Fr. Summerton (a glimpse of him in the photo below) in particular was inspirational supportive and nurturing. Like many others I am sure, I reacted to the compulsion of attending daily mass and the other religious commitments by not attending mass or having much to do with the formal church for some years. However, I have gone the full circle and I am back to being a fully paid-up Catholic. My favourite song (hymn really) is Ave Maria I have four versions on my MP3 collection but that all started when I rst heard it being sung by Cecil Gibbons I can still hear that magnicent soprano voice. I call myself a Catholic with Buddhist leanings and this could also be attributed to that great multicultural environment that was Goethals. The environment offered me friends from diverse cultures and religious backgrounds. There were never any religious or cultural tensions except for the duration of the match when the non-vegetarian refectory played the vegetarians! I also remember S. Khan, a friend and colleague who played full back - a erce competitor and one who gave me a lot of condence when I kept goal. He was of course Muslim and I recall a deep and meaningful conversation with him about girls of course and I was curious to know how a Muslim would know whether a girl was beautiful under that full cover. His answer came promptly and was clearly well studied it was from observing her ankles of course! There were two years when the Shakespearianas visited. They performed the Shakespeare plays on our book lists on the stage and stayed for a few days. We enjoyed the performances but took them for granted little did we know that they were to be so famous the famous Kendall family with the beautiful Felicity (we all wanted to help back-stage) Sashi Kapoor did a stint with them and Felicity. I cant believe how lucky we were to have that experience.

A recurring theme of my recollections is simplicity the wonderful naivety that seems to be lost today. What would we have thought of a Television show like Big Brother! I remember those autograph books they were so important. In mine there was a picture of Elvis and Pat Boon on opposite pages and friends were invited to sign under who ever they supported. So, heres my opening page and then a sample from Mohan (middle) and Archie Scott (pictured third). Archie became quite famous with a recording he did in the UK Move it baby I recall. He used to use this photograph in the UK and tell people that it (the Victoria Mimorial in the background) was his home in India. A real character he was I love the verses that preceded the autograph representing the importance of the friendship bonding that was so much a part of the boarding school life for me anyway.

I remember Chungee and hanging around the kitchen when the chickens were being beheaded in preparation for those good grub days we would then descend and rip those long, oppy feathers off and all that was needed then was a washer and piece of leather. Another game I have not heard of since is Salts a great game and Baby Cricket. Those special picnics to Kettle Valley (pictured) and the winning team got to go to Constantia (pictured it was Bro. Hughess team). The paper and chalk chases were a special event again, often used as an excuse. I remember the sunshine holiday negotiating/begging for it just before inspection and then the chalk chase that followed. The proper group of serious players went off and a splinter group made their way to St Helens. I was in the splinter group we only
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managed a glimpse and a few words with the girls but the thrill was exhilarating.

Those St Helens memories will always remain. I remember being with Richard Hayward at the St Helens Fete sweet shop and Richard pulling out a snake from his pocket (he did have a penchant for reptiles) and putting it on the counter when one of the girls came to serve him needless to say, we had the shop to ourselves in seconds! The deeper memories were of Gita Sharma, my girlfriend for two years whom I sadly last saw in 1963. While there was an inevitability about the end, in Gitas wisdom, she shared that with me through a book Im sure it was called Bitter Sweet Autumn and towards the end there was reference to two ships that passed in the night years later, a metaphor for the possibility of us meeting again. Im still hopeful for that possible moment isnt it amazing after all the years I sometimes have that feeling wouldnt it be wonderful to be able to turn on the monitor and select Gita Sharma or Margaret Sargent or Meena Narula or Rakha Sarkar and just say Hi. The fact that I feel that way must be because those ne friends meant so much in those formative years. That theme of simplicity again comes to mind I think Gita and I may have held hands am I imagining that it certainly was nothing more. The thrill
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of walking to town and passing the St Helens playing eld with the girls looking down from behind the wrought iron fence the waves or the occasional meeting on Hill Cart Road! All communication was special and in particular the school socials. Gita Sharma started and was the rst Editor of The Highlights, the St. Helens paper and I was the Editor of the Goethals Madonna in 1962 (front page copies shown) - Romantic, dont you think? I thought so!

A very important document that I could not do without was the school Almanac. Here are some of my favourite pages... The good grub days were all important and so were the list of lm titles. Fortunately we were not subjected to the censorship of the hand of the projectionist being placed before the lens at critical times usually to hide the passion of a kiss. I remember students from a neighboring school having to endure that. A trip to the picture was very special and a special part of a trip to Darjeeling (pictured).

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The major events were special. The athletics meets I remember N.C. Karr (RIP), and Pon Mei Son, Eugene Roberio, Arun Gazi, the Wallaces we had some real stars. The competition with Victoria was intense. The Inter-school relay was a feature. Football, Hockey, Cricket and Athletics were all important and we certainly had stars in each code. The very special thrill was to win in Darjeeling and come home singing in the jeep. I have strong recollections of the football nals I got into the rst XI football team by default in 1962 that was a great moment in developing my self condence and sense of identity. Seems incredible to think about all that now, but there it was I was a goalkeeper one who tried hard, but fairly average, I thought. I was playing a late game against the novices from Mount Carmel there were such names as Freddie Fernandes and Pinto and Co. those games were played after the formal sport time and one of the added benets was that you were able to have a longer shower an important privilege. Arun (Babs) Ghazi was our First X1 goal-keeper he had a fairly serious nger injury there was a game coming up against North Point but that didnt occupy any space in my mind as N.K. Sargar (Nakatoo) was the second-eleven keeper courageous and daring and an automatic (I thought) replacement. It was a good game against the Carmelites, wet, but it was good when you knew you could have a good hot shower games against the Carmelites were always played in good spirits fair and hard though. Bro. Hughes (Sports Master and selector of the First X1) was watching it didnt matter, but you did care just by virtue of the fact that he was around! So, after getting cleaned up and following all the rituals, I was lying in bed (senior dormitory) listening to Cliff Richards, when Bro. Hughes came to my bed (I shuddered) Johnson, you are in the First X1 for the game against North Point and off he went. You couldnt ask but what about N.K. or why me or anything like that. By the way, N.K. was a bit of a lad he must have annoyed Bro. Hughes but I went on to play that game and hold my place for the rest of the season (Babs was injured for all that time). I will never forget that rst game against North Point the nerves we had GMS old boys like Adrain Alphonso and company (Mel Brown) supporting us. We won! The rst picture is of the return match at GMS we won that too and the second photo is with the famous C.S. Gurung (Olympic Hockey Gold) as coach.

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But the dream was to go home and all goas knew the lines: Going home day has come at last Do Dah, Do Dah Going home day has come at last Do Dah Do Dah Day ... More days and where shall we be? Out of the gates of GMP! The nal night bonre used to be a feature. The pea-shooters used to be going as if there was no tomorrow nal grudges were sorted out and there were many stories of bravado that didnt quite come to fruition the myths were perpetuated none the less. The Last Bend (pictured) was a legendary landmark after which the school was no more in view - and still I crave to take that bend now and have the school come into view. I did call into the school some years ago, just briey and unannounced. The taxi pulled-up just outside the main building (pictured). A few boys sat at the bench overlooking First Field bit slack I thought, that used to be our of bounds with a few exceptions I sat with the boys for a minute and then asked Whats the school like? Its a very good school Sir. Are the brothers and teachers cruel. An emphatic No Sir. Is the food good? Yes Sir. How many days are left to go home? As quick as a ash Seventy Two days Sir! Thankfully, nothing has changed, I thought. My relationship with Goethals and Kurseong never really ended. After seven great years at Goethals, the relationships continued with families such as the Knights (Jeff, Patsie, Susan, Steven) the Alphonsos (Adrian, Darryl (RIP), Andre), Dolly, Nat and Dick Campbell, the Rufuss, and the Wallaces (Sydney, Patrick, Bruce and Alice) of Kurseong. I married Alice Wallace in Kurseong in 1968. We left for Australia in 1969. Kevin (named after Sr Kevin from St Helens) was born in Melbourne in 1972. Alice and I were divorced some years later.

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I took Bro. Morrows advice and took up secondary teaching when I left school. I have taught ever since St. Marys Orphanage (Christian Brothers), Dum Dum, in Australian schools (St. Josephs, Christian Brothers College) and since 1980 I have been teaching in tertiary education, currently at Deakin University in Melbourne, Australia. I guess I could say that in true Goethals spirit I chose Australia because they had and have a good cricket team. But seriously, so much of what I do and choices I make can be traced back to those formative years at GMS. When I reect on traces of GMS in me now, I have to acknowledge genetics, other experiences and places but I do see inuences. My wife Evelyn (pictured on the right, then theres the goat, my grandson Lewis, son Kevin and grandson Finley), has a saying: Watch that Christian Brother in you Richard! Thats when there is the potential for me getting red-up. Like the time I went into work with the intention If he utters a word, Im going to belt the . out of him! My son Kevin (now 34) reminds me that the advice I gave him to cope with bullying wasnt really appropriate. What and how I eat and I suppose the fact that I dont waste food is also linked. My clearest lesson from the GMS experience is a erce sense of independence and perhaps resilience. The notion that using your own resources to survive is strongly reminiscent of lessons I learned when I was young. I hope I have not offended anyone with my ramblings or with the images I have used, the intention was to celebrate. It seems indulgent when I read over what I have written and I have to say, I do so with a smile on my face. The overall feeling is, those were great days, thanks for the memories to GMS to those great friends I had and to whom I am thankful, to the Christian Brothers so far away from home, looking after a group of boys, not angels, to those Priests and lay teachers who did their jobs so diligently and found time and energy to inspire and care, to the support staff who did just that. Cheers for Goethals, cheers for Goethals, keep those colours high

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We cant re-heat a soufe but can we examine the notion of reunion some forty-four years later? We could re-unite online, by telling our story and we may also be able to meet at Goethals in November 2007 (http://www.goethalscentenary.com). But can we meet like we last met on rst eld, in our dungaree sports uniforms - the great equaliser - without pre dispositions of race, colour, wealth, class, caste, religion or sexuality? Can we redene what success means all these years later? So often reunions are haunted by notions of success to do with career, wealth, marriage, position and the rest...

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Friends from 1963... Where are they now?

Contact: Dr. Richard Johnson email: rjj@deakin.edu.au Post: Deakin University, 221 Burwood Highway, Burwood, 3125, Victoria, Australia

Jigme Tshering, when you put this picture of yourself in my Autograph Book, did you think you would see it again?

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