The Great Little Country is Still Alive

And kicking. Funny what happened today. I had an interesting conversation with a friend in the afternoon about the Afro-Mauritians. You know the script: with the advent of independence in 1968 and the successful campaign to instill fear about an impending Hindu hegemony many of them emigrated. His interesting point was that most who left* were the elite of that community so that those who were staying back were probably deprived of role models for a long time. In the process Mauritius lost a lot of her most talented teachers and civil servants. The other interesting comment he made was that two of the people who had the greatest influence in changing the course of his life were a Creole teacher and a Muslim neighbour (he happens to be a Hindu). That must probably ring true to a lot of us.

And then a little while after that conversation I checked Gilbert Ahnee's editorial only to find out, somewhat amused, that he was echoing a similar feeling after recovering his E61 thanks to one Vikash who went out of his way to find the rightful owner of that Blackberry beater.

All of this got me to recall a car accident I had a few years back. I was stunned but less than half a minute later I heard a voice (hmm, so God speaks kreol after all?) asking me to get out because enough gas was dripping in the wrong places and he feared the worst. I was too clumsy to do that by myself and that skinny guy immediately sensed that and pulled me out as if I was a feather. His name was Akbar.

*emigration amounted to 15,881 from 1968 to 1974 according to official figures.