Carnival continues to fire Curmi family passion

As a little boy, Shaun Curmi would spend hours watching his father, grandfather and uncles sweating away to finish the colourful floats in time for Carnival. And he got hooked.

Now 31, the enthusiasm still pumps through his veins and every year, two months before Carnival, his life is put on hold to spend an average eight hours a day in the warehouse at Marsa to complete the float.

There can be 25 people working at any one time as they slave away round the clock painting the gigantic papier-mâché float, or slathering on sealer.

Their families, though supportive, are not amused and many constantly have to make it up to their partners for vanishing from their lives for so long.

Known along the streets of Valletta as Ta' Balalu, the Curmi family has a long tradition of building Carnival floats. Mr Curmi's 58-year-old father John still finds the energy to dance along with the floats every year.

In all, the Curmi family parades six of the 20-odd floats that drive up and down Republic Street in Valletta vying for the judges' attention.

Mr Curmi started building his own float eight years ago. Sadly his grandfather and mentor died just before he could show it off - a big blue whale dipping in and out of the sea.

Since then he has been taking part in every Carnival, though each year in the mad run-up to the event, he swears to himself that it would be his last. But then the adrenaline rush of the five days in Valletta gives him such a high that he start to plan the designs for next year's floats.

With his team, he starts to work on the float six months before Carnival, intensifying the number of hours as time draws closer.

With a wife, three young children aged eight, seven and three, and a night job, it's a wonder he finds the time to dedicate to the float.

"Towards the end we all have to face arguments with our partners. But they put up with us," he said with a meek grin.

It's not just time they invest into one float, but lots of money. Each year Mr Curmi forks out about Lm3,000 from his own pocket to see his creative ideas materialise in papier-mâché. Float makers receive a Lm300 subsidy from the government, but this has to be refunded if they win a prize.

Is it worth it?

"Well, that's also one of the reasons I say I'm going to quit every year. But then I'm at it again. The excitement is addictive. Every time we parade down Republic Street I feel as if I'm in Brazil!" he said.

The float makers all know each other well, but they stop being friends once it's Carnival time and they become very secretive about their plans.

"However, despite the secrecy, two years ago there were seven of us who all built floats on the same Troy theme - it was quite funny," he said. He refuses to let on what his float's theme is this year.

As every Carnival looms, so does the fear that bad weather will ruin all the hard work of the past few months. Mr Curmi has gone as far as widen the entrance of his warehouse so that he can drive the float up to the city at the last minute and avoid having to leave it outdoors for two weeks.

"We make many sacrifices and put in a lot of time and effort. We hope people enjoy it," he said.