Forming part of her national family

I think the first time I met (or rather “came across” because “meet” is too formal a word for such a simple and unpretentious lady) Mary Fenech Adami, or Mary, as she was known to the whole country, was some time in the late 1970s, shortly after Eddie became leader of the Nationalist Party. It was at some lunch at my parents’ house in Balluta, where I still used to reside at the time, having been espoused (voluntarily mind you, so “no fault”) in the early 1980s.

The lady came over to a youngish man in his 20s as totally embracing and caring, totally uninterested in the fare and the other important guests my mother had so carefully planned on the occasion of having the inspirational Eddie to lunch but so keen to learn of what I was doing and planning.

My father was a type who was more distractedly interested in Eddie, of course, surely dying to read his mind and the latest developments in what was a truly nasty country at the time.

My encounter with is-sa Mer was short that time because I was not invited to lunch, something I accepted with regret, but understanding, because I would have lit up like a Christmas tree with enthusiasm at having had lunch with Eddie. Luckily, later years gave me countless opportunities to do so, including a memorable lunch with my mother, who loved Mary so much, and my extended family at San Anton.

But if I had to select just two occasions which involved Mary and at which I was present I would start from the bad and nasty: her Birkirkara home in 1979. This was probably the most shameful episode in the history of Malta. In fact, it combined the ransacking of Eddie’s house (and office, of course) and the premises of Malta’s leading newspaper in which I write today.

I was a parliamentary reporter and had heard the rabid rabble move through the streets around Parliament as I sat doing my job with unsavoury characters sitting behind me in no less than the VIP section of the House of Representatives. The unrestrained mob moved from the burning of the Curia bookshop in Archbishop Street to that of the PN club in Queen’s Square. But then, at some time or other, we were advised that Eddie’s house had been ransacked, that Mary had been attacked and that “nanna” and children had escaped.

I believe I was one of the first to be at the Fenech Adami residence. (I don’t know how I got there for I possessed no car and the buses were hijacked by the Labour mob to Birkirkara.) The inquiring magistrate had not arrived. I am not sure whether Eddie himself had arrived but certainly is-sa Mer was there, bruised and shaken, but fully in command of her children and her husband’s family and the situation. She clearly had no concern for herself.

This is something that has remained imprinted in my mind ever since. One would have imagined a hysterical woman, possibly, and rightfully, collapsing. But not is-sa Mer.

The other occasion I recall was her visit with her President husband to see my ailing mother in her bedroom in Balluta (again), shortly before Eddie ended his tenure of office. Again, her prime objective was caring and comforting and the beam on my mother’s face on seeing Eddie and Mary is something else that will remain imprinted in my mind.

Needless to say my deepest condolences go to Dr Fenech Adami and his family but also to so many thousands who loved and were loved by is-sa Mer and formed part of her national family. She will continue to pray for us all from heaven. If ever there was lady!

And now on to Arriva and Air Malta; two sad stories indeed.

There have been mistakes and even bad planning with our new bus system but, for goodness sake, let’s give it at least a six-month chance. There are loads and loads of smart alecs sitting around in their armchairs so ready to criticise what no one had the guts to do. Changing a whole public transport system after 30 years would obviously have been done at a flick of the finger by these smart guys!

And they also have the cheek and audacity to grumble about the air-conditioning being too high. Oh my God! For years, at least until I could afford to purchase an automobile in the middle of my existing life, I sat on buses at about 1.30 in the afternoon with the underside of my thighs and my back sticking to the torn plastic seats (and I had to plan a few minutes before my stop at some part of Balluta (again) in order to have time to get unstuck and get off the bus)

And Air Malta. With all due respect, what is this Domenic Azzopardi up to? Has he perhaps reached retirement age and so will not need a job? Or perhaps he’s on an ego trip? Why does he want to close down our national airline? Why does he want to damage our economy (and his own, of course) and right at the height of the tourist season? And by Capt. Azzopardi I mean also his union, which he obviously represents, and that seems to be in total kamikaze or suicide bomber mode because they will all simply lose their jobs.

Pilots, please think again seriously for the sake of the country, your livelihood and your family.