I am so generous: I gave my sister a T-shirt I didn’t want

I’ve just spring-cleaned my wardrobe. I finally threw out a few items I was holding on to for nostalgic purposes, to remind myself that I was once a size four, and that even if I went on a strict Olympian’s diet, I would now never ever squeeze into them.

I kept asking one question: who was Dom Mintoff’s closest friend? No one could give me an answer- Kristina Chetcuti

I also dumped a couple of hideous jackets I had bought in a sales frenzy and which I absolutely hated even as I was paying the ‘bargain’ price at the till.

Then there was the shirt, which lovely though it was, was simply ‘not me’. So I dropped it off at my sister’s, who loved it because she said it was very ‘her’.

But that was before I read Ray Mintoff’s interview on Thursday. He described his brother Dom as “very generous” because he gave him a Rolex. Dom had originally been given this expensive wristwatch from some head of state, but it was too heavy for his wrist, so he passed it on to his brother.

I phoned my sis up: “When I die, will you remember the shirt I just gave you and tell people how generous I was?”

If not for anything, last week made me realise that many people do not know the real definition of generosity. Someone who gives away gifts he got from someone else is not altruistic.

Even if we put aside the fact that state gifts belong to the state and not to the individual, etiquette-wise it’s rude. I’d be terribly offended if, for example, I went through the trouble and expense to choose a present for a friend, and then I’d find out that she passed it on to someone else.

But more importantly, passing the parcel means that the person would not have bothered to go out of his way or spent a single cent, to make someone happy.

But it was not only Mintoff’s brother who was afflicted by this wrong choice of word. I was fascinated by the number of people I came across who described Mintoff as having a “heart of gold” for giving them some hand-me-down or other which they now treasure as though they are saint relics.

And you could sense – from the grateful glint in their eyes – that it would never cross their mind that Mintoff was just getting rid of stuff he didn’t want. How did Mintoff manage to do this? Was it his charm? His power? His aura of mystery? The way he instilled fear?

The truth is that when he summoned, people flocked. When he rang up people in the middle of the night, they rushed. His temper was atrocious, and yet people stayed by his side. He asked them to risk their lives for his, and they did.

How did he pull it off? I think it’s because people became addicted to how he made them feel. Because in between his bouts of tempers, he wined and dined them – sparingly, mind you – but they all had a good laugh together. And for those few moments they were with him, they felt important and honoured to be given the time of day by such a ‘powerful’ man.

When Someone Very Important who is in the middle of harsh negotiations with the British / the Church / the rest of the world, calls you up, you the mere, insignificant you, then you’re hooked. And these are the foundations for idolisation.

It’s like you’re in a classroom full of children waving their hands and the teacher chooses you, even if it’s to clear her desk from breadcrumbs. Bottom line is that consciously or unconsciously he tapped into people’s yearning to be recognised.

He followed a script really. We all know people like him – albeit on a smaller and milder scale. They are people who when they snap a finger they’ll have loyal soldiers rushing to their aid. They are usually good fun, moody, poor emotional communicators, womanisers, great strategists and very patient negotiators. They do not campaign as much as crusade, in order to get what they want. And they are surrounded by people who adore them.

I think they are only bereft of something – they lack real friends. Friends who are their equal: because there is a great chasm of difference between friendship and loyalty.

Over the past week I spoke to many people about Dom Mintoff and I kept asking one question: who was his closest friend? No one could give me an answer. I fear he had none. Not even his siblings qualified for that: they too, were in awe of him.

Which makes me ever so grateful that my sister, on the phone, told me to get lost.

krischetcuti@gmail.com