Nostalgic visions of an island

It is a rather wet and grey late April day in New York. I sip my coffee as I read an article in The New York Times, contemplating the human condition, but my thoughts travel far away to a small Mediterranean island engulfed in blueness. I close my eyes and imagine myself standing on a little beach in Baħar Iċ-Ċagħaq, near the place I used to live, and can almost feel the gentle dying waves tickling my bare feet. The sensation is soothing and the memory is vivid.

I experienced this sense of mystic comfort in several places in Malta, not just the countryside

Such visions come frequently to my mind even as I roam the bustling streets of New York, surrounded by splendours of human architecture. With my mind’s eye I see the meandering narrow country paths of Malta that cut across the fields adorned by uneven stone and cactus fences providing the perfect shelter for the shy little lizards. Indeed the Maltese countryside has a beauty uniquely its own, particularly in springtime. The monotonous greyness of long dry months gradually transforms itself into luscious greenness, with flowers sprouting everywhere in a festival of colours. One of my little pleasures was to walk across the narrow unpaved roads near my home in Baħar Iċ-Ċagħaq, with a cane in my hand to ward off the occasional stray dog assuming that I am trespassing

To the North, I behold the blueness of the Mediterranean stretching as far as the horizon, while as I turn west I see the setting sun transmitting a little warmth through its fading rays. Not far away I hear a cock crowing, a horse neighing and a bird whistling goodnight to its mate. Serenity fills my soul as I head back home with a mystic joy enhanced by the sound of a distant church bell, oblivious to my own sorrows and those of the world.

I experienced this sense of mystic comfort in several places in Malta, not just the countryside. Two other locations, for example, which also brought joy to my soul and solace to my troubles, were Mdina and Dingli Cliffs. Whenever I walked through the gate of Mdina I felt a strange transformation into another sphere and time dimension.

The silent walls of Mdina, its monasteries, convents, houses, palaces and narrow streets where light chases away shadows spoke many tongues to those who cared to listen.

Overwhelmed by the silence and the pressure of my own thoughts, the trotting hooves of a hefty horse drawing a carriage, driven by his master muttering a few words, half asleep, to his tourist passengers, would bring me back to reality, just as the chimes of the Cathedral clock resound rhythmically all over the place. Driving away from Mdina to Dingli, via Rabat, would provide me with yet another joyful experience. Standing over the Dingli cliffs, reminiscent of Dover cliffs, watching the rock of Filfla to the west, be it sunny or misty, was always a source of pleasure and a chance to contemplate. For me the rock of Filfla represents the unfulfilled, an island that could have been but never was! Yet far beyond the horizon there seems to be hope. The horizon, though seemingly an end, is also a beginning. What lay beyond the horizon always intrigued the adventurous islanders who sailed in search of dreams far bigger than their immediate claustrophobic surroundings.

So many other visions come to my mind of an island I fell in love with. Others may not see what I see, and beauty could be “in the eye of the beholder”. Our perceptions of whatever “objective reality” is can never be identical. Nontheless I would continue to derive mystic joy out of my Maltese visions. Whether real or illusionary, they are mine, but I harbour a strong feeling that they may also be yours.

Saadun Suayeh is a former ambassador of Libya to Malta.