Following the publication of the first instalment in his autobiographical trilogy, Memories, Peter Apap Bologna tells Iggy Fenech about a Malta that has ebbed from view, but not from memory.

I still remember the day – some 12 years ago now – when Peter Apap Bologna showed me a picture that had been taken during a road trip he went on in the 1960s. I was really fascinated by everything in it, especially by the vintage car, the fashion, and the tinge of the photo itself.

I think that was the very first time my brain processed the concept of time and how it affects things: one day you’re a student struggling through a pile of notes and the next you’re married with children and trying to make ends meet.

What’s even more interesting is that while we’re dealing with the changes in our own lives, everything around us evolves as well. Buildings are torn down and replaced, fads cease to be cool, tradition is altered and everything we once took for granted or thought of as ‘normal’ becomes a thing of the past.

Apap Bologna understands this and, much like Herbert Ganado did in his classic Rajt Malta Tinbidel series, he gives his readers a taste of yesteryear’s Malta and of the everyday struggle that people 60, 50 and 40 years ago went through – albeit in a less political fashion.

His book, aptly titled Memories 1941-1973, spans 32 eventful years in Malta’s history, including Independence Day, the rise of George Borg Olivier, the opening of the first art gallery in Malta and the story of one of the last groups of pupils to stay at the St Aloysius boarding school.

The Malta he talks about is – for want of a better word – insanely different to the one we roam now. But, as the author reminisces about his past, it becomes clear that certain rites of passage have always been, and will always be, more or less the same.

Childhood

“Growing up during the war obviously wasn’t easy and, although I come from a privileged background, things were still tough... Even so, life then was beautiful in its simplicity.

“I remember, in fact, how I was allowed to play in the streets – only boys were allowed to then – and how I used to go to the każin tal-banda where we had a tejatrin or saw a western film or a Laurel and Hardy movie. We were very happy and enjoyed every day.

“My childhood ended very early, however, as my father died at the age of 45 when I was still very young. I will never forget the moment my mother, Amy, turned around and said ‘you’re the head of the family now’.

“I went from being a boy to becoming a man without much notice. It was a life-changing moment, but I still managed to find time for fun as I went along.”

Education

“At the age of nine I became a boarder at St Aloysius. It was quite unusual, though, and there were only 150 of us. The other option would have been St Edwards, but my parents were very devout and they wanted me to get a religious upbringing.

“I loved my time at St Aloysius, but I was hopeless at sports and hardly ever did any. But I was successful at other things, like the plays. I was gregarious and happy, and I spent all my time reading. In fact, I think I had read the whole school library by the time I left.

“The lodging there was Spartan and we slept in a freezing-cold dormitory. We woke up at 6am –reluctantly, of course – and washed our faces with freezing water. We then went down to Mass with our pyjama trousers underneath our actual ones, but we were so full of religious fervour that going to Mass was an event we looked forward to.

“We then had breakfast, which was coffee in a bowl with lots and lots of milk. We warmed our hands on that bowl, I remember. It was so cold.

“The Jesuits were very nice to us, however, and I spent six years at St Aloysius. We had a monthly weekend break, but we had to earn it with good marks. So a lot of the boys never got to go home; my brother, Michael, was one of them.”

Family and values

“The Church played a most important role in family life and children had to observe all the sacraments. Disrespect to one’s parents had to be confessed on Saturday so that Holy Communion could be re-ceived at Sunday Mass, for example.

“The first Mass on Sunday was just for the children and it was unheard of to miss it.

“Moreover, most families gathered daily to say the Holy Rosary together too and I remember both my parents doing so.

“Young people were and had to be more religious too and the fear of mortal sin was instilled in us from childhood. The young were terrified of dying in a state of mortal sin and thus go straight to hell.

“This was all very well, but it wasn’t as much fun for the young as it is today: I much prefer the freedom that applies to today’s youth, but that is a personal opinion.

“People were less open about things too. Girls were untouchable and had to remain virgins until their wedding night. Childbirth outside marriage was a great scandal and brought shame on the whole family.

“This caused a lot of unhappiness to all concerned and the poor mother had to live in shame. Unless she managed to keep the pregnancy secret, of course, which was often done by going somewhere else until the child was delivered and the baby then given up for adoption.

“Funnily enough, alcohol was not a problem as the young did not really drink that much. Smoking, on the other hand, was seen as a manly thing to do and was encouraged by adults.

“Moreover, until the 1960s there were no ‘relationships’ in the way we would understand them now. There was courtship leading to marriage.

“It was the swinging sixties in the UK that brought about the change in Malta... homosexuality was completely taboo.”

Independence Day

“Although Malta achieved independence in 1964, the strong British influence lasted until 1971 when Mintoff came to power.

“The British dominated social life as we had an English governor general and a large presence of the three services (the army, the navy and the air force), with whom thousands of Maltese were employed. We also had a large influx of British coming to live here to avoid the UK’s crippling taxes.

“The British presence brought a lot of prosperity, but with the services and dockyard run-down, that was very short-lived. I believe Mintoff was right to call for a complete break from the UK, though I don’t agree with the way he went about it.

“I watched the actual event from the roof of the Hotel Phoenicia, where Colonel Roger Strickland, the managing director of the hotel at the time, had invited a party of friends and relatives. The feelings of those present varied. There were those who, like me, were delighted and others, like Roger himself, who felt that it was the saddest day of their life. What’s fascinating is that on the day there was very little cheering, only clapping.

“Interestingly, independence was received very calmly and I’d almost go as far as saying that it was a non-event. I think this happened because Borg Olivier handled the transition diplomatically and conveyed the message that the British would continue to be welcome in Malta. Also, on the political front, he ensured that good relations continued to exist with the British government.”

Culture and entertainment

“Back in my days there weren’t any places to go to except for the ‘talkies’ – that’s the cinema for the younger chaps – followed by a soft drink and a bun and being in bed by 9pm. It was fun, but most films were still in black and white and heavily censored; Quo Vadis, I remember, was not allowed for under 21s.

“Then, the first club opened right after independence and it was called Sacha’s. It was located in a basement in South Street and was run by an Englishman. I remember it served very good food and my friends and I became habitués.

“Strait Street, on the other hand, was a foreign country about which I knew nothing, except that it was called The Gut and renowned as a place where sailors went to get drunk and fornicate.

“It was in the 1970s that things really started to pick up and I have very fond memories of when the first art gallery was opened by David West and Brian Mizzi. It was called Mazeran and was located in present day Paceville.

“There wasn’t much in terms of music and theatre before then either and the Manoel Theatre was almost derelict. There were, however, a few English companies that did theatre here in Malta. MADC was already great back then and it was run by two English ladies called Ella and Kay Warren, who lived in Mdina.”

Food and restaurants

“The only place where you were sure to have good food, both continental and British, was at the Phoenicia – and they had a good wine list too. There were other ‘sort-of’ restaurants, like the City Gem in Sliema and another one in South Street, but it wasn’t until the 1960s that places like the Griffin in Rabat, owned by the de Trafford family, started to open.

“Even so, lunch was a proper meal for anyone who could afford it and it was an actual sit-down meal for the middle and upper classes. I’d say that most folk ate well and hugely and a fairly normal lunch could consist of a pasta dish like imqarrun, a meat dish and a pudding; sometimes even a brodu before all that too.

“The workers, on the other hand, took a ħobża with them to work and a jar full of mixed ingredients. Once lunchtime arrived, they would scoop out the heart, pour in the contents of the jar into the hollow and then use a penknife to cut a piece of the crust to dunk it into the mixture.

“I remember there was a worker who did this not far from our house and I used to go up to him and ask him for a piece of bread every now and then.”

The Malta that Apap Bologna speaks of has all but disappeared, but his book offers a fascinating insight into the times and minds of the people who lived through our recent history. Yet, as he himself points out, he is a man who has always believed that there is no time like the present, “though there are many happy memories to look back on, too”.

Memories 1941-1973 is the first instalment in Apap Bologna’s autobiographical trilogy. It is available from all leading bookstores in Malta and Gozo.