A deafening innocent cry broke out within the walls of St Luke’s Hospital one very hot summer evening in 1972. A baby boy was born. Many were those who snooped through the thick glass trying to make out why this particular baby came into this world with such fervour. It took nearly three nights for his mother to soothe him down. Indeed, that was a heavy task for a mother who had just passed through a weighty pregnancy.
Years passed, the boy grew healthy, energetic and sensitive to the pains of life. Bad news would have touched his heart and a helpless situation made him angry. In the 1970s, Malta was building an economy from the ashes of the past. A computer was the stuff of outer space. Television was still in black and white and peeks of some future technology were only visualised through TV series such as Doctor Who and Space 1999. While it is true that imported chocolate was practically absent, education never seemed to be a burden for many parent’s pockets.
Back then, Maltese society was different, more responsible, I dare say. Most families lived on a modest wage but, somehow, they would have managed to save money for a rainy day.
Mobile phones weren’t around but people never felt like they were alone. Friends were more reliable and not just a number on a social networking site. Life was based on logic, fakeness was a crime and families still paid all their bills with their own cash. Then, the British sailed away from the island for good. Freedom was achieved and the reins of power were left in our own hands for the very first time.
The new decade brought with it new faces, a bizarre fashion but great music. Duran Duran, Wham and Queen topped the charts each passing month while our political scene was turning feisty by the day and Parliament was changing into a reality show viewable on TVM without having to pay a cent for it. Those were strange days indeed.
Nonetheless, our country’s economy kept developing slowly but surely. Tourism was hitting record numbers and, before long, a middle class had established itself. Property became affordable without the need to get financially crucified. Hospital service, although not as luxurious, never scared patients off with long waiting lists and the papers never reported nurses being heavily understaffed.
The boy watched and listened as the people around him matured and were now determined to close the chapter on the socialist political era. They needed a new philosophy and were hungry to experience some new form of belief. The Nationalists came to power and closed off the decade, leaving behind a heavy baggage of mixed feelings from both party lines.
The 1990s marked a new beginning. Quotes like “live for today because nobody ever saw tomorrow” became imprinted deep inside the psyche of Maltese people. Before long, the island immersed itself into a new ideology. Stories of great opportunities and the power of money became poetry to peoples’ ears. The property market boomed and after a short time a number of average chaps turned into property magnets. Banks opened their arms as if they wanted to embrace everyone and press them against their prosperous bosom. What followed were huge bank loans that spread out rapidly. Many Maltese couples grasped the opportunity, took the cash and bought property. Others, the sceptics and those who feared loans and debts, stayed home with their old ones or rented out what they could afford.
Malta was changing very fast but now the difference was that people were not ready for it.
The young teenager turned into a young man. Bars and booze prospered and Paceville became the toast of Maltese culture. Between sipping a decorated glass of pina colada and admiring a blond Scandinavian female, he observed a changing nation, one that worshipped consumerism, greed, personal interest and, unfortunately, which tolerated vices and corruption. Money became the new religion of Malta and values turned into something ugly. Mutual respect started to take a dip into an ocean of confusion and marriages were slowly developing into disasters. Separations became a new trend and lawyers seized the moment and, by the end of the millennium, the country turned into a materialistic but penniless monster.
Still, people wanted more from life and from their politicians also. The voice of a righteous man sounded too vague in a world where confusion ruled. They searched for an elixir to fulfil their material desires and Europe came to the rescue. Promises turned into opportunities for some but a misfortune for many. What followed was a rampant charade of disorganised schemes coupled with sky-high taxes in the name of the law.
Today, in 2010, the boy, now a man, is trying to define what really went wrong. One thing’s for sure. The past has a nasty habit to catch up with the present. It teaches us that irresponsible behaviour, lack of respect and sum liberty may lead to a scary reality. Once more, Malta is in dire need of a new philosophy, one which secures fundamental rights and freedoms, reunites a nation towards progress and paves the way to a sound future for our children.
Oh, by the way, that loud and innocent cry back in the summer of 1972 was mine.