A historic site in Mosta which could be treasuring an ancient hypogeum like the prehistoric one in Paola, has been totally knocked down and its archaeological knowledge lost forever.

It is making way not for a hospital, or a school, or say, a sports complex – which would in some way make it bearable.

No, the archaeological site has been “blasted into oblivion” for a massive showroom, flats and several storeys of garages. And it’s all perfectly legal.

By way of irony, the area is known as Tal-Qares and the site as Il-Wesgħa tal-Ġganti.

The story is indeed qarsa (sour) and the Gganti (giants) have indeed taken over.

Did anyone bat an eyelid? The only noise came from the Partit Demokratiku, which flagged the fact that although the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage, which gave the go ahead under the provision that the works be supervised, “there is no sign of any monitoring whatsoever, as heavy machinery blasts the rocks”.

And the rest of us? A couple of whimpers here, a couple of bleats there and that was pretty much it.

Gone the possibility that future generations might excavate the area and discover more about our prehistoric past. Instead our children will grow up to drive past and admire a showroom, five maisonettes, seven apartments, four penthouses and 18 garages across four storeys.

How did we come to this? Who do we blame? No one but ourselves. We have become a nation which doesn’t care one iota about our very own heritage. We are a nation that thinks that culture is an infiorata in the shape of the Maltese cross. We are a nation which has lost even its basic sense of manners and believes that the more you blaspheme and swear and call women ‘qalbi’ the more of a man you are.

How did we come to this? Who do we blame? No one but ourselves. We have become a nation which doesn’t care one iota about our very own heritage

It’s not just our past that we don’t care about. It’s also our present. And we’re not realising how bleak our future will be in doing so.

Sometimes I get the feeling that as Maltese we are living in a country but not really living in it, if you know what I mean.

We are abysmally detached. We are absolutely not interested in what goes beyond our doorstep.

It’s like we go round wearing and living in bubble-like astronaut helmets.

Are we doing anything to change it? No. My daughter came back from school telling me how during the ethics lesson they discussed important people who made their voices heard at their own risk: Rosa Parks, Ghandi, Martin Luther King. The teacher told them how some people have to be very brave in their jobs such as journalists.

“Ah very good,” I said. “Did you talk about Daphne then?”

Her reply was prompt: “No Mama! We cannot talk politics at school!”

And sadly this is what we have come to. We discuss all that goes on in the world – but we pussyfoot around things happening at home – and the new generations won’t be any better.

It does not help that unlike other countries, there is no one to challenge this. The artistic community here? A few artists speak out – but the majority are afraid to do so lest they lose commissions or sales or their seats on government boards.

A Spanish friend who left Madrid to come here because she could not take the corruption in her country told me this week. “In Spain there is corruption everywhere and yet all people care about is football. And now I come to Malta and a journalist is killed and people say ‘but … but’ and then talk about football.”

We are experts at getting on with our little lives. However, let us not kid ourselves: unless we face them, our homeland issues will haunt us for decades to come.

Sweeping things under the carpet under the name of ‘unity’ and ‘let’s sing Kumbaya together’ won’t help the psyche of the nation.

We’ve already been there with the ‘reconciliation’ of 1987, when everyone was encouraged to forgive atrocious actions of the previous decade. Justice is the only thing which will make the psychological scars go away.

Where does the detachment come from? Perhaps it is the way to survive as islanders?

My sister was dining at a restaurant in Valletta recently and towards the end of the evening, the owner dragged a chair and sat next to them. “I hope this Daphne business won’t mean more scrutiny and more tightening of rules,” he said. He bandied about words like ‘nirranġaw’, ‘niddubbaw’ and how the Maltese people manage to get by and flourish because “we close an eye.”

Corruption is entrenched here: from small scale family businesses to complex networks right at the very top. And it is very clear that detachment – because we benefit from it – is a strong trait in the Maltese character.

If the majority are happy to live in their bubble, should we fight to change this? Or should we simply pack up and go and live in a country where the heritage is most valued and where rule of law reigns?

“We must never give up,” a friend told me. “Malta is our home.”

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @krischetcuti