Yesterday afternoon a packed Our Lady of Mount Carmel church in Balluta celebrated the life of Maria Tabone. As I formed part of that congregation, fond memories of her and Ċensu came back to my mind.
Maria was a woman of substance and dignity and a good example to the generations of her great family, to the hometown she loved so much and to all those who would enter political life. Because even if Maria Tabone never ran for office, she was never merely the candidate’s wife, or the minister’s, or the president’s.
She was half of Ċensu Tabone’s political genius. She was his sounding board. She was frank and candid and did not mince words when she was needed to be critical.
She compensated for Ċensu’s legendary discomfort with numbers. She ran the finances of her household, which was more than the refectory for her dozens of children, grandchildren or great grandchildren.
Her kitchen in Carmel Street, St Julian’s, was a political powerhouse. Ċensu’s staffers, his canvassers, his colleagues and his interlocutors: for so many Mrs Tabone’s house was general headquarters. I am glad to have personal experience of all this since whenever I would go to their home, an invitation to join the family for dinner or otherwise partake of the kitchen menu would be immediately forthcoming!
Nothing was too much for her. Her husband would ask her if he could bring half a dozen people for dinner in a couple of hours’ time and Mrs Tabone’s kitchen would serve the fuel for that night’s political work.
When I entered the political fray as a PN candidate, Ċensu and Maria offered me invaluable advice even if our political system meant that I would be a competitor on the party list for the same districts. That we collaborated with utmost loyalty together is best borne out by the fact that I made it to the national parliament in 1987 through a by-election to fill up one of Ċensu’s own seats.
When Ċensu was asked by our former prime minister Eddie Fenech Adami to serve as President of Malta, I had dedicated the front cover and leading feature in the publication Il-Poplu, of which I was then editor, to Ċensu and his impeccable career. That meant meeting him at length to conduct an in-depth interview with him. Maria would be there throughout our meetings and help out, not least with choosing a number of appropriate photos that would form part of the feature.
She had no moral ambiguities in her choices, perhaps a by-product of her firm religious conviction
Maria’s children remember her say that moving out of Carmel Street to live in San Anton for the duration of her husband’s presidency was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Her home in St Julian’s was her fortress. Her husband’s politics was her own and St Julian, with the family, the neighbours and the supporters, had been the centre of their life together.
In San Anton she was acutely aware she was living in the people’s house, not her own. She labelled her own crockery and utensils to make sure they’re never mixed up with the Palace’s. When the grandchildren visited they were not allowed to roam the gardens or pick off any of the oranges unless it was after they fell of the trees. The oranges were the people’s.
When she moved in, she inherited Agatha Barbara’s and Pawlu Xuereb’s staff: largely supporters of the Labour Party meeting the first PN politician serving as president since the Republic was founded. Not one of the staffers was transferred or dismissed. Their work was genuinely appreciated by both Ċensu and Maria.
Mrs Tabone worked in the kitchen with the staff to share from the mountain of recipes she kept in her Carmel Street home. But if the palace was cooking for her family she kept the bill apart to make sure she paid for it: her family were not to eat at the State’s expense.
She had no moral ambiguities in her choices, perhaps a by-product of her firm religious conviction. Few of her grandchildren can still recite the litany at the end of the rosary in the original Latin even though Mrs Tabone got them to practice it routinely!
There was no way for anyone to ignore the fact whenever Mrs Tabone did not like any one in particular – clearly for sound and valid reasons. She was transparent in her evaluation of character. She fiercely protected her husband from the reflection of any errors of character of his canvassers or his closest supporters.
But through this all, Maria Tabone was Ċensu’s friend and love: a life together that proved to the world that no politics is too consuming, no campaigning too straining, no office too absorbing for two people who love each other and above all else to go through it all smiling.
Smart, witty, generous, constant, inspiring and loving Maria. Your example will be long remembered. Your inspiration for fortitude, moral uprightness, honesty as well as loyalty to the greater cause is needed more than ever before and we can best honour your memory and pay you a well deserved and earned tribute by humbly seeking to be guided by all that you stood for.