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The road to shame

The road skirting Xemxija Bayis inundated with potholes. So is the uphill road to the Capuchins’ church.

Shame is not a word strong enough to shake those responsible into action. It is the government’s duty. I mean a succession of them. The bumpy road has even outlived governments. In fact, my brother- in-law, a British citizen, could not hide his grief which had stained his love of Malta. He wrote a letter of complaint hoping to see the road resurfaced. His hope is a donkey’s bray; it never reaches heaven (the Maltese proverb is so apt).

He was here three summers ago. He will be back in Mellieħa, the unblemished residence of my pride and happiness. He and his Maltese wife will be welcomed in our humble home. That is great but how am I going to hide the atrocities of a road with moon craters. He will be driving my car in which his wife will hurt her back and other parts of her body. Being British he will not offend the authorities but he will certainly write another letter.

Shame is not offensive enough. The powers-that-be will not hang their heads in shame and using the term nincompoops will only send them in search of a dictionary. Unfortunately, these people are incognitos and the roads remain undone. Car mechanics will have a field day, so will spare parts sellers. Surely, that could not be the objective! Though so many deals are done that way.

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