It has been a time of trial punctuated with sensations of great joy, sadness, triumphs and defeats, since that indelible moment 54 years ago, when Malta's shore slowly receded below the horizon, as the Egyptian merchant vessel, a rust bucket better suited for a scrap yard than navigating the open sea, sailed towards Marseilles, carrying aboard two impressionable young men away from their beloved homeland. What precipitated their departure from the comforts of home was the unavoidable interruption of their secondary education during WWII, and consequently the ineligibility to enter university at a proper age. Their first exciting foray into the unknown held promises of adventure and unlimited opportunities, with no remote fear felt towards risk, let alone taking into account sober reflections of what it meant to leave behind family, friends and a culture which gave them shape and substance during their formative years. Such retrospective thoughts would come to trouble their conscious in years ahead with the graying of hair, but the excitement of the voyage overshadowed any deep insights on future outcome and consequences, in favor of a youthful exuberance fueled by the thrill of the moment. Though this eventful trip was to be with London as a final place of destination, the prospects of reaching further shores beckoning fame and fortune in the United States were never far behind.
As days melded into weeks, months, years, decades and generations, an unshakeable sense of wanting to define the parameters or boundaries to which they belonged surfaced. Many expatriate Maltese commonly experience this phenomenon. The feeling led to an introspective questioning of identity, made intricately more complex by virtue of long-term domicile in a foreign land, dual citizenship, and the inevitable issue of split allegiance and loyalty. The arrival of children and grandchildren who neither spoke Maltese, nor shared an affinity for their parent's distant land of birth, led to further assimilation of the family with its country of choice, and more acute self-interrogation. Yet in spite of it all, the love and devotion of Malta by those who through free or forced circumstance left its shore remains unshakeable, much in like fashion that a moth is irresistibly drawn to an open flame. The gravitational pull is more powerful than one can bear. A few expatriates eventually return to Malta, but by far and large the majority dies elsewhere, leaving behind a Maltese legacy of courage and sacrifice, that younger more comfortable generations do not readily acknowledge. One can take the Maltese out of Malta, but not Malta out of the Maltese.
One may reasonable posit the question as to what it means to be Maltese. Is it being born a multi-lingual citizen of our beautiful Mediterranean island with its strong Catholic heritage, and all the quaint pomp and ceremony held in recognition of an endless array of patron saints, honored by ear shattering rival village bands playing out of tune during festas? Is it the love and protection of the extended family? Or the casual attitude towards hard work, law and order in disregard to the common good of the nation as a whole? Does the answer lie in the exceptional cordiality and warmness of the Maltese towards strangers, recognized worldwide? Is it in the mezzagiorno attitude of its people who stubbornly refuse to be hurried by the accelerated competitive pace of modern day life? The answer is multifarious, for each question carries with it indelible cultural imprints of the Maltese character. The better explanation however is that to be Maltese is more a state of mind, conveying a deep imbedded sense of belonging to a clan, than a simple conjecture centered around observable material attributes. The ability to converse in a distinct native tongue, shared relatively by a very small segment of the world's population, validates the equation of exclusiveness and adds cohesiveness to the national identity.
So how deep is this euphoric love of Malta? How profound is the cultural nostalgia of us Maltese expatriates for our country so far away in time and space? That existential cyclic womb-tomb connection to one's roots is mysterious and powerful. The first generation of expatriate Maltese appears to be the most profoundly affected. Their deep bond with Malta is akin to the love of a mother towards a newborn, in that it is unconditional and lasts a lifetime. To a native son or daughter, Malta is the source and sustenance of life. The inner sense and pride of being Maltese remains indelibly entrenched, with little or no compromise allowed for its shortcomings, which might lessen its focus or intensity. The affection felt for Malta by its people, and the threats they see to its long-term existence as a viable independent country, are in direct proportion to its miniscule size, and a seeming impotence to ward off the cultural demands of much larger more powerful nations. Most at risk is the survivability of its vernacular, and the perceived danger seen of its eventual demise, as a consequence of widespread use of the English language by a growing majority of Maltese at home and abroad. The proposed union with the E.U. might well accelerate this doom and gloom scenario.
As any person who has traveled extensively can vouch, the overpowering emotion felt upon setting foot on Maltese soil after a long period of absence, can be sentimentally enervating. Upon embarkation, one feels a rush of passion felt nowhere else on earth, for there is only one true fatherland. No matter how often the experience is repeated, one's eyes swell at the thrill of the moment. It is akin to the exhilaration, which must have overpowered the prodigal son upon his return home. No sweeter sound can warm Maltese hearts, as does the playing of the "Din L-Art Helwa". The Maltese poet Dun Karm wrote the national anthem, in 1923. It ignites patriotism with its beautiful melody and words, stirring strong emotions in the Maltese people.
The glue that binds the Maltese diaspora, giving it cohesive form and shape, lies more within the soul and less within the tangible world, be they domiciled in Malta or dispersed throughout the globe. It is believed, though not scientifically proven, that as many Maltese parents and their children live abroad as at home. The greatest immigrant densities are located in Detroit Michigan, New York City New York, Venice Beach Florida, Toronto Canada, and Melbourne Australia. Many have become prominent citizens in their country of choice. Their success in no way appears to lessen the emotional attachment felt for the land that nurtured them during their younger years. Malta is and will forever be an inseparable part of their inner selves, a bright flame that will not be extinguished. The reasons which fuel Maltese migration are legion, yet most are attributed to economic improvement, the acquisition of higher education, and few if any due to political asylum. Their impressive command of the English language allows them to settle in English speaking countries with relative ease.
One of the two young men who departed Malta on that memorable sea voyage so many years ago, has since transitioned into the realm of infinity. He left behind his offspring, who though never having set foot on Malta, have inherited distinct Maltese mannerisms and qualities. By his own wish his ashes were strewn over the island, as a symbolic gesture of his perpetual return home. The other waits his turn in like fashion, for surely in death as in life they belong together in a country which bestowed them with the precious gift of life.
E-mail to Joseph Vella: vellajoseph@msn.net
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