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Heritage Malta has a Herculean task ahead of it. It is faced with an antiquities problem. Thousands of ancient spots have been discovered all over the three islands.
There are so many of them that affording conservation status would require yet another coordinated and national effort that would disrupt the whole nation.
By chance I discovered one such antiquity on the San Gwann to Naxxar road. It is there, lonely, dirty, grey, not more than 90 cm deep and 80 cm wide. It has survived the test of time, it has seen four Prime Ministers and countless Ministers of roads. It has suffered UV rays, un-comprising sun, floods and ill-treatment.
It has served its mission well, turning countless shock absorbers into useless contraptions, it has contributed to the economy by sustaining dozens of tyre repair shops, mobile calls to friends and family in the middle of the night and keeping towing companies busy.
In its younger days when it was only 60cm by 60cm, it had the nasty habit of inviting the Public Works minister of the day to pay a lightening visit, but since 1987, there seems to have been a complete change of heart, now it does not seem to be fashionable any longer to blame the minister.
Undeniably Labourite potholes were uncouth, cruel, rude and working class in nature. Nationalist potholes are stylish, polite, sluggish, petite and tolerant.
Finally it has been confirmed that Maltese car owners have absolutely no red corpuscles flowing through their veins. They are essentially living dead.
The ‘Apocalypse Now’ state of our roads confirms my view that public opinion is as defunct and dynamic as a Suncrest share on the stock exchange.
No one feels responsible for the roads, not the road makers, not the architects who are awarded the lucrative consultancies and not the Minister – who by the way has nothing to do whatsoever with the same road architects who plan the road.
And as the craters continue to hatch in every possible thoroughfare in Malta and Gozo, the government goes ahead with its VRT regime and peppers the country with green wardens as if this is a country with roads for discerning Bavarian car owners.
And if that is not enough to drive you up the wall, road-works have kicked off in every corner of the Island and we are under a strict obligation to say “thank you very much for all you have done for me.”
After all, in my lifetime, I have only suffered 313 punctures and ruined the shock absorbers of five different cars.
But for heaven’s sake, I am being petty, small minded and parochial. I should look at the bigger picture.
Which bigger picture?
Did we need to wait for Italian road makers to build solid roads.
Just in case you have not been told, it will take another 20 solid years of road construction to bring our road network to up European standards. But by the time we get there I will be over sixty with no hair follicles, without a pension, a cholesterol problem and incapable of driving a car. By sixty I will be reading Enid Blyton for inspiration and the leader of the MLP will be Joseph Muscat who I prefer to describe as my Mata Hari; and the leader of the PN, well that soft-spoken Simon Busuttil.
Two young Turks I would not trust my pet goldfish with, let alone the future of this country.
But back to our heritage in potholes.
When I was younger and did not have a car, I remember a hole in front of Oxford House at Fleur de Lys. It stood there for years.
At the time, like all young boys I had a passion for cycling. Until one day, that is, when I completely forgot about this antiquity and the free flight from the fall landed me with a broken nose, a bruised face and the bicycle like a sculpture from the artist Andrew Diacono .
We think of potholes as inconveniences.
Like warts that we have to live with. Twenty years ago, we would coldly and cruelly shout out and say, “Ahhh, Lorry Sant has not passed from here.”
Well, today, no one is ever heard saying.
“Ahh, Jesmond Mugliett has not passed through here.”
That is the trend today, to brush away all responsibility as if it is nobody’s fault.
I mean, just take, Austin Gatt, on radio 101 a week ago when he literally blasphemed when talking about Jason Micallef and said. “Aqq, A***”. And yet apart from Noel Grima and of course Super One, nothing was reported. Nothing was said.
No apology was forthcoming.
Now, I too can be as uncouth as Austin Gatt, but then I do not subscribe to a party membership and do not hold a ministerial portfolio.
The more I age, the more I convince myself that the public is treated by politicians like a mass of useless gelatinous jellyfish stranded on the foreshore
Now, just for one moment imagine if, rather than Austin Gatt, that had been another politician blaspheming, Alfred Sant or Harry Vassallo, or perhaps one of those Nationalist diehards who have fallen out from party favour. The apathy and double standards that have sunk into our system is making life here intolerable.
Years ago, in parliament, the speaker of the house, a humble Labourite, a painter by profession and a not very refined person, a certain Kalcidon Agius could not control the ruckus in the house and in a fit of desperation said:
“erder, erder, al m*****a.”
After that, day after day, week after week, month after month we were reminded of the blasphemy of Kalcidon.
But Austin is not a Kalcidon.
So we will be lectured by the blue brigade opinion makers more interested in writing about women power or rock bands than this miniscule matter.
This country needs a big shock. This country needs to kick its politicians aside and get on with things… and that little antiquity on the San Gwann/Naxxar road is not going to trigger this insurrection.
Wake up call
The Times carried a story that the Bistra catacombs were rediscovered in roads works at Targa Gap. Well, back in 1982, the works minister of the day passed a road over Malta’s most beautiful Paleo Christian tombs. Years later, garish villas were constructed next to this road, and some of the owners incorporated some of the tombs in their opulent back gardens, turning them into garden sheds and in one case an aviary.
The academics who could have rallied public opinion shied away from the media and the catacombs disappeared under millimetres of tarmac or behind the high walls of private gardens.
Before 1987, the PN promised it would restore Targa Gap to its original state. Adverts appeared in Il-Mument and electoral brochures. I know, I gave the campaigners most of the background details.
After the election, as is so often the case, nothing happened. Pleas to the Prime Minister of the day were treated with utter condescension.
Years later, after many letter campaigns, the government decided to issue an expropriation order. But it was never implemented.
Respective ministers of heritage or culture refused to act. Now a Times journalist reports a re-discovery… what a discovery!
Curious
Eco-tax has been a great success. So the eco-tax for a
massive tractor tyre is Lm2,36 and for a Lambretta tyre,
come on give a guess … Lm2.36!
Squiggle of the week
The other week, I referred to Tonio Borg’s stint as Minister during the scandal involving the Chief Justice and a Judge. To be fair to Dr Borg, I failed to mention that he was not Justice Minister at the time.
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