[WATCH] A peek into yesterday’s Malta: Joseph Farrugia’s mission to keep the past alive

One of Joseph Farrugia it-Timba’s earliest memories is going to Wied iż-Żurrieq with his father and listening to him recount his childhood experiences during the war.

“It was a tough and difficult life, but it was a serene, quiet and disciplined life,” he tells me as we sit inside his busy workshop.

Farrugia is a retired fireman and builder who spends his days fishing, farming, hunting and sculpting. But the 63-year-old has also discovered the power of social media. He posts short stories on his Facebook page Mid-Djarju tat-Timba (Timba’s Diary), sharing accounts of his younger days, which he spent fishing off the Żurrieq coast and farming in his father’s fields.

The Facebook page boasts more than 13,000 likes and hundreds of reactions on each post. The meticulously crafted stories, written in the Żurrieq dialect, give readers a glimpse into a Malta long gone.

Farrugia welcomes me at his garage on the outskirts of Żurrieq. I barely finish shaking his hand when he offers me a seat and begins telling me about his life.

He was born and raised in the southern locality and grew up running and playing in the fields surrounding his family home.

“I was born just around the corner from here. I fell out of my mother’s womb in my parent’s kitchen… maybe that’s why I like to eat,” he says, before letting out a little chuckle. “I was privileged to have had the chance to explore and live my life, something which young people today don’t have.”

He was raised in the fields and by the sea. “When we couldn’t work the fields, I would make my way to Wied iż-Żurrieq and spend the day fishing. I even studied.”

An influencer of sorts, Farrugia has cultivated a strong following on his Facebook page.

“I had been thinking about starting Djarju tat-Timba for a long time,” he explains. “My father was a man of few words, but when he spoke, you listened. He would never repeat the same story twice. He lived through the war and saw a lot of things happen in these parts, from bombs to planes; he saw it all. When we were either hunting, farming or fishing, he used to recount his childhood stories.”

Joseph Farrugia says he never found the time to sit down and write down these colourful stories. “I would always wake up early. Then, around four or five years ago, I found myself pacing in the kitchen at 4am; I opened the computer and started writing these stories.”

He says he wants to keep the past generation’s memory alive.

“It was a tough life they had to endure. I once remember my father told me a story about how, during the war, his family used to plant beans in their fields to feed themselves. They would wake up and find holes dug in the field, only to realise it was British soldiers who had dug them up because they were hungry,” he says.

I ask him what his family’s reaction was. They let it slide, he says. “Everyone was hungry, and they knew that.”

On why he insists on writing the stories in the Żurrieq dialect, Farrugia says it keeps his works authentic.

“A story’s soul is in its detail. Attention to detail is my second nature in everything I do. If you are not prepared to give detail, people will only see the outer shell,” he says. “One of the best feelings I have is when people reach out to me and tell me: ‘Your work is so detailed, it’s as if I am there with you. If I write ‘I caught a Lampuka’, so what? Every fisherman catches a Lampuka. To give it life, you have to describe how you caught it: Did you use a fishing pole? Did you fly-fish for it? Every fish has its story.”

Cheekily, he likes to end his stories with cliff hangers. “I want to leave people asking what will happen next. I mean, that’s what they do in television series, right?”

Farrugia is a rare breed – he uses modern technology to spread tales of the past. When asked why he chose to use social media, he explains that he has always wanted to keep moving forward. “If you don’t move forward, you are held back. Social media should be used for the positive, and I try to contribute to that positivity.”

Asked whether he wants these stories to define his legacy, Farrugia replies: “You know what my legacy is? My children. Everything I write, everything I sculpt, those are all materialistic things. If I decide to remove my page, everything is gone, forever. My children are my legacy.”

But despite his humility, given the chance to publish his works, Farrugia would do so in a heartbeat.

“If I find someone who can help, I’ll publish them,” Farrugia says before laughing. “Giving people a window, a taste, of Malta from the past means a lot to me.”