This article and accompanying Bertoon appeared on today’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday.
I recently learnt of a very special old Maltese “gadget” when chatting with a Maltese linguist who works at the European Parliament. For a while I thought he was pulling my leg but a quick check n Serracino Inglott’s Il-Miklem Malti (Maltese Dictionary) proved otherwise. I had been told that this “device” consisted of a dried elongated fruit (pumpkin or squash) hollowed out and with two orifices on opposite ends. Some versions of this instrument could also be made of metal. Its purpose was to serve as a “fart-deviator” and would be applied to the derrière in moments of flatulent necessity.
Historians ascribe its use mainly among newly-weds as the object would serve to deviate unpleasant odours from the marital bed. Known as the ‘xatrambatra’ scholars have long debated the origins of its name (I read this on Inglott). Vassallo tends for the Sicilian “sciatara” and “matara” meaning “stromento da scorreggiare” (instrument in which to fart) while stating that “gli antichi se ne servivano per mandar via dal letto il puzzore delle scorreggie tirandole dentro tal stromento e tenendolo colla sua bocca fuor del letto il che facevano specialmente i novelli sposi”.
Preca seems to tend for a Hebrew version of the word “Xatar” and is joined by other venerable linguists in the disquisitions on the venerable subject that fills two columns of il-Miklem. Interestingly, one of the alternate explanations of the origins of the word is a probable Latin root “flatus matula” – literally ‘admirer of flatulence’ – which makes the gadget sound more like an early whooping cushion for enthusiasts of the gaseous science than a deviator of unpleasant smells in the bedroom. If, as I believe, the linguistic side of the xatrambatra has piqued your interest then I recommend you get your hands on the Miklem pages in question.
Personally, being an avid Andrea Camilleri reader, I was sufficiently happy to recognise a similarity between “sciatra” and the Sicilian word “sciauro” (smell) not to be bothered with the exact derivation of the name of the bent instrument that could (occasionally) serve as an extended tail. In the end I was simply thrilled by this new discovery – a perfect example of a maltese kluge if ever there was one (a kluge is an engineering term describing a solution that is clumsy or inelegant yet surprisingly effective). Not that I have tried it of course but I got the general idea.
Collective Nouns
The people have spoken. Seeing how this article appears on a Sunday and the MEP election results should be out by now you will probably already know who of the valiant candidates contesting the election has been chosen to represent us in Brussels and Strasbourg. The MEP election could have been an interesting step forward in collective effective representation. It could have been a clear message from the electorate in reply to the shenanigans of the PLPN travelling circus. It could. But in all probability the voters, at least those who bothered to collect their voting documents, chose to use these MEP elections as a huge collective Xatrambatra.
I dearly wish that I am proven wrong and that the only measure of unpleasant hot air could be found within the lines of this article but I have a strong suspicion that the voters have strolled into the partisan trap once again and allowed the PLPN movement to hijack their right to determine who best represents their interests in the European Parliament. We could have been wisely placing a representative in each of three important formations within the European Parliament. We could have even been intent on making sure that such representatives were able, competent representatives that could best represent our interests.
We could. But the parties chose otherwise. They shifted the agenda to anything but European issues. Inhobbkom Joseph was busy turning this into a trial run national election and the Stamperija crowd responded by using this as a testing ground for an exercise of how to tackle New Labour while defending the image of GonziPN. In the middle of it all we had the list of 22 oddball candidates that were anything but a reference point as to what each party has to offer. Push-button gaffes, contradictory messsages and more only served to indicate what the level of respect each party has to the average voter.
Contemporaneously to this proficient partisan circus act we had the small parties trying to make headway and get their voice heard. Complaints of insufficient coverage are groundless in this day and age. Whether it is AN, AD, IE or the millionaires at Libertas complaining they would be quickly disproven by a quick look at their presence on Facebook, other internet sites as well as the traditional press. AD’s last minute switch to the Obama slogan made even the greenest of voters squirm in their seats. It did not depict a party of new ideas and alternatives even if it could have easily done so amidst the goliaths of leaks and plagiarisms.
So do not blame yourself too much if you decided to renege on the right to elect candidates from among the sad options presented and instead chose to use this electoral exercise in order to release all the hot air and anger. And we chose to use the polling boxes as our Xatrambatra. The voting box became the recipient of our flatulent dismissal of this sorry state of affairs. Last national election we held our noses and voted with the Damocles’ sword of the “Wasted Vote” on our head. This time round we could afford to just blow a huge, stinky raspberry in the face of the politicians who still believe they can take us for a ride. I am not too sure we all blew the same kind of raspberry but it is now writ on the wall in larger letters… there to be ignored once again.
Notes from a Small Island
Fart instruments apart, I am thoroughly enjoying my short visit to the island. We flew here courtesy of the “cheap” charter flight run by Airmalta directly from Luxembourg. A planeful of enthusiastic voters might be enough to convince Airmalta that the route is commercially viable. Detractors of the subsidised flight would be pleased to note that it was a very spartan affair thanks to the cabin crew union decreeing that ongoing industrial action meant that the only beverages on board would be juice and water and that cabin service would be stripped down to the minimum.
Spartan flight was no big problem except for the obvious lack of inflight access to the Sangraal drink of Kinnie. No worries. Upon landing I stocked up on Kinnie Zest, picked up my rental car and zipped off straight to Ghadira Bay where a couple of friends had already been enjoying a good part of a rare day off. I must say that Malta looks exceptionally cleaner than the last time I visited. It might be just an impression but there really seems to be a collective effort to keep things cleaner. It does get you thinking that though we are extremely proficient at complaining we still can get things done between a grunt or two.
Of course the sights and sounds of the island would have been much more pleasant had I not had to contend with the various kitschy billboards yelling at me to vote for this or that behemoth. The subtle colour coding of the PN billboards was an interesting innovation. Take Deidun as the most obvious example – his colour selected from the PN rainbow is green. No prizes for guessing why. The oh so subtle attempt to diversify the green, the pink and the reddish candidates also confirmed the fact that the party fishing nets were cast wide beyond any possible sense of coherence and cohesiveness. This schizophrenic election where parties were undecided whether to promote their values or the deviating elements was best displayed on these nauseous billboards.
After the beach I got back home for a quick shower and feast of gluten-free gbejna and ful (Gozo cheese and bean) pie before heading off to Evans building to collect my voting document. I was surprised to see the long, long queues – presumably of people having a last-minute change of heart. For a moment I thought to myself that they might be the ones listening to the J’accuse appeal of 1. Cassola, 2. Grech and 3. Demicoli. Then again they might have been heeding to last minute promises by party apparatchiks so I could have been overly optimistic.
Having picked my document, and having also shown it to the party reps who verify collection of documents for big brother, I drove off for a power walk on the Sliema front. That is, my brother and mother power walked while I trailed slowly behind savouring every inch of the walk. Boy does our seafront beat any forest walk in Luxembourg. Well done Tanti Palmier for the fat infested whipped ice cream that brought back childhood memories of Lola’s best in Victoria. I passed the newly inaugurated Free Wifi at the gardens beneath the promenade – great work there too. It was buzzing and I couldn’t help noticing that the whole experience had more joie de vivre than the picture postcard that is daily represented in the press.
Passing by Surfside bar (advertising rabbit or prawns in garish billboards) I noticed that the Imperium Ewropa crowd had abandoned their usual haunts and shifted to an establishment on the Sliema front for a final salute to their leader before the oncoming battle. It was probably a few hundred metres from where the displaced Muslim prayer group had decided to manifest their disapproval with the MEPA decrees prompted by people unhappy to have that kind of “intolerant” neighbours. A brilliant example of Maltese diversity.
Bursts of Applause
I was lucky enough to see the square formerly occupied by the Magic Kiosk restored to its former glory. I won’t say that it brought tears to my eyes but yes, it did bring back memories of when, as a child, I would visit my dad’s working place at Saccone & Speed. I’m not too sure whether the two parking spots on the side of the square were really necessary but hey – let’s not rain on the parade.
As always happend on my visits to the island I got to see the printed version of this very paper you are reading and I loved the layout changes and the switch to the much more easily read three columns. I promise to change the hideous photo I have lumped you readers with soon enough in order to fall in line with the changes that seem to be happening. Don’t have high expectations though – the face is what it is!
Our athletes competing in the Games for the Small States of Europe in Cyprus deserve a healthy round of applause. Special attention goes to the Basketball Ladies who, at the time of writing, seem to have won a special gold medal. What makes it more special to me is that they did so by pipping Luxembourg to top place.
Till we meet again
As I said earlier, by the time you read this I will probably have landed in the Duchy where the lows predicted for next week should be between two and four degrees on the celsius scale. You will not blame me for saying that I will take with me a strong dose of saudade and will be looking forward to a speedy return in mid-July.
It’s colourful, controversial and sometimes obstinately obtuse.. but there’s definitely no place like the rock I proudly call home.
Jacques will be pining for the crystal waters of Ghadira all next week at http://www.akkuza.com. Come join hairy Cecil, grumpy Fausto and the rest of the crew intent on analysing the MEP election results.
