Tag: festschrift 2012

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Festschrift 2012

mark vella – xifer: il-blogg mit-truf

Lunchtime. And time for Mark Vella, the man who made the mistake of egging me on to start blogging. It’s ages ago now but we quickly settled around the big arguments and little commonalities. Could we illude ourselves that it was a thesis and an antithesis? What about all that discourse about chips and class and political snobbism and liberal elite? We whispered them in our ivory boxes when blogging was still a matter between friends. Now we laugh as we see those arguments repeated on the mainstream media and third or fourth generation blogs – and all the while they think that they are saying something new.

Seba’ snin ilu. Qatt ma ktibt daqs kemm ktibt dak iż-żmien. Dan hu żmien il-banana, mela seba’ snin ilu, fejn kull nifs li tieħu kien ikebibislek moħħok ġamra u idejk jikwu jridu jiktbu. Dak li tħoss l-ewwel. Dak li taħseb, forsi wara. Il-banana, wara Ammaniti, dak li jinkiteb meta ma jkollokx x’tikteb, dak li jinkiteb meta l-kittieb tirmazzalu idu, bħal issa, bħal dal-ħin, fejn is-seba’ snin ta’ Jacques bilkemm naf humiex tfakkira kiefra tan-nixfa ta’ ktibieti jew dehxa ħafifa ġejja bla mistennija lejn is-swaba’ kull ma jmur dejjem iħaffu fuq it-tastiera. Eżatt bħal seba’ snin ilu, kemm ktibt dak iż-żmien, fl-ewwel appartament li krejt, il-kompjuter fuq armarju baxx metall aħmar Ikea, mhux skrivanija li titfa’ saqajk taħtha, imma b’irkobbtejja laġenba u dahri mħatteb għal fuq laptop imqiegħed fil-baxx wisq għat-tul ta’ ġismi, waqt li nliġġem in-nervi tal-elettriku tal-kitba b’sigarett irammad minn ħalqi jien u nżegleg fuq siġġu jdur.

Mhux bħal-lum, fejn l-appartament mod ieħor, għax tkun mingħalik li anki l-ħajja ġejja mod ieħor, u li biex tikteb trid fejn tikteb, post speċjali,  fejn tista’ taħseb tikkonċentra toħloq. Mhux bħal lum, fejn nerġa’ nixtieq, bħal ma darba xtaqt u kelli u arrali, imma xorta tibqa’ tixxennaq, għal kamra kollha tiegħi, u ħin kollu kollu kollu tiegħi, fejn nista’ nilgħab tal-kittieb (mhux inkun, fl-aħħar mill-aħħar, imma le, nilgħabha ta’…) u hemm żgur għad nikteb kull ma għandi f’moħħi u niktbu sew. Mhux bħal fiż-żmien tal-bloggs. Dak kien biss żmien ta’ taħriġ, tant li l-blogg għadu jeżisti fix-xibka imma b’indirizz ieħor u ħadd mhu se jsibu, donni qed nistħi minn dawk iż-żminijiet fejn kont ridt tikteb kull ma tara, tisma’ u tgħix, u tkun trid tgħidu lil kulħadd, kull min lest jisma’ , kull min lest jinzertak.

Qabel il-Facebook, l-ismart marketing fejn nitteggjak u nwaħħal link biex forsi xi ħadd li jafek jaqra dak li qed taqra u li jien ħajjartek biex taqrah, għax għandi pjan ta’ kif irrid ninqara u minn min, qabel dan, qabel dan kollu….konna niftħu blogg u niktbu, niktbu, niktbu u mingħalina li qed jaqrana kulħadd u anki li mhu qed jaqrana ħadd. U mbagħad konna ngħidu ‘l xulxin b’x’qed nagħmlu, u dak li jkun jitħajjar, u jħajjar, u f’kemm ili ngħidlek sirna komunità, naqraw lil xulxin u forsi xi ħadd ieħor jaqrana. Bosta minn dawk li qed jiċċelebraw illum forsi nixfu wkoll, tiftakru kważi kollha flimkien, x’kien ġara, kif kollox miet… Forsi għax kollox għandu tmiemu, forsi għax fgajna f’xi veleni pwerili ta’ xulxin – x’qawwa kellu biċċa blogg!- forsi għax għajjejna, forsi  wħud minna tgħarwinna wisq u darba stenbaħna mistħija…

Jacques biss, soldiered on. Ftit għadni niftħu l-blogg ta’ Jacques, nammetti. Bħal ma bilkemm naf min jibbloggja daż-żmien, u ma nagħtix wisq kashom. Seba’ snin wara, kull ma nista’ ngħid huwa kemm hu ikreh meta jmut is-seher, xi kruha toqtol ħolma, imma kemm hi kurjuża din is-sensazzjoni rqiqa rqiqa rqiqa rqiqa li qisha tgħidlek biex (istja, kemm kont inħobb ngħidha din fi żmien il-bloggs) tiddisinja arazzi ġodda….

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Festschrift 2012

gybexi – inutile de degeler

The third “schrift” comes from our friend in Brussels whose nickname “gybexi” has a nickname of its own: Kurat van Buitengaats. He was the first among the invitees to call my bluff about the “festschrift in honour of”. Delusions of grandeur he called it. Of course he is right. J’accuse is neither some great academic achievement nor is it dead (touch wood). And in a way, cynical gybexi was just being his good old self. Always the one to slap us down to earth if our egos and ego-battles took us a little bit too far. Cheers Kurat…. still waiting for that home/away challenge in petanque.

Get well soon

Luxembourg-Findel, 2002/2003.

This was, for all intents and purposes, my first ‘proper’ time abroad as an adult.

In the back of the cab there was a suitcase, our suitcase, the size of your average custom-made Ghanian coffin.

I had emigrated, although like all emigrants I wasn’t really aware of this fact yet. It had hit me for  a while when my dad clumsily, and unsuccessfully, tried to negotiate our baggage allowance at the check-in desk at MIA. He asked them to show more clemency, “they’re emigrating!”. I thought about it on the flight, but it didn’t seem this was what I was doing. I wasn’t emigrating, just moving there (for what would end up being a long, long time)…

I had packed three weeks in advance. I had several printouts of ultimately useless info. I even had a map of the airport. I was so worried I made myself sick, and was so sick at certain points I saw auras of colour around objects.

The hostel, which was to be our home for about a week, was in a small but beautiful valley. Since I wasn’t that into nature in those days, of far greater interest to me was the commuter train. It was visible from our dorm room whenever it rumbled past; a frequent reminder of the urbanity and exploration awaiting me when I’d stop vomiting naked elves and seeing sacred geometric shapes in my apple juice.

I had been putting off the visit to the hospital, mainly for financial reasons and also because we didn’t really speak French, but as I was getting increasingly delirious I guess I had no choice. They gave me inordinately large and expensive pills, big red triangles, which whittled me down to only mildly crazy in a few days (it would take another two weeks for me to recover from that mother of all flus).

In the meantime we found an unremarkable studio flat with 80s furniture near the train station, vacated by a Spanish girl who had died on a skiing holiday three days before. I didn’t really mind that, although maybe I should have.

I knew Luxembourg was expensive, but the money I had saved up was gone in a few days. I was sick and practically destitute in one of the world’s healthiest and wealthiest nations. So, this is what being a bohemian feels like? Overrated as fuck.

I walked to the phone booths opposite the train station, finding a cabin sufficiently far away from the cadavers who used the booths to shoot up. I was going to call my parents to wire me some cash to get by, but then I thought better of it. I thought of my mother worrying herself sick about us and my dad scoffing (and pretending he’s not worried, even though he is). No.

We lived on nothing but noodles, until A. started working and she asked them for an advance. I worked in the private sector so no advances for me. We opened an account and the Italian clerk at our bank trusted us enough to open a loan account for us (we bought real food – not the ‘Chinese soldier camping on Jupiter’ shit we had eaten for days).

There really weren’t many other Maltese – two as far as I knew – and I worked in the private sector, so my Luxembourg experience was a considerably poorer and more solitary experience than many of the other Maltese who moved there. It also featured lots of medical visits and waiting around perusing shitty magazines in government ministries since Malta was not yet an EU member state when I got there. Luckily, it was fairly easy to make friends with the people at work and even a few Luxembourgers didn’t find the idea of befriending me intolerable.

I had started blogging, and came across Bollettino della Sfigha. It was an extremely exciting moment. Amusing, interesting, often witty and written in an arcane Maltese which made it all the more endearing. It gave me the impetus to carry on at a time when I felt it might be a bit pointless. And then they came. Invading Blogspot. Feeeetħu bloooggg… the lot of them.

And was I happy they did! The blogs were very much a product of their time, but they were – in my view – the best contemporary Maltese literature we had. They were honest and immediate, among other things.

They died not only because of Facebook, but because they were based on boredom, loneliness or both. Here we were in new lands, in new jobs and negotiating many new social paradigms. We also had more time to kill after work, so were more willing to experiment. Maybe the blogs were a way to connect and also advertise our existence. That we were still alive and our brains still functional (more or less) at a time and in a place where everything else changed around us, and that the minutiae of these profound changes in our lives are maybe worth relating.

I, for one, would love to see them back, now that they’re not needed. They’d be an exercise in futility and in writing at length at a time when brevity is a truism rather than another style of writing. We need them… because we don’t.

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Festschrift 2012

antoine cassar – triq il-maqluba

And here’s the quiet, calm enigmatic wordsmith of mosaics and passports. Antoine Cassar was a mysterious conundrum of linguistic curiosity wrapped up in a zen like attitude of constant reflection and awe. I will never forget the first ever contemporaneous blogging event that took place spontaneously at the airport. Xifer, Maqluba and J’accuse kicked off. Ten minutes later J’accuse was up. Fifteen Xifer was ready. Half an hour later Maqluba began his spellcheck. It all happens slowly in the world of il-Maqluba (ex-Qrendi now Luxembourg). But it happens nicely and the description can be bewitching. Here goes. 

Kos, seba’ snin diġà? Jew seba’ snin biss? Inħosshom ħafna u nħosshom ftit. ‘L hawn jew ‘l hemm, nifraħ ħafna lil seħibna Jacques u nneħħilu l-kappell li m’għandix. Is-7 numru sabiħ. Kważi kważi daqs l-iktar numru għal qalbi, it-8. Timbuttah bil-ħlewwa, jitlef il-bilanċ, u jsirlek l-infinit.

 Tant ġrat xorti tul l-aħħar seba’ snin li qed narahom proprju bħala infinità; jew biex inkunu iktar preċiżi, infinità li għaddiet bi żbrixx. Seba’ snin ilu bħal-lum u bħal dal-ħin, hemm ċans kbir li kont ġo kmajra mdawla l-Qrendi, iċċassat lejn l-iskrin ta’ laptop ormaj goff qisu xi ċanguna, nistudja jew nikteb. Tlettax-il sena wara li tvenvina żbuxxlata tax-Xlokk kienet bagħtitni nixxejjer bejn Londra u Madrid, kont inżilt lura l-Blata bl-iskop, imwaħħar iżda mhux wisq, li nitkisser fil-Malti u għal darba nitgħallmu sew. L-ewwel għalliema tiegħi kienet il-kuġina Francesca, li dak iż-żmien kellha tnax-il sena, u llum, oħroġ il-għaġeb, prima ballerina u ballerina mill-iprem, diġà bdiet iddur l-Ewropa, tiżfen fuq ponot subgħajha mill-ġenn ta’ Marsilja u Istanbul għall-wesgħat tat-Toscana. Inħobbok Frans!

 Jekk seba’ snin ilu bħal-lum u bħal dal-ħin ma kontx qed intektek fil-kmajra, wisq probabbli kont fil-kċina npaċpaċ man-nanniet. Kienu huma l-iktar li għallmuni. Kuljum xi storja, kuljum xi tifkira, kuljum xi taqbila, jew anki xi xogħfa mistħoqqa minħabba xi guffaġni minn tiegħi. Illum siefru t-tnejn li huma; in-nannu, li kien jibża’ mill-ajruplani u qatt ma tħajjar jitla’ fuq bastiment lejn l-Awstralja, għall-ewwel darba. Dejjem kien irid jifhem iktar id-dinja, u l-mistoqsijiet tiegħu ta’ ġeografija kienu jkunu bl-ikbar kurżità. Idejh tant kienu kbar li stajt tifrex fuqhom mappamundi sħiħa. Min jaf x’veduta għandu tal-globu issa, minn hemm fuq…

Qed ngħid “hemm fuq”, u qed niftakar f’waħda mill-ħsibijiet li kont ħarbixt f’xi bloggata bikrija ta’ Triq il-Maqluba. Mhux li nemmen fl-infern u fil-ġenna. Jekk hemm infern, x’aktarx ikun is-sentiment ta’ ħtija, ta’ dispjaċir, ta’ żmien moħli f’dawk l-aħħar waqtiet qabel nintfew. U viċiversa, il-ġenna tkun is-sentiment ta’ sodisfazzjon, ta’ ċirku tond, ta’ kuxjenza mhux biss nadifa iżda wkoll hienja. Dakinhar li mort insellem lin-nannu fil-mortwarju, avolja idejh kienu inġazzati, wiċċu kien tbissima minn widna għal widna.

 Wara l-kuġina u n-nanniet, fil-bloggosfera Maltija sibt għalliema oħra. Kont skoprejtha b’ċikka permezz ta’ artiklu fil-Wikipedija Maltija (jekk niftakar sew, id-definizzjoni tal-kelma blogg, diġà bil-g doppja, attribwita lil ċertu Mark Vella ta’ Xifer). U f’daqqa waħda l-mikrokożmu ta’ Malta – in-nomadu ta’ ġo fija kien diġà beda jsus wara l-eremit – infetaħli beraħ. Ftaħt il-blogg tal-Maqluba u dlonk sibt ruħi, għall-ewwel darba fi żmien twil wisq, parti minn komunità Maltija. U tal-Kinnie generation, anki jekk kont ġej minn sfond differenti. Dak iż-żmien kont għadni nteftef fil-mużajki, esperiment li rnexxa u mbagħad b’xorti tajba falla, u kelli daqsxejn ta’ battibekk letterarju ma’ Ereżija tal-Kriżi… u kif tegħlibha. Tiftakarha, Alex? “Ave, Ġakbu Joyce!” Ħeħe. Ma domniex ma sirna ħbieb tal-qalb. Aktar tard tfaċċa l-ħabib tal-qalb l-ieħor, Kevin ta’ Ħġejjeġ. Bis-saħħa tiegħu, u iktar mill-bogħod, bis-saħħa tat-Tgedwid ta’ Immanuel, bdejt insir midħla wkoll tal-letteratura kontemporanja lokali. U tal-ħafna diskorsi alternattivi li kienu jsiru fuq il-politika u s-soċjali, fuq il-kultura u l-lingwa, fuq l-eliti liberali u krepuskolari. U fuq ċerta nostalġija għall-80s, l-iktar it-tieni nofs tad-deċennju, iż-żmien li fih kont niġġerra fit-toroq tal-Qrendi. Mhux kollox kont insejt, minkejja l-aċċent imxajtan li kaxkart minn barra. Fil-bloggosfera kelli mnejn nikkonsla.

 Il-bloggej (jew bloggista? Tiftakru l-Imweġja , l-istudju lingwistiku li konna għamilna fuq il-bloggs jew bloggijiet jew blogog, tant konna daħħalna rasna fil-garigori ta’ sormna?) … Kont qed ngħid, il-bloggej l-iktar dixxiplinat u l-iktar spontanju kien Jacques, jimbotta u jxewwex ta’ kuljum, iżommna fuq saqajna, jiġifieri mwaħħlin bilqiegħda nikklikkjaw u nittajpjaw. U minn Jacques għadni nitgħallem ftit ftit sal-lum, jien u nsegwi mill-bogħod. Ma nistagħġeb xejn bil-fatt li għadu jakkuża. Ad altiora, kif kitibli darba fuq il-blogg tal-Maqluba. Daqs sena oħra, nixtieq inkun hemm biex nimbuttaw it-8 flimkien, ħa nisimgħuh jinstabat bil-ħlewwa mal-art.

U bi tbissima, ghax b’hekk, dawk il-waqtiet tal-ahhar ta’ qabel nintfew ma jaslu qatt.

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Festschrift 2012

maltagirl – diverse ramblings

Welcome to “eine festschrift fur j’accuse”. You’ll be getting a post an hour from now on. We begin with the ladies. And it’s not a causal coincidence that we start with Ms Maltagirl – the lady who can claim to be Malta’s longest running blogger tracing her blog beginnings waaaay back in 2001. J’accuse has fond memories of her interventions in the Blogosfera MMV (as I like to call it). Most of all we appreciated her “Karnival tal-Bloggijiet” complete with prizes and nominations. Especially when we won. Thank you Maltagirl… here goes.

When Jacques invited me to participate in his Festschrift, I was honoured.

Right until I realised that the point of a Festschrift is to honour one person, and the idea of a person inviting others to honour himself seems rather presumptuous.

However, in typical J’Accuse style, he managed to pull off something that, attempted by anyone else, would seem like a self-important stunt. Coming from Jacques, though, it inspires a roll of the eyes, a chuckle, and enough motivation to give up two a few several hours of scarce leisure time in order to write this post.

In its heyday, back in 2005/6, the Maltese Blogosfera featured some very interesting people. It was the first time most of us had ever had the opportunity to say something and have it published, unedited, in a place where anyone could read it, and it was exhilarating to be able to write whatever you wanted.

Some people wrote about their passions, for example the linguist who used multiple languages, including Maltese, in the same poem. Some, like myself, used blogging to tell stories about everyday life, like the time I was at a church dinner and found out I had just eaten nuts I’m allergic to, and shouted a rude word in front of half the congregation. Others, like Jacques, were a little more highbrow and blogged their political opinions and commented on current affairs.

Jacques was an integral part of our little community of Maltese bloggers, and so highly was he esteemed that in the 2nd Annual Maltese Blog Awards in 2006, he was nominated in the “Pundit” catagory, and indeed won it.

One of best the memories that I have about Jacques and his early blogging career was the discussion that raged up and down the Maltese blogosphere after he coined the term “wankellectual“, and I have to say that I loved this new word because it is a remarkably succinct and satisfying way of describing… that sort of a person.

Jacques’ opinions, yes, were always strong. He was never wishy-washy about issues.

His saving grace was that, even while being offensive, and expressing the above-mentioned strong opinions that you did not necessarily agree with, he was never condescending and was not shy of poking fun at himself.

The fact that he did not hesitate to apply the term “wankellectual” to himself meant that even his detractors would at least listen to what he had to say.

As a female engineering student, and later engineer, I was mostly interested in musical theatre lessons, going out with my boyfriend (who I then married), enjoying books, films and plays, and blogging the mishaps that seemed to befall me with regularity.

Thanks to Jacques, though, and other Maltese bloggers such as Fausto Majistral, for the first time in my life I was reading insightful pieces about politics. For the first time, politics was more than obnoxious people shouting loudly at each other on television or pontificating in the press.

Politics started to be *interesting*.

So I definitely owe that to Jacques, and his engaging style kept me reading long after I would have otherwise lost interest in the topic.

To conclude, I would like to share with you some classic Jacques from way back when.

The best way to do this would be to point you to one of the Karnival tal-Bloggijiet posts that I initiated back in June of 2005, and which ran for thirteen editions before dying a natural death a year later.

The premise behind the Karnival is that any and all Maltese bloggers (a loose phrase that includes all bloggers connected to Malta in any way) were invited to submit links to their own blogs in order to showcase their writing. This was a great way for us to discover blogs that we may not have previously known about, and read interesting posts that we might have otherwise missed.

The Karnival was quite successful while it lasted, and I personally enjoyed it enormously because we invariably wound up with an incredibly eclectic mix of topics. Mundane, sublime, insightful, offensive, the Maltese bloggers blogged it all.

At first I thought to submit the 4th edition of the Karnival for Jacques’ Festschrift, because it featured him twice, in English and Maltese, plus a bonus submission by Gakbu Sfigho, one of my favourite bloggers.

However I then realised that the 9th edition features Jacques no less than seven, count them, seven times, plus there’s still one from Gakbu, AND one of Jacques’ posts in this Karnival even references the origins of that fateful term, “wankellectual“.

Sadly, many of the blogs that were featured in the Karnival have since been deleted or closed, but some of the links still work.

So here you go, a slice of Maltese blogging history, first served up for you in March 2006, just before J’Accuse turned one year old.

Id-Disa’ Karnival tal-Bloggijiet

Congratulations Jacques, on seven years of blogging – may there be many more.

Best regards,
Maltagirl.