In our demand for more, are we losing ourselves?

Maybe I’m showing my age, but at times I am overwhelmed by nostalgia for Malta the way it used to be. With each clamour for fancy (but soul-less) skyscrapers and more “development”, I wish we could just slow down, take a moment and look carefully around us before what we have slips through our fingers forever.

There are undoubtedly areas, such as information technology, where progress has been a positive thing, propelling us swiftly until we became at a par with the rest of the world, and connecting us globally in a way never thought possible. But with this same progress, there are other aspects of our lives which have suffered as a result. Yes we are connected with the other side of the world, but at times I think we have become disconnected from each other.

And nothing brought this home to me more than the small village of Xaghra, Gozo.

A group of trendy young teenage girls arrived in the square, whom I assumed were off to the beach, but instead they began donning tunic-like dresses over their clothes. As other people of all ages began to join them, carrying shields and swords, it soon became apparent that they were there to rehearse a historic re-enactment. We were suddenly surrounded by amateur actors, all very passionate at being involved in this production about their village led by an equally passionate “director” (who turned out to be a local priest).

There were moments of unintentional humour: as he was bustling around getting the “set” ready, the priest chided a few men who were lounging at a nearby bar for not helping out: “You could have come and helped…!” to which one of them laconically replied “Yes… I could have” with that nonchalant Gozitan drawl.

At one point, what looked like blackened loaves of bread were being tossed around casually, until someone shouted out, “who has the heads?!” For, as this was a re-enactment of the Turkish invasion during the Great Siege, what looked like bread turned out to be “severed heads”.

[Inevitably, there was a whole debate about this after the rehearsal, in which we inadvertently joined, as not everyone agreed that the bit about the heads should have been left in, considering recent events.]

But what struck me the most about the scene which unfolded before me was that this was the life of a village as it used to be. An almost incongruous sight in this day and age because it was endearing in its simplicity and the fact that it was devoid of any fancy frills. Without in any way wanting to sound condescending, I can only describe it as charming and true; straight from the heart. All those taking part were completely unselfconscious despite all the gawking onlookers, and obviously proud to be involved in this production which would be running weekly throughout the summer, with a narration in English, as a tourist attraction.

It occurred to me as I watched that the reason for this deep civic pride was because these were all Xaghra people born and bred. After all, how many of us still live in the town or village in which we were raised? When those ties are loosened because of constant moving, you lose that sense of affinity and loyalty to the place which formed you.

There is a lot to be said for roots. Have we lost that ability to identify with one place which we call ‘home’? Will the kids being born on the outskirts of town, boxed in high-rise developments, have any sense of knowledge of what it means to belong to a parish or the village core where everyone knows your name and which family you belong to?

It was also pertinent that the production was being directed by a priest who had managed to instil such a sense of community spirit and dedication in those involved; enough to make over 30 people gather at 2pm on a hot Sunday afternoon to rehearse. For, no matter what we might think about the role of the Church in our society, what cannot be denied is that when members of the clergy take on such social roles which bring people together, they can do an immeasurable amount of good. The young people involved were clearly enjoying themselves, and I wondered whether so many of our youngsters in Malta appear “lost” because, despite having everything, they are constantly in search of something to fill a void and give their life meaning.

One thought led to another as I continued watching and listening to the lilt of the Xaghra dialect (which, as one woman pointed out to us, is different to other Gozitan dialects). As someone who loves the sound of different accents I have always found such a myriad of different speech patterns in such a tiny place, intriguing. Has our native identity in Malta also been dented because of our frail attempts to be like everybody else?

By doing so we have become bland and boringly conformist rather than individuals. I can never understand why some people try to deny their origins or iron out their dialects so that they cannot be identified as being from the south or the north, or from a rural village. Well, actually I do understand it: it is because others try to make them feel uncomfortable about the way they speak. But why should that be the case? We accept the different accents of foreigners so why are we so rude and snarky to other Maltese people because they might speak differently to us?

There was something about watching this rehearsal which made me realize just how much our lives in Malta have spun headlong into a frantic pace of wanting everything to be slicker, brighter, louder, flashier. But as we continue racing in our never-ending rat race for “more”, it seems to me we are in danger of forgetting who we are, and what is really important as we spiral even deeper into the bottomless pit of materialism.

These were just some of my musings as I watched a sleepy Gozitan village come to life to re-enact a moment in history on a sweltering afternoon.

Xaghralife will be presented every Wednesday at the Pjazza il-Vittorja, Xaghra at 9pm during July and August. It is produced by the Xaghra Historical Re-enactment Organization.