St Paul's Bay: My home town, my story

There is relative peace on these mountain tops. It does not require much effort to consider this city as a second home because Palestinian hospitality is something which all internationals quickly learn to treasure. Here there is as much calm as can be afforded by an area enclosed by a wall, surrounded by militant Jewish settlers and Israeli checkpoints.

In spite of the distance, I cannot help being intrigued by the sabre-rattling that is taking place in my own birthplace in Malta, St Paul's Bay. Although I often feel a citizen of the world who is sometimes touched by displacement, my identity is rooted in my "story" which begins and still unfolds in this locality.

My earliest childhood memories of St Paul's Bay are worlds apart from what it has become today. My grandparents and parents tilled the land beneath Wardija. As kids we spotted butterflies and the frogs in a small fresh water stream close to our house. We crossed the stream on our way to the old farm which my grandparents rented, that was just a stone's throw from the sea in the area known as Vecca. With the construction of the St Paul's Bay by-pass, the stream dried up; the butterflies became a rarity and later the farm was sold and demolished by the owners. It was replaced by the huge block of 'apartments-with-a-sea-view' that now overwhelms the landscape in the area.

In my early childhood, we did not have a television set and I must have spent hours looking out of the balcony overlooking the bay while listening to translations of Enid Blyton children's novels being read on Rediffusion. On the other side of the bay, we could observe Xemxija hill that was still a bare and rocky garigue. Then there were only a few solitary luzzus protected by the Vecca quay. Some of our neighbours were weathered fisherman and we often saw the laden boats returning with their catch. I used to watch as they unloaded the boats in a backdrop of intense bargaining between the fishermen and the fishmongers. Now there are bigger and more advanced fishing boats, which are outnumbered by hundreds of pleasure boats. In summer the boats squeeze like sardines into the bay. In winter, when most boats are taken onshore, the Bay appears littered with ugly plastic containers and bottles-cum-buoys dancing on the surface  of the sea.

When I was a child the resident population of St Paul's Bay consisted of a couple of thousand people. "The population is 2,300 but in summer it grows to 30,000 people," I had written, probably in one of my Social Studies school projects. My reliable source of information was the parish priest but I did not need much persuasion as the difference between the sleepy winter months and summer was felt by each and everyone.

Then, a few Pawlini lived in the centre around the Church area. Many others were scattered in surrounding hamlets. My schoolmates hailed from 'distant' places known as Qawra, Burmarrad, Ghajn Tuffieha, Pwales, L-Imbordin, San Martin and Wardija. Most of them lived in remote farmhouses. The summer residents were known to us as: "tal-villeggatura", "tas-sajf" or "tan-naha t'isfel" ("from the south" although they could have come from anywhere). They normally came in July and stayed till September.
In summer St Paul's Bay was vibrant and villagers reaped the benefits of bigger economic activity. Although the Pawlini tolerated towns' people almost with a degree of deference, the stark cultural divide rendered the traditional farmers wary of the summer residents' lifestyles. I clearly remember that "tas-sajf" held farewell street parties just before they departed in September. We were always cordially invited but never felt at ease to stay for long.

Although St Paul's Bay endured radical changes, seasonality still has a very strong impact. The town's growing population has now reached 21,000 but it still explodes to over 60,000 people in summer time. It is now home for families of all shapes and sizes; some would have made my nanna blush. I will never forget the day that shattered the 'storks bring babies' myth; a distant unmarried cousin got pregnant. With both hands pressed against her red cheeks, my furious nanna declared the girl had "shamed our whole race". Little did she know that her village would eventually have as many single mums as southern towns like Senglea and Cospicua. It has now become a common perception that Qawra has become the Palace of the 'Welfare Queens'.

Yet, we are fully aware that this area is experiencing very real and severe social problems. For instance, one little boy once described to me how he regularly slept on an inflatable camp bed as his graduate single mum had to take in foreign students in his bedroom so that she can make ends meet. And then there are the Qawra apartments, which charity workers say, are inhabited by as many as three single mums; each with her own kids. They were forced to group their belongings into shared flats because they cannot afford independent households.

Social transformations are closely linked to the other radical changes in the St Paul's Bay landscape. Years ago my dad had a small wooden frejgatina and this overloaded boat would take us on frequent trips to St Paul's Islands. There we used to snorkel in pristine waters, dive for rizzi (sea urchins), find imhar (shells) or collect a bag-full of salt from pockets in the rocks. But this was years before the audacious decision to install tuna pens at the mouth of the Bay. The pollution of the seabed met little or no resistance because the money interests and pressures where too big.

Yet, the biggest environmental threat was the unchecked ugly urban sprawl that impacted agriculture and the quality of life of the population in the past 30 years. I clearly remember the day when an army of unemployed men were entrusted by the state to construct Triq il-Pijunieri in Bugibba; that was the beginning of the end. My grand dad owned a field that was usurped and covered with tarmac. As Bugibba fast turned into the eyesore it is today, he had to let go of the land he tilled in that area. The biggest tragedy is that the growth of St Paul's Bay, Bugibba and Qawra did not include any planning whatsoever. As a result it is now impossible to park a car in summer and overall it cannot compete with other localities in Malta and with overseas attractions. Sustainable development was and is still unheard of then. No wonder it has become the dirty dump that it is.

Tourism also had social costs that were never discussed. While the beautiful coast was built up to accomodate tourists, work opportunities increased and contributed to the steady growth of the population. As a teenager, I belonged to a generation greatly tempted by child labour. Some of my schoolmates earned the grand sum of Lm 7 per week. In my head I began to draw a wish-list of the things I would do if I could lay my hands of that money. After they worked as waitresses and cleaners in tourist establishments, some of my friends stopped bothering with school altogether. My parents prohibited me from working even when dad spent years out of a secure job as by then we were all dancing to the 80s depression.

We are currently experiencing another economic crisis that is hitting hard on the area. The number of hotels that closed down reached 28; some hotels closed down for winter but many others closed down forever. While initially the rape of St Paul's Bay was partly justified by development in the tourism sector, the locality is now victim to widespread land speculation.

When my grandparents grew older and weaker they left the farm and we moved from Vecca to the village centre. There the built-up area was growing faster. In our street most of the houses were still vacant during the winter season but in summer most of residents were now British and other Europeans who bought retirement homes in the sun. Then only two of my classmates had English parents but it was already evident that St Paul's Bay was more open to international residents than other more insular localities. The community itself began to change rapidly.

St Paul's Bay primary school now has pupils of 35 nationalities. To me, this makes it one of the most interesting places to reside in. When I now talk to my five year old nephew, he can clearly articulate thoughts and ideas about the lifestyles of the diverse cultures. The original residents of my parent's generation are now aging. The parochial microcosm of my childhood is gone and St Paul's Bay has transformed into a locality that has to embrace multi-cultural perspectives. To me this is one development that now makes me feel more at ease and at home. But I am also aware that other members of the community may not be as comfortable as I am with this these changes.

All these social and economic transformations have been percolating for decades and they have political implications.  They may also impact on party politics. Today media analysts would describe the conservative traditional village of my childhood as 'deep blue'. But throughout the years this blue became paler and paler. While in the past, I cannot remember a single successful Labour Party candidate that hailed from our hometown and its surroundings, Labour now has a strong candidature. I am thus not surprised that St Paul's Bay is one of the battle grounds in these local elections. Party war-rooms realized that this Local Council election may mark a historic political shift that may also impact on the result of the approaching General Election.