Author: Jacques René Zammit

Between viruses and price hikes, I get the feeling that many people are approaching this period of resolutions and promises with a dampened spirit and weak will. The manner by which we calculate the passage of time has always meant that sometime around the period of 25 December (the ancient festival of Sol Invictus – the Undefeated Sun) we begin to prepare for the forthcoming new cycle. In the modern age this has also afforded us the ephemeral excuse of setting ourselves new goals with which to test our wills – the infamous New Year Resolutions.

I spent most of the period following the winter solstice in the eternal city of Rome and it was while traipsing around the palatine, somewhere close to the Domus Julia, that I felt the first signs of the influenza virus taking over my senses. For I am but human, of the male gender to boot, and everybody knows how susceptible males are to the ravaging damages of the influenza virus. Apparently it was not just me but much of Europe that was suffering the consequences of a particularly harsh attack of the bastard microbe.

Still, I got to learn new stuff while in Rome. My education would not result from the plethora of historical sites that dot the ancient city like a particularly harsh attack of the morbillivirus. Of course, they did provide an added value but my greatest lesson would come from a childhood friend who I was visiting in Rome. In between a gourmand festival at some Casale and some shopping (de rigueur) around the jam-packed vie (streets), we discussed the “whys” and “becauses” of life as in Gino Paoli’s famous song.

Accipio (accept)

My childhood friend has been my guide in Rome since I first went to visit him what seems like ages ago. He is a sworn son of the city and his allegiance to its very essence goes beyond the strongest sense of patriotism. Tattooed on one of his arms is the Latin maxim “Nihil difficile volenti” – nothing is difficult for the strong willed. During one of our myriad conversations that are the Roman equivalent of philosophy at the dinner table, he pointed out that I tend to get too hot under the collar and allow myself to be troubled by too many things.

“Your problem is that you are too smart. You cannot solve everything or change everything. We all pass through that phase. I have learnt to accept. If other people are content doing things the way they do them, then just learn to take a deep breath and accept the fact that it is their way.” I paraphrase a recollection that may be slightly blurred thanks to a few sips of Roman wine (or the ‘Centoerbe’ digestif) but the gist of what he said is there. For a moment I was stunned, almost offended. But then I understood.

It makes sense really. The ‘philosophy of acceptance’ does not mean giving up and resigning from the self-arrogated job of “agent of change” but it means accepting the ways of the world. Above all, as my friend would stress, the world can never be changed to be the way you would like it to be. This seems obvious, but most times it is not. Our constant struggle to mould everyone and everything into “how we think they or it should be” is reflected in our daily interaction. It underpins our Mediterranean style of politics, whether liberal or conservative. I am still wondering what best to do with this newly acquired insight but I have a feeling that it will have an effect of some sort on my forthcoming year.

Abeo (change)

In a way, we will have to accept many facts in 2011. We have to accept the fact that in its struggle against the monster (virtual or real?) that is the current economic crisis, the political machine will spout two answers: (1) “Austerity” is the answer given by those with their hands on the purse and (2) “Solidarity with the Poor” will be the answer of the ‘progressives’ in Opposition. Whether it is Cameron-Clegg vs Miliband or Gonzi vs Muscat, you will have to accept that these are the rules of the game for the coming months.

Faced with the rising price of the basic food basket (it’s not just Malta, you know) from bread to milk, from fuel to gas to water, the electorate will have some choices to make. It can accept that the situation demands austerity and strict management but it must also question whether the solutions offered by its politicians are genuine or knee-jerk populist. Many of us will have to accept an even greater factor than all of the above – and that is that when push comes to shove, the electorate tends to vote with its heart and not with its brain.

Nothing is difficult if you will it though. While we may learn to accept the ways of life more readily, and while we tame our more rebellious side in order to seem more balanced in our approach, there will always be those who try to achieve more. Take Thomas Cremona, the leukaemia survivor attempting the Transatlantic rowing challenge, or Sean MacGahern attempting the longest dive in open waters. Citius, altius, fortius (faster, higher, stronger) – we should also be able to accept that while most of us sit back and complain, there are a select few who are prepared to push beyond the accepted boundaries and set new standards.

On the Street Where You Live

The Romans of old had a Via Salaria (it’s still there, by the way) – it was the road that linked Rome to the port of Ascoli, where the precious salt pans lay. Salt was an expensive commodity then, and used as a currency and also as remuneration for soldiers – hence the word ‘salary’. I wonder whether, having accepted the whole farce that is the discussion on MP honoraria (a pay increase that is definitely mistimed but not unnecessary), we should change the name of Republic Street to ‘Via Honoraria’.

Whether ‘honour’ becomes a common currency in this day and age of bandwagon politics remains to be seen.

www.akkuza.com strongly recommends La Soffitta in Piazza Risorgimento for gluten-free food while in Rome.

This article appeared in the Malta Independent on Sunday on the 9th January 2011.

To those who have already broken their New Year resolution. To those who are still holding on. To those who are determined to save on electricity bills. To those who are reading this in the comfort of an electric stove. To those who will wait until the Three Kings have come before starting to put away their Christmas lights and decorations. To those for whom Christmas is another word for “humbug”. To those who woke up this morning still reeling with a mild hangover from two nights before. To those who have already been to Mass and read the papers by 10am.

To those who thronged outside the newsagents exchanging New Year greetings and wishing everyone all the best. To those who sent their offspring round the corner to pick up the paper. To those who picked up a couple of pastizzi or pastries on their way to the newsagents. To those who skipped breakfast to better enjoy mum’s Sunday roast and their share of the big feast leftovers. To those who love mustard with their turkey and to those who still have not had enough of the cranberry sauce. To those who forgot to wear red underwear on New Year’s Eve and to those who never understood how people could believe such crap.

To those who think carpe diem. To those who already have fixed appointments for the 15th of August in the afternoon. To those who live to work. To those who work to live. To those who will wear out more of their travelling shoes this year and to those for whom the piazza or the promenade is their oyster. To those who double park to rush to Maxims, Champs or Sphynx for their supply of cheesecakes. To those who prefer Muscat’s pizza drenched in cheese and oil as it spills onto their shirt while they munch and drive. To those who still favour Lollies Bar and its incredible “hobzabacon” (one word, if you please). To those who will grow up switching between ftira and sushi.

To those who like me have fallen for more of the Apple products over the last year. To those who will do so in the coming year. To the poor BR who still insist that “Apple is just about the status”. To the law class of ‘99 – it was a pleasure catching up with you again these holidays. To the Saint Benild ‘75ers who are still trying to arrange a get together after all these years. To the ones who no longer spend a penny on newspapers because it is all available online. To those who still love to thumb through the real thing. To the new graduates fresh from their buscades. To the illiterate of the 21st century. To the sad fact that the more time goes by the more it seems that even the illiterate can graduate.

To the mothers and fathers of mediocrity. To the Nationalists and Labourites who still think party politics is akin to football support. To the parliamentarians and to d’Hondt and his system. To the one-seat majority and the pure entertainment it provides. To Nikki Dimech, Paul Borg Olivier, Robert Arrigo and Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando… even better than the real thing. To Daphne Caruana Galizia, Magistrate Scerri Herrera, Robert Musumeci and the plate vendors in Bidnija. To our sorry pink press and the innumerable ways in which it gets the wrong stories even wronger. To our beleaguered police force. To the up and coming “politicians” from the two big stables.

To those who have thought “sod it, there may be money in that but I still have my pride”. To those who think with their own head. To those who find thinking with other people’s head more convenient. To the fence sitters. To those who still think that there is some hope in thinking different. To Gakbu Sfigho.

To Lawrence and Joseph and to George. To their consorts. To the Archbishop and Bishop. To the pro-divorce movement. To the pro-life movement. To those who want to save the animals. To those who want to save the birds. To those who want to save their right to express themselves. To all kinds of journalists from the most sincere to the most biased. To Lou Bondi. To Peppi and his crew. To the indefatigable Reno Bugeja and Dissett. To those who would definitely eat rabbit every day. To those who think it’s just a furry little defenceless animal. To those who insist Flyunfair is a cheap alternative. To those who would rather get what they pay for and fly Air Malta.

To the fellow columnists of this paper. To the colleagues in the “rival” Sundays. To the elves and trolls posting comments all over the place. To those of you who have read through every single one of last year’s J’accuse columns. To those who rightly insist it’s a tad too long for their taste. To the programmes that are already streamed online. To Tim Berners Lee for the window he created for expats to look into the goings on while away from home.

To Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando for once again being the most talked about personality and pulling off his second J’Accuse Personality of the Year. To the protagonists of Plategate and to Austin Powers Gatt for their respective second and third slots. To tweeters and facebookers for making this world a smaller place. To tweeters and facebookers for making the global village a tad bit more claustrophobic. To tea in the piazza with a view at Mellieha and to a stroll down Republic Street just before the shops close. To the Baywatch pensioners in Qbajjar and to the great service at Arkadia. To Kinnie and Twistees.

To another year of J’accuse and to David, Noel and Rupert for the quick exchanges every Friday. To Lara for all those Friday nights waiting for the article writing to be done. To all of you for bearing with this wankellectual nonsense churned out on a weekly basis. To the shorter articles starting from this week. To all that and more.

Wishing you all a magnificent 2011.

www.akkuza.com comes to you live from the Eternal City at the start of 2011 – our lucky year.

This article appeared in The Malta Independent on Sunday on the 2nd January 2011.