ça chauffe, les chauffeurs

The ARRIVA tsunami continues. The “teething” problems are being dealt with and I am also told that Austin Gatt gave a good performance on Dissett (still got to find time to watch that one on streaming). One of the big deals in the ARRIVA saga has been the issue of working time for the bus drivers. The 57 who tried unsuccessfully to cause a major strike had a gripe about “split shifts” and there were also a number of figures being bandied about with regard to salaries and hourly payments.

Luxembourg’s l’Essentiel has carries an article today about coach drivers for private companies who are complaining about their work conditions. The first comment was a shocking reminder of the arguments made last Saturday by the renegade workers: “The other day I started work at 04.45 and ended at 16.4.5. I got paid as though I had worked 8 hours.” The monthly salary for a private coach worker is 2650€ and the article claims it is 800 or 900 euros less than public service drivers in Luxembourg.

The problem, it seems, is working time and what counts as work and what is not. In their case, the Luxembourg private coach drivers complain that hours waiting for delayed planes at airports are not factored into their salary.

Whether it is Luxembourg or Malta that we are talking about the dignity of the worker is at stake. The question really is one of defining what constitutes working hours and how they are to be calculated. Companies like Arriva who operate in multiple EU countries (UK, Germany, Greece) cannot have the luxury of ignoring EU legislation. It’s one thing denouncing ridiculous demands such as those seen last Saturday, it is another to abuse of a worker’s right to a just salary and proper working hours.

LUXEMBOURG – Les chauffeurs de bus des compagnies privées avouent leur détresse et déplorent leurs conditions de travail

«L’autre jour, j’ai pris mon service à 4h45, j’ai terminé à 16h45. Le tout a été payé comme si j’avais travaillé huit heures». Joël (son prénom a été modifié) et ses collègues n’en peuvent plus de leurs conditions de travail.  Et de leurs salaires. Avec plusieurs années d’ancienneté au compteur, Joël émarge «à 2 650 euros par mois, on a des écarts de salaires de 800 ou 900 euros avec les chauffeurs de la ville de Luxembourg».

Qui plus est, les journées sont longues. «En moyenne, on a une amplitude de 11h30, et il faut y ajouter les trajets entre la maison et le travail. Et on ne nous paye que 40heures par semaine. Sur les transferts depuis l’aéroport, il arrive qu’on attende deux ou trois heures, si un avion a du retard. Ces heures ne sont pas payées. Bien sûr, on peut toujours laisser le bus et aller au café, mais ce n’est pas l’objectif».

Tant qu’à ne pas être payés, les chauffeurs préféreraient passer ce temps «libre» chez eux. «Et j’ai déjà enchaîné plusieurs semaines de six jours de suite, je n’ai jamais vu les jours de récupération auxquels j’ai droit. Ce n’est pas humain ce qu’on vit. Pourquoi tout le monde a le droit de travailler huit heures, et nous, on a juste le droit de crever dans nos bus».

Jérôme Wiss

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I.M. Jack – the one with arriva

I’d like to apologise for the lengthy delay between posts but as many of you may know by now J’accuse has moved house (physically) and is currently living in quasi-total chaos as a variety of EU workers have been scripted for works in the domus. To cut a long story short my house looks a bit more like a war zone and I have little or no access to blogging space. Anyways, as normally happens, much that is bloggable has been happening in our absence so here is a round up of thoughts in I.M. Jack style:

1.  Akkuza on Tumblr

Thought that I’d remind you that little snippets are always available on the J’accuse Miniblog that can be seen at the foot of the blog main page or on it’s own tumblr homesite at www.akkuza.tumblr.com. If brevity is a form of wit then this version of media commentary and photoblog is the wittiest Malta has to offer. Modestly speaking of course.

2. Arriva?

The eventful launch of the Arriva service would merit a blog post all for itself. Instead we will have to make do with a bullet list of observations:

  • The business of the shifts has exposed the real ċwieċ maltin of Tonio Fenech fame. It did not take an Einstein to guess from the start that Arriva weren’t that stupid as to impose law-breaking 12 hour shifts on employees. They did ask for split shifts – a common enough solution in transport systems that also prevents drivers from being behind the wheel for long stretches (not only for their safety but also for that of passengers). Enter the ċuċ malti who combines with the Times’ quest for village paper reporting (Austin’s source in his “rajtha fuq l-internet”) and you have a threatened “strike” by workers who still have not understood what a split shift is after 6 weeks of training. Bring on the “foreigners” then.
  • There is the usual sense of political exploitation in the Arriva saga. Obviously an Arriva success is considered to be a feather in the government’s cap. Again there is an unofficial Labour position. It is not trumpeted as a party position but there is a general buzz around all the failures that is dying to attribute any slip to GonziPN by vicarious liability. Once again the stupid logic of solving national problems (yes, by our standards an efficient transport system remains a national problem) creates more handicaps than efficiencies. Emmanuel Delia has faded into oblivion following the Bisazza Street gaffe – presumably unable to take the flak as his corner of the feather in the cap turned irremediably sour. Austin Gatt, ever the misunderstood bulldozer was right in saying that miscreant drivers should be sacked but what were they thinking taking them on in the first place? The Labour buzz will be happy with the Times’ Village Newspaper reporting about stranded commuters, mysterious machine break ups, and tattoed drivers fuming about having to wear long sleeves. While that speaks volumes about Labour’s opportunism we are yet to hear some form of encouragement to the whole scheme of improvement of transport from their corner. Does that mean that come Joseph Muscat we will have the yellow chuggers back on the road? One man seems to think so.

3. New “kids” on the blog

Somebody has found something to fill his time and avoid the degeneration of his “boredom threshold”. J’accuse welcomes the belated foray by Lou “Can’t Read” Bondi into the interactive world of blogging. You’ll find the babystep blog here: loubondi.blogspot.com. At least Bondi will finally get some first hand experience at running a blog – and handling the comments (though I am sure he will be just as predictably selective as in other media… but who knows?). It was amusing to watch Lou trying desperately to get his readers to leave comments on the blog and not on facebook…. babysteps indeed.

The first foray with “Hey nigga.. you’re an asshole” was an amusing defence of Malta’s traditional standards of journalism and we were pleased to see that it was in direct contradiction to our take on the Times Journalist vs Snoop Dogg” event as exposed in our Sunday Sermon on the Independent. Of course Bondi would think that the journalist had been disrespected… how could he even begin to fathom the expert publicity stunt that modern day rockers/rappers (superstars) can pull just like that out of a mickey mouse-ish hat?

4. DSK released, Inter prescribed

It turns out that Mr Strauss Kahn was (quite probably) a victim of a frame up. In Italy procuratore Palazzi clearly pointed out that Moratti’s Inter were not the clean virgins they made themselves out to be. They are, in my words, GUILTY AS FCUK. It turns out though that enough time has passed since the decisions in 2006 mysteriously set aside much evidence regarding calls by Facchetti and Moratti to allow the facts to be subject to prescription. Here’s a note for Intercettati fans: Prescribed means that you are still dirty bastards but that the law cannot get you. Like Berlusconi for example.

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T.G.I.T.T.C.B

In case you are wondering that stands for “Thank God It’s The Times Comments Board”. In the good old days of early blogging when online newspapers merely reproduced their daily content without a hint of interactivity it was a J’accuse pastime to pick on the weak and deserving – famous among which was the Dame of the Grammatically Incorrect a.k.a. Lorna Vassallo.

Our TGIL section (Thank God It’s Lorna for the uninitiated) flourished in accordance with the Dame’s latest outbursts. Nowadays, thanks to the democratisation of the comment boards – what with online papers vying for the biggest goof allowed to splatter his thoughts to all and sundry under a fitting pseudonym, the sport is a bit like shooting on the Red Cross.

Be that as it may, it does not mean that some sport may not be had with the more prolific of commentators (who incidentally persist in arrogating the moniker of “Bloggers” to their thick selves). Where better to begin than the arduous Frans A. Said from the Times? Here he is commenting on the court hearing of the hit-and-run case in Qawra. We accord him the Lorna Treatment (i.e. my bracketed comments in red).

 

Mr FRANS H SAID

Today, 15:37

I am a frequent visitor to the said area (said area being Qawra – Frans does stick to the Rumpole of the Old Bailey style of writing in order to feel more self-satisfied and pompous when he presses send). Excessive speed is the order of the day (Għamillu Excessive Speed bil-bajd u bacon), any time of the day (Qawra – the city that never slows down). Black exhaust is part of the idyllic scene (decide man – is it idyllic or is it full of black exhaust? Would Manet or Monet have painted Black Exhaust into their landscapes to give it that “idyllic touch”? Et In Qawra Ego). Excessive radio and silencers, but our police are deaf. (This one is worthy of a Lorna Vassallo Prize – the cumulative effort of trying to complain about too many things at once has the effect of nullifying Frans’ argument. Picture (a) Excessive Radio: What is that exactly? Like too many stereos strewn on the kerb? Is he asking for the deliberalisation of the radio waves? (B) Excessive Silencers: Again. Thinking before typing might help Frans. Is this a car that has 20 silencers? If it does, doesn’t it make it very silent? I know he probably means pimped silencers that make more noise but hey who am I to get into Frans Said’s head?And finally (c) the police are deaf: Sorry? Somebody has swallowed an excessive dose of stupid pills today. Let us begin by saying that if the force has decided to become an equal opportunities employer then so be it. But here the complaint seems to be linked – the fact that all the non-sensical phrases combine to one sentence make is a pointer. So checklist time: (a) excessive radio (Bad) (b) excessive silencers (still mysteriously bad) = Conclusion : BUT THE POLICE ARE DEAF. As an illiterate Maltese once asked his English private lessons teacher: because?)

Parking on handicapped slots (OK So Frans is angry but bear with me. What exactly is a handicapped slot? Is it a wrongly painted parking space – a trapezoid parallelogram perhaps?) , but the wardens only appear like rats and disappear again. (And if handicapped slots were not enough, here comes the Gunter Grass of Maltese bloggers (sic). The warden is a rat. Discuss. Does the problem consist of the fact that the warden is a rat (the bastard) or that he disappears (may I point out that the disappearance is repetitive – hence the need to append the word “again” to the end of an already useless sentence).
It is in places like these that speed cameras are required not on the Burmarrad Road (what if they do both frans?). But the Local Council can earn more from Burmarrad than in high tourist areas (the King of Non-Sequiturs. Again we are having problems visualising some of the concepts. What is a High Tourist Area? Is it like a High Elf in Tolkien’s world? Do they walk on stilts? Or is the area itself on some form of plateau?)

But who cares (Delirium sets in just as he was getting hot. He’s tired now and has lost the “question mark” key on his keyboard). The parents do not, as otherwisde they would have hidden the car keys (I’m dying here. The caring parent hides the car keys. Should I really comment?) Who bought such an expensive car/ (Who indeed? The rant against handicapped slots, deaf policemen, excessive radios, excessive silencers, misplaced speed cameras and high tourist areas ends in a very investigative non-sequitur: who bought such an expensive car. Frans’ levels of exhaustion have reached their climax. The question (that gets a slash instead of a point of interrogation) is probably prefaced and followed by a million thoughts that did not find their erratic way from overheated brain to question-mark deficient keyboard. Sadly we’ll never know where the final rhetoric came from).

Finally, do not worry, eventually he will get a suspended sentence, his driving licence (which in any case he does not possess) will be suspended for a few months, and Bob’s your uncle. (What? Me? Worry? No driving licence to suspend and yet Frans thinks it will be suspended. He had to add the “Bob’s your uncle” at the end of the letter. The phrase is currently vying with that other all time favourite “tell it to the marines” as the most uselessly overused phrase among Maltese commentators.)

This has been J’accuse deciphering Frans Said so you don’t have to.

Q. What do you tell a deaf policeman in Qawra who is helping a rat warden issue a ticket to the man who has just spread more radios and silencers across the road?

A. Tell him anything. He can’t hear you.

 

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J'accuse : The Summer Plank

I find the latest Facebook fad in Malta to be quite a happy coincidence. I’m talking about ‘planking’ of course – the ‘sport’ that has taken the Maltese corners of Facebook by storm with adults and kids alike ‘doing the plank’. The phenomenon shows many of the symptoms of any Maltese trend: it is a year or so late by international standards (rather early, that) and it has immediately divided public opinion between the pro and con crowds. And of course there are still those among us who lag behind, completely oblivious to the very existence of ‘planking’ and what it is all about.

Allow J’accuse to come to the rescue. The International Planking rules may be summarised as follows: To perform a plank one must lie horizontally, face down in a rigid stance with no expression whatsoever on one’s face. Legs must remain straight with toes pointed. The idea is to get yourself photographed in that position and then to tag that photo on Facebook with a phrase that indicates your planking intention. The international rules also add that potential plankers must plank safely and not expose themselves to undue risk.

I am told that the planking craze kicked off by chance in Malta when a clumsy attempt to plank over public furniture ended in a disastrous ‘fail’ (another web craze term). Be that as it may, planking has given us a very creative page on Facebook that has quietly slipped to the top of the popularity rankings in the place of the divorce-related pages. The divorce pages are suffering from the fickle attention span of the average ‘internet enthusiast’ and the sudden drought on the web as the summer sun gets people away from the internet and closer to the beach.

Plankuza

The intriguing part of the planking phenomenon is the manner in which it has instigated what I generally think to be a passive-reactive public to become very, very creative. While J’accuse urges respect for public furniture and above all respect for safety we cannot but bow to the genius of the man who ‘planked’ atop a bank ATM canopy on Spinola Hill up to Paceville. It remains one of our favourites. I tried the ‘sport’ myself in the pristine waters of Gћadira Bay (note: I was not the planker but the support that was necessary to elevate the aforementioned planker out of the water). Within seconds of the snapshot there were people around us nodding in enthusiastic acknowledgement and one particular dad set about explaining to his offspring what this ‘sport’ was all about.

Gћadira, by the way, is fast becoming a gem of a beach – at least as long as school is still in session and the boats have not yet started to choke the shores. Cleanliness, organisation and safety are witness to the efforts that have been taken to return our beaches to their natural beauty. I was joined in Gћadira by a friend who travelled there by bus. Actually it was a bus and a hitched ride because the original bus could not make it all the way up the hill to Mellieћa and broke down. Passengers were dumped in the summer sun and my friend who is a veteran visitor to the islands knew better than to wait for a Transport Malta alternative.

It’s sad really that the charming old buses will be leaving the streets. I made it a point to catch at least two rides (and a ferry crossing to Valletta) this time around, and snapped enough photos and collected enough tickets for my little personal scrapbook. On the whole, though, I do not think that the smoke-belching, unreliable monsters will be missed on the streets. If anything, the decision to switch to a new operator with new buses can only be greeted with gladness. I dare the Nationalist government to trumpet this achievement and to expect to reap some rewards of gratitude on this one. It is 2011 after all, isn’t it Emmanuel Delia? The absolute cock-up that was the saga of pedestrian Bisazza Street vs Arriva rescheduling has shown us that even when ushering in the obvious (a working bus system) there seems to be more than an inability to plan ahead.

The Planked

Who will pay for the ‘compensation’ that is due to Arriva for the rescheduling around a major route? Minister Austin Gatt told the press he had no clue what this bill would amount to. The man who seems to be trying to milk all the credit for the occasion, the aforementioned Emmanuel Delia – an unelected civil servant who will be contesting the next election on a nationalist ticket – fluffed with a million excuses and tried to finger the blame onto another Ministry’s late planning. What Delia failed to underline is that whether the bumbling is due to his hopeless planning skills or that of others, the bill is still to be footed by the citizen and nobody else.

The rescheduling has some other citizens up in arms. On my visits to Sliema I noticed many photocopied signs urging Sliema citizens to unite in protest at what is being done to their town. Tigné residents, it seems, are at the heart of this latest NIMBY uprising. Worse still they seem to have been marginalised by the rest of Sliema who are not impressed by the Tigné residents suddenly growing a civil conscience the moment they finally got to be on the receiving end of controversial decisions. But that’s us, isn’t it? The ‘I’m all right and sod you Jack’ mentality pervades across the voting spectrum which is why civil right activists like the tiny, undermanned Alternattiva Demokratika will be allowed into the home throughout a particular NIMBY campaign but will be ditched the moment the big issue of which networker to put in government comes around.

Cultured Planks

I have long bored readers with my idea that our current political set-up is an opiate of the people. The relativist race to zero-value perfection coupled with the nepotist networking that puts planning decisions in the hands of party-favoured goofs serves to neutralise healthy competition, to kill new ideas and to turn us into a nation of unreactive planks. Every now and then you do get some sparks of hope – as I did when attending the conference on Valletta 18 that was a prelude to Valletta’s bid to become European Culture Capital in seven year’s time. There is more about this in the blog but I’d like to say that it would be great if the effort to bridge the gap between the ‘culturati’ and those who currently live the culture unconsciously is actually made. The danger of the liberal arts closing themselves up in an elite group remains dangerously alive.

Speaking of liberals it seems to be the fashion these days for everyone and his mother to display liberal traits. This week I asked Bertu to fashion a cartoon that shows our society’s key players and their attitude towards fashionable liberalism. Just look at the papers over the past week and you will see both major parties falling over themselves trying to expose the liberal side of their ‘umbrella’ (or in Gonzi’s case – ‘rainbow’) movements. Judging by the reactions I have been listening to in social circles, the Maltese voter must be daydreaming his days away or planking to his heart’s content. The ‘we are liberal’ line is being swallowed – hook, line and sinker.

The Unexplained Planks

This week I was ‘accused’ of being too nationalist (particularly in an article in l-orizzont) and of being too anti-nationalist. It made me wonder whether people tend to remember only the parts of the article that they dislike. It does make sense really. Our basic instinct is to have our little electoral Jiminy Cricket conscience always at the back of our mind. He is there to yell out warnings whenever what we are reading challenges our ‘traditional’ voting trend and inclination. So as a nationalist voter you may skim through an article that criticises Joseph Muscat’s opportunist fashioning of his policies (and maybe nod in agreement) but your attention will only peak if (for the sake of example) I call your beloved leader Lawrence Gonzi a plonker (sic).

So as our parties refashion what they represent into two huge blocks of nothing, the voting population will dig its heels in the ground and still think in terms of black or white, red or blue. Their voting conscience remains as immovable and rigid as a planker in pose position. Unfortunately the tsunami of change promised post-referendum has only served to consolidate the ill-advised “umbrella movements” and their knee-jerk reactions.

To the Duchy

My week-long, wedding-related, visit comes to an end. There are a couple of people who I’d like to congratulate. There’s Pierre Mejlak and Chris at Merlin for the wonderful book and launch at Mdina. Dak li l-lejl iћallik tgћid is available online at Sierra Distributors and I would strongly recommend that you get a copy. Then there is the chef at Adira Lido in Gћadira Bay. I really have to thank him for a mixed seafood platter that was an out-of-this-world explosion of Mediterranean taste that would have been enough to make this latest visit home worthwhile. Thanks a million and see you again in August.

 

www.akkuza.com has reviewed Pierre’s latest masterpiece, sat through Valletta 18 and is now gearing for the latest collection of stories for www.re-vu.org. Happy birthday, Kika!

 

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Dak li l-Lejl

Last night, Merlin’s flagship author Pierre Mejlak launched his latest collection of short stories entitled “dak li l-lejl iħallik tgħid” (“what the night lets you say”). The event was held in the sumptuous settings of Mdina’s Palazzo Falson – a jewel in Malta’s heritage crown and will surely be registered as an all-round success by the organisers. Merlin has hit on a winning formula that is a combination of finding worthy texts, packaging them in an exciting wrapping and creating an aura of anticipation around them. In doing so it may be leading the way to the rediscovery of Maltese literature by an ever widening audience.

Marketing ploys may spice up the look, feel and spin of a literature piece but the proof of the pie is in the eating. Whether you are leaving the magnificent setting of Palazzo Falson or walking out of your bookshop of choice with book in hand, there is only so much that the package can sell (and it has gone some way in doing so by getting to buy the book). The list of deserved praises that Mejlak’s previous works have attracted might tickle the fancy of a first-time reader but there’s no better selling point than the wonderful weaving of ideas and words that is Pierre’s imagination set to paper.

The moment you start reading a story of Pierre’s you switch off from reality and follow the author’s melodic pan pipe into the realm of fantasy. In pIerre’s case, the elaborate insights of an observant narrator combine to provide a simple, unputtdownable text that transforms the mundane into an attractive fun-fair. You willingly join the Pied Piper for the ride and enjoy every single word of it.

Minor spoiler alert: the next paragraphs contain hints of the first story without revealing the plot.

I confirmed this feeling with the Prelude and first story (“l-ambaxxatriċi”) last night. Pierre promised, Pierre delivered. (I’m quite sure he’d deny the promising bit but he will definitely smile half-shyly at the delivery stage). For the story about the lady ambassador, Pierre has ventured to the Europe of Mitterand, Spadolini and Platini – and his characters now roam the corridors of the Elysée as happily as they did the piazzas of Qala and Nadur.

The storyline pushes the suspension of belief to its limits – toeing the fine line between credibility and fisherman’s lies – until you notice that the narrator is not desperately marketing the latest twisted truth but is actually conniving with you, the reader, in awe and appreciation at how quickly an elaborately designed story served someone else a dual purpose. And the moment you actually reach the end of Pierre’s Archer-like tale you are at one with the narrator’s observation … this time gazing angrily at a coffin.

Objective achieved : you thank the narrator for the ride and eagerly turn the page for a ticket on the next rollercoaster ride in a very, very colourful and unpredictable playground.

Two-thumbs up. Again.

One for nottebrava:

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imagine 18 revisited

And this is where I continue from yesterday’s post. As I was saying (at some point) my biggest worry in this kind of events is that the “culture” crowd gets a little toy and keeps it to itself for a few events that would be deemed “arty-farty”. I am sure that this is not my concern alone but also that of the organisers – it was evident from some of the Monday presentations that they were assessing how to involve more and more people in this festival of all that is art.

Having lived through Luxembourg’s experience of European Cultural Capital (2007) I can see the first-hand benefits to be had to a whole cultural landscape. Luxembourg has been on a massive growth curve in terms of the general culture scene. It does have the added advantage of being part of a “Greater Region” that includes French Lorraine, German Rheinland-Pfalz and to a lesser extent Belgian Luxembourg. Initiatives in Luxembourg may have a wider catchment reaching out to these areas too but the benefits of 2007’s experience remain very local.

I’d like to expand on the village festa and village space concept, especially after Liz’s comment on yesterday’s post. What I meant when comparing “invasion” with “relation” was exactly what Liz emphasised. The village set-up built around organising mass scale events involving the whole population is there to be nurtured not radically changed. Liz echoed my thoughts when she said that the festa people might do with some inspiration to switch from tombola mode and explore new options of entertainment that might be deemed more “culture-worthy” by the snob among us.

Echternach in Luxembourg has the funny-walking march (dancing procession) on the occasion of the feast of Saint Willibrod attracting thousands of pilgrims/tourists to the area. The Limburg carnivals are a huge festival of celebration in the catholic “enclaves” of the Netherlands that turn out to be a massive street party along the canals of Maas for example complete with beer fests, food fests and shopping extravaganza. But we know this don’t we?

We also might have heard of the light show that illuminates Strasbourg’s immense cathedral in summer. We already have a series of summer “festivals” of our own in Valletta and beyond so there’s not much to learn there either. So what can Valletta 18 do that we are not doing already?

I’d suggest, as a first idea, to pilfer the TED format even further. Is there a Ministry building, a department, a hangar or something somewhere in Valletta (I’d bank on Strait Street) that can become a permanent workshop for Valletta 18? I’d turn it into a regular appointment for the business, art and political community. A stage, a powerpoint system, (some fans or aircon would be swell), chairs, coffee bar and bob’s your uncle. Imagine a weekly appointment at 7pm for two or three speakers to give 8 to 10 minute presentations and open the floor for discussion.

Create the thinking space. Give Valletta a brain. Let it build itself into a thinking city. The subjects could be anything – just like TED – so long as they could be linked to Valletta. Ideas about events, ideas about performances, transport, linking, networking…. how about it then?

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