We Maltese are OCD-ish about cleaning and we want to be patted on the back for it; I wonder what psychologists make of it.

What can I say about housework? I like doing the laundry and hanging the clothes out in the sun, on the roof.

That just about sums up my contribution to any conversation about housework. I don’t think I ever talked housework with my girlfriends. One of us is a super-maintenance girl, so we phone her when we need advice on how to put up shelves or something, but otherwise, we talk about work, children, politics, (lack of) money, bad hair days, good bargains, clothes, food and our love lives (not necessarily in that order).

However, along the years, particularly when my daughter was born and I’d go to those mummy-and-kid things, I kept finding myself among women who are happy to spend a good part of a morning detailing and listing their household tasks, interspersed with another list of pains and aches: “Dahari ma nifilħux għax ħsilt it-taraġ ilbieraħ” (‘I have a bad backache because I washed the stairs yesterday’).

Housework is the ultimate suffering. And we are not silent about it. In fact, now we are even singing about it. Not in a jolly Mary Poppins, let’s-sing-while-we-scrub, sort of way, oh no. The winning song of the Għanja tal-Poplu last Saturday, Jien Ma Naħdimx, is one long wail about the mara tad-dar, or as onomatopoeic blogger Clifford Jo Zahra, of escflashmalta.com wrote, it’s about the “fragile female housewife”.

What’s “fragile” about this “female”? The lyrics tell us that she is the last one to sit at the table, but that’s okay as long as all the family is together; she doesn’t care about her looks because she’s so busy; she is constantly on the go from dawn till dawn, even when she’s sick or when she’s tired; she has no leave, no feast days, no weekends, no bonus, no promotions; she cannot strike because she’s not a member of a union; she wishes she’s appreciated me more, but it doesn’t matter, “as long as you are happy, don’t mind me, really”.

I got a headache listening to this. It felt like going back to the post-war era, when the national psyche was that a woman had to be of servitude to the master of the house, her husband.

It’s 2014, but we’re still singing stuff that evokes images of joyless women wearing black tracksuits, mop in one hand and duster in the other, rollers in their hair, unnoticed by anyone. If this song had a video it would look something like the trailer of 12 Years a Slave.

However, not only did the song win, but Zahra tells us that during the festival the audience burst out into great applause every time the singer bemoaned: “Jien ma naħdimx imma ma nieqaf qatt” (‘I don’t work but I never stop’).

Life should not be about sacrifice, but about duties, responsibilities, fulfilment and contentment

Which is the most ridiculous notion I ever heard. There is no such thing as a cleaning martyr. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you don’t want to clean today, do it another time, and today just go and doze off in the shade of tree at Ta’ Qali.

And another thing: by now we should all be clear that if you’re a couple, the prehistoric notion that the woman has to do the cleaning is over.

This enchantment with housework, I’m sure, comes from the 1950s and 1960s when, yes, it was hard work: there were no dishwashers, driers, supermarkets, food processors or washing machines. Beds were made with sheets and blankets – duvets came much later. There were no pads and no nappies, so towelling and muslin had to be boiled all the time.

Not only is housework is less time consuming these days, but most people even have a cleaner come over once a week. But even that is odd. Most people would tell you: “Sorry, I can’t make it today, I have the cleaner coming round tomorrow, I have to clean”.

I think we Maltese are OCD-ish about cleaning and we want to be patted on the back for it; hence: “I got up at 6am and was still at it till midnight, washing the pavement!” I wonder what psychologists make of it.

The way I see it, housework is exercise: it’s my equivalent of, say, jogging, if you will. There is nothing glorious about it. You do it, you scratch it off the list, you go and have a coffee, and you return back to your business – whether you’re a man or a woman.

It is a trait in the Maltese character which I hate, this mentality of ‘allura hux, nagħmlu sagrifiċċju’ (‘so, we just have to sacrifice’). Life should not be about sacrifice, but about duties, responsibilities, fulfilment and contentment. There’ll be moments of great sadness and others of happiness, but dullness and a life of mediocrity should never be lauded. Which is why this song should never have won.

Life is too short to spend it doing things that do nothing for your heart and your soul.

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti