Photo: Chris Sant Fournier

Why is it that every time I go to sleep, I have to wake up to the news that someone wants to put some effigy, some statue, some three-legged horse, some knights in shining armours or some stalls selling pink panties in front of the new Parliament building?

It’s just not the best way to usher the morning in. I always imagine Renzo Piano eating breakfast in his morning gown, sipping his espresso lungo and with a sight turning to his aide with a: “Allora, che notizie da Valletta oggi?”

Well the latest news is that the National Festivities Committee has written to Mr Speaker for his opinion on the relocation of the Sette Giugno monument.

For those not into national monuments, this one marks the uprising against merchants and the British colonial government: British troops fired into the crowd, killing four.

It was unveiled in 1986 and for decades stood at the side of St George’s square when it was still a car park. During the square’s facelift, it was packed away and taken in storage. Five years ago, following a bit of a hullabaloo, the monument was ushered out from storage and placed in Hastings Garden, Valletta.

Speaker Anġlu Farrugia declared during the Sette Giugno ceremony that he was in favour of the monument being relocated to the immediate vicinity of the new Parliament building.

“Thus the intrinsic link between this monument’s significance, which we are commemorating today, and the Maltese Parliament will also be reflected physically and visually,” he said.

Might it be possible for me to humbly request Mr Speaker to consider adjourning the decision?

At this very minute, what I think of the aesthetics of the monument is by-the-by (private message me for a more detailed answer). What is important at this stage is this: the space in the immediate surroundings of the Piano Parliament is meant to be clutter-free.

I know this is rather difficult for us, as a nation, to comprehend. We have a penchant for, how shall I put it, charming odds and ends. Our tastes are not exactly minimalist.

The space in the immediate surroundings of the Piano Parliament is meant to be clutter-free

We have this innate urge to fill empty spaces. It probably has to do with the fact that we live on a small island and we are genetically and hormonally very territorial.

If a Maltese man had to go on the moon, one Maltese flag wouldn’t be enough. We’d leave 10. We’d also want to leave behind a frame with a photo of the President, an arloġġ tal-lira, a replica of the George Cross, a silver frejgatina tal-Vascas and a biċċa għamara antika.

So, understandably, leaving those metres and metres of open space at City Gate free requires of us a Herculean effort. But, fight the urge we must. The craving will go, if we collectively breathe in and out for a few more months.

Now while making this clenching effort, we may be asking: but what of the Sette Giugno monument? Where can it go?

I could suggest the setting up of a public website, urging people to fill in a form with their suggestions of alternative sites. But, judging by a quick straw poll, I am scared that some of the suggestions might not be plausible.

“Filfla,” said a friend who is not exactly enamoured of the monument. “Cominotto,” said another. “To ward off teenagers from jumping off the cliffs,” said another, who is also not exactly too keen about the monument. “Deep underwater,” said another friend who is also not – oh, whatever. “No, wait. It cannot be considered disrespectful! We already have Christ the King down there.”

“Please it’s a good idea. I actually think most of our monuments should be underwater. It would ensure the greatness of the Maltese nation will be preserved forever. Many of the best ancient monuments survived underwater: race bronzes, Satyr of Mazara, etc.”

There is a tiny problem to this suggestion. It would mean that every Sette Giugno, our MPs and key authorities of the country would have to kit themselves up in diving gear and scuba down to lay their wreaths.

And instead of a speech, we’ll just hear ‘glug’, ‘glug’. Hmm, maybe this suggestion is a tad too innovattiva.

So perhaps the best idea is to leave it at Hastings. I have a soft spot for this garden, because myth has it that it was built in four hours, such was the dedication of Maltese workers in the 19th century. So if it means that it gets publicity one day a year, I’m happy.

True, the gore of the monument does not exactly set the mood for lovers who frequent the garden at dusk, but they’ll be too engrossed to notice anyway.

So let’s just leave it there… at least until all our MPs get their Padi diving certification.

krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @KrisChetcuti