Criticism of Malta

The more letters I read like Joe Martinelli's (May 5) the more I am convinced of the hopelessness of the racial psyche of the Maltese nation.

For even when they emigrate to advanced countries like Canada they carry it with them and refuse to change and adapt to a more educated system of open-minded rationality.

They emigrate to faraway places but their hearts and their minds are still in Malta and, because of this painful separation, nostalgia sets in and they long to be back home to see the sunsets, the deep blue sea, to smell the fragrant wild thyme, to taste the excellent honey and the pastizzi and to be with family and friends - never mind that most Maltese do not have time to watch the sunsets nowadays and that the blue sea is a murky colour in a lot of places, that the wild thyme is fast disappearing because of the relentless onslaught of the senseless construction industry, that the honey is adulterated with a caramel additive and that the pastizzi are now known to be a leading cause of diabetes in Malta.

And when they return to their beloved islands, they will probably find out that they have been robbed of their inheritance and that their past friends have transformed into their present-day enemies.

I must make it clear though that my criticism of Malta is always directed at its national leaders who have made one giant mess since Independence. I have never shown contempt towards the Neolithic temples. I called them "unique". However, to most tourists they "look like" Stonehenge of England, the pyramids of Egypt, the Parthenon of Greece and the Maya and Aztec temples of Meso-America. Again, this is the fault of past governments that were not wise enough to advertise them properly.

As for my house which is for sale, I have worked very hard to restore it with my own labour during the last five years. Surely Mr Martinelli does not expect me to give it away to charity.

In that case I urge him to return to Malta and to do charitable work among the drug addicts, the rejects and the forgotten of Cottonera or to join one of the local NGOs to help fight the losing battle against the destruction of the local natural environment.

As for the possibility of me going senile, the chances are next to nil as I am a Yogi and I take great care of my health. However, if I do, hopefully I will be residing in some peaceful coconut grove among live birds and bees somewhere in the tropics and I will have enough money from the sale of my house together with my Canada and Malta pensions to pay for my senility pills, whereas Mr Martinelli will be shivering to his bones while his heart aches with nostalgia in the cold, soulless city of Toronto.