A hit new musical has found itself in a delicate balancing act of being a stunning contemporary voice for Maltese theatre and reigniting interest in the stories of a lost generation of gay people in Malta. 

Luke Saydon’s Il-Każin tal-Imqarbin tells the story of Maltese queer communities as they navigated the social prejudices in the 1980s and had the dark spectre of the global pandemic of AIDS as it was known at the time. 

For those who didn’t live through it, the mental image of what the queer community in Malta looked like in the past can be clouded by the pink and purple tinge of popular culture, with shows like It’s a Sin or Pose exploding in popularity. 

This is why, for writer and composer Saydon, telling the stories that emerged from Malta during that time is critical to preserving them. 

“The queer story is a recent one, I think we’ve only had the word ‘queer’ in the tabloids for less than 100 years. We’ve always been around but we’ve only been documented for a relatively recent amount of time,” Saydon said. 

“Having the opportunity to explore and study what the queer Maltese story is, I feel it’s something that all of us as queer people thrive to have. We are blessed to be in a world where we now have access to so much literature and art about our story. Where is the Maltese one?” 

Luke Saydon, writer and composer of Il-Każin tal-Imqarbin.

But what burns in Saydon even brighter is a very acute sense of urgency of the time to preserve the stories of an older generation of queer people. 

“We can’t wait anymore. We are losing people every single day, every single year. The more time passes, the more we are losing a community that we have a strong desire to connect with and honour.”

Saydon is careful not to call his piece a documentary and that’s partially because historical record and people who lived through the era differ on some of the details of what actually happened. 

But the musical aims at a deeper truth with its narrative and weaves it like a thread through the tapestry of the lives of its characters. This, Saydon says, was achievable because the queer community was open to sharing their stories with him through a series of workshops, an eye-opening look into how some people were living radically different queer lives, all within the confines of tiny Malta. 

While some were leading a heteronormative lifestyle and remained closeted because they had no safe spaces to express themselves, others told him they were living in a “mecca of gay liberation”, Saydon said. 

These discussions revealed the stories of people who were already living as openly queer or openly trans and a vibrant nightlife that wasn’t exactly hiding behind closed doors. 

Luke Saydon during the performance.

“It did happen in so many bars and clubs that don’t even exist anymore today, but there were openly queer and trans people and drag queens performing and this was their way of life. They lived a lifestyle of elegance, exuberance and joy and all of those wonderful things were happening out in the open,” Saydon said. 

“It’s beautiful to know that the community was already thriving.” 

When it came to researching AIDS itself, Saydon also unearthed stories of fear and trauma that never found a space to heal. While on paper, Saydon found that roughly 58 Maltese people were diagnosed with AIDS – 50 of whom died – based on people’s testimony, it is likely that there were higher numbers that went undocumented. 

“One person in particular told us he had already been to four funerals before there was ever an official announcement that the AIDS virus made it to our shores,” he said. 

Participants who spoke to Saydon expressed that there had never been a time to talk about the stigma they suffered and the people they lost, with some revealing that the COVID-19 pandemic had reignited these feelings of panic. 

“The taboo around being queer is at one level but the taboo around dying out of a sickness that you’re told is your punishment for being gay is going to be a 100-fold,” Saydon said. 

‘People treated you like you were contaminated’ 

Speaking to Times of Malta after watching the show, Kenneth Zammit Tabona said watching the show dregged up memories of the period he had not dwelled on for some time. 

“When all of this was happening, I had crawled back into my shell. I was certainly aware of such spaces, but I was also keenly aware of people’s reaction and so maybe I went two or three times,” he said. 

“But it overwhelmed of the memories of people who died, we knew and loved them and they just disappeared.” 

Zammit Tabona reminsces on queer people his age as a bit of a lost generation, with a great deal having moved abroad to shed the stigma. 

“The atmosphere here was tense. I worked at the bank at the time and it felt like a bit of a double life. No one knew, or maybe they did, but I would have never admitted it,” Zammit Tabona continued. 

Josette Ciappara's role added an extra layer of depth to the show.

“It was terrifying, people treated you like you were contaminated. They called it a kastig minn Alla (a punishment from God), as if gay people had brought it upon themselves.” 

Many people, he said, were forced to live with not only the fear of the virus, but the knowledge they would not be able to stay by their partner’s side if they got sick, as they were not acknowledged as a couple. 

“It was dreadful, people would die of heartbreak. Nobody acknowledged that this kind of love is real love and some still don’t.” 

He added that while he counted himself lucky for having family support at the time, most did not and were often rejected by their parents. 

“I sometimes think to myself, how on earth did we live through it. It’s upsetting to think about this strange and sad period of our lives.”