According to Netflix, Lupin is the most watched series in Malta at the moment. Brilliant, I thought, when I saw the ranking. If at least half the population is hooked on to this edge-of-the-seat, cheeky thriller about a modern-day Arsène Lupin, then everyone should find it easier to understand what is going on in real-life Malta.
This series in essence is about corruption at the very top and about Assane Diop, a loveable rogue who is trying to fight it in the manner of the fictional gentleman thief.
At one point (spoiler alert) Pellegrini, the most corrupt businessman of all who has direct links to government ministers and who systematically manipulates the media, the police force and all the country’s institutions, decides to set up a charitable foundation to help vulnerable children.
He organises these grand fundraising events to collect money from the rich who are only too happy to attend to be seen. What they don’t know is that only a micro percentage of their donated money actually goes to the charity foundation. The rest goes straight to a secret account in the Cayman Islands (an hour’s flight from Panama) so that Pellegrini can, erm, populate his assets.
While watching this episode, I thought to myself, now why does this sound so familiar? Well, because it’s a déjà vu.
We have someone in Malta who decided to set up a charitable foundation to help the vulnerable. That foundation, co-founded by Bank of Valletta, is called Marigold and that someone is none other than the wife of disgraced former prime minister Joseph Muscat.
She too organised all sorts of glamorous Oscars-wannabe charity events attended by all the nouveau riche. But the difference is that Malta’s glitterati didn’t need to donate that much money. The money simply poured in from… our taxes.
An investigation by The Shift News revealed that, in five years, at least €500,000 from our taxes were siphoned off to the Muscat Foundation. Of course, ministries went to great grovelling lengths to give a portion of their budget to Mrs Muscat but the biggest ‘donor’ of our money was the Office of the Prime Minister, that is, her own husband.
What was done with that money? Did the vulnerable get anything out of it? Mah. Who knows? The Muscat Foundation claims that €1.38 million were donated to its causes but they never published a breakdown of this money.
What we know for certain is that, last year, the wife of the disgraced Muscat was given total control over the foundation for the token sum of €100 (BoV, in a statement, muttered something vague and ridiculous about it always being like that from the beginning). And, in fact, she promptly appointed Mark Farrugia – her husband’s PA and Keith Schembri’s right- hand man – as one of her representatives on the board.
I truly hope that if indeed there is a heaven, my father has looked out for her and, together, they’re going for long walks among the clouds- Kristina Chetcuti
And no one bats an eyelid. While the rest of us have to go through martyrdom and back to open a measly new account at BoV, this NGO – run by people with direct links to alleged corruption – can do whatever it pleases.
So where have our taxes gone, really? What is the real aim of this foundation? And what are the Muscats getting out of this?
Lupin would have a field day solving the case.
All dogs go to heaven
Allow me a few words about our beloved golden retriever dog Jipsie, who sadly passed on last week. She’d normally be lying at my feet, as I’d type these words, occasionally opening one eye or cock her head up to check on me. The minute the sound of typing keys would stop, and I’d push back my chair, she’d get up, stretch and follow me to the kitchen always ever so hopeful of some snack or other.
The house is incredibly empty without her and the garden seems to be constantly expecting her to bounce out and chase the cats pacing teasingly on the perimeters of the garden wall.
In her 11 years, she saw it all. She crossed the whole of Europe overland, she’s travelled by car, by boat and by plane. She was mine and the SO’s chief matchmaker and she oversaw – and facilitated – the blending of our two families. She loved nothing more than herding us all together in the living room, all safely in her line of vision. That’s when she felt her job was done and she could fall soundly asleep at our feet, snoring to her heart’s content.
She was loved by all the extended family, friends and neighbours. She greeted everyone affectionately and even cured a couple of our friends from dogphobia.
Every time we went out and came back, whether it was for five minutes or five hours, she’d be behind the door wagging her tail, extremely delighted and welcoming us back as if we were her very own personal heroes. Her wagging tail was the first thing that greeted us in the morning and the same thump-thump sound was what bid us goodnight.
She saw many people come and go at home and saw us through happy moments, anguish and pain. She lived through political turbulent times, in a very political house but, always, her calmness kept us grounded. Taking her for long walks or to the beach always gave us a reality check, a sense of perspective.
She was a companion through and through and brought us only joy and laughter, even in these last few months, when her energy slowly, slowly ebbed away.
Our world revolved around her and that is why I truly hope that if indeed there is a heaven, my father has looked out for her and, together, they’re going for long walks among the clouds.
Till we meet again, dearest Jips.
krischetcuti@gmail.com
twitter: @krischetcuti