Those who follow Sky and BBC know that on November 4, I turned sixty. The coverage – as right and fitting – was quite extensive. On the other hand, I still cannot understand the total boycott of the event by CNN. Worse still was the attitude of the State Department which decided to hold the mid-term elections on November 3 in an inane attempt to divert the attention of the international audience from the event.
This notwithstanding I had a pleasant day in the company of dear friends.
Jibda jittanta
I do not know the reason why, but 60 like 40 seems to constitute a milestone in people’s life. Regarding the fortieth birthday, they say that “mal-kwaranta x-xitan jibda’ jittanta”. Suffice it to say that I celebrated my 40th birthday in Bangkok which is not a bad place for temptation. However, before tabloids send investigative journalists to that far eastern city let me clearly stat that I was just attending an international conference of Catholic broadcasters.
Back to awe and hype created about sixtieth birthdays. I guess that much hullabaloo centres on the reception of old age pensions. Today there is a lot of conflict in several countries regarding pensions regarded by some as an expensive extravaganza, which most countries do not afford and have now, deferred its granting. I, for one, cannot understand why people want to retire at 60, or 61 or 65 unless they are doing physically demanding work. Why not keep on working until you are strong enough to keep on doing it, enjoy doing it and can do it with benefit for others and yourself?
No Karta Anzjan yet
I cannot, though, not register my strongest protest at the persecution campaign that has been levelled against me in several quarters now that I have officially become a senior citizen.
This campaign of persecution and discrimination is being organised, niente di meno, by the Maltese government. At the point of writing, I am 60 years and three days old but I have not yet received the Karta Anzjan.
In order not to succumb to despair I have been gulping tranquilising pills all week. You cannot image the deep disappointment and anguish I feel every time I open my letterbox and find out that the Karta Anzjan is not among the missives I receive.
Government has sent me a blue tinted letter from the tax department, a green coloured letter from TV licence renewal section of MITC and a passionately worded love letter from ARMS. ARMS is called ARMS because its ARMS lovingly embrace us. I appreciate all this attention but for the love of Jove send me my Karta Anzjan.
Lufthansa on the attack
This was not the only stab in the back I received during the past days. The media informed us that a German minister of state was in Malta for talks with the Maltese government. They, however, failed to inform us that this was part of a German-Maltese pact against me using the national airlines of both countries.
The Lufthansa plane I was travelling on to Frankfurt en route to Krakow was late. Passengers on connecting flights were rerouted. I was told to go to Gate 2 which I did. I informed the lady manning (should I write wo-manning?) the Lufthansa desk who assured me that everything was OK and all I had to do was to wait for the LOT flight.
An hour or so later I went again to the desk and asked whether everything was OK. I was informed that I had nothing to worry about. When boarding started, I joined the queue only to be informed that I had a problem and could not embark. I was asked to go to the ticketing office which meant losing my flight. I strongly protested.
A gentleman standing near the desk coldly told me that I could lodge a complaint. (That is customer service for you, man.) I kept on protesting saying that the problem was created by Lufthansa and should be solved by Lufthansa. Finally, I managed to get on board the LOT plane.
The third largest on the attack
My problems were not over. On my return flight, this time from Munich, I was given a copy of The Times which carried an opinion piece by the leader of the third largest political party in Malta. He accused me of a doctrinaire position on divorce while placing me in the same metaphorical bed with Adrian Vassallo without any real or metaphorical satellite channels to watch.
I am really terrified whenever my name is mentioned in vain or in shame on the papers. What was I to do faced by this vile attack with nowhere to escape from the enclosed space of the Air Malta plane?
I do not expect the leader of Malta’s third largest political party to find the time to read what I write but if he finds time to write about it, I think he should not totally misrepresent it.
An Episcopal Et tu Brute
Alas, the plane landed safely. I tried my luck and bought a lottery ticket. The award promised was staggering. I invoked all the saints and more in the hope of winning. It was now the turn of the Church to persecute me. In my inbox I found an email with a recent speech of Bishop Deogracias Iñiguez of Caloocan, the Philippines. He labelled as “defective” the practice of praying to win at the lottery or other forms of gambling. Bishop Iñiguez also criticized Catholics who rub their lottery tickets on saints’ images in churches in the hopes of obtaining a winning number.
Am I becoming paranoid on reaching the age of sixty or are all these incidents just a mere coincidence.
PS. I am launching a campaign with the slogan Il-Karta Anzjan taghna bi dritt. The aim of the campaign is that il-Karta Anzjan be sent on January 1 to all those who turn 60 in a particular year independently of the day or month on which they reach this venerable age. Those interested in joining can post their comments here.