The way that statistics are presented in Malta rarely fails to amuse – or maybe to bemuse – me. You know… like when we are told how many tourists, local residents and returning Gozitans were crossing on the ferry last month. Have you ever been asked about the purpose of your journey? In 40 years, I haven’t. But they know. Or they say they know.

The other day I noted that the overnight number of new COVID-19 cases was “45, plus 5”. We (most of us) can do the maths without a calculator. That’s a total of 50. But, no, it is 45 ‘normal’ Maltese residents plus five, er… um…, uninvited immigrants (the ones we used to call ‘illegals’).

Were it not for the fact that a large number of boat people have already filtered into the community at large, such a distinction would be racist.

So why are they counted separately? They cannot even be described as being isolated from the rest of us, because (presumably) they are fed and watered, clothed, treated medically and guarded by ‘normal’ Maltese, who have friends and family to go back to, after work.

Perhaps the distinction was made because 40-45 cases were currently being seen as usual, but 50 was a bit over the top.

A migrant centre is not an island within an island: it is nowadays an integral part of Malta’s infrastructure and population.

It’s Malta that’s an island. Its very insularity explains prices being higher than in mainland Europe. Gozo, of course, suffers from (but used to enjoy) its ‘double insularity’, which can be used as an excuse for almost everything.

But… an island cannot get a new virus unless somebody brings it in. In medical research, that person would be called patient zero. The next person to contract it (from them) would be patient one, and so on.

It is a given that patient zero would have to come from abroad. But if you traced zero early enough and confined his or her contacts, the entire island could sit out the disease.

At least, that’s the theory.

Sadly, the government, in a fit of stupidity, invited people in to a (then) COVID-free island to take part in ‘rave’ parties. Was there ever a more lunatic bid to promote tourism?

Actually, I can think of two in a similar vein. The government encouraged ‘local tourism’ to support commerce on (then) COVID-free Gozo, and Gozo Minister Clint Camilleri reduced the ferry fare for cars, so that more strangers could enjoy mixing on the island of double insularity.

Meanwhile I, first in quarantine for a fortnight because I had come home from abroad, then in lockdown (because of my age) watched street parties and band concerts from my balcony with people dancing sweaty shoulder to sweaty shoulder outside.

Even then, if the people who knew they had the virus, and those who had been in contact with them, had properly self-isolated, Malta’s COVID would have been contained.

To be fair, the government had acted quickly by introducing quarantine in March for all arrivals at the airport (and maybe at the seaport too). But, being Malta, it didn’t police it. Nobody called or even telephoned to check whether I was obeying the rules, having arrived on the first flight after the new law came in.

A migrant centre is not an island within an island: it is an integral part of Malta’s infrastructure and population- Revel Barker

The Maltese, of course, are a nation that, where unwelcome laws are concerned, believes they can be ignored. Some, apparently, even boasted about their law-breaking on Facebook. They are stroppy, over-excitable, often dysfunctional. And, worse, like young people everywhere, Malta’s youth can see death only as a distant threat; they believe they are immune.

However, in a recent German study of 100 mostly young and previously healthy patients who had recently recovered from the virus, researchers found that 78 of them now had heart abnormalities and 60 now had myocarditis.

Complacency about infections among younger people is therefore misplaced. Worse, they can pass the disease on to friends and family members who may be in the ‘vulnerable’ category. Like their nannas.

From the scant information to which we are treated every day, we learn that many cases are contracted from family members known to have the virus and some are from known positive cases in the workplace.

I am no medic, but from reading the figures it appears that the virus loses its vigour as it is passed from person to person, so that, perhaps, patient 10 recovers more quickly than patient nine, who recovers faster than patient eight, and so on.

Fewer people need intensive care or even to go to hospital – most can stay at home and wait until the virus has gone away. The recovery rate seems impressive. So it looks as though the virus can wear itself out, perhaps with time or maybe with declining potency.

But it won’t go away while people who know (or even suspect) that they are positive, continue to socialise or while their families and work colleagues are prepared to throw caution to the wind and ignore the government advice on social distancing.

Given a strength of self-discipline and public duty (neither of which is part of the Maltese psyche), when the last person with the virus recovers, the islands will be COVID-free again…

… Until another tourist or returning resident brings it in through a checking system that appears to be less stringent than most other countries (you should see the rigmarole that arrivals at Catania airport have to go through). I meet visitors who tell me, through their face masks, that they were not checked or tested at Luqa in any way.

The point is that while this virus may not be curable, it is stoppable. It is containable.

If you have it, why share it? If you keep it to yourself it will go away.

Then, imagine a COVID-free Malta…

We could invite foreigners in for a rave…

Revel Barker is a former Fleet Street reporter and a long-term resident of Gozo.