Spiritual illness, assaulting us all

It has been lovely having visitors in Malta. The island worked its magic and my mum’s lung infection healed in three days after having had three weeks of suffering in Northern Ireland. My mum and aunt are regular visitors, popping over in spring and autumn for usually three weeks. They are both over 80 full of energy and good humour. As we live in Sliema, they have instigated their own SAS style training. One day they will walk to George’s beach by far their favourite direction and the next day they head off to the Point and then around to the direction of the Black Pearl. They are creatures of habit and only stop twice. Once for ice cream and once for a large cappuccino. Walking from 11:30 AM to 4:30 PM is made more sustainable by regular bench stops and all their endeavours are fuelled by constant chat. You’d think after eighty years these two sisters would've said everything they had to say before now but even late at night they lie in bed laughing and reminiscing. Four years of such visits have become a lovely routine of life and they are touched by the huge ice creams served by the Maltese. “I like lots of ice cream”, my mum informs them. Huge towers of ice cream are obligingly constructed by easy-going shop assistants. There must be something about these two smiling ladies that brings out the goodness in most folk. But not all!!

This year their visit was somewhat marred by unexpected events and I feel duty-bound to expose them because I fear they are happening to other elderly in our communities. When walking at Saint Julians up the pavement from MacDonald's a young tall English man shouted, “Excuse me, Excuse me!” and pushed his way past as he raced through the crowds. My mother was shoved into a nearby wall and the damage to her forearm was considerable. 

The Englishman didn't stop to see the fruits of his rudeness and was already pushing others ahead shouting “Excuse me, Excuse me!”  I’d like to think that if he’d seen the painful results of his lack of manners, he would've been horrified at what his thoughtless action caused . I'd like to think that, but I'm not sure. 

Later in the week I took my mum and aunt to Gozo and they loved the bus tour of the island. It was the return journey that caused challenges. Waiting for the 222 bus from the ferry to Sliema, a crowd of young people raced up and down the pavement next to the bus stop. They obviously felt that with the odd car/taxi parking in spots they would be better positioned to get a seat on the bus by being in the right place. So herds of people ran from to one spot  to another only to move again when the cars/taxis cleared. Knowing my aunt and mother would not be able to stand for the whole bus journey I began to feel a frisson of fear.  They suddenly seemed so much more vulnerable in this frenzy of activity. The bus came and the driver stopped almost in front of my aunt and mother. I was relieved to see my mother enter safely but within a few seconds a group of people surrounded us and with much pushing and shoving fought to get on the bus. My poor aunt was practically lifted off her feet by the press of the mob. Despite my best efforts to shield her, the momentum of the crowd pushing to get on board could not be held back. Shouts from the bus driver had no effect and my fear grew. My aunt was carried along by the crowd and was terrified and in some pain. The pressure only eased when two dozen of the most anxious to board had pushed past and grabbed seats. When I was able to follow her on board, all the seats including those for the elderly were taken. I found my mother seated and the seat beside her occupied by a large German man. Approaching him I asked if my aunt could sit beside my mother. He told me he was saving the seat for his wife who had yet to get on board the bus. I remonstrated with him that due to my aunt’s age she could not afford to stand all the way to Sliema. He replied in a determined fashion that his wife was 65 years old. I found myself in an awkward conversation with a complete stranger where I pointed out that an eighty-year-old should have priority over 60-year-olds. Reluctantly, he rose to allow my aunt to sit but sullenly and with great sighs of annoyance. 

I know it is probably just me but do general everyday manners seem in short supply these days? Have the elderly among us become like canaries in the mine flagging up the toxic nature of society’s selfishness? I'm not sure where I'm going with this but surely society makes rules to protect the vulnerable, the young, the sick and the elderly. It does so because our civilisation is built on such principles. They are the bedrock of our society and speak of the priorities that should be in place for all members of the community. Bad manners undermine that foundation. The insidious selfishness that fuel such behaviour has to be tackled. All of us have to set ourselves higher standards. Acts of kindness fuel the same in others but harmful selfishness can also become endemic to a society. We must guard against such infection as it is a sign of spiritual illness and influences all who are its victims even those who observe it and come to see it as normal.

It reminded me of two seemingly unrelated incidents.  I taught animal management for three years in a College in Northern Ireland.  One lesson was on animal abuse and we covered the new legislation that if for example a dog is admitted to a vet's with clear signs of abuse there is an obligation for the vet to inform social services immediately.  Why?  Because there is now a known link between cruelty to dogs in a home and cruelty to children in the same home.  The person who mistreats a pet will usually have no qualms about abusing children under their roof.  In fact the link is so strong that authorities are using the treatment of pets to flag up those danger zones for children.  

My second point was a neighbour of ours in Rhodes, Greece.  He was an architect and he called at our door one evening as his mother-in-law had badly injured herself and he had decided to move her into his flat until she recovered.  Unfortunately, they lived on the third floor and there was no lifts. He had called because he wondered if one of my sons could help him lift her up the stairs.  My son Lewis, was delighted to oblige and only complained that their staircase steps were too small for his feet.  It is hard having size 12 feet and being over six foot when you are only 14.  This architect was involved in the tree planting association on the island and also would feed all the cats in the neighbourhood on a daily basis.  My father teased him one day, watching him put out piles of dried cat food at the street corner while cats ran in great numbers from all directions.  My father shouted from the balcony, "Well, you have earned your place in heaven!"  To which the elderly architect replied with a smile, "perhaps I will be allowed in cat heaven anyway". The thing which shouldn't have surprised us was that the person who cared about the environment, cared about his family and about the animals in his neighbourhood also was kind to his neighbours.  

These things have ever been linked.  Just as our cruelty radiates out to all in our vicinity (including our pets) so too our inherent kindness illumines those we come into contact with.  May you be that light for those around you.

"Words must be supported by deeds, for deeds are the true test of words."

Baha'i Writings

Not one extra prune

My mother and aunt stayed with us on Malta for a glorious two weeks this October.  I luxuriated in their presence.  Their daily routines were fixed.  In the morning after their showers they had breakfast, eating exactly the same thing each day.  A bowl of porridge and five prunes followed by a pot of tea with one slice of wholemeal bread toasted, with butter and marmalade.  Then they would hand wash all their dirty clothes.  My practice of dumping all colours into the washing machine was an anathema to them.  They are of the generation that hand washed, bleached and bullied laundry into blistering white submission – my half grey whites did not do!

The sun here in Malta dried their clothes in a few hours and they delighted in the speed of the whole affair.  Then, after tidying my flat with equal thoroughness and a demanding level of order and neatness they filled their water bottles and headed out for their daily forced march.  They would walk the promenade beside the Med each day, choosing St Julian’s Bay one day from Sliema and then the next heading right towards Valetta.  These walks were no mean feat in the burning sunshine.  They allowed themselves just two breaks during this four-hour marathon.  One was for ice cream cone, or a ‘poke’ as my mum calls it.  

My Mum, with eight decades under her belt, would order their cones with a smile, asking for loads of the white cooling ice cream on top.  God bless the Maltese café staff who universally responded with unrestrained generosity filling the two small cones to abundant heights.  The happiness with which these two grandmothers/great grandmothers devoured their treat had to be seen.  With two hours of walking in the baking heat it felt like a life saver and their toes practically curled in delight at the delicious coolness.

Then on for another two hours of walking and chatting.  These two have so many memories to share, so much news to tell and experiences to debrief they talk non-stop for the whole two weeks.  Listening to them chatting away from their beds to each other until they fell asleep was the best background music to have.

The second pit stop is for a large cappuccino and they have by now found the best cafés to stop at.  

Not only the café but also they also have a favourite table near the door from where they can observe the world go by.  My aunt has an eye for detail.  Noticing people who chew with their tongues out, peculiar gaits, unusual hairstyles or fashions ensembles.  She notices everything and views the entire spectacle with excited voyeurism.  This is fortunate, as my mother sees nothing.  She is a ‘starer off into space’, happy in her own skin and head with a coffee mug held tight in delight.  So this unusual team works well.  My aunt points out what my mother would have missed and my mother restrains her sister from tucking in shirt tails, turning down labels that stick up and generally rearranging the hairdos of complete strangers.

I tease them because they do not vary their routine.  Not one extra prune, not one different flavour of ice cream ventured, not even their footwear has changed in the last few years.  But they are happy, fit and in great shape.  Their laughter and giggles filled the flat and our lives from the moment they arrived until they disappeared into the departure lounge in the airport on the way home.

So if anyone happened to see me standing at Malta International Airport last week waving and sobbing at two elderly ladies while tears tripped down my face try to understand.  Such people burrow into your heart and letting them go is akin to open-heart surgery.

Look at the knockers on that!

My lovely family guests have gone and it has been a blast.  So much laughter and so much walking!  Sometimes 7 kms a day.  Being with those you love, is such therapy for mind and soul.  I have a wonderful memory of walking in Medina, a beautiful walled city in the centre of Malta with my mum and my aunt. 

My mother had just come fresh from polishing our brass doorknob here, which until her arrival had languished dull and neglected on our front door like all the other knockers in our block of flats.  I expect people are far too busy nowadays to see to such things.  My mother, however, knows a challenge when she sees it and the Brasso was out every day until our doorknocker shone like gold.  I wish I could show you ours, before she got started on her mission to improve but since my neighbours have neglected theirs I can use theirs to show the difference.

Before

After

The only problem is here in Malta the brass doorknockers are abundant and elaborate in design.  They can range from fish to faces, and come in a vast range of sizes.  As we walked through the tourist packed streets of Medina, my mother was constantly pointing out new designs that drew her attention on church doors, houses and shops.With every discovery, she would announce in a loud excited voice, “Look at the knockers on that!”  Oblivious to the startled reaction of passer-by’s she would extol the size, the shine, the uniqueness of the knockers.  I grew used to the head turns, the shocked looks as she proclaimed, “I’ve never seen knockers this big”.  Even when someone had forgotten to shine their doorknockers there was plenty to say, “For goodness sake, some one should clean these knockers, they would be beautiful if only someone would give them a bit of attention”.  

Since my Mum is a respectable age, it seemed all the more shocking to have these titbits on a regular basis.  If anyone reading this happened to be in Medina that day, can I apologise for what they were subjected to.  There was something even more unexpected that a very respectful looking white haired pensioner felt duty bound to admire all the knockers on display that day.  I observed one low cut dressed German lady, across the street from us, attempt to cover her ample bosoms as my mum pointed out a set of furious head shaped knockers behind her with the startled exclamation, “My goodness that is a terrifying pair of knockers!”

Oh, how I miss the laughter and the fun of these lovely ladies, my mum and my aunt, in my life.  I cannot begin to tell you about the really funny bits of their holiday, they must forever remain a secret.  And that’s all I am going to say about that.

Maria and Michael Abateo, forty winks

Here lives Maria and Michael  Abateo.  Maria is a bubbly fifty-year-old Maltese lady.  Full of life and laughter.  You’d pass the house and not notice it, except perhaps the flowers spilling down the front in total abundance.  They suggest someone different lives here.  She loves clothes in bright colours but has good taste so they make her seem younger than her years.  Her husband jokes continually with her, but it is tinged with admiration.   Life with Maria has brought surprises.  Like this week! 

Maria was driving up a steep street in Sliema and spotted a tourist pushing a woman in a wheelchair.  It was midday, the sun was blistering hot and he was obviously finding the slope too much.  Maria drove past but when she got to the end of the road, she circled back round to the couple and stopped next to them.  She asked them where they wanted to go.  The man said, red faced and panting, that they were heading to The Point, a shopping arcade.  Maria told him she would take them there.  Maria has a huge jeep so they all fitted in, wheel chair included.  While they drove, Maria found out that they were a married couple, Doug and Claire from the UK.  Doug had been Claire’s nurse in hospital in the early days of her muscular dystrophy.  Now, Claire was completely wheel chair bound and even required a catheter.  During, their short journey Maria discovered that the couple were trying to find somewhere to eat, so immediately Maria suggested taking them to her home.  “I’ll make you something,” she offered generously.  They readily agreed and Maria was as good as her word with a delicious Maltese meal ready in short time. 

After the meal, the couple were tired and Claire asked if she could have forty winks.  Maria, once she understood what forty winks meant, knew just the place, her large cool corridor with a light blanket thrown over Claire’s wheelchair.  Within minutes, in the cool breezy corridor, she was sound asleep.  Doug and Maria sat in the spacious living room sofas chatting for a while.  But an afternoon siesta is an attractive proposition when you've been out in the sun most of the morning.  So, in no time at all, Doug and Maria were sound asleep each on a large sofa in the shuttered, darkened room. 

When Michael returned early from work shortly after, he was startled to discover a lady in a wheelchair in his entrance hall with his own favourite blanket tucked cozily around her.  Tip toeing into his living room he was nonplussed to discover his wife and a complete stranger also sound asleep in his living room.  Only Maria, Michael laughed, could spring such surprises.  He tells the story well of that day, with animated gestures and eyebrows raised and both of them erupt in gales of laughter.  What a lovely couple, in a welcoming home, with radiant faces and hearts.