Economists Versus Craftsmen - No contest!

The Craftsman

One of the joys of having no watchable TV means that you are constantly straining to find new input.  Friends of mine in N Ireland were almost unique in having no TV and their home was such a lovely sanctuary filled with music and books in piles.  I remember most of all their sensitively and spirituality.  Interested in everything from art to science, travelling to music it was like bathing in a different atmosphere.  Here, on Malta, I found a pile of old Economists from three years ago and am devouring them.  Find the economic predictions interesting and at times have to stop myself chortling at the self-satisfied smugness of financial experts.  With the benefit of hindsight much of their insights come across as the ramblings of smug enthusiastic schoolboys.  But then again when you have the luxury of knowing what actually happened then predictions can seem all too flawed.  You find yourself suddenly doubting the assumed wisdom of these so-called experts.  So it is nice reading about something that perversely keeps its integrity despite the passage of time.  It is an obituary about Alan Peters a furniture maker from England whose love for his profession comes through in his art. 

He handled wood as a lover and his dedication to arts and crafts was as natural to him as breathing.  He claimed a perfect drawer had to slide in on a cushion of air, and when pulled out had to cause the other drawers to retract, very slightly, into the almost airtight case.  He stroked wood and understood it, claiming that reclaimed Victorian wood was ideal as drawer sides as it was as stable as it ever was going to be, while solid sweet smelling cedar of Lebanon was perfect for the drawer bottom.  But his desire was always to make an honest and simple piece, one he could put his name to.  I knew nothing about his work but the more I read about the arts and crafts movement the more noble and inspiring it seemed.  Especially, compared to those seedy economists.  Even their attitude to work raised my spirits, here is a quote by William Morris from an address at the Annual Meeting of the School of Science and Art, The Wedgwood Institute, Burselm, 13th October, 1881

“I know by my own feelings and desires what these men want, ...employment which would foster their self-respect and win the praise and sympathy of their fellows, and dwellings which they could come to with pleasure, surroundings which would soothe and elevate them; reasonable labour, reasonable rest. There is only one thing that can give them this -- art.”

Given present day working conditions that much of the world slogs under this seems aspirational indeed.  Note the date, it would appear that those in the arts and crafts field got off to a head start on the rest of us!  Doesn't it make you want to take up a hammer and chisel in a quiet workroom with the smell of fresh wood surrounding you?  But, perhaps what I like most about this profession is the results.  Your breath is taken away by the simple elegant honesty of their workmanship.  Here is no sleight of hand or sales talk the pieces speak for themselves.  They speak of the artist that made them, their integrity and passion.  Alan Peters, learned his trade as an apprentice to purists like Edward Barnsley, who spurned power tools of any sort.  So, perhaps, this is how excellence is attained, it is built on the shoulders of other quiet giants.

“Arts crafts and sciences uplift the world of being and are conducive to its exaltation. Knowledge is as wings to man’s life and a ladder for his ascent. Its acquisition is incumbent upon everyone.”

― Bahá'u'lláh

Anxiously concerned with the needs of the age

Yesterday while walking through Valletta, Malta I came across a procession.  Lead by a pipe band it made its way through the narrow streets of the old city.  A group of children in long white cassocks followed and then adults with dramatic gowns and the Maltese emblem emblazoned on each shoulder.  Following them came a group of men struggling under the weight of a huge wooden structure carrying a cross and other figures.  Their walk was peculiar with a sideways sway to every step forward.  Then as they grew closer I saw the strain on their faces and began to appreciate the weight they were carrying.  At the corner of a street they lowered their burden and huge swollen patches on their shoulders were evident.  Not red patches but massive protrusions the size of two huge fists.  They looked sore beyond belief and suddenly the spectacle had ceased to hold any appeal.  It reminded me of the followers who scourge themselves for religious reasons.  I felt my heart sink, much as I tried and did admire the tenacity of their devotion.  It just seems to be that in this day our devotion much surely be shown in service to our fellow humans not in such practices.  Here on Malta there is a 80-year-old Franciscan priest who has been running a shelter for the refugees fleeing to Europe for forty years.  Being on the edge of Europe, people in makeshift boats head across the Mediterranean to find sanctuary and refuge.  The centre called the Peace Laboratory provides an oasis of calm and security to those who have nothing.  At a time when so many want to make their mark on the world, wouldn’t it be good if many more chose to serve humanity and became anxiously concerned with the needs of the age we live in.

Malta Horses Suffer And Collapse In Heat

In 1962 my family emigrated to Australia and in those days you went by ship and had to pass through the Suez Canal.  On route we stopped at the island of Malta and here is a picture of getting a ride on the horse and traps that are a feature of the island.

I am in a bonnet on the front.  No, not the horse! the small girl on the seat behind the horse.  My family is inside and it is kind of shocking to realise that the photograph was taken 50 years ago.  So to be back living in Malta is surreal.  I walked passed the horses in Valletta with their traps this week and was struck by how hot it was and how much the poor horses seemed to be suffering in the intense heat.  Several seemed to be showing distress and almost all looked miserable.  

Mind you this summer has been unusually intense with temperatures staying up in the high 30s month after month.  Last year a horse died behind its trap and there was uproar in the local press about the lack of shelter for the horses that have to wait in baking heat for the tourist trade.  One caustic commentator pointed out that if the local government officials in their air conditioned offices had to share one day with these poor horses they would fast track the much needed shelters.  So it was depressing to see another horse collapsing with heat exhaustion in the local press recently.
http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20120819/local/heat-takes-its-toll-on-horse.433556

Locals are complaining as well as tourists but for the sake of these horses one does hope real action follows.

locals complain

I like this bit below on this subject  in the Baha'i Writings

“Briefly, it is not only their fellow human beings that the beloved of God must treat with mercy and compassion, rather must they show forth the utmost loving-kindness to every living creature. For in all physical respects, and where the animal spirit is concerned, the selfsame feelings are shared by animal and man. Man hath not grasped this truth, however, and he believeth that physical sensations are confined to human beings, wherefore is he unjust to the animals, and cruel.

And yet in truth, what difference is there when it cometh to physical sensations? The feelings are one and the same, whether ye inflict pain on man or on beast. There is no difference here whatever. And indeed ye do worse to harm an animal, for man hath a language, he can lodge a complaint, he can cry out and moan; if injured he can have recourse to the authorities and these will protect him from his aggressor. But the hapless beast is mute, able neither to express its hurt nor take its case to the authorities. If a man inflict a thousand ills upon a beast, it can neither ward him off with speech nor call him into court. Therefore is it essential that ye show forth the utmost consideration to the animal, and that ye be even kinder to him than to your fellow man.*

Train your children from their earliest days to be infinitely tender and loving to animals. If an animal be sick, let the children try to heal it, if it be hungry, let them feed it, if thirsty, let them quench its thirst, if weary, let them see that it rests.”  

Nappies in Malta

Was on a bus in Malta heading from the University to Sliema and happened to sit beside a rather talkative Maltese lady.  When you are new to a place even such mundane conversations become frissons of excitement as they become a window to this totally new culture you find yourself in. 

She was middle-aged and was coming from visiting her mother-in-law who was in an institution for the elderly on the island.  As her mother in law is in her nineties and very confused much has to be done for her.  The Maltese government has a scheme to help those looking after elderly parents, but it has, she told me, many restrictions.  For example, they only pay for some of the incontinence pads, or nappies and the family have to supplement for the rest.  She said as a nurse herself she was horrified to find that the home where her mother-in-law is kept puts three nappies on at once.  This is very uncomfortable for the patient she said and is laziness on the part of the staff.  They also don’t use the lifting device provided but merely haul out her mother–in-law from her chair when changing her.  This drags her heels on the ground and causes ulcers.  With daily visits and nursing she told me she had managed to almost cure the ulcers but was incensed to discover that yesterday they had again not used the lifting device and pulled her out of the chair with the result the skin was now broken and raw.  She sighed her disappointment, “They just won’t listen, they must do it their way!”  I sympathised, it seems the world is having to cope with an aging population everywhere and is woefully prepared for the task. 

We both agreed that in the future those looking after the vulnerable in our society should be the very best of us.  Those with high moral principles and integrity alone should be in such places of responsibility.  Then we both sighed as we pondered the impossibility of finding such paragons.   She then whispered that in her ward the other nurses always called her if someone was dying.  She prayed with them and kept them company in their last minutes as others were often either too busy or too distressed for this task.  She sighed again and then got out at the next stop.  A rather drab, women with bags of shopping under each arm and wearing slippers well worn at the heel.   She joked with the bus driver as she swung out of the bus and I hugged myself at glee that she exists, that I met her and dare to hope more like her are out there everywhere.

Blistering Barnacles

Am aware that I tend to fluctuate

But after all that is me

Riddled with self doubt

But blown into action in a second

Not clam and centred

But bored then blazing

No happy medium here

Just blistering barnacles by nature

Here’s a sympathetic quote on the theme

“I have never known anyone worth a damn who wasn't irascible.”

Ezra Pound

Or a nicer way to look at it

“It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of her fine organism.”

George Eliot

But I suspect this is closer to the truth of it!

“When you're in the right, you can afford to keep your temper. When in the wrong, you can't afford to lose it.”

Unknown

Homesickness - Already!!

I know, I know I was waxing lyrical about Malta in my last blog.  So after only four days here why do I feel suddenly so low.  I mean people come here on two week breaks and are probably happier during this fortnight than the rest of their year.  So why after four days am I feeling the pull of all things familiar?  It’s not the place to be honest, having been brought up in Northern Ireland I can honestly say its faults are branded into my memory banks.  But it is the people.  You remember all the people that mean so much to you and a longing to see them, laugh together, hug them sweeps over you.  It swamps all the present beauty around me and in this beautiful spot I see that I am strangely bereft.  My Dad used to say Irish homesickness is a terminal disease.  I suddenly know what he means.  You feel the tug of all those who love you and the passing of each 24 hours without them seems unendurable.  The clock is ticking, on which we have an allotted span and it is intolerable to waste a moment.  So to all of you back home hug close those you hold dear.  Have those conversations, walks and hugs.  Take delight in being so close, don’t waste a second in arguments.

 And here from a bench in the shade overlooking the Med know how much I miss you and suddenly long for your presence.

Malta and its underground tunnels

Well, am in Malta and adjusting to the change in climate, change in job and change in home.  Still a bit shell shocked at how quickly one’s life can change.  Walked along the sea front and was blown away by how beautiful this island is.  A sense of history everywhere.  Huge walled city from the time of the Crusades and each street looks like it is out of an Indiana Jones film.  You expect secret passages and underground tombs, intricate stone carvings are everywhere.  Having lived on Rhodes for almost a decade it is weird to be on Malta as when the Crusaders left Rhodes it was to Malta they came.  It feels like I am following their path, albeit centuries later.  Spotted a group of older local people in the middle of a bay with huge hats on their heads while treading water.  There were almost half a dozen of them all happily chatting away while the huge walls of the city loomed overhead.  Decided to go for a swim there too, as from my experience such characters generally know the best places to swim.  It was delightful and the water so refreshing from the heat.  Gosh, you really feel alive and awake.  One of the ancient stories about this island claimed that one could walk underground from one end of Malta to the other, through ancient tunnels and catacombs.  So it is weird to find this fascinating bit about Malta in National Geographic 2009.

Lost Crusaders' Tunnels Found Near Palace on Malta

Discovered in February 2009 in the capital of the Mediterranean island nation of Malta, this tunnel is thought to be part of a centuries-old underground water system built by the Knights of Malta.

Established in the 11th century, the military order was a key fighting force in the Crusades and The Knights of Malta ruled the island from 1530 to 1798. For centuries it's been said that the crusading Knights of Malta constructed an underground city on the Mediterranean island of Malta, sparking rumours of secret carriageways and military labyrinths.

Now a tunnel network has been uncovered beneath the historic heart of the Maltese capital of Valletta fueling excitement about the truth of such rumours.

The newfound tunnels are said to date back to the 16th and early 17th centuries, when the knights—one of the major Christian military orders of the 11th- to 13th-century Crusades—fortified Valletta against Muslim attack.

The tunnels were uncovered on February 24 during an archaeological survey of the city's Palace Square in advance of an underground-garage project.

Experts think the newly revealed tunnels—though tall enough to allow human passage—formed part of an extensive water system used to pipe vital supplies to the city.

The tunnels were found beneath Palace Square, opposite the Grandmaster's Palace. Once home to the leader of the Knights of Malta, the palace today houses Malta's legislature and the office of the Maltese president.

First, workers found what's believed to have been an underground reservoir just under the paving stones of Palace Square. Near the bottom of the reservoir, some 40 feet (12 meters) down, they discovered a large opening in a reservoir wall—the entrance to a tunnel, which runs half the length of the square and connects to channels, some of which lead toward the palace.  Water security was a major priority during the city's construction, the goal being to maintain the supply even during future sieges.

Water was therefore transported to the city from valleys to the west via an aqueduct, the remains of which still stand. The Palace Square location of the newfound tunnels supports the idea that the network was intended for water. The tunnel apparently fed a grand fountain in Palace Square via the underground reservoir. The fountain was later moved when the British ruled the island, from 1814 to 1964.

This fountain marked the very important achievement of getting water to the city.

By comparison, major cities like London and Vienna "were still wallowing in their own muck."

Liked that line about London and Vienna wallowing in their own muck!  Just goes to show that making a modern car park can uncover more than you bargained for.  Glad to see the authorities changed their mind about the car park, given the excitement about their unexpected finds underground.