On Daphne CG's Death

I was in Valletta when I heard the news. Even as it spread slowly to all the people in this country and even trickled abroad, I saw what I presumed to be lawyers standing about in clusters of suits around the city, already deep in discussion, aware not only of the repercussions of such news but of the significance of such an atrocious act in a civilised country of the EU.

On Monday the 16th October in the early afternoon, wife and mother Daphne Caruana Galizia published her latest blog entry and set out from her home in Bidnija. Only minutes would pass till the car she was driving blew up in an explosion so powerful that it was hurled ‘tens of metres’ away.

As a journalist she went out of line at times, she jeopardised jobs including my own on one occasion and she definitely could use a pen viciously when it suited her. Some loved and others hated her, unfortunately because of their bias towards one political party or another more often than not. However, she was a journalist at the end of it, and a good one too, not a criminal. The one that happened on Monday afternoon was no deserving murder, though certainly a vindictive one. Do not get me wrong. I am pro-life to the point that I do not believe in such permanent retribution even for the lowliest of people and any victim of such a heinous crime would deserve respect in life if lucky enough to escape the blast still alive, else in death should he/she succumb. But to purposely sabotage the life of a writer just to silence her else to pay her back for using her right to free speech, is to shock this nation that relies so heavily on sympathy and hospitality and a united front.

Whoever planned the attack sought to silence a voice, but succeeded instead in making thousands of others use their own.

Single Motherhood: On A Timer

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I managed to take my bath in peace this evening, without my son shouting "Muuuuummmmmm" from the other room. However there was a reason to that. He actually put me on a timer. I am not kidding. I coaxed him into letting me get away from his room to the bathroom for a quick bath and said I'd be done so quickly my bath would take five minutes. So he grabbed the old mobile phone with the dying battery that he's just inherited from me and decided to make a timer for... exactly five minutes! I complained, saying it would take ten for me to get to the bathroom, undress, take the bath, towel dry and get back into some clothes. So as you might have guessed, the timer started ticking from exactly ten minutes and rang just as I put my specs on after getting into my PJs. Ah, the speed with which you do things when you are a mum!

Pre-mummyhood I would have been shocked to hear anyone relate what I just said above. Pre-mummyhood I would also have said many other things that are now obsolete in my books. Such as that as long as you make it a point that your kids are to behave, they will, at least in public. Haha, say that one again?!

I was a very quiet obedient child who only ever complained on two occasions: bedtime or if we ever went as a family to Sliema. Don't ask about this last, I have no idea why the small me hated the sea-side tourist town with such a passion. But all in all, I would do as I was told and found it very hard to accept that my own little one was never going to be as pleasing as I'd been. So every day for the rest of the days till he realises it is actually embarrassing for him to do so, he will drag out any mealtime (even McDonalds) and drop his pencil multiple times ("Did you see that fall mum?") whilst doing his homework, it will take him approximately five minutes to hear me as I repeat, "Put on your shoes," in the morning and over an hour to settle down in bed in the evenings. So let's use the timer if it helps me get my well-needed five mins soak and soap.

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Does Money = Love Then?

I was meant to write this post probably over a year ago but had totally forgotten about it till I came across a first draft. Although the introductory "A while ago" has now been changed to "Quite a while ago" it remains nonetheless a current post to write. I wrote it, though not in the heat of the moment, the same week that the episode in question happened, as far as I recall. I was pretty upset about the issue, although unnecessarily so I know, and to this day I would still like to give my take on the subject.

So, quite a while ago, I was in a supermarket when my son went up to an ageing man and excitedly showed him a new toy I had given him. The man's first words were, "See how much your mum loves you!" I know he meant it in a good way and was nice enough to listen to my child and talk to him, unlike some people who just brush him off. However, it is a pity that this person, and most of the rest of the Western World, tag love with gift-giving rather than what truly counts.

Would I have been a lesser mother had I not afforded to get my son something that was not really a need? I can understand that with love comes responsibility and I would never dream of, say, not getting my son something he needed for school or health reasons. Even a mother who can't afford those things will go out of her way to find the means to give them to her children anyway. But to suggest to my son that my love for him is proportional to the number of toys and knick knacks I've bought him over the years is a mentality that many unconsciously adhere to and one which is, I hope, incorrect.

I cannot figure out how and why people connote the two (gifts and love) together. That would be like saying that no Third World mother loves her children enough for providing them with no expensive toys and gadgets, or that a father is less of a father if he provides payments on an apartment rather than a villa for his family.

I really think we should be getting our priorities straight. Yes, a better standard of living is always welcome if achievable and it is a joy to watch a child open a much-desired present at Christmas. However let us not mistake gifts for love or love for gift-giving as they are really, truly, unrelated.

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