The Consolations of Displacement

Some thoughts on John P. Portelli’s Imkien Għall-Kenn (Horizons 2020)

 

John Baldacchino

 

Knowing John Portelli’s work well, I am never sure if he is actually a pilgrim, a lost wanderer, a bedouin, a converso or even a corsair. Maybe he is all of them, but surely the American on a deckchair who confesses to him: “you’re undoubtedly a Jew’ (int żgur lhudi, p. 61) was not that far off the mark, by the same token that he is taken for a Palestinian in Haifa. (p. 52)

 

A collection of fifty-one poems written in eleven different countries, Portelli’s Imkien Għall-Kenn offers no real comfort except that of nomadic displacement. Whether by imkien he means somewhere or nowhere is not clear; just as he goes all hermetic on his readers when he speaks of kenn which seems to imply some kind of shelter from the nomadic existence that he leads (as an academic, a migrant, a poet … ). Perhaps, we have to wait to ascertain whether this refuge of his could ever turn into a curious sort of haven. However, I would be more inclined to suggest that his choice is to move within the interstices of such states of mind without impressing any fixed abode on his readers.

 

As one is indulged by what Portelli has on offer for his readers, one cannot but dance to a rhythm that is as furtive and illegal as the zeibekiko (once the manges’ favourite dance, those bandits to whom modern Greeks still pay homage with the deep nostalgia and longing that bring to mind the mesmerising voice of the late Dimitris Mitropanos and before him the legendary Vassilis Tsitsanis). And like those who scoured the Mediterranean—from Odysseus to Aeneas, Erotokritos to St. Paul, and all manner of refugees seeking some meaning in life, Portelli invites us to travel through a region that implicitly defies the reverence by which we mistakenly worship the arts as if they warrant such piety.

 

Portelli’s pain is not only intended to reveal a paradoxical state of affairs. It is also meant to throw us off guard, as we read: “bejn hawn u hemm / baħar jaqsam / id-dar mirduma / bagalji minsija.” [hither and thither, a sea’s divide, a house buried, luggage forgotten, p. 112] If indeed such journeys are borne out of a restless sense of return, a homecoming; such a sense of homecoming does recur, but only because what is promised is an eternal anxiety caused by the same place we hopelessly yearn for – knowing very well that such a place does not exist.

 

Because hope is often dishonest, Portelli refuses to simply provoke his readers. Rather, he treats them to a bitter coffee in the sweet whereabouts of Palestine. (“jinżilli għasel dal-kafè morr / f’kull għodwa tal-palestina” [it tastes so good this bitter coffee, everyday in palestine, p. 62]); as if one could expect anything sweet from the history of a region marked by tragedy and hatred, by a flow of refugees, fleeing endless cycles of wars and tragedy (“das-serbut ta’ rifuġjati” [this line of refugees, p. 62]).

 

Reading Imkien Għall-Kenn one imagines a long itinerary, from North Africa to the Middle East, to the Balkans, round to Italy and Spain, and back to that origin, which once Pawlu Montebello fashioned on the navel of the Great Mother Inanna, l-Omm il-Kbira, whose womb was carved out of limestone in Ħal Saflieni. But then, just as you thought that Portelli would be, as it were, of this land and this land only, off he goes to Quebec City, only to be shaken by a shooting, with six dead and two men arrested: “allahhu l-karim/fejn hi l-ħniena/tal-insara?” [God is generous, where is Christian mercy? p. 98]

 

Yet it is wrong to peg Portelli’s work on the errant ways by which his beautiful poetry takes us around those places and waters that bring us so much sense of belonging. I’d rather close this brief reflection by drawing the reader’s attention to the aesthetic of John Portelli’s work.

 

John’s poetics come in a regular flow, and yet there is a gradual unfolding of aesthetic considerations which he accrues through all his books of poetry. I find this inherent in how he plays with Maltese without being nebulous or impenetrable. Portelli has a way of using words that we all use in common parlance, but which come in combinations that betray something other than what we think they say, though without being unnecessarily mysterious. Portelli’s work is not hidden even when I do sense a hermetic character that I would attribute to formal decisions.

 

Portelli’s poetic form is invested in surprising elements by which he depicts a simple situation in miniature form through wit, sometimes with humour, but always moved by an acute sense of probing and curiosity. Beauty is worn on this poet’s sleeve, and this is where I would not hesitate to call Portelli’s work as being characterized by an honest kind of beauty by which readers are immediately taken. Yet this honesty is never benign—just as the comely waters of the Mediterranean always have a way of being surprisingly forbidding.

 

John Baldacchino is a Professor of Art & Education at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA.

 

Down and Out Around the Mediterranean

 

Inside the Horse

Vincent Vella

Horizons, 2021

 

FROM THE FOREWORD TO THE BOOK  BY ĠORĠ MALLIA

 

This is the story of a man who does his masters’ bidding. Selling oneself, and in so doing giving away the liberty of thought and actions, sounds like what a desperate man would do. Then again, it could be the action of someone who finds it convenient to do so. This is not the only instance in which Vincent Vella’s novel Inside the Horse prophetically mirrors so many of the realities of the everyman we often see around us … people whose values are easily cast off and who depend on favours meeted out through political patronage, a doted-on politician doling out the crumbs that make skill-less lives just barely bearable – but for which people are willing to pay with the loss of their dignity. I will not go so far as to say that the whole novel is an allegory of a modern Malta that seems to have mired itself deeper and deeper within the obscure mud of servility for the sake of gain. But it does not stray far from that, though it stands alone as a brilliant novel … picaresque in so many ways, following the adventures of its roguish ‘hero’ as he narrates the story of his life.

 

The novel shows Vella at the height of his mastery of writing. He pushed his ability to the limit and did not cut corners. He consciously went for a difficult narrative style. For example, there are no conversations in the novel – or, to be exact, very few direct speech passages. The book is almost totally a first-person narrative and commentary. Only the three and a half-page introduction to the proceedings is in the third person. It is proof of a writer’s ability that this does not render the book monotonous.

 

So many things happen in Inside the Horse – there is such a vast panorama, ranging from the historical to the intimate, happening in five different countries at a time when “interesting” (to say the least) events were the order of the day – that the length of the novel almost threatens the busy reader, who will certainly be unable to put the book down.

 

At this point, I will give a brief synopsis of the novel’s plot … not that any synopsis will do it justice, but I will attempt one for the sake of showing just how well-thought-out the novel is.   Here goes: An old man in an old people’s hospital tells his life story to a doctor, who duly writes it down. The narrator’s mother belonged to Maltese nobility, but his English father was of a rather different mettle. Grown to adolescence and following a somewhat violent argument with a girlfriend, he is sent to Sicily, where he is introduced to the aggressive methods and philosophies of Mussolini’s Fascist regime. There he becomes an aide to the Ras, the Fascist commander of that sector – the same person he later accompanies to Rome and a posting in the Italian Fascist propaganda machine. The civil war in Spain  narrator is taken with him, finding himself at the front. From there he goes back to Rome and soon after returns to Malta, at first as a spy for Mussolini. Suspected of treason during the war, he is exiled to an English village.

 

After the war, he emigrates to America, where he spends

the rest of his life as a small shop owner, by which time

the novel comes full circle, reaching the point where we

came in.

Those are the barest of bones of the “odyssey”.

Throughout

the novel the telling of the liaisons the

protagonist forms with different women makes interesting

reading. He is an insatiable lover in much the

same way he uncontrollably wanders from one place

to another, shying away from marriage, much to the

chagrin of Helga, a Swedish/Italian art student he moves

in with in Rome.

The character of the protagonist is the main link

and major motivating force of the various plot lines that

wind their way round each sequence. The character is,

ironically, not that deep, and is communicated to us in

tones of the main role player in a film noir. The narrator’s

is an intuitive

existence, almost drifting with the currents

of circumstance. He also lives in the shadows of others

– the Monsignor and Grandmaman in childhood

and

adolescence, briefly the Mafia godfather Don Alfonso in

Sicily, the Ras throughout most of the novel. He is also greatly influenced in actions by those

around him: Don Alfonso’s homosexual son Paolo, the

physically well-endowed, but patriotically

confused

Cabo Martinez, the domineering, psychological blackmailer

Helga – indeed, almost a puppet,

who puts up a

show of resistance,

but is finally only too willing to let

others think out his future for him. He belongs to them.

The reader quickly understands the motivations of

the narrator and finds it easy to identify with his stands

in each situation. We can almost say that his is a vacant

persona

into which the reader can step to partake of the

action.

Even the epigraph at the start of the book sets the

tone for the vacuousness of the protagonist, and the

reasons for his allegiances:

I am his Highness’ dog at Kew;

Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

With homage to George Orwell

A dog without a master

As I said at the very beginning of this piece, at the

core of the novel is the character who ‘sells his soul’ to

his Fascist masters. I talked to Vincent Vella specifically

about this point … the selling of oneself for gain, or for

ideaology and our discussions revolved around how his ‘masters’ came to own the protagonist. “He knows it, he

hates it, resents it, which he reiterates several times in the

book, but he can’t get away!” Vella said. And there are a

number of reasons for this:

1. a) because of his basic psychological profile which ‘enslaves’ him;

1. b) because he is fascinated by naked power;
2. c) because once he is in, the apparatus cannot and will

not let him go. And all the time he thinks he is being

clever, that he is actually in charge and using the

set-up while it is very much the other way around.

Until the fatal truth dawns on him (or rather hits and

crushes him).

This links directly to the title of the novel, and,

when asked about this, Vella told me, “The title Inside

the Horse encapsulates this idea. Ulysses of ‘the nibble

wits’ thinks up the Trojan Horse… but I’ve always been

intrigued by the question … what would have happened

if, when the moment came to get out of the horse he

found himself trapped inside and couldn’t make it?”

And this takes me full circle to my first paragraph

again, and the incredible validity of this book even

twenty-seven years after it was published for the first

time. We see this theme everywhere. From international

political figures, to the trolls whose political masters feed

them crumbs to attack real and perceived enemies. The

protagonist is a common sight around us, everywhere we look, he is there. The theme of selling one’s soul has

definitely given the book’s underrunning ‘message’ a

universality that makes it perennially relevant.

But I do not want to give the impression that there

is some sort of pedantic didacticism in the novel. There

is not. The novel is a whopping good read, taking us to

so many different places, revisiting so much that is of

historical relevance to the rounding of the characters

that populate the book … that it is just a tour de force that

makes for compulsive reading.

And it is also impossible not to appreciate the

author’s masterly invocation of historical setting, some

sourced from literary sources. I know from Vella, for

example, that when the protagonist finishes up in Spain

as part of the Fascist forces sent over to help Franco in

the civil war, he ends up in the Huesca section of the

Pyrenees in Aragon, facing the International Brigade (of

which George Orwell formed a part). Vella used Orwell’s

book Homage to Catalonia to build up the background

to this section of the book. So whatever Orwell describes

as seeing on his left, the protagonist of Inside the Horse,

being on the opposite side of the battle, sees on his right.

It is little wonder that a homage to Orwell graces the

epigraph of this book.

I also believe that the fact that, at the time of writing,

the author was a great fan of role-playing

games, could

have influenced this crafty manner in which he draws us

into the world of Inside the Horse. One thing Vella’s hobby definitely influenced was

the creation of so many different scenarios. They are

so numerous that this could acutally be seen as the one

main defect of the novel. There is no real direction – no

one plot that leads somewhere definite.

The narrator’s

life itself is the main plot, and it is chockful of subplots

and little plots that eventually make up the package that

is the novel. But then again, this also follows some of the

traits of the piqaresque novel that it at times emulates.

The narrator drifts, and so do the scenarios in which

he participates. One fades and another takes over, with

little or no overlap, not even by way of lessons learnt.

There is little nonsense in the narrator’s mental makeup,

and once his character is formed, somewhere in

part two of the book, it remains a constant staple point

of reference.

But the novel nonetheless holds together

marvellously. We get engrossed

in the narrator’s life,

archiving the characters that have been discarded along

the way and the situations

that have all too quickly been

forgotten in the adventure brought about by new ones.

To help us along we have Vella’s excellent grasp of

the English language and idiom. It is honestly a pleasure

to read.

I think I have said too much and my waffle is

keeping you away from the relish that is in store for you.

Yes, dig deep for meanings and significances, it is worth it, but also just taste the deliciousness of the writing that

infuses Inside the Horse with flow, and get lost in what I

guarantee will be for you a wonderfully enjoyable read.

 

University of Malta

19 July 2020

“TLETTAX” – ta’ Kenneth Caruana – Pubblikazzjoni Horizons (364 faċċata)

Wara ‘Qtil fis-Skiet’ (2006) u ‘Kuntatt Fatali’ (2001), Kenneth Caruana għoġbu jidħol għal thriller ferm itwal u anki b’ħafna aktar intriċċi permezz tal-ktieb “TLETTAX”. Jidher biċ-ċar li fuq tlieta toqgħod il-borma għax id-disa’ snin li għaddew mill-aħħar ktieb tiegħu ġabu magħhom maturità fis-sengħa tal-kitba li tinħass u hija wkoll il-frott tar-riċerka bir-reqqa li għamel l-awtur.

Permezz ta’ dan ir-rumanz jiena inħoss ukoll li t-thriller bil-Malti nnifsu għadda mill-eżami tal-maturità flimkien miegħu. Fi “TLETTAX”, li l-isem waħdu hu eżoteriku u jqanqal kurżità kbira, Kenneth Caruana ħadem fuq każ li l-qarrej mingħalih mhu jitlef xejn min-nisġa tal-istorja, u li qed isir jaf kollox x’inhu għaddej kapitlu wara kapitlu dwar il-protagonist William  u l-istat mentali tiegħu, u mbagħad jispiċċa biex jissorprendi ruħu. Bħalma naraw fl-aqwa thrillers moderni barranin xejn m’huwa lineari l-mod li bih niskopru min hu, x’wassal biex weħel erba’ snin ħabs, u l-ossessjoni li ddaħħlu f’solitudni tal-ġenn.

Il-ktieb jiftaħ b’xena f’ħabs fejn William jagħmel tentattiv ta’ suwiċidju. Malajr nindunaw li Caruana kellu jirriċerka bis-sħiħ l-ambjent karċerarju mhux biss lokali iżda wkoll dak tal-pajjiż fejn tiżvolġi l-azzjoni. Hemm ambjenti oħrajn li kien jeħtieġlu jistħarreġ, ngħidu aħna dak taċ-ċrieki ġurnalistiċi f’żoni ta’ gwerra, postijiet imwiegħra fi żminijiet politiċi mqallba bħal dawk tal-Bosnja u s-Somalja. Għax kien fihom li ħadem William qabel spiċċa l-ħabs minħabba r-reat li kkommetta bi skop speċifiku. L-awtur ma setax jirriskja li ma jkunx konvinċenti, u rnexxielu għax tħejja tajjeb ferm. Pereżempju nsibu l-esperjenzi li tifel irrakkonta lil William fis-Sudan dwar minn xiex kien għadda (p.55), jew x’kien kiteb f’wieħed mir-rapporti tiegħu mis-Somalja dwar il-ħruxijiet li għaddiet minnhom ċerta Fathia (p.77) – ġrajjiet kommoventi għall-aħħar.

Wieħed ma jridx jinsa lanqas ir-riċerka li kien hemm bżonn issir min-naħa tal-awtur biex ikun konvinċenti meta jittratta d-deskrizzjoni tal-personaġġi, l-inħawi tal-ħabsijiet fejn jilagħbu r-rwol tagħhom, u l-kundizzjoni medika tal-PTSD. Din tal-aħħar kien jinħtieġlu għarfien sħiħ tagħha minħabba r-rwol li tilgħab fin-nisġa tal-istorja prattikament mill-bidu sal-aħħar. Dan biex ma nsemmux ukoll is-sengħa li biha jirrekordja s-sessjonijiet bejn pazjenti fil-ħabs u l-psikologi li jsegwuhom. Hija ovvja li l-awtur qara ħafna u tkellem ma’ bosta professjonisti li jaħdmu fl-oqsma msemmija. U dan Kenneth jirrikonoxxih fid-daħla li kiteb għall-ktieb.

Huwa żgur mertu tiegħu kollu iżda kif Kenneth jagħraf iżomm lill-qarrej il-ħin kollu jtella’ u jniżżel fuq l-istat mentali tal-protagonist u l-motivazzjoni wara għemilu. Biex ma ntellef xejn mill-pjaċir tal-qarrejja li jiskopru gradwalment il-kxif ta’ dil-motivazzjoni, ngħid biss li wara l-attentat ta’ suwiċidju li jiftaħ bih ir-rumanz hemm pjan metikoluż anki jekk perikoluż u dijaboliku.

In-narrattiva mbagħad hija mżewqa bit-tħaddim f’waqtu ta’ nixxigħat ta’ ħsibijiet xi minn daqqiet deliranti, flashbacks kuluriti u thewdin min-naħa tal-protagonist li l-awtur kellu jara x’jagħmel biex jingħarfu minn xulxin. U anki hawnhekk irnexxielu. Hekk, hu jieħu ħsieb li t-thewdin jingħaraf permezz tal-użu tal-korsiv fil-kitba tiegħu:

“Il-bieba ta’ wara tal-ambulanza nfetħet beraħ. Hu seta’ jara tfajla diġà mejta mitluqa fuq streċer. Resaq iktar qrib lejha. Ralha jdejha magħqudin f’ponn, xagħarha kannella twil jgħattilha nofs wiċċha u għajnejha magħluqin.”(p. 44)

Meta l-awtur joħodna lura fiż-żmien, hu jieħu ħsieb jgħin lill-qarrej billi juża tipa ħarira iċken biex tibqa’ dejjem ċara. In-narrattiva mbagħad mhux nieqsa minn deskrizzjonijiet konvinċenti f’mumenti ewlenin tal-istorja. Hekk ngħidu aħna f’paġni 168-169:

“Is-sinfonija (‘Liebestraum’ ta’ Franz Liszt) kienet tibda bil-mod, b’noti ħelwin, ġentili, l-istess ġentilezza tagħha. Imbagħad f’salt in-noti jitqawwew, ifakkruh kif mix-xejn, mhux mistenni, seħħ l-attakk imdemmi. Maqbudin, Lana, ommha, u dawk li inzertaw magħhom bdew jifgaw billi belgħu l-gass velenuż…”

Fl-aħħar u mhux l-inqas wieħed ma jistax ma josservax id-djalogar ferm naturali li fih il-ktieb. Tiġini f’moħħi x-xena fejn fil-ħabs tinqala’ ġlieda partikolari f’paġna 194. Il-kliem joħroġ tant naturali u b’mod tassew realistiku, qisek qed tara d-djalogu jinħadem f’xi film. Ikolli ngħid li Kenneth Caruana kien qiegħed b’mod konxju jlaqqa’ l-azzjoni mad-diskors b’sengħa u attenzjoni ferm akbar bl-idea li jagħmel mill-ktieb tiegħu speċi ta’ scenario għal xi sensiela televiżiva. Min jaf x’għad jiġri!

Hemm ħafna aktar x’wieħed jgħid fuq dan it-tielet rumanz ta’ Kenneth Caruana. Jekk inkompli iżda nirriskja li nikxef wisq mill-istorja. U dan ċertament ma jagħmel tajjeb għal ħadd. Għal min iħobb jaqra thriller modern u eċċitanti “TLETTAX” żgur li darba jibdieh mhux ser jitilqu minn idejh.

Prof. Toni Aquilina

Jiem bla wiċċ / anonimu bħal dawk li jmutu fi djar vojta /

bħall-funerali bla udjenza / bħas-swali tal-isptar bla ħin għall-visti. (Karl Schembri)

Jien lejk niċċassa/nistenniek ħa tkellimni – /l-ħemda titbandal. (Immanuel Mifsud)

Ħadet nifs ieħor, / magħdur u jkarkar. / Kien l-aħħar nifs. / Is-skiet. (Charles Flores)

Xufftejk / kemxejn mitbuqa / jsoffu l-aħħar nifsijiet. (Elena Cardona)

dik is-sena daħlet l-isptar darbtejn, darba għaliha u darba/

għan-nannu, kienu daħħluh l-istpar ta’ malajr, ħabta / u sabta. (Leanne Ellul)

Xi darba t-toroq kienu vojta, / inżommu l-vajrus kwarantina. /

Fit-toroq kellna biss il-pulizija, / u l-armata u l-pumpiera, /

u jiġġieldu l-vajrus minn wara l-maskri, /

kellna t-tobba u l-infermiera (Kit Azzopardi)

L-ebda ċaqliqa  fl-arja ħadranija: / żewġ dgħajjes mitluqin /

taħt siġra kbira / u l-ħemda infinita / taż-żerniq. (Joe Friggieri)

Kien wisq id-dwal li ntfew / matul il-jum /

biex id-dlam ma jemmnuhx fihom/

 fond midfun. (Gioelle Galea)

Hekk biss sabiħa l-ħajja meta t-toroq /

Ċimiterju – għax hawn il-ġdiem u l-pesta /

U tiġi wiċċ imb wiċċ mal-baħħ jirbombja,/ 

U tasal f’tarf it-triq u f’tarf ix-xifer (Alfred Grech)

Dal-lejl smajna l-qatates saħħar / li werżqu bħal spirti ħabbara. /

Kien lejl ta’ ħruxija / ta’ wġigħ, t’agunija /

u fraħna li s-sebħ keċċa l-ħsara. (Adrian Grima)

Bieb imbexxaq, rui tperper, żiffa – (Simone Inguanez)

il-kotba tal-latin u l-matematika /

l’aljenawni meta l-poeżija nixfet fuq ilsieni (Albert Marshall)

 

Hemm iċ-ċans li kulħadd jaf, li aħna bħala bnedmin, aħna ‘iwwajerjati’ biex ninteraġixxu / ‘nitfiegħlu’ ma’ xulxin. U dan b’mod speċjali fi żminijiet ta’ stress. Hemm iċ-ċans ukoll li meta aħna ngħaddu minn xi tip ta’ ‘diżastru nifsieni’, waħedna, ikun hemm iċ-ċans li aħna nimtlew b’aktar ansjetà, u forsi wkoll insibuha aktar diffiċli biex aħna ‘nikkowpjaw’.

 

Hemm iċ-ċans li l-‘waħdi’ ma tantx jassigura tajjeb għas-saħħa ta’ kull wieħed u l-waħda minna. U forsi ż-żieda fl-ormoni tal-istress, hemm iċ-ċans li dawn jitkellmuh jgħajtu u jgħajtu ħafna. U forsi wkoll, huwa minħabba f’hekk li jkun hemm iċ-ċans li l-irqad ma jibqax daqshekk sħiħi. U s-sistema immunitarja tagħna, hemm iċ-ċans li tiġi ‘kompromessa’. U forsi wkoll, f’nies, b’mod speċjali ta’ ċerta età jkun hemm iċ-ċans li konjittivament jibdew it-triq għan-niżla. Il-waħdi, b’mod speċjali l-‘waħdi’ b’mod sfurzat ma tantx jawgura tajjeb għal ħadd.

 

Il-‘waħdi’ f’ambjent li ma jinbidilx, fejn l-għarfien sensorju u l-mod kif aħna nipproċessawh ikun hemm iċ-ċans li dan jinbidel b’mod imprevedibbli. L-istimulazzjoni ‘monotona’ tal-madwar tagħna jista’ jwassal biex aħna nibdew inħarsu ’l ġewwa, u ’l ġewwa ħafna u ħafna u ħafna, u dan mhux kulħadd jaf jittrattah sew u sewwa ħafna.

 

Mingħajr ‘il-ħaddieħor’, hemm iċ-ċans li mhux faċli li nsolvu l-‘ambigwità’, jew suq, insibuha diffiċli u diffiċli ħafna. U jista’ jiġri wkoll, għallinqas hekk hawn min isostni, li nistgħu naslu għal xi tip ta’ konklużjonijiet ‘suwed’.

 

U forsi, hawnhekk, għandna għax nirringrazzjaw ’l Alla, li għandna l-poeżija, li kif nafu hija ‘qagħda’ psikoloġika daqskemm spiritwali, li twassalna biex aħna ‘nimmajndfuljaw’, billi jekk xejn nibqgħu fil-mument, jekk xejn mal-kliem. U l-poeti dan jafuh u jafuh tajjeb. Kif forsi jafu ħafna, l-‘aqwa’ poeżija turi li l-poeta hu intunat għal din it-tip ta’ qagħda ġewwinija kif ukoll esterna li tgħinna naqsmu bejnietna dettalji speċifiċi dwar osservazzjonijiet, sitwazzjonijiet, immaġnijiet u ħsus. Hemm terapija fil-poeżija li twassalna biex ‘naċċessjaw’ dil-vuċi ġewwinija filwaqt li fl-istess ħin insinnu l-ħiliet ‘osservazzjonali’ tagħna.

 

U forsi fid-dawl ta’ dan kollu wieħed jista’ jagħraf it-‘Tgħanniq Ieħor’, li Kit Azzopardik Simone Inguanez u John P. Portelli ġabru minn għadd kbir ta’ poeti, li f’dan iż-żmien ta’ forsi ‘esklużjoni’ soċjali furzata, jew forsi wkoll fi żmien ta’ emarġinar, u ‘waħdiżmu’, ħassew il-ħtieġa, jew forsi wkoll ġiet hi tħabbtilhom, il-fonotittatiċità tal-poeżija. Għax il-poeżija dan taf tagħmlu u tagħmlu sew. Hija akkumpanjatriċi li ma tippruvax issibek meta inti fl-aħjar tiegħek, imma tiġi sewwa sew meta inti jkollok bżonnha.

 

U jġorrha fuq ġwienħu nsibu l-‘kelma/kliem’ – ġwienaħ li huma ħsejjes li jitkellmu jgħajtu f’qiegħ ruħna – ħsejjes li jisimgħu t-taħbit, ir-ritmi u l-bijoritmi ta’ ġo fina, u jgħidulna: Esprimuna. Esprimuna. Esprimuna. Wara kollox, aħna m’aħniex ħlief intom. Aħna m’aħniex ħlief aħna. U l-aħna u l-ħsejjes sotterranji li jistennew xi ħadd jiftħilhom biex jagħraf id-daqqiet tagħhom, hekk kif joħorġu mill-qiegħ subkonxjuż, fejn għaddejjin ‘jiddiljirjaw’ il-ħin kollu.

 

U dawn huma l-poeżiji li nsibu f’din l-antoloġija – antoloġija unika, li hija wisq aktar mit-tattalità tat-tgħanniqa. Hija wisq aktar minn sors wieħed ta’ sensorjetà. Hemm immaġnijiet għaddejjin jissingjaw minn naħa għal oħra tal-esseriżmu tagħna – l-umanità. Hemm djalogi, konverżazzjonijiet, indirizzi, ‘weġgħat’ u ‘ferħiet’, li fil-morfoloġiċità u s-sintattiċità u l-versifikar poetiku jħossu li għandhom vuċi, u vuċi unika.

 

U kull poeta. U kull poetessa, jittastjaw/ipinnu dawn l-‘ennui’ ta’ ġo fiha. Ennui, li fil-poetiċità jsibu fidwa. Isibu dawl. Isibu kenn f’kenn f’kenn. Isibu ‘vuċi’. Hija l-vuċi li taf lill-‘persona’. Hija l-vuċi li taf qiegħ ruħna, u l-qarrej li jissieħeb f’dan l-itinerar poetiku, jekk xejn, għallinqas kull tant żmien f’vers jew tnejn strofa jew linja, għandu jsib lilu nnifsu ‘jikkonnekktja’ – dak it-tip ta’ kkonnettjar, li l-ebda stimulu ieħor elettro-kimiku ma jaf jagħmlu b’saħħa daqs il-poeżija.

 

U Ġan Piet u sħabu dan għarfuh u għarfuh sewwa. U ta’ dan, għandna għax inkunu grati, li flimkien mal-Horizons, is-Sur Bezzina u l-bqija, tawna dawn il-‘ħsejjes’ fejjieda, li nsejħulhom poeżija – lingwa unika, li tafna sa mill-ewwel tbebixiet ta’ tfulitna, u li sawritna u tibqa’ ssawwarna sa ma jtul iż-żmien. Il-poeżija dan tafu u tafu sewwa.

 

forsi kien il-qamar madraperla / li ġie jżarrad l-irqad dal-lejl /

jew it-tifkira tal-korvu biżbetku / jħuf minn biża’ għal oħra / jum sħiħ (Nadia Mifsud)

bkejt kuljum ħdax-il minuta u nofs bejn il-ħdax u nofs u;

nofsillejl waqt li int kont tonħor ħdejja (Clare Azzopardi)

U meta jdoqqu l-mota / ħamsa, ħamsa  għax jien raġel, itilquni hemm /

nitbaskat fix-xemx / fuq ramel ħamrani/ u ħallu biss il-baħar /

jagħdirni / jispirani, ilaħlaħni  minn għelti /

ħa naċċetta l-inevitabbli, u hekk, ftit, ftit /

nitwaħħad ma’ għeluq iż-żmien, /

u nittama li dal-baħar temmiem  imewwiġni ’l barra, ’il barra. (John P. Portelli)

Dal-kliem twieled mejjet. / għalxejn tressqu ma’ xufftejk /

biex ittih in-nifs (Kenneth Scicluna)

Nitla’ elf għolja / ħa ntiegħem ħlewa bnina – qamar ċirasa (Jesmond Sharpels)

Minn din il-għomma li għejjietna, / żiffa ħelwa /

li ċaqalqet ħlejju l-weraq / li kien għoddu nixef. (Omar Seguna)

Kont qed nipprova nikteb ħolm imqadded /

imma ma stajtx nara-nisma’  kif f’żaqqi mbaram il-mixi /

ta’ qatra xita tiżloq ċrieċer / tul ħġieġ il-ħeġġa l-hena (Michael Zammit)

 

 Tarċisju Zarb