Displayed within the gracious college city of Claremont, is a fine life-size statue of Chiron the centaur of Greek mythology, sculpted by Antoine Louis Barye. It is a replica of the original masterpiece, which adorns the Louvre in Paris. Centaurs were creatures of folklore, half man and half horse, of which the most famous was Chiron. The work of art gives cause for reflection in contrast, as how a person born and bred half a world away in Malta, now finds himself in old age, living comfortably in Southern California, within a citrus rich valley nestled beneath the massive San Gabriel mountain range. Its snow-covered peaks looming high above swaying palms at sea level is the antithesis of the deep blue Mediterranean. The image of a conflicted Chiron reflects the inner identity struggle of Maltese expatriates like myself who by virtue of need or choice, remain in a state of metamorphosis. Having departed our beloved homeland for distant horizons, we are subjected to a perpetual state of transition where we are neither fully Maltese, nor native born citizens of our country of residence. We are in truth a composite of both worlds that does not measure to a perfect fit.
The mythological image of Chiron and his wanderings brings to mind the start of a long odyssey, which started in mid-year 1947, when together with my identical twin Vic, we embarked on a journey of adventure, which for inexperienced youths of our age, held no fear of the unknown, or the possible tragic consequences of failure. At that very moment of departure the start of an irreversible transformation occurred which would forever alter our Maltese individuality. We had inevitably taken our first steps to becoming like Chiron. Having left Malta's fair shores, we settled in England long enough to conclude we were held with open contempt and hostility as bloody foreigners, by xenophobic neighbors and the public at large. Rather then fight the oppressive British racial and class system, we again departed for America, in search of acceptance denied us as British born citizens. In retrospect it appears that our demeanor and attitudes in England, while proper, remained very much within the Maltese mold, in sharp contrast to local habits and mannerisms. Our inability or unwillingness to readily adopt staid British ways, as well as the foreign fluctuations and intonations in which we spoke English using literal Maltese expressions, made us easy targets for those who harbored a racial agenda of hatred. Clearly we were at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was time to say farewell to our parents and move on.
In January 50, my better half and I arrived in New York City on board the French liner "Isle De France". We sat foot on American soil in a middle of a snow blizzard with $30 in small pocket change between us, and two weeks of paid accommodation thru our father's generosity at a small Manhattan hotel. While Britain rejected us, America made us welcomed. In all the years we lived in the United States, we never encountered a single instance of racial or cultural intolerance. For many years thereafter we remained essentially Maltese in mind and attitude, while slowly starting to absorb and identify with the American way of life. While our love of Malta remained strong, we never once contemplated returning home for good. There gradually came a time when we started to think of ourselves as true citizens of our adopted country, and with it came a diminishing sense of oneness with our land of birth. The feeling of inclusion was more complimentary rather than confrontational with past loyalties. We sensed a new American identity but not as quid pro quo exchange of who we were as sons of Malta. The feeling was more akin to an act of delicate balance, where like Chiron we concluded a dual identity was more of an enhancement than an impairment. We saw no harm in having dual citizenship and were in fact proud of the accomplishment.
The slow process of adaptation, from a European mindset to an American mentality, did not evolve as might be expected in binary mode, where black and white remained in sharp contrast, but took shape and form over time in scatter fashion, where shades and hues of gray evolved instead as a final outcome. A specific instance comes to mind which helps clarify the chameleon nature of our transformation. I speak of the distancing and eventual abandonment of dogmatic Catholic beliefs and values learned in Malta during our formative years at the Jesuit school, in favor of agnosticism and its recognition of a God of nature over one who cares. The new way of thinking had finally managed to subdue the old, in a clash of new world values over old world religious orthodoxy.
The transition from one state of mind to the other was accelerated with the birth of our American born children and grandchildren, hand in hand with a rapid accumulation of professional success and material wealth America so generously provides. The burden of hardships carried by us as first generation Maltese immigrants, has transcended into a long series of even higher attainments, reached by a second generation of Maltese-Americans blessed with unlimited educational and job opportunities America offers its young. Unfortunately there is a price to pay for affluence. Not a single American born child within our extended family identifies closely to his/her Maltese heritage, or is capable of speaking the native language. Their unborn offspring in turn will most likely not even be aware of their rich Mediterranean culture. The total absorption of immigrants into mainstream America is equally true of other nationalities. It is indicative of this country's innate ability to like a sponge absorb the very best people other countries cannot sustain, and make of them productive members of society.
Conditions, which prevail in America, are no doubt replicated in Canada and Australia, where large numbers of Maltese have chosen to migrate and settle down in suburban ethnic "ghettos". In the absence of a scientific survey it is likely that of the three countries, the Maltese diaspora in Australia has retained the strongest cultural links with the mother country. This is due to the large concentrations of Maltese living in small community pockets, where ethnicity becomes a social as well as a survival issue. To a lesser degree Canada has the same émigré population pattern mainly located in or around Toronto. In the United States no such predictable arrangement exists. It is true that distinct Maltese neighborhoods are found in Michigan, New York City and in parts of South Florida, but by far and large most Maltese are widely dispersed throughout the stretched American landscape. Interestingly a correlation exists between living in close approximation of other Maltese and going at it alone. The further the distance the sooner and more complete assimilation in American society occurs.
The advent of the Internet has started to alter the feeling of isolation for far-flung Maltese. It allows them to re-integrate with others, to share cherished childhood memories of Malta, to idly chatter about familiar places and events. in an effort to bridge the gap in distance which divided their existence. The aromatic smell of fresh pastizzi and steaming Cappuccino coffee beckon, the deafening sounds of bells, bands, fireworks and family gatherings partying with abandon at festas, while they gather to watch as the statue of a favorite saint is borne on shoulders of religious faithful, combine to enrich and refresh one's imagination and love of country. Yet in a poignant strange way such joyous events remind Maltese emigrants of their divided but shared loyalty towards two countries, much like Chiron ate like a man but procreated as a horse!! As dissimilar as his anatomy was, he managed to live in perfect harmony within the world, which confronted and challenged him. Unlike other centaurs Chiron was wise and just much as can be said comparatively about his Maltese counterparts who have learned to live and prosper in two dissimilar and often conflicting spheres of influence. I look, I see, I wonder how inspite of our difference in body structure Chiron and I share so very much in common. Perhaps a better person than I can account for the uncanny similarities.
E-mail to Joseph Vella: vellajoseph@msn.net
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