… because this is the way you wanted me to call you. It felt awkward that my Professor would want this from me. As you know, it took me years to come to terms with doing so.
Oliver, the news that you left us spread like wildfire! Sadness coated me. How could this man, bigger than life, leave us? Why did you have to go Oliver; a man, a poet, a philosopher, an author, a broadcaster, a human being of incredible exquisiteness – life sucked out of you when there was so much more you could give.
The moment you were gone, the first book that came to mind was my favorite ever; Fjuri li ma Jinxfux, an autobiography that doesn’t just detail your story, but the intensity of your own reflections on life. Oh how I would love to have your sensitivity blended with such furor.
‘He’s gone’, they said! Facebook was in mourning. 'We have lost one of ours. We have lost a human being of enormous stature.’ That is what they said Oliver. You must be so humbled. I can already imagine you stooping your head down to one side and slightly hunched walking away from all this flattery, hands dangling to your side, a brown envelope securely tucked under your armpit - way too embarrassed to take it all in.
But it’s all true Oliver.
You said something good to all those you met on your life’s course. You had time for everyone. You were so utterly princely.
I was stunned, Oliver, when I heard the news!
‘Oliver passed’, I kept saying to myself, ‘but how could that have happened?’ Dazed and upset yet so thankful I had the opportunity to get to know you. You let everyone in, what liberality and modesty.
So many anecdotes started popping up. One of my preferred was when you told me; ‘Insegwik dejjem, u bis-serjeta' kollha kull meta jirnexxili’. I couldn’t believe my eyes – the great Prof. Friggieri is bothered with listening to my radio show!
Some or most knew that you had been going through a hard time these last years because of your waning health. Yet you kept coming to University, because you just couldn’t let go of your students and colleagues, notwithstanding your unstable gait, your weakening voice and the neck brace. You used every modicum of the energy left in you to get people to ask questions, queries that most often had an answer printed on them.
You kept at it.
I always remember you looking frail Oliver, with your outmoded dark rimmed spectacles, always pensive and meditative. You contemplated on all that you came across, whether it is the simplicity of a flower, the love you had for your dog or the intensity of a national issue – you were great because you gave them equivalent existential denotation.
Oliver, your writing is as balanced as I’ve ever seen. You never overdo it. Your narrative is impeccable, written to intrigue, to absorb. It felt as if you’re walking through the story. And, your love to all that is human lights it up. The heart speaks out and you had this inimitable ability to be able to make sense of all that is happening around you with such ease.
But I know how much suffering went into your writing. You used to tell us that writing is an agonizing experience, but way too powerful to ignore. You chose to embrace the pain, to go through the valley of heartache because the story changes us and you wanted us to morph into better beings. You felt this colossal responsibility on your shoulders to share the journey.
But Oliver where did this resilience and determination come from?
Where did you find the energy to cope with it all, notwithstanding your ailments?
From where did you get the passion you had for the Alma mater, the students, your colleagues?
Was it the God that you believed in so much? You had told me once, in an interview back in 2012, where you would claim that God is everything for you and gives sense to all that you engage with;
Alla huwa l-qofol ta’ kollox, u Hu waħdu jagħti sens lil kollox. Ikun imbierek dejjem. Huwa ċentrali fil-kitba tiegħi.
From where I stand I lost a mentor.
Oliver, to me you were the best politician (outside political parties). You had a revelation. You knew what it is wrong and how it could be made right. You loved this Country not for its fake sense of rudimentary and undeveloped nationalism. You spoke about community and the nourishment that we can give to each other if we live and stand-up for each other. This is what you said in one of your most famous novels;
Jien ma hadd, la maghkom u lanqas maghhom. M’hemmx intom u huma ghalija. Din distinzjoni antikwata hafna, onorevoli. Jien maghkom meta taghmlu t-tajjeb, u kontrikom meta tizbaljaw, u jien kontra l-ohrajn meta jaghmlu l-hazin, u maghhom meta huma tajbin…. (Fil-Parlament ma jikbrux fjuri, 1986, p. 199).
This is the political scenario you had so much at heart founded on the notion of forgiveness as the mainstay of who we are if we want our country to move forward. Civilization, according to you, is at its best when no one is left behind. Oliver you tried to speak the truth, gently but resolutely. Don’t feel remorseful – you did well and yes, this Country will one of these days come to its senses and savor your vision.
Oliver you were an eternal positive;
Bħalma ppruvajt nuri f’diversi artikli dwar dan, Malta tinsab mill-ġdid f’salib it-toroq u trid tagħżel bejn preżent mingħajr għeruq u futur b’direzzjoni. Forsi hi kwistjoni ta’ kompromess bejn tradizzjonaliżmu kritiku u modernita’ għaqlija, kawta. Neħtieġu politika mibnija fuq għarfien sħiħ ta’ x’teħtieġ Malta bħala gżira u bħala dak kollu li jagħmilha dak li hi. Hemm oqsma fejn l-isfidi ta’ żmienna ma jintrebħux jekk ma jkunx hemm politika ta’ kunsens nazzjonali. Diskors twil.
You showed us clearly how you wanted our political class to behave;
Neħtieġu politika mnebbħa minn rispett kbir lejn: (1)il-valuri essenzjali tas-soċjeta’ ċivili, (2) l-identita’ storika u moderna ta’ Malta, (3) kuxjenza dwar il-limiti ta’ pajjiż ċkejken u l-miżuri ta’ ħarsien li jeħtieġ bħala tali. Imma l-lista hi anki itwal...
Oh, and Oliver, you lived the deep-rooted mission of what an academic should be. You so inspired me, keen on democratizing knowledge and connecting with the community. For you, redirecting evidence back into the community became part and parcel with the privilege that we have as academics.
Oliver our Alma Mater embraces you and will find it very difficult to let go.
Your work is epic.
Scholarship of repute few can ever hope to reach. You managed to create a conversation with those reading your work, always full of empathy, never judgmental. Very few people I know, Oliver, were grounded in the way you were.
Oliver, you know what? You fascinated me with your strong principles founded on the teachings of Christ and the social teaching of the Church, notwithstanding I’m an agnostic. You never bargained when it came to values – what a lesson this is to all who have abandoned decency and graciousness and opted for decadence and self-indulgence.
Oliver we all seem to have our own personal anecdote.
Oliver what a loss. I feel so dejected and forlorn. As I write I really can’t believe you’re gone forever. My heart weeps, my eyes fill with tears. Another oracle of our community has gone, and forever. I feel unsafe. Our country is worse off than a couple of days ago now that you’re gone. Human beings of the proper type are not easy to find around.
This country bereaves. We have lost one of the few guardians left of our communal conscious.
Thank you. Oliver watch over us.
Remembering Prof. Oliver Friggieri
An Open Dialogue event organized by the Faculty for Social Wellbeing to remember Prof. Friggieri will be held on Thursday 26th November at 6pm on Zoom (please register with [email protected]). President Emeritus Marie Louise Coleiro Preca, pro-rectors, politicians, artists, students, family members, fellow writers, former students, academics, activists, economists, journalists, deans will be addressing this event.