Alfredo A. Camilleri’s feathers appear to have been seriously ruffled by the suggestion that he is coloured (“True Colours”, letters page, TMIS, 21 August). Curiously, he smoothes them by claiming to have been mistaken “for an Englishman or some other European” rather than for being correctly identified as Maltese. (What sort of Englishman – Caribbean? Home counties? Essex? South London? – Or European – Swedish? Sicilian? Scottish? Bulgarian? – He doesn’t say.)

It is a common mistake. Many Maltese proudly claim to be “bjond” or “bjonda”. But that term is very different to the literal translation “blond”. Alternatively, they say admiringly of someone “qisu Ingliz”, which is not quite as culturally loaded as saying “he looks English”. By implication, they suggest that to look Maltese is to somehow look inferior and that it is better to look English. The underlying attitude, and the overt lack of embarrassment and sense of irony, qualify ours as a truly peculiar culture (the term is Mr Camilleri’s, not mine.)

I am not particularly dark-skinned but I have been mistaken for an Indian when in London, for a Spaniard when in Italy, for a Lebanese when in transit through Libya, for an Italian in Israel, for a Palestinian in Syria, for a Syrian in Jordan, and for a French person in the UAE.

In South America I looked Argentinean (whatever that means), in Tripoli’s souk I was simply a potential buyer and here in Lija, where I live, I am an interloper who came from somewhere else – that place being Sliema, a 10-minute drive away.

I am Maltese, born to Maltese parents and with grandparents who too were Maltese, yet only in Tunisia have I been recognised as a Maltese person. There I was greeted with the words “Malta hanina”, which hardly seem to apply any longer.

None of those instances of mistaken identification bothered me. They simply show what many know through experience – that colour is in the eyes of the beholder, but its unacceptability is the heart of prejudice.

Corinne Vella

LIJA