In view of my unhappy recent past regarding Gozitan everyday affairs (remember the Rabat archpriest brouhaha?), I think I should state at the very outset that this piece has nothing to do with the fact that the issue concerned is taking place in Gozo. I would have reacted practically the same had it occurred anywhere else on the Maltese Islands. So here we go.

The heavy-handed way that a number of Nadur farmers are being treated in connection with plans for the building of a new cemetery on and around their ancient arable land can best be described as horrific. It all smacks of the arrogance and deceit so often attributed to the reckless developers who have brought these islands to their knees and who are, no doubt, very happy there hasn’t been a change of government, i.e. a new, much more aware administration that could have stopped them in their tracks.

That the matter involves the building of a new cemetery is all the more offensive. Malta and Gozo have more than enough cemeteries and this idea that one prefers to be buried here rather than there makes absolutely no sense when the whole territory concerned is the size of a metaphorical speck on an atlas. It was and still is one of my objections raised in relation to the incredibly heated demand from some obscure Birkirkara committee to sacrifice the last piece of agricultural land in the area so that they could have “their own” cemetery, as if being buried in Balzan or Lija, a mere stone’s throw away, would have the spirit of St Helen weeping.

By the same token, I am against the sad loss of so much good land in Nadur because of an archpriest’s fancy whim. The farmers insist they have never given their approval to the project of a new 6,500 – square metre cemetery that would obviously include ample parking space and other facilities, and who can blame them? At stake is an area of more than 100 tumuli of land that is dotted with about 5,000 citrus trees, many of which are threatened if not by direct uprooting certainly by contamination.

It is known that the farmers concerned made early representations to the village archpriest, expressing their concern over the future of the 400-year-old water system they still make regular use of for irrigation. From then on, the story took a very familiar path. In June of 2003, Mepa’s development board, the infamous DCC, approved the project despite the express objections of the authority’s own case officer and heritage advisory committee, and regardless of the fact that the site happens to be outside the approved development zone.

To vindicate the farmers’ worst fears, as soon as the first rock-cutting work was carried out on the projected site – again despite a pending appeal by the farmers against Mepa’s inexplicable go-ahead – the highly-efficient, time-honoured water supply that starts from a nearby hill and was built during the time of the Knights, instantly dried up. Where to from here?

Now directly accountable to the Prime Minister, though it technically always was even at the point when scandals took a prevailing course, Mepa still has time to see the light and redeem itself when the farmers’ appeal comes up for consideration next month, almost five years to the day. Rather than opting for the creation of more spread-out burial grounds on a cemetery-laden little isle, Mepa would do well to take the initiative and call for the long-overdue introduction of cremation services. There lies the solution.

Once the culture of cremation – certainly more hygienic and space-efficient than traditional burial – catches on, the problem with over-expanding or new cemeteries would be truly over. In Wikipedia-speak, cremation is the act of reducing a corpse by burning, generally in a crematorium furnace or crematory fire. Contrary to popular belief, the remains (often called cremains) are not “ashes” in the usual sense, but rather dried bone fragments that have been pulverized in a device called a cremulator. Cremains, which are not a health risk, may be buried or immured in memorial sites or existing cemeteries, or they may be legally retained by relatives or dispersed in a variety of ways and locations.

Cremated remains can also be scattered or buried in private yards and gardens, wherever the deceased’s very wish, or that of his next of kin, may have prompted. I remember feeling a unique sense of personal warmth some years ago when I happened to be watching the news on TV in London and one unexpected item told of the scattering of my old friend Nicholas Monsarrat’s ashes in the Irish Sea between Ireland and England. A famous author being embraced by what he loved most – the sea.

So a Birkirkara man or a Nadur woman would still go, if indeed we all take such magical mystery tours on passing away, on their voyage to eternity from within the precincts they were born in and have understandably loved throughout their physical and cerebral existence. Parish priests and archpriests may find less moneymaking opportunities in a cremation culture, but they can always invest in a village or district crematorium, if we find the space where to build them, anyway...