It makes me sick to think that while bare-chested pot-bellied men were running amok in Malta’s streets last week, little Teo was clinging to a makeshift raft with his Dad, hoping to be rescued, while the others who were on the boat slowly died one by one.

As we now know, Teo, too, died in the end, just a few hours before his father was saved. His body still hasn’t been found.

The tragedy of what happened is so senseless that anything else in comparison sounds frivolous. Certainly, the deplorable behaviour by the transport strikers looks even worse in the light of the deaths of three men and a little boy.

Predictably, this incident has brought out the inevitable rumours. I have read and heard so many versions of what happened (and said with such certainty!) that I wonder how people claim to know all this. Were they there? Are they privy to some kind of inside knowledge about the fishing community? Is there something very illegal going on out at sea we should know about? Do they know for certain that what they’re repeating are the real facts?

At times like this, everyone becomes an expert, and many become inflated with their own sense of self-importance because they “know” all about these things. The one thing that can be said which is true is that we are all much wiser after the event.

In the aftermath of the Naxxar fireworks tragedy, for example, everyone was scoffing in disbelief that the neighbours did not know that fireworks were being stored in a garage in their street. But, if you think about it rationally, how were they to know? Do you have your infrared binoculars trained on your next-door neighbour to see what he is up to every time he opens his garage door in the dead of night?

We’re not a nation which is exactly known for being a stickler of rules when it comes to safety procedures, but when things go terribly wrong, such as with the Simshar tragedy, you start hearing the refrains of “could’ve, should’ve, would’ve”.

They should’ve worn life jackets.

They could’ve checked the life raft was working before setting off.

And, of course, the most frequently uttered phrase: I would not have taken a little boy on that boat.

To be honest, I’m guilty of doing this too, and have to catch myself from voicing such judgemental statements that seem to trip off the tongue so easily.

It’s like the Madeline McCann story all over again. Everyone was so busy sanctimoniously tut-tutting about the parents being irresponsible, but I only met a few people who sheepishly admitted that, yes, they too have sometimes left their children asleep alone, while they had dinner close by. The ones who went around self-righteously claiming that, “I never let my children out of my sight for one second”, not only sounded overbearingly smug but the statement itself is very hard to believe. Really? Never? Not for one second?

Obviously, if the scary thought of “what could happen” had to constantly grip at parents’ hearts, they would guard their children like obsessive control freaks. But most of the time, normal people do relax enough to allow their children to occasionally sleep unattended, go on a boat, get into a car with a family friend or even cross the road. It’s only when tragedy strikes that the guilt and remorse take over, “If I knew this was going to happen, I would never...” The anguish of knowing you placed your own child in a potentially dangerous situation is something no parent should ever have to live through.

I cannot begin to imagine what Sharon Bugeja, Stefania Carabott and the other bereaved families must be going through. As for Simon Bugeja’s experience of watching first his father and then his son die... anything I might say will sound like a trite platitude, so better not to say anything.

Human nature being what it is, the theories and wild stories about what happened out there on that boat will continue until the next tragedy comes along.

Unfortunately, it has not taken too long. With that head-on crash in the Cospicua tunnel everyone was immediately pointing fingers because the children were possibly not wearing a seatbelt. OK, hand on heart – how many of us wear a seatbelt every time we get into the back seat of a car?

The other aspect of the Simshar tragedy is that it has brought into sharp focus how badly equipped the AFM seems to be. The accusations flying back and forth between the fishermen and the army over the way the rescue operation was handled will hopefully be settled by the official inquiry.

Meanwhile, I hope everyone will just leave these Marsaxlokk families alone so that they can grieve with dignity.

What’s the hurry?

I don’t wish to trivialise the Simshar tragedy in any way, but for now, let’s move on to some lighter matters.

Transport Minister Austin Gatt has set 2015 as the target date for implementing a new public transport system. Glad to see he’s not rushing things, we wouldn’t want to upset those macho transport workers again now would we?

If this deadline goes the same way as that originally set for the completion of Mater Dei, bus and taxi drivers really have nothing to worry about.

Although it’s heartening to hear that “talks are being held” – after those three days of chaos, it’s all starting to feel like a limp anti-climax.

For a moment there Austin Gatt was riding high on the crest of public opinion, so if after the “talks” we still have to wait another seven years for this blessed transport reform to get moving, he can’t really blame us if we bang our heads in exasperation and give up hope of seeing any real change.

Driving behind a slow-moving bus belching out black fumes this week, I had to slam on the brakes because (of course) the driver didn’t bother to pull into the designated bus bay to pick up his passenger as I expected him to do, but merely stayed in his lane while the commuter got on.

As I’m writing this I’ve learned that a few of the drivers taken to court over the violent incidents during the strike were given suspended sentences while two of those who charged Castille were handed minor fines. Basically, a slap on the wrist if you ask me.

Lately, I’ve taken to glaring and scowling at all bus drivers I see – I know I won’t achieve anything, but it makes me feel marginally better.

Talk talk

For a while, “It’s good to talk” was the acclaimed slogan of British Telecom.

But if talking is all that’s going to happen about the much-needed introduction of divorce, then it will be many long years before this legislation is ever enacted.

After Joseph Muscat announced that he plans to put forward a bill on the introduction of divorce, Lawrence Gonzi (after much behind-the-scenes prodding) has grudgingly said that yes, the time for the divorce debate has come.

Most of us don’t really care which party finally bites the bullet on the divorce issue, as long as it gets done. While they are busy trying to score political points off each other, politicians should remember that these are people’s lives they’re playing around with.

It’s time to stop talking and get moving.

Oink, oink

I was recently at Ta Qali, when I came across a very bizarre scene. There, in a corner of the car park, was a family roasting a massive suckling pig on a spit. I kid you not.

I was fascinated... what would possess someone to choose that particular spot to have a piggy BBQ? (And just how much pig could one family actually eat?) Ironically enough, we were there to see the latest show by the comedy team that calls itself ‘Zoo’.

These four talented comedians, who specialise in spoofing all that is absurd and kitsch about this country, would have had a field day with that scenario. The men walked around the dead animal puffing their chests out proudly as if they were hunters, while the good little women made themselves useful setting up the picnic tables and chairs.

I was dying to take a picture with my phone but was talked out of it...

When the lights went out

I don’t intend to embark on some kind of anti-rudeness campaign, but manifestations of it keep popping up all around me.

While having dinner with some girlfriends recently, one of the irate waiters, making it obvious that he was tired of our chitchat and wanted to go home, simply came to the area we were sitting in and turned off the lights.

Another waitress came and literally took the wine glass my friend was drinking from without even asking her if she was finished.

I realise that catering staff work long hours, but there is a way of politely indicating to diners that time is up like, “Can I get you anything else?” or “Would you like the bill?”

But you don’t pitch your customers into darkness and grab their glass from their hand.

Needless to say, we didn’t leave much of a tip.

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