It was ironic, and very sad, to hear fireworks being let off from the various villages that were celebrating the feast of their patron saint on Sunday evening, at the same time that Gharb and the whole of Gozo was experiencing yet another tragedy connected to this bitter-sweet side of our culture.

Four people have died in what is certainly one of the largest calamities that has ever hit the nation, and two others have been badly burnt after the Ta’ Nenu Fireworks Factory, in the limits of the quaint village of Gharb, blew up at 6pm last Sunday. That some of the victims are members of the same family only adds to the sorrow.

So much has been written and will continue to be written each time something like this happens. This year has been one of the worst in terms of accidents, as a total of eight people have died in four different explosions, while two others escaped unhurt in a fifth incident.

No matter what precautions are taken, and no matter what steps are taken by the authorities to enforce safety measures, a fireworks factory is an explosion waiting to happen, as the various incidents we have had over the years have shown. The one that blew up on Sunday is, in fact, the same one that exploded one night five years ago. Luckily, that time there was no one in the premises. Last Sunday, it was a different story. No doubt, it will not be the last such accident.

Fireworks are part of our culture, and part of our feasts. Hundreds, if not thousands, turn up to watch the colourful displays that are let off. It is unimaginable to have a village feast without fireworks. Most public activities are today accompanied by fireworks displays.

And yet, the question that is asked each time a tragedy occurs is whether such a high price should be paid. How many more lives are to be lost? How quickly are the victims forgotten? Is it enough to just cancel outdoor celebrations of a given feast following a tragedy, and then, when the next year comes, everything is back to normal, as if nothing happened?

It is often said that lessons should be learnt from such accidents. But is it really so?

The fireworks enthusiasts will never accept anything different from what they are doing today. They know the risks. They know that the slightest of mistakes could cost them their life. And yet they are prepared to take that risk. They spend long hours preparing fireworks for a feast, and when that feast is over, they start all over again.

The support they get is enormous – just look at the footage of the hundreds of people who blocked the arrivals lounge at the Malta International Airport a few days ago when the team from Ghaxaq that won a fireworks competition in Spain came back to Malta. They had band marches played. They were lifted shoulder high. The whole village turned up and there was a carcade between Luqa and the village core.

This heroes’ welcome came in between the death of a man at a fireworks factory explosion in the limits of Mosta just before the Santa Marija feast and last Sunday’s tragedy.

It shows that there are two sides to the coin, but the tragedies, the deaths, by far outweigh the joys and celebrations.