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(All genealogical facts mentioned in this article come from the extensive research carried out by
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Anthony Farrugia, my father, who researched our family tree in Malta back to the year 1772.)
On February 18th, 1887, Salvatore BONNICI and his wife Maria (neé Abdilla) gave birth to Giuseppe (Joseph), whom they baptized at S. Paul's Parish Church at Safi (Hal Safi).
On April 11th, 1910, the 23 year old Giuseppe married Maria (neé Pace, aged 21)
at her local parish, dedicated to St. Publius, at Floriana. The newlyweds had two daughters, Maria Rosa and Maria Stella, who were both very young when a dreadful tragedy snatched their 28 year old father away from them; leaving their young, widowed mother, Maria, to cope with their upbringing in those far-from-prosperous years. This was a time of near-starvation for many. The raising of the price of bread (among other hardships) eventually led to the blooded riots of 1919 where four civilian people lost their lives during clashes with British troops. see historical note
Maria Bonnici, widowed for 55 years, passed away at the age of 79 (at S. Luke's Hospital, G'Mangia) on Friday, March 20th, 1970. Her children, M.Rosa (known as Roszina) and M.Stella (known as Stella) married Cecil J. Hibbs, an Englishman, and Dominic Farrugia, of Valletta, respectively.
By the time of her death, nanna Marì had moved from her Senglea house to live with her daughter --
grandmother Stella -- at her very old Valletta residence. This house was so spooky! I remember it vividly, for nanna had lived there all through my early childhood and my teens. The old house was located at the very deep end of Saint Joseph Street, Valletta, sometimes referred to as the French Quarter, or the 'Diu Balli' (a corrupt form of 'due balli'); a street which ran into a dead end, as if smack into the bastions.
I remember the street was rather dark as it was narrow, with high buildings on either side.
There were quite a few unoccupied, derelect houses opposite my gran's, with the rest being shabby and overcrowded. These buildings, lying in the shadow of Fort St.Elmo, had survived the continuous 1940-43 Blitz. Their balconies almost touched one another and, from them, clothes often hung out to dry. This slum area had, for a long time, been earmarked for demolishing and rebuilding, though a small part of its original edifice remains occupied (by squatters?) till this time of writing, evading modernization.
Guzeppi, an elderly man who lived next door to nanna Stella had a wooden leg, which he would hurl away with all his might when he was drunk. That must've been the reason neighbours called him 'Futru' (probably a derivative from 'foot threw'). Strange as it might sound, during the 1970's, Guzeppi had his moment of fame when he was casted in a black-and-white, artistic film production bearing his name ("Guzeppi") and telling his story in a way.
Nanna Stella's home was a multi-storey building, designed to house many families, each in single- or two-roomed spaces at times of dire poverty. This lodging, known as a kerrejja, or tenement, had a small, darkened courtyard (with a well) at the base of it, just as you entered the front door. From here one would start to ascend a tower of worn out limestone stairs; a dark climb among some locked doors (mysterious to me at the time) and others leading to rooms which I knew well.
Nanna Marì (photo on left) lived in the solitude of a quiet room, neatly made, never undone, as if the only part of it she used was that chair by the balcony door where she whiled away the days working at her crochet craft.
On the next level was a small 'dining' room and an even smaller kitchen. Just so our readers do not get carried away by the term 'dining' room, the furniture here was of the commonest kind; painted in a sickly yellow and with the tabletop covered in a (plastic) lamination.
Up some more stairs and one was faced with two more strong doors. On the left hand side was a door leading to another set of stairs by which one got to the roof while, straight ahead, was the entrance to nanna Stella's bedroom, marking the end of the main stairwell. This room would have been right on top of nanna Marie's room, though it seemed bigger, perhaps because of the better lighting (being higher up). The storeys in this ancient house were very high and I used to be so afraid to look down from the top balcony, fearing it might collapse under my childhood weight.
Earlier on, this vast, yet impractical, building had been populated by my nine (then-unmarried) aunts and uncles, along with nanna Stella and nannu Duminku -- before nanna Marì moved in -- and it must have been awefully crowded back then, let alone when several other families shared the building.
Let us now go back to our account of the Bonnici family, i.e. to the days when my grandmother, Stella, was herself a child, in the first decade of the twentieth century.
Though Britain's military actions in the Med, such as in her naval deployment to curb the 1882 popular uprising in Egypt led by Arabi Pasha, would always bring commerce our way, the wealth would seldom reach the lower classes.
World War One was another such event. It was not affect Malta and Gozo directly as its battlefields were far from our shores. Malta, receiving the wounded from the Crimea, was then referred to as the Hospital of the Mediterranean. However, this cruel war was to bring tragic consequences for the Bonnici family.
Giuseppi Bonnici, service nr: 2688, was a gunner in the Royal Malta Artillery (RMA). While he was on duty at the Naval Ordnance Dept. at His Majesty's Dockyard, on October 5th, 1915, an explosion occured, killing 16 men who were filling hand grenades. The 28 year old father of two was one of those killed in the blast.
The remains of 14 of the decease soldiers were buried in different graves at "Capucchin Naval Cemetery " at Rinella (Malta). The inscription on their tombstone is all that survives to remind us of their story, other than what appeared in the 'Daily Malta Chronicle' of the 6th and 7th October, 1915.
The gravestone at their final resting place reads: "In Loving Memory of . . . . who met with their death while engaged in filling hand grenades in the Naval Ordnance Department on the 5th October 1915" and concludes:
They died in the service of their King and country
doing their duty to the last.
R. I. P.
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Steve Farrugia
Gzira, Malta
29th July, 2002
Note: The cost of living, however, rose considerably, in spite of the fact that there was never any serious food shortage in Malta. Bread soared from its prewar price of 2½d. to 6¾d. a rotolo, sugar from 3d. to 1 /2d. [i.e. 1s 2d, or 14d., so it almost tripled], meat from 1/-d [1 shilling, or 12d.] to 3/6d. [3½ shillings, or 40d.] and everything was affected except rent.
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On 7th May 1917 a strike broke out at the Dockyard as the pay of workmen was only increased by 10%. The troops were at once confined to barracks and called out in aid of the civil power. The strikers marched into Valletta and interviewed the Governor and the Archbishop at the former's palace on the 9th. All the shops were closed, the Militia machine-gun detachment was posted on the Palace Square and all depots and ports were guarded.
Excerpt from A.V.Laferla's "British Malta" (A.C.Aquilina & Co, 1977), Ch.XII, pp209
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