Eliza Marie Savona

Yesterday morning, I found myself stuck in traffic on my way to an interview in Valletta. The roads, once serene, are now choked with cars, a symbol of Malta’s economic upswing. While the island's wealth has grown, so has the congestion, and the air feels heavier with each passing day. As I sat in my car, I glanced at the construction sites flanking the road. These new developments are swallowing up the old, charming houses that defined my childhood. It’s disheartening to see the island's character eroding in the name of progress.

At 47 years old, life as an investigative journalist here has grown increasingly perilous. A few years ago, a colleague was murdered, a stark reminder of the risks we face. The threats I receive are a constant backdrop to my work. My latest assignment involves the growing tensions surrounding refugees. They arrive seeking safety and opportunity, but many islanders view them with suspicion and hostility. Covering these stories is crucial, but it’s also dangerous. The more I uncover, the more enemies I seem to make. It’s not just the threats that weigh on me; it’s the feeling of being part of a society that is fracturing under the pressure of change.

Just last week, I experienced a minor panic attack when the power went out unexpectedly. Alone in the dark, the weight of my fears pressed down on me. I love Malta deeply, but I can’t ignore the mounting signs of trouble. If things continue this way, I might have to consider leaving the island I once couldn’t imagine living without. For now, I’ll keep writing, hoping that shedding light on these issues will somehow lead to change.