Algeria celebrates victory over Egypt

This article was first published in When Saturday Comes November 19, 2009

They think they've won it already

I have to admit that I was scared for ten or so minutes after the final whistle blew here in Oran, Algeria last night. I watched Les Verts' World Cup play-off game with Egypt in a cafe in darkened streets of a city that I don't know. Anthar Yahia's 40th minute goal, a Van Basten-esque angled volley, unleashed the country's wildest celebrations since July 1962 – the month Algeria secured its bloody independence from France. Chairs flew over the road, aerosal sprays flashed into the sky, cars vroomed down the streets backwards and sideways, kids slalomed between klaxoning motorbikes and I had to duck once or twice to avoid the fireworks thrown like confetti.

More than 12 hours after the game ended, I've had to close my hotel window to keep out the noise of honking cars on the street 13 floors below. Even the barbus – the Islamic fundamentalists who for ten years brought the country to its knees – are dancing in the streets.

On the streets of Algiers

It is impossible for a European to imagine the rivalry that exists between the Fennecs and the Pharaohs. In Algiers, the offices of Air Egypt were burnt down two days ago. As the final qualifying group match drew to a close last Saturday, with Algeria minutes away from automatic qualification for South Africa, Algerian television's John Motson could restrain himself no longer. “Win it boys, win it for our million martyrs, show Egypt that Algeria never retreats," a barbed allusion to the fact that Algeria won their war against France but Egypt lost theirs against Israel.

After last weekend's two-nil defeat, Algerian president Abdelaziz Bouteflika commandeered half of Air Algérie's fleet to convey supporters to neutral Khartoum for yesterday's play-off match – a move that nearly backfired when disappointed fans ransacked Algiers airport on learning there were not enough planes to go around. Such disappointment is a distant memory this morning as Algeria unites in ear-splitting harmony. Chanting supporters, young and old (including a fair helping of women) are once more bringing the streets, and the entire transport network, to a halt. Want a taxi, train or plane? Ask again in a couple of days.

Today's mass-selling Le Soir d'Algérie, normally a French-language newspaper, is headlined with a single word in Arabic: Dernaha (We've done it!) and inside we learn that the mountains, wadis, villages and dunes of the Algerian Sahara are emblazoned with a familiar-sounding slogan: "Impossible n'est pas algérien." Both on the streets and in the media everyone is hoping, everyone is – ironically – praying that football fever will hammer the final nail in the coffin of fundamentalism.

Do you speak Malti?

Valletta, capital of Malta

I'm in Malta again, having spent the day in the heavily-fortified capital, Valletta, trying to find someone to open the ever-locked doors of the Church of St Paul's Shipwreck. Tomorrow, it seems, I'll be able to get inside... though I was told the same thing yesterday, as I recall, and the day before.

Something that strikes me every time I walk around the narrow streets of Valletta - surely one of Europe's most unsung capitals - is the "foreignness" of the Maltese language. Last night I was waiting to buy a ticket for the Manoel Theatre; the receptionist was talking to her friend in Maltese and not a single word, not a single syllable, even, was intelligible - just a series of guttural sounds (and lots of Italian-like arm-waving). Once I got her attention, though, she burst into perfect, unaccented English. In fact, everyone I have ever come across in Malta, with the exception of one very old man I met who lived on an isolated farm, speaks first-rate English.

The Maltese have two official tongues: Maltese - Malti - and English, with Italian also being widely spoken (and Juventus being one of the most popular football teams!). In public life, though, including parliament, the church and the press; as well as in quotidian conversation; it's Malti that is the preferred choice. No surprise, really, as this unique language has been one of the most important factors in enabling Malta to maintain it's status as a separate nation state.

If you think about it, none of the other Mediterranean islands - Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica; is a country in its own right (in spite of repeated attempts to gain independence in some cases). To the ears of most Western visitors, including me, the Malti language sounds distinctly like Arabic (just as parts of the countryside, dry and dusty, resemble Tunisia or Libya). And, sure enough, the origins of Malti can be traced back to the North African Arabs who invaded Malta and Gozo in 870 AD. In fact, Malti is the only Semitic language to be written in the Latin script - with the addition of special characters to accommodate certain Semitic sounds.

Whilst Malti has always preserved its Arabic roots, its development owes much to the Romance languages of the Normans, who occupied Malta in 1090, and the Italians some 500 years later; and, of course, to English.