If you live in Malta, then you’ve probably heard the festive greeting ‘All the best (ħi)’ at some point during the holiday season. You might even use it yourself, either earnestly or ironically.
But when and why did Maltese people start using this now-ubiquitous phrase? And why does it sound like they’re saying ‘Oldibest’? The answers to these questions are more disturbing than you might think.
Our story begins in 1800, when Malta had just become the newest protectorate of the British Empire.
On November 28 of that year, 9-year-old Ninu Psaila from Mellieħa left home to go and play with his friends. He didn’t return home that night, and was never seen again.
The following day, 10-year-old Maria Portelli from Marsaxlokk also disappeared.
By the second week of December, 16 more young children from all over the island had vanished without a trace.
Whoever – or whatever – was taking the children did not leave any clues behind them.
The authorities were stumped. Bearing in mind that the police force wouldn’t be formed for another 14 years, neither the British nor the local militiamen were equipped to deal with such a serious crime.
On December 18, a crowd of angry locals gathered in front of the Governor General’s headquarters in Valletta to loudly voice their suspicions that the disappearances were linked to their new foreign overlords.
Just as the mob was on the verge of rioting, a man called Matthew Goodyear emerged from one of the building’s windows. He told the crowd via an interpreter (very few people spoke English at the time) that he had reason to believe the disappearances were not the fault of any human.
They were the work of the Yuletide Beast.
The Yuletide Beast, Goodyear said, was a horrifying demon that appeared around Christmas time. It was the job of the beast to take all the children who had been exceptionally naughty over the last 12 months down to hell. There had been a spike in the number of naughty children that year, so the monster had been particularly busy.
The crowd, being highly superstitious, accepted this explanation without question. But they wanted to know if there was any way to prevent children from being taken by the beast, even if they had been very naughty.
“Well,” Goodyear said before pausing for several seconds. “Erm… yes, yes there is. What you do is…erm…in the weeks leading up to Christmas, say the name of the monster at the end of every conversation you have with someone in the street. That way, your children will be protected.”
The crowd were grateful for this seemingly simple solution to demonic child-snatching and dispersed peacefully.
Now, as we’ve seen, English was not widely spoken by the local populace in 1800. So in a similar way to how, in later years, ‘alright’ would become ‘orrajt’ and ‘shock absorber’ would change to ‘xokapsofer’, ‘Yuletide Beast’ became ‘Joltid Best’
And as the years went by and people forgot why they even said the words in the first place, ‘Joltid Best’ morphed into ‘Oldibest’.
The fact that it sounds like the phrase ‘All the best’ is simply a weird coincidence.
So the next time you make fun of people who say ‘Oldibest’ and vow to never use the greeting yourself, just remember that the monster could still be lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag your naughty children to hell.
Oldibest, ħi.
