The Streets Had a Different Sound
A colourful hopscotch court painted on a paved surface, featuring numbered sections from 1 to 9 in various colours, including red, blue, green, yellow, and orange.
Walk through any Maltese village today, and you'll hear the hum of traffic, the chatter from cafés, and maybe the distant sound of a band practice. But ask any Maltese person over 50 what those streets sounded like in their childhood, and they'll tell you something different: the laughter of children playing games that had been passed down for generations.
Before smartphones, before gaming consoles, before even television was common in Maltese households, children in Malta and Gozo invented their own fun using what they had—pebbles, rags, bits of wood, and endless imagination. These weren't just games; they were lessons in strategy, teamwork, and resilience, wrapped in rhymes sung in Maltese and played out under the Mediterranean sun.
Games That Defined a Childhood
Passju (Hopscotch)
Nine boxes drawn in chalk. One stone. Endless competition. Players tossed their pebble into square one, hopped through the grid on one leg, collected the stone on the way back, and moved to the next number. Fail to land your stone correctly? You're out. The first to complete all nine squares was the champion of the street.
Il-Bocci tal-Ħġieġ (Marbles)
Glass marbles came in every colour imaginable—transparent ones with swirls inside, milk-white ones, tiny beads, and the prized large metal ball bearings. Kids would draw a box on the ground, launch their marbles from a distance, and try to knock opponents' marbles out. Winners took the losers' marbles. Trading, swapping, and strategising were all part of the game.
Iż-Żunżana Ddur Iddur (The Bee Goes Round)
Children formed a circle, singing a traditional Maltese rhyme while one child ran around the outside holding a small stone. The song built tension until the runner dropped the stone behind someone, who then had to chase them around the circle. Caught? You became "the bee." It was tag, sung in Maltese with a soundtrack.
Xixu
A larger plank of wood hit a smaller piece, launching it into the air. Other players tried to catch it mid-flight. Whoever caught it got to take the next turn hitting. Simple, physical, and requiring sharp reflexes—this was street cricket before cricket was cool in Malta.
Lupu Lupu (Oh Fox, Oh Fox)
One player sat on the ground, pretending to stir a pot of boiling water. The others approached and asked, "Lupu, Lupu, x'inti tagħmel?" ("Oh fox, oh fox, what are you doing?"). The "fox" replied that they were cooking, then suddenly jumped up and chased everyone. The one caught became the next fox. It's the Maltese version of "What's the time, Mr. Wolf?"—with more drama.
The Game That Time (Almost) Forgot: Brilli
A set of nine wooden skittles with black bases arranged in a circle on a paved asphalt surface.
If there's one game that captures the soul of traditional Maltese play, it's Brilli—and you can still watch it being played today, but only in one place: the village of Għarb in Gozo.
Brilli is an outdoor skittles game so old that historians trace its roots to before the Knights of St. John arrived in 1530. Nine wooden skittles are arranged in a circle on the street. Players bowl a grapefruit-sized wooden ball from a distance, trying to knock them down. It's part bowling, part strategy, part village spectacle.
On Sundays and public holidays, a small group of men still gather in Għarb's narrow streets to play. Spectators lean from balconies. Elders offer advice. The rhythm of the wooden ball rolling on asphalt echoes through the village. It's not just a game—it's living heritage.
Why These Games Matter
A child playing hopscotch on a colourful numbered mat laid out on green grass, with other people's legs visible in the background.
These weren't just ways to pass the time. They reflected the world Maltese children grew up in. Games like Gwerra Franċiża (French War) and Ħarba (Escape) mirrored wartime experiences, with players rescuing or capturing "prisoners." Bum Bum il-Bieb casts one child as a knight seeking a wife—the dream of many young girls in a deeply Catholic society.
Toys were handmade or scavenged. Balls were rags stitched together. Kites were paper, cane, and glue. Hoops were old bicycle wheels pushed along with wire. In an era when most families couldn't afford shop-bought toys and streets were largely car-free, children created their own entertainment—and their own rules.
Play Like a Local: A Visitor's Guide
Want to experience Malta beyond the beaches and baroque churches? Here's how to connect with these traditions:
- Visit Għarb on a Sunday: Ask locally where the Brilli players gather. Watch, chat, maybe even try a bowl. It's rare, authentic, and deeply Gozitan.
- Look for chalk grids on village streets: Older neighbourhoods in Malta and Gozo still have faded hopscotch courts. Take a photo, try a hop, and imagine the children who played there decades ago.
- Attend a folk festival: Events like those organised by Heritage Malta or local councils sometimes feature traditional games and demonstrations. Kids in costume play Passju, marbles, and Żunżana for crowds.
- Ask your Maltese host: Chances are, their parents or grandparents played these games. The stories are as valuable as the rules.
The Games We Remember
A handmade toy resembling a brick building with a blue roof, featuring painted cartoon characters and numbered arches (7,9,10,9,7), placed on concrete with several glass marbles scattered in front.
Maltese elders still speak fondly of Il-Karretta u l-Iskuter (the cart and scooter)—homemade wooden go-karts and wire-and-wheel scooters that kids raced through village streets. They remember Iż-Żibeg (the bead game), where coloured beads were rolled into holes, with different colours worth different points. They recall It-Tiġieġa l-Għamja (the blind chicken), a blindfolded chase game that's the Maltese cousin of blind man's bluff.
These games weren't perfect. You came home with scraped knees, dusty clothes, and sometimes a scolding from your mother. But you also came home tired, happy, and full of stories.
A Legacy Worth Keeping
In 2026, as screens dominate childhood and organised activities fill every afternoon, these street games feel almost radical in their simplicity. No batteries. No downloads. No Wi-Fi. Just children, imagination, and the open street.
Some of these games survive in memory only. Others, like Brilli, hang on by a thread in a single Gozitan village. But they're more than nostalgia—they're a window into how Maltese and Gozitan communities raised their children with resourcefulness, creativity, and a deep connection to the streets and squares that defined village life.
So next time you're wandering through Mdina's silent streets or watching sunset over Għarb, pause. Listen. You might just hear the echo of children singing Iż-Żunżana, the clack of marbles, or the roll of a wooden ball in a game that's older than the Knights themselves.
