Myth, memory and maritime tradition across the water.

In the colourful fishing village of Marsaxlokk, Malta’s iconic luzzijiet do more than brighten the harbour. Adorned with ancient watchful eyes, believed to protect fishermen at sea

WORDS BY David Carabott

My childhood summers were spent in the fishing village of Marsaxlokk, where I wandered along the sunlit shoreline with salt on my skin and curiosity in my pockets. I would linger for hours at the edge of the shore with a small net and a bucket, searching the shallows for tiny shrimps and darting fish that flickered like living silver. Fishing was about waiting, watching and dreaming. While I balanced carefully on the edge of the quay, my gaze would often drift across the harbour, where dozens of brightly coloured boats rocked gently on the water. They fascinated me more than anything else in the village. The luzzijiet (singular luzzu) are typical Maltese fishing boats.

Boats with eyes At first glance, they look like floating rainbows. Their wooden hulls are painted in vivid blues, yellows, reds and greens that glow beneath the Mediterranean sun. But what used to truly capture my imagination were their eyes. Every luzzu has a pair of eyes on its prow. They are carefully carved and painted wooden oculi staring out over the water. Blue pupils set within white circles and framed by thick black eyebrows give them an oddly expressive appearance. The eyes make the luzzijiet appear almost alive, like wise marine creatures calmly observing the harbour. As a child, I was convinced those boats were looking back at me. They bobbed gently at their moorings as if nodding in quiet approval, guardians of the harbour and silent witnesses to fishermen’s daily lives.

The ancient eye The origins of those mysterious eyes stretch far back into history. Their story reaches beyond Malta to the ancient world of Mediterranean seafarers and traders.The symbol itself is linked to the legendary falcon god, Horus, and the myth of his lost and restored eye. According to ancient Egyptian mythology, Horus fought a fierce battle with his uncle Seth, who had murdered his father Osiris in a struggle for the throne of Egypt. During their conflict, Seth tore out Horus’ eye. With the help of his mother, Isis, and the wise god, Thoth, the damaged eye was eventually restored, along with the throne itself. This healed eye became known as the Udjat, meaning the ‘sound’ or ‘restored’ one. It came to symbolise protection, healing and wholeness, and was worn as a powerful amulet by both the living and the dead.

Guardians of the sea For centuries, people believed the eye could guard against misfortune and ward off evil spirits, and this ancient belief did not remain confined to Egypt. Great Mediterranean traders, particularly the Phoenicians, carried the symbol across the sea, where it adorned their ships as a mark of protection. As they sailed through Maltese waters more than 2,000 years ago, the tradition arrived with them. It endured long after those civilisations had faded. Today, the painted eyes on the prow of a luzzu are still believed to guide and protect fishermen on their journeys across the unpredictable Mediterranean Sea. These watchful eyes offer reassurance, thought to scan the waters, ward off danger and keep the evil eye at bay for those who make their living from the sea. Some still speak of them as guardians, helping them face the elements and return home safely. Yet for a few weathered fishermen, the eyes serve a more practical purpose – one rooted less in ancient belief than in experience. They are said to deter curious large sea creatures, which may think twice before approaching a boat that appears to stare back. Whether sacred symbol, or simple deterrent, the eyes remain an inseparable part of the luzzu’s character.

The village of colour, Marsaxlokk is the perfect setting for these boats. Even its name reflects its maritime character. Marsa means harbour in Maltese, while xlokk refers to the south-easterly wind that sweeps across the bay. For centuries, this sheltered inlet has welcomed sailors and voyagers. The Phoenicians once anchored their ships here. Fleets later gathered in these waters during historic conflicts, including the Great Siege of Malta, and during World War II, when the bay lay along a coastline considered in invasion plans. More recently, the surrounding seas witnessed a moment of global significance when world leaders met offshore during talks that helped mark the closing chapter of the Cold War. Yet despite its rich past and more recent commercialisation, Marsaxlokk remains, above all, a fishing village, where tradition endures in the continued building and repair of luzzijiet in wood rather than fibreglass.

Early on Sunday mornings, the harbour comes alive as fishermen sell their catch at the bustling market. Crates of fresh fish, octopus and shellfish line the waterfront, while brightly painted luzzijiet sway gently beside the quay. The scene is vibrant, enduring and unmistakably Maltese.

Dreaming on water, As a boy standing on the rocks with my shrimp net, I often imagined climbing aboard one of those boats. Their eyes seemed to invite adventure, appearing to look far beyond the horizon. I wondered where they might take me; perhaps across the endless blue of the Mediterranean Sea. In my mind, those boats were not merely fishing vessels but voyagers, with stories flowing from their watchful eyes. Even today, whenever I return to Marsaxlokk and watch the luzzijiet rocking gently in the harbour, I feel that same quiet pull of wonder. The eyes still gaze outward across the water, and sometimes it feels as though they are still watching me dream.