“Here’s how my wife and I solve money disagreements”

Here’s How My Wife and I Solve Money Disagreements – A Maltese Couple’s Playbook

By Karl Vella

Sliema, Malta – “Uwejja, not another ħobż biż-żejt argument!” laughs Marija, 34, as she recalls the night she and her husband Luke almost came to blows over whether to bulk-buy discounted bread at the local Tower Supermarket. It sounds trivial, but that quarrel over €2.70 loaves became the catalyst for the money-management system the couple swear by today – a system rooted in Maltese culture, shaped by island realities, and now quietly inspiring neighbours up and down the Sliema seafront.

Luke, a 36-year-old software developer, and Marija, a secondary-school Maltese teacher, married in 2018 in the shadow of St Julian’s parish church. Like most Maltese newly-weds, they moved straight into a rented apartment whose rent could fund a small mortgage anywhere else in Europe. Add a car loan, festa-season donations, and the inevitable summer holiday to Gozo, and money talk quickly turned tense.

“Money is emotional here,” explains Prof. Josianne Scicluna, family economist at the University of Malta. “We have high home-ownership aspirations, strong inter-generational support, and a culture where ‘keeping up appearances’ at village feasts is real currency. Couples fight less about euros and more about what those euros symbolise – security, status, or simply the right to enjoy a Kinnie on the rocks after work.”

The turning point for Marija and Luke came during a Sunday lunch at Nanna Dolores’ house in Birkirkara. Between bites of timpana, Dolores overheard the bickering and offered the kind of straightforward advice only a Maltese nanna can: “Mhux ta’ b’xejn li jien u Nannu Ġorġ had a locked tin for ‘festa money’ and another for ‘roof repairs’. You need separate jars, ta’.”

Taking the cue, the couple created three digital “jars” using Revolut vaults labelled: ‘Makku’ (short for ‘ma nkissrux id-dar’, covering rent, utilities, Wi-Fi), ‘Festa & Famiglia’ (village donations, family gifts, and the annual Sant’Anna feast weekend in Lija), and ‘Tagħna T-Tnejn’ (pure discretionary – think rooftop spritzes at 1926 Beach Club or last-minute Ryanair flights to Trapani). Every payday, Luke’s salary pays the Makku jar, Marija’s tops up Festa & Famiglia, and whatever is left is split evenly into Tagħna T-Tnejn. Each jar has its own coral-coloured Monzo-style card so there’s no accidental cross-contamination.

The genius, they say, is cultural. “We Maltese already think in jars – the marmalja on the kitchen shelf for spare change, the piggy bank for the festa fireworks fund,” Luke grins. “Digitising tradition just made it 2024-proof.” They even colour-code their jars in the same palette as the Maltese flag, a small nod to national pride that keeps the system playful.

The ripple effect on their community has been tangible. During last August’s Lija feast, Luke posted a tongue-in-cheek Instagram Reel showing how their ‘Festa & Famiglia’ jar covered a €150 donation to the band club without raiding the rent money. The clip got 24,000 views and dozens of DMs from couples in Mellieħa to Marsascala asking for the template. Marija now hosts a free monthly “Kafeċina & Kontijiet” open-air meet-up at Independence Gardens where neighbours swap jar hacks over iced coffee. Local councillor Claire Zammit has attended twice and is exploring a council-sponsored workshop for first-time buyers.

Perhaps the sweetest outcome is generational. Dolores, now 78, has adopted the couple’s digital jars herself. “I still keep a brass tin for the church collection,” she insists, “but I also have a vault called ‘Għall-Karnival’ so I can buy extra prinjolata without feeling guilty.”

Back on the Sliema balcony where the ħobż biż-żejt saga began, Luke sums it up: “Money disagreements don’t disappear, but when you give every euro a Maltese passport, arguments turn into planning. And planning feels like teamwork – the kind that built the bastions of Valletta, one limestone block at a time.”

As fireworks crackle over Manoel Island and the couple tap their phones to transfer €20 into ‘Tagħna T-Tnejn’ for tonight’s aperitivo, it’s clear the island’s oldest values – community, festa, and family – have simply found new pockets to live in.