Malibu Club has become a bone of contention in the last few years. But it wasn’t always the case.The desolate Malibu Club was once bustling with activity and laughter. Residents could become members and enjoy the beautiful environs of the colonial style building. Starting this month, we shall be running a series of memories few of Malibu’s old residents have penned down of the Club as it used to be.
Warm sunlight filters through the gaps in the palm trees, the dull thump sound of tennis balls smashing into rackets fills the atmosphere, and children’s laughter drifts through the pleasant lull as I lay on the grass. These are my earliest memories of the Malibu Club™—tearing apart sweet oranges on a picnic blanket, sharing them over conversations, laughter, and clinking cups. It was a space where connections were forged, where my parents neighbours and friends, old and new, where festive occasions brought people together, and where one could meet some of the countless residents that called Malibu their home.
Ray Oldenburg, a prominent British sociologist, would define such a place as the “third place”—neither home nor work, but a space that fosters human connection and the warmth of friendship, which, in turn, sustains communities. A true third place holds people together through impromptu meetings, casual games, and conversations. It is accessible, requires little to no cost for entry, and occasionally hosts special community occasions.
Unfortunately, I can only access my memories of the club from the blurry, hazy lens of early childhood. I remember basking in the sun, cycling along the garden paths, playing with friends while my father played tennis with his friends, swimming on hot July afternoons, and my mother encouraging me and my friends to perform at local festivals, gathering the community together, ensuring there was always warm applause and encouraging smiles to showcase young talent in the neighbourhood. In those early childhood memories, my visits to club were frequent and always promised some fun.
Over time, however, things changed. The abandoned building that otherwise lay idle was undergoing a revamp, we heard. A new gym with upgraded equipment, a newly opened eatery, and a sprawling banquet hall on the second floor—a place that once hosted some of the most memorable kids’ birthday parties. What I failed to see at the time was that the upgrades came at a cost. The club’s new and shiny restaurant, gym, and hall were all business ventures first before they were anything else, access now came at a price, distancing the club from the community it once belonged to. What should have been managed by residents, for residents, became an enterprise focused on maximizing footfall. The venture had the opposite of the intended effect, soon enough our visits were fewer and far in between, (and so were everyone else’s). A sure shot sign of the decline was the cancellation of the annual new years event, Diwali, and other community festivals. And as we all lived through the slow decline in the second decade of the century, it all culminated in a pandemic. It followed course then, that the commercial ventures were shut down, but then the greenery started to shrivel, the unused tennis court was shut down, as wild shrubbery grew onto the court, making it unusable, and the club building was once again, abandoned.
Now, as we rebuild our lives post-COVID, forming friendships, meeting family and learning to trust one-another again, I can’t help but wonder: what could reclaim this third place do for us? They say it takes a village to raise a child, even if it might feel otherwise on most days…. the village is still here. And I want today’s children to race down the club roads, learn karate, badminton and tennis, play, and laugh in the sun as I once did. As someone who has reached an age where young adults no longer gather downstairs in societies unless given a reason, I dream of an indoor pickleball, badminton, and tennis court—a space where friendships could form once again. A place where my parents would enjoy meeting old friends over long conversations. We could exchange books for young readers in the vicinity who might enjoy them more, showcase the culinary talents of wonderful home chefs in our neighbourhood, and carve out a space where we can build our fitness, our community and our collective resilience.
Now I only visit the club when I’m to cast my vote, and while I do appreciate seeing my neighbours once every few years as we collectively engage in our civic duty of voting, we cannot let third places the club fade away by being grossly underutilised. Not just for the missed access to facilities (which in itself is a loss big enough) but for a place that reminds us that human connections need nurturing and that community depends on such simple things as a few tables, a friendly host and a willingness to see what happens when we get together face-to-face.
It is in such places that we hash out differences, that we form new friendships, that we learn to listen to and help one another, that we foster empathy and connection, these places are where we build community and we grow.
As we step into the future, I hope we remember that brighter tomorrows are not granted—they are forged. A better future will seldom be guaranteed by casting votes once in a blue moon – rather it is claimed… quiet, persistent labour of showing up for one another, of working, growing, and becoming better humans, neighbours, and friends in the unyielding act of community. A community that has to be supported and aided always by our precious third places – parks, walking paths, porticos and The Club.
