95 Not for sale A GUIDE BOOK FOR THE
METHODOLOGY OF SERVICE
LEARNING IN ALBANIA
1 Title: A GUIDE BOOK FOR THE METHODOLOGY OF SERVICE LEARNING IN ALBANI The project was led by: Mary Ward Loreto Foundation Collaborator: Students of the “Rogacionist” High School, Lezhë and the Community of Lezhe Project Coordinator: Afërdita Gjoni Msc Working group: Arta Suli, Principal of the “Rogacionist” High School, Lezhë Alma Zogu, Vice-Principal of the “Rogacionist” High School, Lezhë Nikoleta Prendi, Teacher of History and Philosophy in the “Rogacionist” High School, Lezhë Elsa Nikaj, Teacher of Language and Literature in the “Rogacionist” High School, Lezhë Editing: Flora Ujkaj
ISBN 978-9928-07-600-7
GEER, 2018
2 Contents
Introducing the Methodology ...... 5
Service Learning Methodology - “Learning Through Community Service”...... 9
Project 1. “Bullying at Schools”...... 10
Project 2: “Remembrance not to forget”...... 13 - Imprisoned Freedom...... 19 - A Precious Civics Lesson ...... 20 - Life During Communism in Lezhe: The Stories...... 22
A calvary of suffering...... 22 Living with the fear of death...... 22 The history of the kulak...... 25 Imprisoned freedom...... 27 A time that stopped time...... 30 An indelible trace...... 33 My family’s suffering...... 35 My father remembers...... 37 The traces of communism in my family...... 39 Gjon Nik Syku was the grandfather of my father...... 40 A Perspective on the Vig’ Heroes...... 42 ...pioneers want freedom...... 44 The calvary of communist persecutions...... 49 Suffering without knowing the reason why...... 51 To live or not to live ... that was the fear...... 52 To never be departed...... 55 A story from the communist era...... 57
3 A long calvary of suffering...... 60 The communist era...... 62 Zef Vorf Nekaj...... 63 Who am I? Who are we?...... 65 A sacrifice for education...... 67 Interviewing my father ...... 69 An interview with my grandfather...... 71 An interview with my mother...... 73 Memories of my father’s life...... 75 A talk with my grandfather...... 77 Remembering the gloomy days...... 79 “Extreme poverty ...”...... 81 Snippets of memories from my childhood ...... 84 Life in Albania during communism ...... 86 Reflections...... 88 I did not forget...... 88 Solitude ...... 89 Those beautiful days...... 89 The evening comes early when in jail...... 89 To my mother...... 90
Acknowledgements:...... 92
Conclusion...... 93
4 Introducing the Methodology
The MWL Foundation initiated the implementation of the Service Learning methodology in October 2018 as a pilot study project. The pilot project took place in partnership between a private high school “Rogacionists” and the local community of Lezha, led by Mary Ward Loreto Foundation (MWL). Albania’s education system is in transition, modeling various systems around the world. For example, the high schools are using the Finnish model, whereas the Universities are using the Bologna model. As a consequence of this factor, continuous changes are taking place in the elementary school systems. The new approach of Service Learning in Education has given new challenges to an already changing school structure. Service Learning (SL) is one of the best proven approaches to help students become civically engaged. This methodology helps them become better citizens and enables them to take the lead early in their lives. SL engages students in service projects so that they can apply classroom learning, in collaboration with local organizations, to the spoken and experienced needs of the community. Decisions made from this learning should lead to actions in the community which will influence positive change in this place. At the same time the students learn from the experience, as they begin to achieve success. It is defined as an approach and model for community development that is used as a guideline to meet learning goals at various education levels. It is a process for democratization of the learning systems and teaches students the art of discernment. The community has been working with the staff at the Rogationist School and the MWL staff. Most importantly, it is the students who have planned the implementation of this new learning approach. The SL programme increased the communication skills and interpersonal development of the young people involved. In addition, the students also developed various skills such as personal leadership skills, teamwork, technology, and discernment leading to good decision making.
5 The introduction training session was accomplished with 16 teaching staff of the “Rogacionist” School. These teachers gave a positive feedback leading to a deeper understanding for the next steps in this project. As such “this looks like an interesting methodology and at the same time challenging”. Teachers of social sciences were very interested in the methodology”. After this event 37 students from the School were trained in the details and stages of the methodology as well as being given an introduction to the stages of project implementation.
Learning to know Learning to do Learning to be together
Learning to be
ġ
Figure 1.The Service Learning methodology aims to bring forward the four pillars of education (Delors 1996) adopted as an effective educational tool to reach the UNESCO goals of XXI-st on Education.
The MWL staff has been working to strengthen this network of local partners in Lezhe where the SL methodology stands in the middle of these three circles (See Figure 1) 1) Bring the students closer to each other. 2) Support each other. 3) Each student to contribute. 4) Help them to mitigate issues in real life such as growing unemployment rate, poverty, inequality...
Mary Ward Loreto Foundation staff and staff from Rogationist’s School in Lezhe, conducted a mini study in the school on the needs in the school and the local community, after this initial training on SL had been conducted. 100 students and 100 parents were part of this mini study. The study indicated that the opportunities for students were very limited to implement
6 a practical response to the curricula and the information they get in school. One of the other indications of the mini study was that over 70% of the students showed interest in being involved in projects and service delivery for the purpose of alternative learning from their desk based normal curricula. Secondly, the mini study showed that students desired to improve their life skills through social understanding in the community. 78% of students indicated that social subjects could help them more in developing life skills and more than scientific subjects, such as mathematics, physics, and biology (22%). Third, the parents were also included in the conversation. They showed readiness to contribute mostly with their attendance, expertise, and respective experiences in order to help create a better learning environment for their children.
100 students & 100 parents involved in the study to measure the interest of being involved in SL projects
FINDINGS PARENTS
*limited opportunities Willing to contribute for students to imple- with ment the curricula in the context of social *their presence practice.
*expertise *70%of students indicated a high *to support creating a interest to be involved better experiential into SL projects. learning environment for their children
Service Learning is an innovative teaching methodology which employs a holistic approach. It encourages the development of life skills. This is a response to both the educational challenges of the 21st century and the needs of local communities. An ex-patriot key supporter has been CLAYSS, which has provided continuous training and support in order to implement a successful Service Learning methodology. The results of the mini-study helped the school and the students to define the nature of the projects that
7 the students wished to undertake. Through the community analysis, 5 issues that students wanted to address were identified but narrowed down to only two topics. The selected topics were “Bullying in Schools” and “Remembrance not to forget” ( Impact of life in Lezhe as a Post-Communist town.)
School
S.L. Community Methodology NGO
8 Service Learning Methodology - “Learning Through Community Service”
“Learning through community service” is a collaboration between the Mary Ward Loreto Foundation, the non-public High school “The Rogacionista” and the Lezha community. This is the first time this methodology has been applied in Albania, but it is spreading rapidly in many other countries in the world. The main benefits of this methodology are important because they focus on the learning process based on the curricula. This methodology offers the implementation in practice of the theoretical information that students receive at school. This methodology aims also to raise young people with a civic consciousness, to feel part of the community, of the problems that concern the community, and also to become part of solutions to the problematic community issues. The project “Remember in order to not forget” was an important part of this cooperation. This project was focused on highlighting the trace left by communism in the Albanian society. The interviews, stories, reflections and poems brought by the students became the topics of this book. This methodology, combined with the learning objectives, has increased the interest of young people to learn about the history of Albania and to convey it to their peers. This entire journey was led and funded by Mary Ward Loreto Foundation. The “Service Learning” “Learning through community service” is in line with the high school curriculum for building personal competences, as well as civic competences to serve the community. We hope and wish that this book, simple in content, but with a great value from the perspective of a nation’s memory and history, serves as a community memory for appreciating freedom and democracy and to not forget the past.
9 Project 1. “Bullying at Schools”
Aim of the project: Develop effective means and tools to fight bullying in schools in compliance with the Goals of Education Development in Albania. Objective 1. Support a school in creating a model to be replicated in other education institutions. Objective 2. Engage students, teachers, local government structures and community members in becoming aware of this phenomena and in creating a bully free environment in our schools.
A social worker from the Faculty of Social Sciences at the University of Tirana conducted the training with the students, teachers, parents, school psychologists. The latter were part of the structure of the Education Department and the psychologists worked at the Education Directory of Lezha municipality. After this Training of Trainers (TOT), the students and the psychologists organized a series of trainings themselves at 3 additional schools: Rogationist School, “Mother Theresa “ school, and Kallmet school. Additional trainings took place with children and parents at the Community Centre in Lezhe.
Skills acquired by students during the SL project implementation on Bullying
Interview skills, training skills, Public speaking skills, listening skills,
Values of supporting the others, dividing roles and responsibilities, analytical skills, digital skills
10 ASPAK PAK NJAFTUESHEM SHUME Presence of bullying in school 11% No bullying 11%
25% Some bullying 25%
57% Enough bullying cases 7%
7% Many bullying cases 57%
During the project implementation the students were enabled to develop and put into practice certain skills: - How to prepare a leaflet with key messages - Making an awareness video on bullying - Where they divide roles to use and create these materials as training tools - How to arrange the awareness sessions took place in the community and in the other schools.
Picture from different activities
11 An important component of the training process was the preparation of an awareness video against bullying. The students prepared, played, and registered this film in its entirety. It also expanded the opportunities of the students to use the technology for the benefit of the community. This video served as a tool during the awareness raising meetings which took place with the students and community groups. Besides the knowledge of bullying, the students developed training skills by actively engaging additional schools and parents about this social concern. The concern had been recognized as a social problem only in recent years in Albania. During these sessions, a great need for anti-bullying awareness raising was identified within the community. Furthermore, training sessions helped identify victims of bullying for whom the psychologists, parents, and teachers provided support. A questionnaire conducted at Rogationist school indicated that 13% of the students had been part of bullying situations, and they did not react to such situations even though they were witnesses to it.
Number of people bene tting from trainings on bullying Community Psychologists Teachers 13% 4% 3%
School students 80%
An emphasis has been placed on the role that teenagers can play themselves in alleviating this phenomena. They are the key stakeholders who are involved when such behaviors take place among their school mates in the school environment. An additional problem was identified as “cyber bullying” where the use of technology and social media, beyond the school environment, is a factor for students to address in this cyber bullying world, even taking place within the home.
12 Project 2: “Remembrance not to forget”
The development of civic engagement in society is of the utmost importance to Albania for a variety of reasons. First, civil society promotes the involvement of citizens in the workings of the nation and of the region. Second, civil society is necessary in order for democracy to flourish. Without communities, there would be no way for a society to function. They represent an essential aspect of the human experience and of human development.
The key element of the Service Learning project is that it should combine:
Service Learning with objectives objectives
In this context the second project undertaken by the school, the community, and the students was called “Remembrance not to forget” Albania has suffered 50 years of dictatorship and the Albanian education system hardly addresses this issue in the education subjects for the elementary and pre-university education level. In this regard, a project was undertaken aiming the following objectives: 1. To learn more about this part of the Albanian history during which the parents and the grandparents of the students had suffered for 50 years; 2. To learn and appreciate the values of living in freedom . 3. To contribute to other students with a product that brings real stories from communism.
13 The community of politically persecuted people is quite a large community in Albania and this includes the region of Lezhe. This idea was well received since Albania has not yet condemned the crimes of communism, which still troubles the persecuted and their families. The population of Lezha has increased enormously after 1990, especially due to migration from Mirdita and Puka region. As a result this project included a wide variety of communities. 30 students initially attended training on how to write a story, the key elements, how to conduct an interview, how to prepare a video, and how to write a report. Afterwards the students collected the stories and put it together in a draft book. Thirty families engaged in this project to share with the young generation what it meant to live in communism. Students visited The Former Investigations Police Offices of Shkodra, which now serves as a museum of the crimes of Communism. The director of the museum, as well as representatives of the Former Political Persecuted Association, shared their stories with the students. The students visited the cells and were informed of the tortures that the prisoners experienced at that time. Viewing the cells, a 2m2block, where more than six people lived in terrible living conditions, was a clear illustration of what it meant to be a prisoner of that time. Afterwards, students visited the Museum of the Church at the San Franciscan’s Order which also showed the crimes and what the Catholic Church and the clergies suffered during communism. This was very impressing to the students. After this journey, the students prepared a mini-documentary that was shared with other students, the impressions, the pictures, and the statistics. SL occurs when there is a balance between learning goals and service outcomes, and when it integrates a public task is accomplished with conscious educational growth. Service Learning is now seen as an innovative and global approach to teaching and learning and it enables social engagement and practical learning. Service learning contributes to the quality in education by practicing knowledge and skills to serve real needs, rather than just reading on the theories for change at home.
14 Pictures of the Former Investigations made by Police Officers from Shkodra which have been returned to the museum to keep the history alive and to present more clearly the tortures which many Albanians suffered during communism.
15 General outcomes reported by the students:
1. Positive impact on students’ academic learning. The academic material that is taught through practical application and reflective instruction is practiced outside classrooms and test-taking. 2. It impacts interpersonal learning. Students re-evaluate personal values and motivations by channelling a passionate interest in, and commitment to, service-learning projects, as well as building a connection and commitment to the community. 3. Improves students’ ability to apply what they have learned in “the real world.” 4. Has impact on the transformation within the students, which is about “thinking about things in a new way and moving in new directions— creating a new picture without relying on the old lines.” 5. Positive impact on other academic outcomes such as demonstrated complexity of understanding, problem analysis, problem-solving, critical thinking, and cognitive development (students are challenged to use critical thinking and problem solving skills in a context that provides additional information and experience for student evaluation.) 6. Improved ability to understand complexity and ambiguity. It provides experience with effective citizenship and behavioural issues, and this helps the students better understand social issues relevant to their own community. 7. Effective to those serving as well as those being served. Learning begins with the impact of service-learning on the personal and interpersonal development of the students.
Benefits for the students:
• The project helped students learn more about democratic principles, practices and the direct links it has with the community. • It helps in the development of skills in asking critical questions of local authorities. • Students develop research skills, including how to prioritize among different community needs.
16 • Awareness raising about working in the community. • New ways to respect gender representation at the grass roots level.
Social Outcomes:
• Improved social responsibility and citizenship skills • Greater involvement in community service after graduation • Positive interactions. Participants have the opportunity to share their specific views on the services they are performing and the problems their service addresses. • Service learning provides opportunities for personal connections and self-transformation.
Community benefits from Service Learning:
• Satisfaction with student participation • Valuable human resources needed to achieve community goals • New energy, enthusiasm and perspectives applied to community work • Enhanced community-school relations
Recommendations from teachers involved in the project:
• Continue to draft S.L. projects together with students and community in compliance with school curricula but focusing on the community as beneficiary. • Students continue to lead the projects in partnership with community as a main factor leading towards social change. • Expand the training of teachers in getting to know and apply the SL methodology. • Prepare students as trainers aiming to improve learning through community service and through their engagement into S.L projects.
17 Recommendations for education institutions: • Promote and support the pedagogical staff to acknowledge and apply S.L. methodology even in the rural areas. • Elaborate ways of supporting school projects with mini- grants to the benefit of a better education service for children contributing to better life for the community. • Organize regular round tables with the network and schools to exchanging ideas, experiences, and practices with the main focus on Service Learning methodology. • Share best practices of SL with other schools and communities.
18 Imprisoned Freedom
Dear reader! This book of short stories transmits snippets of life from the Calvary of pain caused by the communist regime. The students of the non-public high school “Rogacionists” recall stories of their families, experienced by their parents and their grandparents. They are not writers or philosophers, but in plain language with love and respect they bring these stories, which have never been told. The topics of the events reflect a reality lived in the communist society where persecution, exile, imprisonment, or firing squads affected many Albanian families. The structure of the interviews and stories is presented in this book in its original form, exactly as it was thought by the students. The details of the way of life during the socialist reality such as education, property, propaganda, and clothing are very original in these interviews. Often the students are emotionally affected by the lesson and their meditations and emotions accompany the script. In the pages of this book you will find, from one story to another, families from different territories, but with similar stories of human suffering. The gratitude for the sacrifice and the pride for the resistance of their parents and grandparents is the essence of the language used. The desire to share the stories of the families became the motivation of this book. This is the greatest value, as Pope Francis says: “Remember in order to not forget ... a generation that remembers, has a future” We hope you enjoy this book!
19 A Precious Civics Lesson
A precious civics lesson comes to our society from the youngest generation. In this case it comes from the non-public high school “Rogacionists” of Lezha. It is a lesson on the collective memory of our society under the totalitarian communist dictatorship. The project “Learning through community service”, led by the Mary Ward Loreto Foundation under the coordination of Ms. Afërdita Gjoni and the teacher who is very fond of history Mrs. Nikoleta Prendi, as well as the teacher of language-literature Mrs. Elsa Nikaj, involved the high school students in a noble working project about memory. While reading the stories collected with simplicity and spontaneity by these young citizens of Albania, the generally austere impression I had about the transmission of memory over generations began to disappear, to give way to hope and pride that not everything will be devoured by oblivion. The stories, revelations, testimonies, biographies and interviews collected by the high school students in this book have touched on sensitive ground: the fragile link between the memory of great grandparents, grandparents and grandchildren. Every Albanian heart in one way or another has a “memory deposit” that needs to be conveyed, experienced, and taken very seriously. It is the only opportunity in the postmodern chaos to closely link our identity to a unity that invites us to meditate and reflect; Where do we come from? What Calvary did our parents and grandparents have to walk through? Why today is there confusion and a bad quality of freedom? What is the attitude towards the communist crimes and the devastation of personal and collective values? Was there any justice? Was justice needed in a country stuck for 50 years in the dread of terror? How will we project the common social and national peace without conveying the message of justice, peace, and humility in front of the tragic fates of tens of thousands of families who walked the paths of communist prisons and camps and who today do not yet have a grave to lay the bones of their loved ones in? How will the future and the essence of our freedom be projected, if we refuse to learn, acknowledge, and analyse our bitter experience, which the past carved as a tattoo on our skin? The above and a number of other questions that were not answered by
20 the Albanian post-communist society, under the negligence of political and state demagogues, have been taken on by groups of conscious intellectuals, albeit somewhat late. Indeed, there is a perk of discourse with the past. There are institutions, associations, NGOs and various private operators that are doing admirable work in this regard. There is controversy and replicas in media and portals, which is positive because it means there is exchange of ideas. There are also attempts of closed minds that seek to relativize communism crimes, question and even deny them, thus preparing the recessive ground for the return of a totalitarian communist ideology. There is nostalgia, which is unfortunately supported and inspired by individuals and segments of the academic, political, and state world. Our attitude in these debates as well as the degree of our reflection and the willingness to engage in keeping the memory clean, remain essential. As we know, since the fall of the dictatorship in the media, there has been a “fight of memories” through dossiers or television studios. The memory of the dark deeds of communism tries to eclipse the memory of its victims. It is a moral and ethical citizen issue to make your choice based on the knowledge and logic of the facts. Yet today, after 28 years since the fall of the dictatorship, we still face many problems, especially of school and civic education. We continue to have curricula that are not communism-free. Our educational system must, especially in humanitarian matters, be communism-free, in order to reveal the truth and not to silence the most tragic period for our people. The response of the students of the non-public high school “Rogacionists” is clear, noble, and forward-looking: the memory of parents and grandparents is the grace where, as a phoenix, a new generation will be reborn, a new, ennobled consciousness enriched with the regrets, dreams and ideals of parents and grandparents. This generation will be the continuity of their dreams, their fulfilment, in the light of reason and justice. These high school students are now our new colleagues and give an example of civic courage to many other peers throughout Albania. With sincere greetings, Agron Tufa Director of the Institute for Crime Studies and the Consequences of Communism Tirana, 7 August 2018
21 Life During Communism in Lezhe: The Stories.
A calvary of suffering
“Do not forget this painful story, but learn and study it, because who does not learn from the history, accepts that the latter is repeated.” Generations of Albanians who grew up and were born to suffer, to be insulted, to be physically and mentally abused, even for daring to say a single word.
Llesh Frrok Doda Living with the fear of death
When the Communist Party came to power on 9 November 1941, as the only party in Albania, my great-grandfather was among its first opponents. Lleshi was the son of Frrok Dodë Prenga, one of the most well-known men in his village. He was of great influence in his village, giving advice and justice. He would never forget that day, in the morning, the sun warmed with its rays. Being a man renowned for his fearlessness, he offered his “besë” protection to a group of saboteurs, hiding them in the mountain. He was arrested after two hours, in his two-story house, which was burnt down
22 by the communists without the slightest sign of mercy. Perhaps they were not even familiar with the word mercy. Llesh Frrok Doda had 2 infant children, Mrika and Pjeter. He was imprisoned, leaving his eight-year-old daughter and four-year- old son with their mother, alone and in the streets. The first night of Lleshi’s imprisonment, his family slept somewhere in the streets of the village, in
Communism exile prison
23 some shack or house that was deserted, without any food or any clothes. After that, a distant cousin opened his home to them, offering a bowl of warm soup. My great-grandmother died after her husband’s trial. After the passing away of the head of the household, this family had no rights and would suffer for the rest of their lives. After my great-grandmother died, my grandmother and her brother Pjeter were sheltered by their uncle. They lived in the same place they were born. After their father’s imprisonment, the only thing that remained unaffected was the sky; everything else had changed. As they grew, so did their problems. They grew up without their mother and their father, without their love and without education. The mornings offered no hope, but they never gave up. Llesh Frrok Doda was jailed upon the establishment of communism and was sentenced to death, but God had not sentenced him. His life was spared. He experienced all kinds of torture in prison including the “vest of torture” where he was left fasting (no bread or water). In the “festive” days when they were given some bread, they ate it in portions and were given nothing else to eat with it. They made drinking water out of snow and were fed beans with worms; their hunger made them eat what was given. They spent many sleepless nights standing on their feet for days at a time, were hung upside down with their hands tied up, forced to do labour, and mining jobs. But, the biggest suffering was emotional. They missed their children, wives, brothers, sisters, and others more than they grieved all of the other suffering. He was freed from the prison after 15 years, because of an amnesty, which seemed more like “getting rid of him” because everyone knew that his life was coming to an end. And so it happened. After a year, he closed his eyes to never open them again. He was so tired; his strength was gone, and so was his desire to live. Indeed he had been dying slowly for 15 years. Every day a breath of him was dying out, a sunbeam faded, and a heartbeat vanished. Today his grave is polluted by time, rain, wind, and oblivion. His grave is the living personification of his miserable life. Life was harsh on him. I wish that in the afterlife, a world to which he often put his hands together and lowered his head in prayer, has given him much deserved peace.
Xhoana Frroku “Rogacionists” School class XI A
24 The history of the kulak1
This story, told to me by my mother and grandmother (my mother’s mother), is deeply rooted in my mind. I, writing this story, am the successor to a man who was persecuted by the Albanian communist regime. The story I am about to tell, comes from my mother’s grandfather, called Vat Nika. He was a rural peasant, owning land property in the Alk village of Tale, Lezha county. Vat Nika had two sons, Gjon Vati and Pjeter Vati, the latter being my mother’s father. Both brothers duly inherited the wealth of their father. Gjon Vati, who was my mom’s uncle. At a certain point in time during the 1940’s, he became the village reeve. He was elected by the villagers, for he was a noble and smart man of reliance. After the end of the war for the liberation of Albania, the communist regime came to power. This was the beginning of terror for the family of the two brothers. In 1946, in the village of Gurëz, Gjon Vati was shot by a firing squad without a trial being held, among 12 others, mostly of the Miraj tribe. The others were educated abroad. They were killed because of the wisdom that these 13 people had. The regime was afraid they would start a fight for liberation from communism. This was a great loss for the family of Vat Nika. After his brother’s execution, my mother’s father remained alone with his wife and the widow of his brother. Torture was about to continue. The grandfather owned two houses, one two-story and a one-story house. The two-story house was taken from him and became the village’s school, while the one-story house was shared with two other families, in addition to the one of the grandfathers, grandmother, and the widow. The entire property owned by their family was seized by the state, including the numerous land territories, livestock, horses, gold coins, and more. Hence, the name “Kulak”.
1. Kulak - declassed person, debarred from the political, economic and social life because of his wealth, political or religious convictions cit.
25 As if the strange denomination and the seizure of all the assets had not been sufficient, they were deprived of all rights, such as secondary and higher education. They had almost no rights towards the state or their fellow villagers. My mom was born in 1967, as the only family heir. Her family, as well as herself, were all called “Kulakë”, and she had almost no rights. She suffered the consequences of communism from birth and then at school, where she was despised by her peers, although she was among the best students at school. Despite her high school marks, she was only allowed to carry out the 8-year education. Her father died in 1979. As if all the consequences of the regime had not been enough, Mom had to grow up without her father. After a lot of hardships and sacrifices, after many months and following successive requests and pleas to a person who was connected with the Party, and prayers to God, she started high school, a year later than her peers. She graduated high school as one of the best students, but her educational journey would end there. To date, Mom keeps thinking about and regrets the end of her education. She does her best to not only educate us, me and my sister, but to satisfy our every need. After the advent of democracy, Mom breathed as if she were born for the second time. Finally she was given the chance to live free. When my mother and my grandmother tell me stories of the communist era, they are always tearful and at the end of every story they say: “Please, Lord, do not allow that time of torture, distress, and horror to ever come back.”
Written by: Kevin Vata
26 Imprisoned freedom
Freedom is the oxygen of life, without which the world would be handcuffed. Can we, as individuals or as future generations, imagine our lives isolated, without the freedom of speech and thought? I’m sure we cannot. But if we open the rusty windows of the past of our great-grandparents, grandparents, or even our own parents, we will clearly understand their suffering. The suffering strengthened their character, but left incurable wounds in their soul. While going through the long book of my grandparents’ life, blood-stained drama surfaced over many periods of Albania’s history. I would like to draw out from the black and white frames and from this great book, their story of being persecuted during the time of dictatorship. The roots of my father’s family lay in the Amull village of Ulcinj. After they moved to Boge of Shkodra Malesia, the family embedded its history deep into those lands, where they were distinguished as a family of honour and good reputation. During the Second World War, they maintained a neutral and turmoil- free attitude. After the end of the war, the dissatisfaction with the totalitarian regime that took over the country had increased, which led to the creation of many anti-communist groups. In the Malesia area, the group of Ded Shabani became famous for its bravery. My father’s grandfather, being well-known in those lands, had an early friendship with the commander-in-chief of that group, but had never been connected with them. It was a beautiful spring day in 1953, which marked a real spiritual winter for the family. The great-grandfather was going to the city of Shkodra to buy food for the family and for the livestock. To his bad luck he accidentally met Ded Shabani and his group. While they were talking, they had been surrounded by the regime’s army. They were all captured together and tortured. Later, the five members of the group together with my great-grandfather, chained alongside each other, were shot by a fire squad without even having a trial. This marks a great pain for his seven children and his wife, because after, they were declared “the kulake family,” direct opponents of the Party. All that happened was for nothing, because after a few days the
27 grandfather was declared innocent and unjustly shot. The following years were overwhelming for the family, which sought to win back its previous unjustly stolen respect and prestige. Their greatest concern was to find the remains of the head of the family, which are unknown to this day. During that time, the family managed to improve somehow their financial situation and once again rebuild the name of a respectable family in the country. Everything took a turn in 1962, when three of the sons of the unjustly shot great-grandfather, i.e. my father’s uncles, felt unhappy and oppressed by the communist regime. Thus they decided to leave Albania. Shortly before crossing the border, the youngest became repentant, thinking about his mother, who was widowed and alone. He changed his mind and returned home, while the others continued their trip. The absence of the other two brothers was immediately noticed. Police forces realized their escape and one day they broke into the house using violence against all family members. All their possessions were seized. Their hands and feet were tied and they were tortured to tell the truth. As the whole family was suffering from the torture, the youngest brother decided to tell the truth about the escape of his two brothers and his return home. Subsequently, the communist regime decided to send into exile the family in Fiershegan in Lushnja, while the youngest brother was imprisoned in the notorious Spaç prison in Mirdita and sentenced to 17 years in prison. He spent a life of suffering in that jail, where his youth died of torture. Meanwhile, his family in Lushnja spent a life of forced labour, deprived of sunlight. Their sentence, fortunately, was shorter. Their exile lasted 3 years. The return home separated the family. The oldest son of the family decided to return home, while the other three, thinking of the ill-treatment and the difficult times that they went through, decided to stay in Milot. My grandfather and his family lived in this place. Life in Milot was a sort of domestic tranquillity, but they were always pointed at as persecuted. They did not have the right to vote or participate in the party. Since Milot was a small village, with few habitants, my father’s family was the first to be blamed for anything bad that happened. They were seen as the dark shades of the village. They were not entitled to education and for many years they lived in poverty, persecution, and suffering. The years passed, and the long- awaited dream of the people came into reality. Everything improved, as the democratic spirit in Albania gave them a new life, a source of hope and a
28 new mentality.At the end of this sad story, there is one thing that rejoices me. My ancestors suffered, but they lived in honour. I’m proud of them. I hope and trust that this new era in my family’s history will be in our lives a price on the hard life of our families and a reason for which no one should be denied life, rights, and thoughts.
Written by: Klaudia Mikaj
29 A time that stopped time...
The centuries old history and geographic position makes Albania seem like a fairy tale. The mountain ridges, green meadows, and clean air that heals the lungs, make you wish to live there forever. I was born in a small village called Ndërrshen- Orosh, among this natural beauty, full of life and full of dreams. My father was also full of dreams as a parent always is for his child. But, how long would life be good to me, my father, my little brother, my grandfather, and my uncle. All that happened next were stories of suffering, feelings, sacrifices, tragic experiences, dark labyrinths where the word “light” could not even be imagined. It was an era that turned candour into gloom. It is a special feeling when your descendants want to know about that time, not just to fill some pages to be left somewhere and forgotten, but to remember the experiences of our loved ones, their sacrifices, and to keep the memories and the meaning of life alive. Today, I Gasper Gjonmarkaj, felt my heart warming up when my grandson Gerson asked me to tell him a short fragment of the many sufferings of my life during that time: Communism Time - a time that stopped time. Similar to any child we grew up understanding a few things about the family; We understood who the mother, the father, the grandfather, and the grandmother is and started dreaming for a happy family. Me and my brother Filip felt differently from our peers. We lacked an important person in our family, our father, who was arrested in 1945. My grandfather Dedë Preng Gjomarkaj disappeared from our lives. The same thing happened to my uncle Mark Gjomarkaj, a talented, reticent, perceptive young man with an admirable education. What happened to my grandfather was worthy of a story that would thrill both the young and the old. He accepted the biggest punishment and the greatest sacrifice a parent could do for their child. He gave his life, wanting to protect his child at all costs. He accepted the hanging sentence so that the life of his little son, Mark, would be spared. The cold communist rope took his life by executing him in Qafë of Valmer area on 17 of August 1949.
30 The bloodthirsty communist hand had turned into a monster and did not stop or forgive. It was thirsty for blood; for the innocent blood of the most prominent families that gave a name to the nation’s history. One of these families is the family of Gjomarkaj. It is a family of virtues and patriots who for 500 years defended the province of Mirdita, keeping it clear of any conqueror, thus inheriting the values, customs, mores and traditions of a nation. “So, my grandfather was hanged, and vanished from our sight, while my uncle Mark, whose life was spared, would not enjoy it for long. The bloodthirsty communist claw had planned to destroy the most well-known families, not only of Mirdita, but of all Albania. He was sentenced to 25 years in prison and died in a prison in Shkodra and to date there is no grave left for us to cry for the pain he left for us and for his youth broken by the communist regime. “ And as if the above were not sufficient, at the age of four me and my brother Filip, 2 years old, were sent into exile with our mother, Mrika - a woman for whom I cannot find any personification to describe her, and I cannot find the words to share with you the suffering she has been through, ... (tears run down his wrinkled face). After two years of exile in Tepelena, we returned to our native village. Our house was burned down. There were only a few corners of the walls left and nothing else. We had no place to find shelter. One of our relatives was generous and sheltered us for a few days until we could put together a place to put a roof above our heads. Two years passed, I was 6 years old, and my brother was 4. Without any explanation, the two of us along with my mother, were put on the back of a horse and after a two-day journey we arrived in Burrel town. There, they put us in a place surrounded by barbered wire and armed police, in a terrifying and lifeless place. A tall man appeared in a window and said, “Come to your father.” Oh, how warm did that voice sound! I had missed that voice a lot in the early years of my childhood, and would miss it for the next 30 years. With the burning longing of a parent, he asked us how our health was and gave us some advice, but we could not even give him a hug. The bloodthirsty hyenas of the communist regime did not allow us. It was a sad moment for all of us. With our aching hearts and our teary eyes we went back to our native village, Ndërshenë of Orosh, where the sun rays broke through the mourning of communism. From that meeting we understood that our father was not free to come home. We did not know that at the time
31 since we were very young when he was imprisoned. The reason he was put in jail was because he had been an official officer, Major of the Police Headquarters in Shkodra and had held important management positions in the Ministry of Interior of that time. He spoke two foreign languages and with his democratic spirit, he could not tolerate a totalitarian system like communism that was established in Albania. The rest of our remaining family: me, my brother, mother and grandmother, were sent into exile in Tepelena for four years. The massacre against our family would continue with executions, imprisonments, exiles, and a class struggle at school, where we felt isolated from the rest of the society. The regime wanted to root out our identity, our culture, our religious faith, and wanted to destroy our family name. When I get lost in thoughts, deep inside me, I am a happy parent and a happy grandparent. I feel happy because I understand and notice the big difference between the times I’ve lived and the present. Freedom is the most precious thing in a human life. Only those who have been deprived of it can understand its importance. My children live a very good life in the United States, because it is the place of dreams and freedom. But, I wish they would live here, on their motherland. Deep inside me I hope and wish that, despite what it has experienced, and this prolonged transition, Albania will become the land of dreams. And it will be rebuilt by the youth, like my grandson Gerson and his peers, who are in no way related to communism, but they ought to know the regime their predecessors lived through. I often ask myself, Why? Why do my grandchildren and those of thousands of other grandparents like me, not grow up in Albania? Albania needs to further strengthen freedom and democracy, to build a system of merit and values. It is above all, a duty of the youth to make Albania flourish; to make Albania the country that was deeply loved by all those who gave their lives over the centuries for a free and prosperous Albania. This land is where peace prevails, and they will raise the country high, where it deserves, as the “Country of the Eagles” that fly in the sky.
Written by: Gerson Gjoni
32 An indelible trace
Communism for me and my peers is simply a political organization in Albania in a certain period of the development of the Albanian state. But speaking to our parents or grandparents about this, you will hear other words coming out of their lips. They recall that time to have been too difficult to live in. Their (communists) rules were nonsense and with no legal basis, but were driven by a person who used people and their lives the way it pleased him. One day, my father saw me reading about the communist era in Albania, and decided to tell me his story. An indelible imprint on my father’s memory, which cannot be deleted by the passing of time, was the imprisonment of my grandfather. The reason for his imprisonment is simply because he wanted to defend his rights. He rebelled against the injustices of the government, did not endure exploitation, and refused to accept that although his family had worked hard, that the fruit of their hard work was taken away, with only a small part left for them. Claiming your rights is more than normal nowadays, but during the communist era this was a great offense. My grandfather was only 18 years old when he was imprisoned. At that age, all of his peers were thinking about or planning a wedding party, but my grandfather’s thoughts were focused on how to survive in jail while going days without eating at all. He longed to talk to and support others. Together, with a prisoner in the adjacent cell, they had created their own vocabulary. They communicated through knocks on the wall, with each letter having a certain sound. He was 28 years old when he was freed from prison. Throughout his entire life he was haunted by the status of the politically persecuted, which was an impediment for him in many efforts he tried to undertake. This trace has also affected my father’s life. During his high school studies my father had very good marks and was the most distinguished student of the school. Nevertheless, he could never realize his desire to become a medical doctor. His high marks made him famous, but he never got what he deserved. They tried to cover up his results, offering him a veterinary scholarship. To date my father feels that his dream was not accomplished because of
33 a system that led society to regression. But he was not alone in this “war” with no victory; he had friends with whom life was often cruel and unfair. Mornings have often been gloomy and nights fulminant, but there is always sun after the rain. And after that rain of his youth, we were born, enjoying now a rainbow of righteousness. Our lives are built over the blood and tears of our parents and we must be grateful and humble for their sacrifices.
Written by: Ermelinda Lleshaj
34 My family’s suffering
For the vast majority of the Albanian population, the communist regime was a very difficult and painful period. This has been the case formy grandmother’s family, who suffered from the regime. My grandmother’s (father’s mother) father was persecuted by Communism. During the years 1939-1942, my great-grandfather, Mark Rroku, spent three years in the military service while Albania was under Italian occupation. When the Communist Party came to power, he and many other men who had already carried out the military service were asked to join the army as recruits. This requirement was only for the poor who had no privileges from the party. My great-grandfather and 27 other men in the Zadrima area refused and wanted to desert and leave for Greece, but unfortunately they were caught in Korça. When asked why they were leaving the homeland, they said, “We have served three years in the military for our homeland and for the flag. We will not serve for every party that comes to power.” The People’s Assembly decided that all, including my great-grandfather, would be executed for attempting to desert the homeland. Out of the 27, only 5 were shot dead by the firing squad. My great-grandfather survived death. I was very surprised to hear from my grandmother about how he escaped the execution. While chained in prison, something happened; we can call it a miracle. The chains fell off. The officer went to the cell and chained him again, but again the chains could not tie his hands. The third time the officer beat the other inmates because he thought they had helped him to free from the chains. One of the inmates, Abaz Jakupi, said that even if they would kill them all, Mark Rroku would be saved by the night of St. Nicholas, and so it happened. Five of them were shot and the others were sentenced to life imprisonment. Grandpa Mark refused the sentence and appealed to the People’s Assembly for another trial. Another decision was made sentencing him to 20 years in prison, which he carried out in Gjirokastra Prison. Taking advantage of his work and the amnesty for the November Feasts, he suffered only 12 years in prison.
35 Even after the jail sentence was over, persecution continued. His children, my grandmother, were not entitled to education because her father was politically persecuted. Grandmother told me how her father, every night, on St. Nicholas’ night, lit a candle, because that night had somehow saved his life. He did all this at the risk that someone might sue him, because faith and religion were still forbidden. These are pieces of the story my grandma tells me from time to time. Every time I hug my father, my grandmother bows her head, puts her hands together and raises them toward the sky and says; “May you be with the Lord, my father!”
Stela Lera
36 My father remembers...
My father knew communism in every aspect, as a child, a teenager, and a man. He grew up in that spirit, saw everything, discovered everything, and experienced everything. He was a solar child, full of life, nimble and capable of adapting to any situation. His eyes saw many things happen, and his mind still remembers everything. He remembers and keeps his clothes and those of other children. He remembers how his mother worked hard in the cooperative. Although the conditions were difficult, my dad speaks with great nostalgia for his childhood; how he was delighted to help his mother, bringing food to the agrimotor drivers or dehulling the maize. He is the oldest of three children, and often tells us that all the housework and the care for the other two brothers was his duty, as my grandmother worked almost all day in the cooperative. The work was not easy, but he worked on milking the cows and collecting potatoes and various agricultural crops. He remembers how food was divided into equal portions for everybody, where bread, was distributed per capita, based on the number of family members. Also, milk was divided into three quarts per capita. The favourite food for a child at that time was a piece of bread covered in sugar and “four” drops of water on top, to stop the sugar from being blown away by the wind. When the kids were hungry between lunch and dinner, my grandmother often soaked a piece of bread in the big pot where the beans were cooking and gave it to the kids, who would go out and play until dark with half empty stomachs. Years passed, my father grew up and had to go to high-school. The nearest school was in Zejmen. Our father often reminds us of how lucky we are, because we don’t have to walk to school like he did, every day under the sun, in the rain, or in the snow from Talya to Zejmen, on a path that took two hours. During that period it was strictly forbidden to grow your hair long or wear tight pants (for boys), and girls were allowed to wear only long skirts. He remembers the many dancing evenings he had at that time, where music was played either by an orchestra or cassettes, which contained only
37 Albanian music. Any foreign display or music was strictly forbidden. He remembers the many volunteer jobs that he carried out like gathering snails or dehulling corn. He also speaks about the massive participation of young people in sports activities that started early in the morning with the famous morning gymnastics and then all the other sports, such as running races, hammer throwing, javelin throwing, etc. At that time, women in these sports activities wore bloomers, while men had to wear short pants. Each village had health and cultural centres, where the latter encouraged children’s talents, and taught them to write party slogans on the walls. My father tells me that every man, male or female, knew how to use a rifle. He says that every citizen was mobilised and divided into sectors in case of an attack by the enemy. He talks about “ZBOR” which was a kind of military training involving the entire population. This was life in the villages, whereas in the cities, as far as my mother can remember, it was a little different and less tedious. Although she was very young, my mother remembers standing in line for dairy products. The line started at three o’clock in the morning. She also remembers a time when Koci Xoxe was declared a traitor and because of that it was strictly forbidden to wear “X” striped socks. These are the memories of my father and mother’s youth. In general terms I can say that they have been “lucky” since their own families have not suffered or experienced persecution or harassment like many other young people and other families in that period.
Written by: Megan Luca
38 The traces of communism in my family
The event takes place in the village of Mali i Rrëzuar, Mnelë. The niece of Frrok Dodë Kalëza tells ... “My grandfather, Frrok Dodë Kala, was married to Gjela Prend Përndreca from Gomsiqja in Puka district. Frroku had good relations with his wife’s family. His father-in-law, Prend Përndreca, and both his sons, Luka and Kaqel, had studied abroad and supported the Christian religion. At the time, Luka was a soldier, while Prend and Kaqel were hiding in the mountains, because they were considered “political opponents”. They opposed the laws of the Communists and as such were wanted by the state. Frrok Dodë Kala offered them food and water, but this action was far from welcomed by the government. Some communist spies reported this move, and Frrok Dodë Kala was caught that very night while asleep. He was sent to Hajmel’s investigation office and was kept there for a week, but the decision about his life was made at the time of his arrest. After a few days, they sent him back home in order to murder him. One of the soldiers who had murdered him had told Frrok’s wife that before he breathed his last breath, Frroku asked to see his land once more. After a while, he was hanged on a wild pear looking over his home, accused of “Opposing Party Laws and Supporting Political Opponents”. That did not end there. The next day nobody dared to move his body from the scene. His wife, Gjela, went secretly during the night and buried her murdered husband’s body under the tree where they hung him. It was not allowed to bury him in the cemetery, and it was strictly forbidden even to visit his tomb and clean the surrounding, which his family members secretly did anyway. But it was not only Frroku who suffered, so did his descendants’ generations. His two sons Doda and Ndou were not entitled to go to high school even though they had excellent marks. While serving in the army, they were the lowest ranked and were never allowed to serve as soldiers at the border. The same happened to the grandchildren of Frrok. At the time of democracy, the remains of Frrok Dodë Kala were buried in the Catholic cemetery of St. Rrok in Fushë Pëllumb. Written by: Elsa Tuku
39 Gjon Nik Syku was the grandfather of my father...
Gjon Nik Syku was the grandfather of my father. He was a well-known man in his province, in Bregu i Matës. This was before the Communist regime suffocated him. He was a very wealthy man at the time, had many livestock, and many land properties. His tower was among the most beautiful and was renowned for its fame, for the men that grew up in it, and for the bravery that came out of the door of that tower. At that time, when people in the region wanted to show or make a comparison with something magnificent, they used to say, “Similar to the tower of Gjon Nik Syk.” In addition to his wealth and fame he was famous for being a wise man. When men of the village were gathered to discuss on matters, he certainly stood at the head of the group. After several years, when the authorities at the time understood that they could not diminish his reputation, they issued orders of expropriation, to seize all the land, cattle, and burn down his tower. That was the only way to “demolish” the tower of Gjon Nik Syk and together with it, its landlord. He was sentenced to 10 years in jail in the dark cells constructed by the regime of the time. During his sentence, the other members of the Sykaj family were convicted, shot, and the rest were called “Kulakë” and enemies of the peopleTen years passed and Gjon got out of jail haggard in all senses. After several years, Gjergj Kaçeli asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage for his son, and so the two tribes were bound in a strong friendship. Once again, the regime found an excuse to oppose Gjon because no one should bond with a kulak. They were the black shadow of the society. Gjergji refused to disrupt friendship and as a “gift” for this bond, he was sentenced to 30 years in prison, but only after 5 years, his case was reopened for trial. According to some observations, they had come to the conclusion that Gjergj had attempted to escape, and on the basis of this false accusation, he was sentenced to death. The Kaçel tribe was considered enemy of the people and kulak. Not much later after the death of Gjergj Kaceli, another disaster was
40 about to strike. The life of Gjon Syku, Gjergj’s friend, was coming to an end. One night, a spy of the party, knocked at the door of Gjon’s home where he was received as a true friend. Little did he know that this would be the last friend he would open his home to. A few hours after they had dinner, the communist forces surrounded his house and called for him to surrender his friend. Without knowing the truth, Gjon defended his guest according to the tradition of the local highlanders. He got his rifle and responded to others that they could capture his house guest only over his dead body. The endurance did not last long, because a bullet from the guest’s revolver shot him in the back of his head and ended the bravery, the legacy, and the life of Gjon. For many years after the deaths of Gjon Syk and Gjergj Kaçel, their families were haunted by the fame of kulak. My father and my uncles did not receive any education and had to work the worst jobs because of their biography. Today, when the sun shines on the grave plaques marking the birth and death dates of the two great men, their glory and manliness is sung and will be sung throughout the generations. Written by: A. S
41 A perspective on the Vig’ Heroes
The black shadow that covered my ancestors and left its traces that can still be felt nowadays, began in 1944. Precisely with the murder of “The Heroes of the Vig.” This was the year when the spirit of communism had just begun to spread. (Referring to the northern part of Albania, Mirdita.) My great-grandfather Pjetër Lleshi, from Gjegjan of Puka, after completing the 6 years studies in Shkodra, was transferred to Vienna, Austria to finish his higher education studies. He returned to his homeland having gained a vast education (he could speak and write in seven foreign languages), and was appointed mayor in the commune of Vig in Shkodra. In 1944, some unknown people had entered Vig. The inhabitants of the village complained to the nearest state entity, to the commune. These men said the visitors wanted to spread communism slowly and unconsciously. Pjeter Lleshi ordered them to hand over their guns and leave unless, according to the custom, someone was to come forward and offer them their besa, in which case their presence would not have been a problem. But none of the residents agreed and wanted to send them away from Vigu as soon as possible. The order to hand over the guns was still valid, but it was altered by those who were ordered, who in their mind were determined to kill them and so they did. In August 1944 was the murder of “The Heroes of the Vig”. Pjetër Lleshi was held responsible for this murder, who was not guilty of what had happened. Knowing that there was no escape, he ran into the mountains with some other men. It is said that Pjetër Lleshi had an advanced Western mentality and opposed communism, unlike his brother Nikolla, who was a teacher and had communist ideology. People were sent to Pjetër’s family for his wife, Mara, and the children (Zef and Frroku) who were sent into exile in Lezha. Then they sent them back for 10 days to their native village in Gjegjan, in order to make Peter return to meet his family so they could arrest him. He was not tempted by this despite missing his family in every cell of his body. Mara and the children were sent back to exile to Tepelena and later to Tirana. During this time Pjetër wandered in the mountains together with other men. His older son accompanied him. The boy was wounded during
42 the escape and the wound had worsened rapidly and death was quickly approaching. Pjetër was forced to kill him to ease his pain and to keep him from falling into the hands of the partisans. In 1948 the spies had tracked down the location of Pjeter and they were arrested in Fushë-Krujë. Their plan had been that if they were caught, they would fight until their last breath and that their death would not come from the partisans. They would kill each other, if necessary. This plan was strictly implemented by all, who, after fighting with the partisans, kept the last bullet and shot each other. They remained dead in the snow for 6 months and were found and buried later. After his death, Mara and her children returned home from exile and found everything burned down and destroyed. Life became even more difficult... Their living conditions were very difficult, and their rights were completely denied, along with many other families. Isolation killed them a second time. No one knocked at their door to comfort them, neither to offer some wood for heat, nor a piece of bread for the orphans. None of them were entitled to education. During the years of democracy in Albania, the only hopes to build a future were abroad from our country, across the sea. The sacrifices of emigration have run through the years and continue to date... NOTE: The film that was performed in honour of “The Heroes ofthe Vig” is disapproved by the legends of those who lived during that period.
Melanika Lleshi
43 ...pioneers want freedom...
They were both born in the same year, on the same date, with the same joy. It was the year when Albania became an independent country, had its own government and no other country could claim it. The red and black flag was raised with the big two-headed eagle. Everyone was enthusiastic. The thought that they now lived free and happy in their land prevailed in the minds of all. Prendi lost his father, remaining alone with his mother as “head of the household” with her three children, two daughters and one boy. The boy had to take over his father’s duties and bear the responsibilities that his father once had. He grew up as an orphan, without the presence of the one who would have been his best friend. Prendi was aggressive, impulsive, and tolerated nothing, even though his average body and angelic face showed the opposite. He was a hardworking, agile boy. On the other hand Dranja was a wise, pretty and hard-working girl, raised in a Christian-loving family. Her family belonged to the higher levels of the society, so they found it reasonable to open their home to the orphan, and help him change, become a good, regular boy, treating him as a son. With the help of God and friends, they got married to each-other. They crowned their marriage in the church, as per Christian tradition, and received God’s blessing. Life was generous to them, giving them four children, one boy and three daughters. Their home was a quiet place near a water spring and a great meadow to spend the afternoon. It was a place to be envied. They raised livestock, such as sheep, had bees, and planted fruit and vegetables in the garden. Prendi was lovable, polite at work and everywhere, but did not tolerate the words said by anyone, so the temptation was stronger than his patience. (Based on what the “nandaja” told me as she knew him well.) It was Easter time. At that time, almost everything was handmade, shirts, cinctures etc. On the Great Saturday she had been awake until late embroidering the shirt for Easter Sunday. The next day he went to church, well dressed and fluttered. At sunset, they had torn down and destroyed them all. People had teased him in the courtyard of the church, and when he left the church, he got in a fight. In that fight, alone against three, he suffered badly.
44 Her husband always said that there was no one who could defend them, and that he needed a rifle as his ‘brother’. She had told him that their strongest weapon was the rosary, but still he bought a rifle and brought it home. Every time he had a debate with anyone, he went and took the rifle and felt stronger. At that time the state had decided to collect weapons from every house. He felt that a cold wild wind was approaching; communism was approaching, which would penetrate deeply into the Albanian society. Prendi was infuriated, he escaped into the mountains and no one knew whom he became a group with. My mother tells me that when I was 5-6 years old, I was playing in the yard with my 4-year-old sister, while the youngest sister Dila was in the crib. My mother was busy with housework when four policemen came to our house as they had found out that Prendi would return. The dusk was about to fall. The last rays of the sun had covered the sky painting it in a reddish colour. “The dusk was falling slowly. As soon as I saw my dad, I had the urge to jump in his arms and play with him and he would fondle me with the love that only a father can give. But he saw the cops, threw away whatever he was holding in his hand, and fled toward where he came. Since that night I never saw him again, none of us did. “ Thus, the Calvary of family sufferings and tribulations began. My father escaped to the mountains, forming a group against Bolshevism, of what was coming to Mirdita, Albania. My desperate mother had a lot of work. She was too busy, taking care of four children, the house, and the ‘troubles of her husband’; where he was eating, sleeping. She wept often over him and did not know what to do. The time of exile came shortly after, but we were not the only ones. They took poor Drane with the four children; the oldest was Gjon eight years old, followed by Mary six years old, I was four years old and the little Dila only two years old, who had just started to walk her first steps. The place they were sent was a real hell. What would they eat, where would they wash up, where would they sleep, and what kind of lifestyle would it be? There was nothing there, just pain and tears. That place was mined since the second world war. Adults were kept somewhat safe, but the children did not stop playing and enjoying each moment. They would gather, make a ball of rags, or some other games and did not stop playing. Then, in a moment, a bomb would explode, and there were pieces of children’s flesh flying in the open
45 sky. It killed the soul, and the pain would overcome all and tear their hearts to pieces. The youngest girl became weaker by the day. The lack of food was killing them slowly and it did not take long until the day Dila flew somewhere far away, where she would never again feel the hunger. The mother took a big shirt, and together with some other women, cut and sewed a small dress and put it on little Dila. They made a box that would be her new bed and buried her there. She was not the only child to have that fate. Power was taken by ruthless people. One day they took Drane, telling her that she had to go with them because she was the wife of a criminal, a fugitive. So they loaded a sack full of beans on her shoulders and forced her to take it to the canteen. That sack was heavier than her small slightly bent body. It was impossible for her to carry such a weight on her shoulder. She implored them to divide it, so she could transport it easier, but in vain. They kicked her in her body despising her and ordered her to do as they were saying. Meanwhile, her eyes darkened, her knee was twisted and she fell to the ground without any strength. What did the others do? They looked at her and laughed at her. Someone there said to them: “Stop it people, pity her. She is the mother of three children who are alone.” There were these three good women who stood by each other and went through all the suffering together. They were related to each other. In that place were also the family of Gjon-Markaj and relatives of Marie Tuci. There were also soldiers and doctors who remained there since the end of the war, not returning to their homeland. When she became conscious again, Drane saw this German doctor who was taking care of her health. He said to her that she would need to stay for a few months in the hospital in Gjirokastra and take medicines that would heal any knee pain and enable her to walk again. That’s exactly what happened. While the days and nights were of the same colour, someone gathered men, women and children and said, “Listen dear children, as we can see, the situation is getting more difficult day by day, disasters do not stop and every single moment we see adults and children dying of starvation. Every day a mine explodes or an explosion happens somewhere. We have heard that comrade Enver and comrade Stalin will pass by this area in a new car, and you have to go in front of them and say exactly this: “Enver-Stalin, the pioneers want freedom.” Cheer loudly and do not stop or do not let the car pass. Greet and ask for help loudly and maybe they get out of the cars, and
46 maybe they are merciful. “ The next day happened just as planned. They went there, and the children gathered and surrounded the car and sought mercy and freedom. Out of surprise, the hearts of the two most savage, perhaps the most merciless people of the time, were softened. They ordered that whoever had relatives could take the children from there and shelter them. The only one to suffer the sentence would be the adult family members, mothers and fathers. The innocent and defenceless children gained freedom and with the help of the state they were brought home. Grandmother says: “Me and Gjon were taken to Naraç to our aunt. The little Prenda, just 5 years old, refused to come with us, although our mother was in hospital in Gjirokastra, she was crying loudly and said - “No! I do not want to leave my mother here alone, I cannot.. I cannot do this. Everyone who was there cried their eyes out. When they took us to our aunt, they left us at the corner of the yard. They lit a fire and put water to boil, put wood ash in the water which they were going to drain and wash us to clean us from all the lice in our heads and in our bodies. They dressed us in the best garments of their children, who were the same age as us and fed us with the best food they had at home. “ Later the children were sent to their uncles in Korthpulë. Dranja, who was still ill in the hospital, informed her friends to send her youngest daughter to the uncles, so she could be with her brother and sister, and so they did. There were some merchants who took the little Prenda with the promise to take her to her uncles. Drania stayed there for a few more months until she was healed and returned to Tepelena, until she finished her sentence and then returned to her brothers. Prend was still alive, out in the mountains, with no return. He walked with his friends in and out to Yugoslavia, but he lived a bad and very difficult life. His friends told him there was only one way to get out of there, and they would emigrate to America. He could not stand to live such a life without his family, and could not abandon them in that way, even though he had already left them behind. He had left alone the ones he loved so much. He had made several attempts to see them in secret, but it was all in vain; it was impossible. His name and face were wanted by the state, to get rid of him once and for all. His companions left, crossed the ocean to another homeland and started a new life. They had told him that there was no return, there would be no mercy for
47 him. Yet he returned home, knowing he was walking toward a sure death. One evening at sunset, his mind, his heart and his legs drove him to his family. He came back and found shelter in an abandoned house but someone had seen him and spied on him. The house was surrounded by policemen and communists, who caught him by surprise and compelled him to go outside, together with a friend, with whom he grew up. He would never have wanted to fight with Prendi, but perhaps that was destiny. Prendi was asked to surrender, but he refused, knowing them too well. And when the night fell, someone lit a small lighter and killed his childhood friend. That night, there was shooting, and two people were killed. On a hilltop they dug a tomb and informed one of his sisters to put him in a tomb without a coffin, without ceremony as if he were not a human being. The sister cried before him, kissed him on both cheeks, his forehead, took off her head scarf and covered his face, and desperately cried for the loss of her only brother, whom she was giving her last farewell. Those terrible years were followed by the democracy, which was the beginning of a new life and the overcoming of the endless suffering. In the early years of democracy, one of Prend’s friends came back from America and told in details the story of what they went through. He told how they implored Prendi to not go back home, but he refused. He refused because he wanted to be with his family but faced a bitter end of his life.
Written by: M.T
48 The calvary of communist persecutions
My family was part of the long Calvary of suffering during communism. I know that the story of those tribulations comes dim to me and to all people today. Yet, in the minds of our parents are millions of sufferings. Communism did not allow anyone to prosper. “Those were hard times,” says my father. It was also hard to accept the “Agrarian Reform”, which expropriated the big owners without any reward and gave their property to other villagers for use. This expropriated land was neither sold nor purchased, so they were owners without any rights over their property. Making resistance to laws or any reform would be met with imprisonment, exile, or physical violence at minimum. My family was among those who suffered from the regime. They suffered from the communist persecution, which remained like a “black stain” for many months and years. It was difficult to remove any “nickname” this “stain” gave you, which was passed to every successive generation. Kallmeti is known as one of the places that has maintained and fostered fanatically the rites of the Christian religion. One of the defendants was Zef Lorenci, who was convicted after serving in the holy mass at the Kallmet church and for possessing a land parcel which he did not give to the “Mother Party”. He was called a Kulak, isolated and cut off forever from the opportunity to have friends. He was imprisoned in the most notorious dictatorships’ jail cells. Suffering and torture were unbearable. My grandfather and his grandson tried to help him, to meet him, but without any success. And there was still more to come. My grandfather was one of the personalities of the time, working in the former Committee of the Party in Lezha and in the State Bank. Because of the family bond he had with Zef, he was outcast from the Party. Unfortunately, my uncle also became part of this warfare, because in one of the meetings he claimed his right for education and apparently he had opposed some laws and ways of governing. He eventually was able to start school, but the story continued. During one of “actions” for collecting cattle in the village, it was noticed that our family had kept a piglet hidden and this became an alarming issue. The faculty where my uncle studied received a letter to stop his studies.
49 However, being a hard-working and a smart boy, after many efforts and hardships, my uncle managed to complete his education. It takes a long time to describe a Calvary of sufferings, but I believe that the above words filled with anger and pity, suffice to bring back a distant reality.
Written by: Luiza Gjoka
50 Suffering without knowing the reason why...
Communism was a terrible part of Albanian history, but no matter how dark it may have been, we cannot hide it forever. Just as a medal has two faces, so does history have two sides. On one side lies the shame and the many massacres done to “kill” the right of speech, freedom, culture, and knowledge. On the other is the resistance many intellectuals, clergymen, and also our relatives undertook to gain the “right to live”. One of the many yet rare stories is the one of a relative who unfortunately has experienced all kinds of pain and torture in one of the most horrible and infamous prisons of that time; the Burrel Prison also known as the “Hell Prison”. The boy is Dede Begeja, who was arrested for reasons that I would call absurd, or rather excuses to ban the right of free speech and thought. He was sentenced to 8 years in prison. The trial was more a formality, as anything he would say in his defence was used against him. Even worse, it was considered an offense to the state and the politics of the time. He never gave up expressing his thoughts and fighting the evil that was rooted in our country. Unfortunately, this did not bring any results, as later he was sentenced to death by shooting. Since his family were co-operative workers and people who had not “broken” any rule, they decided to spare his life by “shooting” him with 25 years in Burrel prison. Every day there was a torture. He was taken to work in the deepest and toughest areas. After 12 hours of hard work, there was no food or water for him, but only a stick hitting him in the ribs if he complained. He often fainted. When the temperatures inside the prison fell below zero, they punished him by hanging him upside down and throwing cold water at him (so cold that it froze on his chest). While in prison, he was bound with chains, weighing 25 kg per foot, which made standing up a difficult position. Among tortures and suffering he spent 14 years in a dungeon hidden in the earth. And finally, a ray of light found its way through the darkness, with the collapse of the fierce system and the arrival of a new era; DEMOCRACY began to flourish. Along with the democracy arrived a bit of joy in the overwhelming life of a man who suffered without even knowing the reason why. Written by: Brixhilda Deda
51 To live or not to live ... that was the fear
After serving in the army at the age of 18, Pjeter Mark Ndreca continued to work in the army for a three-year period where he was distinguished for his skills and preparation, and was soon ranked a n.c.o. After that, the Party assigned him to take over the function of the leader, which he accepted, led by the desire to develop his area, Kashnjet. He consistently stayed in charge, being chairman of the council or co- operative chairman, after the gathering of the lands and property of the people. He was a practical man, enjoying work in the field, not in the office. Although he was the chairman, he continuously helped those who did not meet the norm. However, he had always been under the surveillance of the espionage network created by Enver Hoxha. It was the means the latter used to extend his power to every corner of Albania and consequently every resident lived in fear, living under censorship as they were terrified by the state security. However, in 1953, long before Pjeter went to serve in the army, one night there was a knock at the door of his father Mark’s house. It was midnight and a rainy night. It was the uncle of Pjeter’s wife, who was looking for shelter for that night. He was wanted by the state and wanted to escape, aiming to emigrate to America. He spent the night and was offered food by Pjeter’s father. Although all this happened at night, this event did not remain out of sight of the spies or “hafie” as Pjeter called them. This event weighted heavily on his shoulders, and would be used against him after 20 years. Throughout this time, Pjeter was always subject to state security, followed in his every move by the people trusted by the Party. They always attempted to overthrow him through provocations of the “hafie”, at a time when a word said in the wrong place was of much weight. Pjeter always came out of these traps with the same wit as they were set up, trusting only in his circle of close friendship. His accurate work and good management of the Kashnjet area made it impossible and probably delayed his arrest. Later on, the “hafie’ used the last means, sending an anonymous letter to the Party, saying that Pjeter had organised a dinner for some people holding certain official positions in the
52 area, accusing him of abusing the state funds. In reality Peter did not attend that dinner, as he understood that something was being made up. In 1979, the security service movements were greatly increased, and therefore Pjeter tried to run away, deciding to leave the whole family behind. He went to Puka, at Gjegjani mine, where he found a friend to help him escape, and was received very well and with generosity. The harmony he found among the miners made him change his mind and go back home, although the state security awaited him. In May 1979, he was arrested on charges of agitation, political propaganda, and treason against the nation. At the time of the arrest, he confirmed the event by not rejecting the traditions, the manhood, and generosity of a true man of Mirdita, for he had done nothing wrong. For this he was sentenced to 25 years in prison. However, the prison sentence was a small blow compared to what happened to his family. His brother, Palush, was barbarously beaten in order to be compelled to speak to Pjeter while visiting him in prison, hoping to discover something through interceptions. Pjeter refrained from speaking to his brother during the meetings, even though the desire to do so was great. His other brother Gjergj was dismissed from his position of policeman in Shengjin, while his son was expelled from school for being the nephew of a criminal. Pjeter’s son, Gjoka, was removed from office as a school principal in Kaluer, Kashnjet, together with his partner, Drane, who was a kindergarten teacher. They were both transferred to work as workers in the cooperative. His sister’s son, Tom, was also expelled from the law school in Tirana. Gjyste, Pjeter’s daughter, was not allowed to start school for fruit cultivation, but with the insistence and goodness of the school principal, she managed to complete the studies. His cousins were also persecuted. In addition to his family torments, Pjeter continued to suffer many tortures at the notorious Spaç prison. He was brutally beaten and also had to endure the cold temperatures in the Spaç area. He got very seriously ill. He was laying bleeding in his last breaths and no one cared. Although the doctor, whom Pjeter very much respected, tried to explain the seriousness of Pjeter’s health conditions, the officer refused to put him under medical treatment. Pjeter was laying bleeding, with not enough strength even to open his eyes, but he was aware of what was happening around him. He prayed to the Lord to give him power to open his eyes, just to see the face of the heartless officer. The doctor insisted and managed to provide medical care to Pjeter. He had surgery, and luckily his life was saved in the last few
53 moments. Then his health gradually improved and he continued to suffer his sentence until the communist regime collapsed. The communist regime was the highest form of tyranny and barbarism, where every possible means or even thoughts were used to serve one man’s beliefs. There was ongoing suffering, poverty, persecution, imprisonment, elimination of adversaries and skilled men, espionage, and inhumane torture. All resembled a chaos. It may have been a very dark episode for the society of that time and especially for my family, but despite all, I am proud of any difficulties they have faced and overcome.
Written by: Dionis Bilani
54 To never be departed
It was 9 August 1949 when the fate of an entire family changed. What happened on that day is something that decided the fate of many people. That day in Kaçinar in Mirdita, Bardhok Biba was killed. Twenty people were sentenced for his murder. In addition, the two brothers P.GJ and Ll.GJ from Mirdita were suspects. Their life changed forever. From this event, P.GJ. ended up killed, while Ll.GJ. after much effort and suffering managed to escape and save himself. The escape gave his body peace and quiet but brought much suffering and tears to the family. His prison cell was not to remain empty, so someone would have to pay the price. For a long time, the division soldiers greeted their house with gun shots. They wanted to find Ll.Gj. at any cost. The family had to go through the most terrible tortures. Their nails were pulled out, they suffered the torture of boiled eggs, as well as many other tortures. Despite the torture, no mother, sister, or wife could betray her man. They faced everything and did not reveal the location of Ll.Gj. His fate remained unknown for a long time; no one knew if he was alive or dead. In the midst of their screams from the torture and hope deeply rooted in their hearts, they expected at least a letter to arrive from him, but there was no sign from him at all. Everything was forbidden by censorship, because he was labelled a traitor by the Albanian state. The truth was completely different. He was not a traitor, he was a victim in the midst of that whirlwind. He started off as a sailboat with no navigation, following the wind. At first the wind was not at his favour and led him to “hell”. He was imprisoned in a Yugoslav prison for 3 years. When everything seemed impossible and there was no salvation, a mighty breeze arrived to save him from the darkness where he had fallen. The second time, the fearful sails stopped at the shores of America, where he lived for many years. With the arrival of democracy, he managed to return to his homeland and meet his relatives. Grey hair had covered his head, as well as his soul. The feeling of guilt, the desire and the goodwill to see his mother and everyone else had troubled his sleep every night. A new day had arrived, where the whole family was gathered. There was a great celebration and a loud drum
55 was heard in the neighbourhoods. It was neither a wedding party nor a new baby being born, but the pieces of the heart came together, and blood began once again to flow, calm, happy and full of hope to never be departed again.
Ornela Lleshi
56 A story from the communist era...
It is by no means easy for the people who have experienced the communist period to talk about it, and even less believable by the today’s generation that was not affected by the darkness of that period. My events, like any other Albanian (some more and less), are painful to the degree that they seem like a nightmare that you do not know how to wake up from. To tell the truth, it has always been difficult for me to talk about these stories, but since the generation that experienced this period the same way I did or even worse is slowly dying out, I decided to leave behind another testimony. At that time I was a child, had two sisters and two brothers. We were a big family and, we lived with my three uncles. The adults worked, but the salaries were minimal, so they could hardly provide enough food, but we were happy. We kids did not feel the pressure of that regime the same way our parents did. We went to school wearing clothes that we had been wearing for the past two years, with patches here and there. Sometimes we had to wait for our brothers and sisters to return from school, so that we could put on their clothes. Our shoes were torn, but we did not ask for new ones. We were happy because what we had was all we knew. How could we know more? No one was living a better life than us and maybe that was what made us somehow happy. Our family prayers were said every night, though in silence. We were all Christians with full faith in God, and this is the origin of the whole story. When I was born, my youngest uncle was 26 years old. I remember that when I was little, my uncle always spoke to me about God and had a special relationship with Him; more special than the rest of us. When the regime forbade Albanians any religious belief, no threat could stop my uncle from believing in church, religion, and in the Lord. He was not the only one in our family who continued to believe, but my father and two other uncles already had families and knew what it meant to care for someone and that any punishment that would be given to them would also affect us. My uncle was not married and went to church almost every day, thus he started to desire to become a servant of God. They had warned him, had told him so often to disengage from the church, but there was no regime, no “Enver” that could be more holy than the Lord.
57 I remember that night when my uncle arrived home, furiously packing his few clothes and bid us farewell. I was nine years old and I did not understand what happened, but later I found out he had fled to Italy. State services had ordered his arrest because he believed in God. They had forbidden his right to freedom only because he did not want to turn away from the Lord. Certainly there was no reason to obey a meaningless, unprincipled punishment. After greeting him, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Although I was still a child, I understood at some level what was about to happen to us. I felt that I would not see my uncle anymore. A week after the state had learned about his escape, they sent three officers to give us the deportation order and make us immediately leave home. I remember very well that terrible day when the officers appeared at the door of our old house. We knew that they had come to give us a sentence, because this topic had been discussed in our house hundreds of times. They told us we had only 20 minutes to gather our belongings and then to get on the truck that was waiting for us outside. Those were moments of horror. I was standing in a corner of the room and watched my mother and the wives of our uncles crying as they quickly packed our clothes. We got on the truck, but we were not the only ones. There, we found another family from a village far from ours but from the same area. That was the longest trip I ever had. Perhaps it seemed long from our tears which made minutes seem like hours. Our mother was holding us tight and repeated constantly, “What will we do now ?!” When we arrived, we were told that we were in Tepelena, more precisely in a very distant village of Tepelena. We settled in a house with terrible conditions, in a room without electricity, no tapped water and the rest you can imagine yourself. My oldest uncle had two sons, while the other uncle had two sons and one daughter. We all lived together in that room, where we stayed, ate, and slept. My oldest brother and three of my uncles’ children were at the age to start high school, but due to our miserable fortune, this was forbidden to us. We were banned from any kind of opportunity to be educated or employed. The only salary we received was the minimum wage from cooperative work, which for 16 people was not sufficient even to survive. My little sister Rajmonda was only nine months old when we were moved to Tepelena. After two years, when she was not yet three years old, she became severely ill. We did not know what had happened to her. My sister kept crying and my mother cried together with her. We took her to the
58 village health centre, but no one took the responsibility to cure her. We were strangers, nobody knew us, and nobody cared even if we all died. My sister passed away and it seemed to me like the whole world crumbled. Everyone was crying, especially my mother. I remember the great efforts my parents made to be able to return home and bury my sister in the countryside, but their requests did not even get any answer. The body of my poor sister would rest in a distant soil. Years passed by. We spent 22 years, full of misery, suffering, and without one single joyful day. The only thing that kept us alive was faith and prayer to God. Until that day we had not received any news from our uncle. We did not know if he was alive or dead, free or imprisoned. It was in 1992 when the beginnings of democracy had entered Albania. Everyone hastened to leave this place that had made their lives like hell. Rather, they did not want to leave the country but the bitter reality that had seized their destinies. The youngest son of my uncle, Petrit, who was 32 years old at the time, left Albania and immigrated to Italy. After 3 months he sent us the news that he met our uncle and that the he was in good health. He had continued with his mission of serving the Lord and had joined the church becoming a priest. We had not been so happy for a very long time. The news brought back joy to our home. After a year we decided to return to our native village and there we built life from scratch. Some got married and some had children, some pursued studies and some started working. It seemed as if life finally started smiling to us again. Now I am almost at old age, but when I think about my age it seems as if I was born old. The communist regime was undoubtedly a dark era for Albania and has left a bitter taste in my life, which I will never forget.
Written by: Dea Djala
59 A long calvary of suffering
When I listen to my parents and grandmother while they tell about the suffering they have been through, it sounds to me as if they’re telling fairy tales compared to the time I live in today. My family was also one of the many families who were persecuted and exiled. They were “enemies of the people”. My predecessors Dede and Llesh Kaziu (Kolziu) were the key points of this hatred and the starting point of a Calvary of suffering. My family was rich and was at the same time sheltering warriors. Deda became leader of the national-liberating power. He did this because he saw that the new government that was established to lead Albania was violating freedom and traditions. He became the leader of the anti-communist resistance. They persecuted him, murdered him, and his lifeless body was degraded, dragging it through Lezha. Lleshi, his brother did not give up even after Deda’s death, he wanted revenge for his brother. He did not return home but fled to the mountains side by side with his friends. In his memoirs, Dom Zef Oroshi tells about the precious contribution of the courageous and faithful Llesh who led his group, until the hunting teams killed him in Molung and dragged his body to Rrubik and Rrëshen, as if to remind everyone once more of his brother. Other Martyrs of my family are Ndrec Kaziu and Preng Kaziu. I started straight with the topic without introducing my family roots. The Kolziu family, known as Kaziu, originates from Dodë’s family, one of the first families of the Oroshi, Mirdita region. As the number of residents started increasing, my family was divided into three branches: in the Fangje neighbourhood (Bulshat), Laç (Kurbin) and Livadhez (Orosh). My ancestors gained their wealth with hard work. They bought large houses and their cattle were so many that they were spread up to Fushë-Vjerdh and Fushë- Lugje. In the battle of Durres in 1914, Llesh Cup Kaziu fought heroically and fell in battle, along other valiant opponents of Prince Vidi, who was sent to Albania by the Great Powers. During World War I, an Austrian officer was killed in Rrubik of Mirdita by a local resident. For revenge the Austrian military command arrested
60 100 men. A Catholic missionary (of Austrian origin) knowing the family’s wealth, offered to release the 100 innocent men in exchange for a large amount of money paid to the Austrian command. The family accepted the payment with great generosity and killed a big cow (Kaziu). I’m telling the other events with utmost modesty and pride, because as I said, this was a key to hate. Persecutions, suffering, and exile also affected my parents, who were not allowed to pursue their studies despite their excellent marks. I come from a family of warriors, patriots, generals, and nobles who have always resisted and shed blood for the homeland
Written by: Franceska Kolziu
61 The communist era
The period of dictatorship in Albania has been a painful period for everyone, especially for those who were outcast, persecuted, imprisoned and murdered. That was a period when many of us (*Albanians) were unjustly executed and suffered a lot. My grandmother’s family was one of those who have suffered much during that time, being a persecuted family. They were first imprisoned because they were the most important family in Malesia e Lezhës. The Party put my grandmother’s uncle in jail, followed by defamation and false news. They sentenced him and then said they would murder him because he rebelled against them. It seemed as though everything had come to an end and nobody had a solution to what was happening. I am one of those witnesses of that infinite suffering, pain and sorrow. The Gjoka family (persecuted by communism)
Written by: Xhoana Gjonaj
62 Zef Vorf Nekaj
Zefi was born on 19 March 1919, in the village of Domgjon in Mirdita. He finished the “Normal of Elbasan” school for teaching. After completing his studies, he taught in Puka (1939). A year later (1940), he was assigned the difficult task to advance the process of opening Albanian schools in Kosovo, as there was taught only in Yugoslav language. He accepted with pride and took with him his wife and two brothers, whom he tried to integrate into the society of the time. He found employment for one of them and put the other at the school. He was appointed director of several schools and was respected by the whole community for his intellect and his humanity. In the period of the years 1944-1945, in Albania the communist movement was supported and led by Enver Hoxha. At the same time communism was spreading in Yugoslavia. Because he demonstrated having democratic ideas and opposed communism, Zef Vorf Nekaj was imprisoned by Yugoslavs in Kosovo. He stayed in prison for about 5 years, where he suffered the most horrible tortures. Again, he rebelled and tried to encourage Albanians to oppose this kind of governance that would suffocate everyone. He managed to escape. The waves of life crashed him on the shores of Italy. Unfortunately, he could not come back to Albania because there was the same communist atmosphere and he would again risk imprisonment. After much effort Zefi managed to go to the United States, in the city of New York. There, he worked various labour jobs as a simple worker and in the meantime attended high school. After completing his studies, he became a professor and taught at several colleges. But the misfortune was all over his family. Nekaj’s family was known to be declassified, not only because Zef Nekaj had left Kosovo, but that he had not returned to Albania. His family were denied many rights because they had a different spirit, more tolerant than the communist one. The family could not practice Christian religion, and the children of the family were not allowed to attend high school. And let’s not start talking about their financial situation that was getting worse, because the government had taken away their piece of land. Woe to them, woe!
63 That was a very difficult period for Zef Nekaj’s family as well as for other families who had a fugitive family member. He returned home with nostalgia, carrying the suffering of his family in his conscience. But he too had suffered, each time he thought of them, each time he thought of his mother, each time he remembered Albania. He came back only when the rays of the sun warmed the whole earth equally, when the freedom of speech was not denied, when life enjoyed freedom.
Written by: Xhesina Lika
64 Who am I? Who are we?
How warm, silent! I sit and talk to my dad... Suddenly the cup is emptied, time is passing, and our conversation is coming to an end. I sit down on a corner of the couch, my eyes filled with pain, and my little hands holding tight onto my father’s big hands. They look so skinny and helpless. I think to myself. “What should I do? Why do I cry? Why do I always ask for more? Why are my endless complaints today deafening my ears? Who am I? Who?” I am Mirot Pllumbaj’s daughter, a man who has come so far from nothing. Do you know how his past period of life was? It was his 18th birthday. He was celebrating with his parents and brothers. But how can there be a party without music? So it was the sounds of that music he was listening, which led him to a gloomy door. Those sounds, that melody crossed fields and mountains and reached the ears of that “tyrant”, who ruled under the melody of the beatings of a rotten heart. This melody was awakening him from his deep sleep. That day was the last bright day for my father. He saw the last rays of sun that were drying his wet clothes. He hugged his father for the last time, leaving him to the mercy of the destiny, waiting for help, just like the plant that requires care to grow. His steps slowed down from the fear that invaded him inside that room, a dungeon, where there was no light. There was only one crack on the ceiling, which was filled with concrete. As for food, can a man live with an empty stomach? The food that was given to him was sufficient only to fill the stomach of a rat. The first punishment for my father was for making the cross sign, which was the only thing left for them to give the strength to cope with the difficulties. They prayed and prayed, waiting for mercy. The “tyrant” was heartless, anti-human, and his eyes had taken the shape of a tornado that was eager to devour everything innocent. The tortures were different, but fear alone was sufficient to feel the same level of pain. With every passing night, faith and hope diminished, and he missed his family each day more. His mother did not stop crying. Her eyes were fixed at the bed that was
65 empty and the plate that was waiting to be finished, but in vain. That poor woman could not listen to her son’s voice, could not smell his scent. As if she had not been through enough being separated from her parents at the age of four and the 24 years in exile, but there was more to come. She was condemned to feel pain in her heart. People who were at the service of the ruler were spread all over the country. It had become normal to be afraid of expressing a thought to someone, not knowing if that person was hired to spy on you. There was no possibility to express any disagreement nor any personal opinion.
* * * “Who am I? Who are you? There is none and there cannot be anyone like you. Do you just want to lie and rule? Do you think you are supreme or have a strong will? No, you are not God. You are not even human. You stand on the pillar of shame, but your eyes are not able to see the reality, because no dull eyes or a cut throat can rebel. All have become your flock, but the tears of all mothers will overthrow you. You will fall, you will go down so deep that you will never get out...... it’s over, it’s all over... “ Serena Pllumbaj
66 A sacrifice for education
My father comes from the fourth generation of an outcast family. They originate from Rapsha of Hoti in Malesia e Madhe. This area has historically favoured them to leave the country to elsewhere in the world. The story began in 1958 when their cousin left for Germany, when my father was not even born yet. His departure left behind very serious consequences for all the Dajani tribe. For various propaganda and political reasons, some were sent into exile to Lushnja, some others were imprisoned, and those who were most lucky escaped. Since he was very young, my father showed great interest in school and knowledge. In the eighth grade he was convinced that he wanted to continue his studies at high school, taking one of the two scholarships allocated to his school, but the biggest obstacle laid in the family and its history. My grandfather, knowing his son’s great desire, addressed the Secretary of the Party in the village. In exchange for the scholarship, he asked him to deny his family and no longer have any contacts with any of his cousins. He should not see them, neither in joyful events nor in events of grief, and their eyes shouldn’t cross for the rest of their lives. This was of course very difficult for him, to deny his family and his relatives, but he sacrificed so that my dad could receive the scholarship for the Veterinary High school in Shkodra. Not everyone knows, even today, nor do they understand my grandfather’s difficulty in making that decision. At the wedding of his older son, he did not invite his relatives because it had been decided so, and so the wedding party was celebrated only with people from the village and some distant cousins from Star village. Today, more than 25 years after that day in Rapshë, Hot, I have not been able to meet my cousins. They have not yet accepted what happened. My father feels guilty. I’ve seen him often cry because he considers his desire to study a caprice. Often he says that his father lived in shame and died with nostalgia for his relatives. There are very few who understand the great sacrifice of the grandfather for his son’s education. Today, we, the grandchildren, appreciate and take pride in our grandfather’s sacrifice, but nevertheless, this will always remain
67 an open wound for our family, because here we see the disagreement and family problems caused by that system. That system, without mercy, destroyed families, the cells that give life to society. Antonela Dajani
68 Interviewing my father ...
During the Communist dictatorship, many of the Albanian families were exiled for various reasons. Did you have a relative who has been in exile? Yes, I too had relatives in exile. They were my father’s cousins.
How old were you at that time? What about your relatives? I was at a young age, about 5 years old, and I do not remember many things, but as far as family members have told me, the relatives that were sent to exile were mainly adults. There were only 2 children of my age and the others were adults.
Why were they sent in exile? They were in exile because their uncle was a priest. In the framework of the closure of churches in 1967, he escaped imprisonment from the communist regime, by leaving Albania and immigrated to Vatican City in Italy. For this reason, he was considered one of the greatest enemies of the system at that time. Later he left for the USA where he served as vicar until he died. For this reason, all his family, including my father’s cousins, were arrested, detained, and outcast.
What exactly happened that day? As I said above, I was very young and I do not remember many things, but I’ve always asked about this event. My parents have told me that one day all of a sudden as we were all dining together, there was a knock at the door. Security forces entered the house, took my father’s relatives with them, and left without telling anything about the reason why they were taking them away. My father ran immediately after them to learn what was going on. Even though we tried to do everything we could, nobody listened to us. Some were exiled and others imprisoned.
How many people were in exile? They were a large family of about 10 people, two of whom were young children.
69 In what cities were your relatives in exile? They were first taken to the town of Lezha and the other half were taken to Plug in Lushnja. The ones that were placed in Lushnje continue to live there to date.
How did you feel in those moments and after? Seeing your relatives taken away in such a violent and terrible way, makes you sad and angry, which was taken over by the nostalgia for our family. Every day and more, we missed our relatives because we had a close spiritual bond with them.
Were you allowed to meet your family after their exile? To be honest they did not allow us to go to meet them during the communist regime. In the period after the death of the political leader and the arrival of democracy, we certainly went and stayed in their home where they told us about the difficult life they had.
Based on what your relatives told you, how was life in that period? Frankly speaking, the living at that time, is not deign of the word. Everyone was working in various heavy jobs, just to be able to feed their children. This could be better described as a struggle for survival. It was one of the most difficult times, when you could see no smiles in people’s faces, just pain and sadness. There were even nights when they fell asleep hungry; afraid of falling asleep because of the fear that they would not wake up the next day. It was an indescribable horror that would terrify us today even if we watched it as a movie; imagine how it could have been to live it.
If you were to go back in time, would you do the same things as then? Would you do the same things that could lead you to exile? - I pray every day that those horrible and gloomy times will never return anymore, because I do never wish to anyone the suffering we had during that period. If I were to go back in time, I think I would do the same thing again, because we never did something that was shameful, we just felt that we should believe in God and that’s exactly what we did.
Written by: Anisa Ndoka
70 An interview with my grandfather
Have you ever had an exile, murder or imprisonment from the Communist government in your family? No, our family has never had a case of exile, murder or imprisonment in the communist era. We have tried to adapt to the lifestyle that communism imposed on us and to coexist with the communist mindset. In our hearts has always lived the hope for a better future for us and mainly for our children.
How were the living conditions at the time? The two main things that an individual should consume for living is water and food, which were not enough to meet our needs. We fetched water for drinking and washing from mountain springs. With regards to food, we could buy every month one kilo of cheese, one litre of milk, one coffee pack and seventy grams of corn bread for each family member. Until 1982 our family has kept livestock to supply and provide our family livestock products such as meat, eggs, cheese and yogurt, but then we were deprived of the right to keep it.
Was employment easy during the communist era? Employment was an obligation due to the need to produce as many agricultural products as possible. Co-operatives, mines and farms were the places where citizens could be employed from the age of 15, with working hours from 06:00 to 18:00 and a daily wage of 40 lekë.
What are the positive aspects and was family lifestyle somehow favoured by the way of governing at that time? Everything negative has its positive side, so did communism. Social welfare components, which existed during the communist rule of Enver Hoxha, were tranquillity, security, guaranteed employment, university scholarships for students who had good results, non-trafficking and non- consumption of narcotics.
In what aspects of your life were you mostly deprived of freedom? In the cultural aspect, it was forbidden to listen to foreign songs. In the
71 religious aspect, we were deprived of the right and freedom to believe in God and to celebrate any kind of religious festivity. There were no longer any churches, as they were transformed into cultural centres and all the Albanian priests were killed, imprisoned, in exile and in the best case they had escaped abroad.
Did you ever feel afraid that anyone would sue you for doing any illegal action or saying anything against the government? Yes, the “spies” of Enver Hoxha were everywhere and we did not know who they were. So we tried to defend our family by not trusting other villagers and keeping any sort of secret and plan among the family members.
Has the communist mindset affected the shaping of your personality? I, along with my peers, believe that we lack the confidence and courage to express our opinion. Fear and terror are embedded in our memories thus reducing our courage. On the other hand, thanks to communism, we have become very hard working and optimistic, because things have always been done better in this way. We live in the hope that the situation and living in Albania will improve.
If the communist regime were to return, would you be in favour or against it? No. there is no way I would want my grandsons and granddaughters to look at or face the difficulties I have encountered during my life.
Written by: Klaudia Bilami
72 An interview with my mother
Were the tortures and murders only addressed to Christian believers or also to believers who practiced other religions? No, they were for all religions. This I believe was one of the greatest problems of that time that opened up a big wound to all Albanian believers.
Was it difficult for you to deny the religion? You cannot miss something that you do not know. In the society where I grew up, I had no information about religion, and in school it was always talked negatively about it. So I, like many of my peers, grew up without having any influence of religion in our family and social life.
How was childhood in a country where it was not possible to get any information from abroad? During the years 1945-1990 Albania was in total isolation. At that time, all news on TV, newspapers and radios were just about the achievements of our country and how “happy” we were to grow up in a socialist country. Not having the opportunity to compare what we were living with other parts of the world made us blindly believe in what they were saying and feel lucky about how we lived.
Why did the Albanian people not come together to stand against these injustices? Many tried this, but seeing how they were sent in exile, imprisoned, or even murdered, made us lose courage. Those in power always justified their actions and found an explanation to calm down the situation. Another big fear was the fact that it would not be only the person who came out against the regime to suffer the consequences, but his entire family was also in danger of doing so. This I believe was the main constrain for Albanians to fight against what we were living in.
If you would have the opportunity to go back in time and after seeing our childhood, what are the things you would love to have? Oh, the list is too long, but I will mention a few. At first it would certainly
73 be food. I cannot forget the rations and long queues to buy the few things we could buy. I remember when I secretly watched a TV ad for “Nutella”, and remember that my biggest dream was to be able to taste it just once.
Written by: E.P
74 Memories of my father’s life...
How do you feel when you remember the period of communism and what are the traces it left in your memory? When I think of that time, I immediately remember the period filled with sadness and grief. It was such a totalitarian regime that took control of the rhythm of all economic, political, educational, and cultural elements at all levels of a society from the newborn individual, to the pioneer, the youth and the elderly until death.
Tell me a bit more about the lifestyle at that time... I do not know what to tell you. It was a life that could be not called living. A life full of dull, gloomy days and nights filled with fear. We were afraid of everything, as many things were not allowed to be done. We were afraid that a simple action of ours would endanger our lives and our family. We were afraid that someone could be spying on us for any word which we should have not said against the regime. This was a life filled with poverty.
What job did you do and how were wages at that time? Work and life conditions were very miserable. The salary we were paid for the work we did was quite ridiculous, and we still feel the consequences to date. The average monthly salary of a worker ranged from 200-450 lekë while a co-operative worker from 120-200 lekë.
I heard that school, education at the time was compulsory only for the lower education. What can you tell us about this topic? Did you have the opportunity to stuYes, it is true that education was compulsory only for the 8-year system. School supplies were inadequate, and so were conditions at school. This meant that the person who did not have enough income could not be educated more than the 8-year school. In general, we went all to school, although the books we had were scarce and not enough. We studied a lot in order to be able to change our lives. At least we lived with hope for the future. We were demanded a lot at school and the teachers were very strict, but despite this we attended school.
75 Was your family in good economic conditions or there were cases where the income was not enough to feed the family? - As previously said, we were not a family with good incomes. The food was rationed, but even so, many times we were left without food. There were a lot of cases that not only did we sleep without eating, we even went to school without having anything to eat. It was such a system that the whole common people were oppressed and abused, and the elite was different and above us.
If you were to go back in time, would you like to live again in the Communist era? - I call this as an absurd question, since nobody would want to return to that period.
Written by: Serxho Dakaj
76 A talk with my grandfather
You were born a few years after the arrival of Communism in our country. What do you remember from your distant childhood? - I remember that in my childhood, the communist spirit lived anywhere, even in school. The photo of the leader Enver Hoxha was in every office and state institution. It seemed as if we were all within a room where the air was scarce and in order to come out one had to deny their religion, hence themselves.
Has the strict communist regime affected you directly? - To be honest, I can be considered among those in the social strata that were privileged back then. Teachers noticed my high school results at an early age and I was sent to study teaching sciences at a four-year school in Shkodra. Then, I did a two-year practice in the same city and after these two years I started working as a teacher in Zadrima.
We know very well the hard work that most of the population did in cooperative work. Were you also involved in this social circle? Thankfully, as I told you, I always worked office work, without ever using my back in hard work for long hours.
Have there been occasions when you heard of various cases of murder, imprisonment, or exile by the communist regime? Yes of course. I have lived a quiet life but I cannot be blind to the stories of the murders and punishments of that time. I was in Zadrima in the period of the murder of Priest Danijel Dajan and many other Catholics who were martyred for Albania, above all for the Catholic religion.
I want to know a little more about you, how did you experience the communist period? - I did not do any hard jobs, but again life during the Communist era has been very difficult for me. It was difficult to live every day with the fear that a spy of communism would sue you for an unintentional word, and end up in jail, your family in exile, or go to sleep with the fear that you could
77 not wake up. Those are horrible memories that I do not like to remember, because I try to forget them every day.
How have you experienced the political and social change of the country nowadays, when the dark “communist” time has not been “breathing” for years? - Life is certainly not the same, the country is now free and democracy has begun to spread everywhere. Nevertheless, I cannot fail to mention the security that period provided. At that time we were safer and at least we could move freely in the streets. Nowadays there is a fear of getting out on the street because someone can come out at any moment and can kidnap you or commit a crime, as we hear very often in the news.
Written by: Dajana Kola
78 Remembering the gloomy days... (Interview with my Grandpa)
How old were you when the dark communist system was set in Albania? In 1945 when the communist system was established in Albania, I started my 4-year school and I was only ten years old. In 1945 we did not have any proper schools, but we met in different houses with teachers coming from far, mostly from Shkodra and Kruja. I finished school when I was fourteen years old, although it was just elementary school.
Can you tell me a bit more about the rules set during the communist regime with regards to dressing? In that period, we dressed in national clothes. I dressed in pants, white woollen hat, vest, girdle, Albanian plastic or leather shoes (*like moccasins), depending on financial possibilities. All men were dressed in the same way, as there was no other clothing. We wore woollen vests handmade with our sheep’s wool. Most of the clothes were very old and torn.
What kind of food did you eat and what work did you have to do to make money for food? Before the co-operatives were formed, we worked our land with our cattle and harvested agricultural products (corn, wheat, vegetables), and we also raised cattle, sheep or goats. In 1957, when the co-operatives were established, every land became state-owned, and each house was left with ten sheep or one cow. At first, we were given a property of three hundred meters square of agricultural land per household, but after a while that was decreased to only one hundred and the livestock was taken away (goats, sheep, and cows). There were times when we would keep a sheep hidden because it was not allowed. Only poultry were allowed, such as chickens. As far as food was concerned, the state gave us bread, corn, milk, vegetables; all in small rations, and very rarely we had meat in small quantities (1-2 kg per family).
Was the celebration of various feasts allowed, be it national or religious? Since churches and mosques were demolished at that time, it was forbidden to celebrate any religious holidays and if we secretly celebrated,
79 we could be very severely punished. We celebrated only the New Year, 1st of May, and other holidays that were approved by the Party.
Regarding the tax system, I would like to know about the way it worked in that period? Before the co-operative were established we paid a lot of taxes that at that time were divided into “plans”. We paid the plan for eggs, for meat, for land, for wool and many other plans. When the co-operatives were established we did not pay so much because we had neither land nor cattle. It was a really hard time.
What was the level of salaries in the cooperatives and what jobs did you have to do? Salaries were very low, at the level that they were just enough to keep us alive. Some days we were paid by the norm we had worked, 10 lekë a day, but some days we were paid even less. The work was extremely tiring, but there was no other way out.
Can you tell me how do you feel now that you remember that gloomy period? I feel very bad when I think about the exiles and the difficult living conditions we had. We did not have rights and freedom. I feel very lucky that none of my family was in exile. I would never wish to anyone to experience that terrible period of the Albanian society.
Written by: RozalindaPalaj
80 “Extreme poverty ...” (a conversation with my grandfather and snippets of memories of his life)
How was society structured during Communism in Albania? The property was private and people were divided into two classes: the peasant class working in cooperatives and other branches of agriculture and livestock, divided into brigades and run by the sector and the leadership of the cooperative. The other class was the workforce and worked in different sectors like factories, industry, and farms. I have also worked in cooperatives, but also in different factories. Co-operative work was very difficult and with long working hours.
Did you have the freedom of speech and how safe did you feel in that period? Everything was predetermined, and no one dared to raise his voice against the regime. We have seen many cases where the expression of free thought was condemned in various ways such as exile, persecution, and murder. These events made us obey because we had to protect our families.
Was there sufficient food for the whole family? The food was rationed and the portion was 700 gr per person. We queued in line for hours to get bread or milk and there were times when we went back home empty-handed. Besides the fact that everything was rationed and the food had no taste, no one could complain because he would end in exile. People lived in fear and in a very difficult situation, with minimal living conditions.
What can you tell me about education? The 8-year cycle education was mandatory. If students had high marks, the state provided scholarships for schools in the country, and of course above all one should have a clean biography. Study scholarships were allocated by the Joint Council. I was one of those who were given the opportunity to pursue studies in high school education. The schools were
81 4-year professional. Education choices were defined by the state and after completing studies, we were provided employment in different cities in the country.
Was there freedom of speech or freedom of press? Literature was determined by the communist government and it was not allowed to circulate or read books and newspapers that were not considered suitable for reading by the state. The news from home and abroad were censored and we only heard the good side of the news. If someone propagated against the communist regime, he would be sentenced at maximum. We had to accept everything we were offered, as we did not have any other choice.
Do you remember any details of the situation of the social strata, such as the families of prisoners? At that time the population was divided into social strata. The ones with the highest income levels were the high state leaders and the rest were the poor population. Normally the prisoners belonged to the poor families, not that there were lacking any of the high social strata, simply to demonstrate the power of the state and what was called “equality”. There is no need for many words to describe the situation of these families, because everything is summed up in two words ‘extreme poverty’.
Was the work you did at that time hard for you? Working in cooperatives or in different factories is normally not an easy job. Not only for me, but for all people who have done such work, it has been very difficult. There were times when we had to go to work even if we were ill and this made us feel more fatigued.
Was there a special day where you were allowed to stay with your family and rest, i.e. independent of the communist regime? These days were very rare, but even when there were festive days we were forced to serve the state. Among these days was the birthday of the founder of the Albanian Communist Party, Enver Hoxha. This date was supposed to be a “joy” for everyone and in this day we had to work more than the other days. That was our reward.
What do you feel when you remember those times? In all the years of communism, we lived with fear and terror. In every
82 action we felt threatened and we knew that for a single word we could end up missing and murdered. Suffering and misery has accompanied us in every step. But beside all these difficulties, our families were united, even though we secretly tried to enjoy and preserve what we inherited from our predecessors. All that we have achieved so far is all effort and sacrifice, but also a lot of blood shed by innocent people who just wanted to see a light of hope.
Written by: Sara Tahiri
83 Snippets of memories from my childhood
When I heard the idea of collecting untold stories to make a book on past memories, I thought I could share a bit of my life. I come from the end of a highly self-praised system and the beginning of another one that was dreamed of. When I was little I liked to stay with my grandmother, and even more to sleep with her. Every night she was “talking to herself,” and when I asked her what she was saying, she answered me sweetly: “I’ll tell you a story, but hush ... this is our secret, you should not tell anyone because then they will take your grandmother away from the family, and I will suffer a lot.” I was looking forward to the night to come, to cuddle in bed with my grandmother, feeling her hands fondling my hair and listening to her stories. I kept secret so many “fairy tales”, a bit out of gratitude that my grandmother trusted me and more because of the fact that they would take her away from me. I kept them so well hidden that I started forgetting them. Later, when I started reading the Bible, I realized that they were not fairy tales but Bible stories, and grandma’s whispers were indeed prayers, which she addressed to God in the heart of the night. Mara, my grandmother, became a widow at a very young age, and raised her children alone with an amazing strength, despite being a widow with eight children to look after. When the church was demolished, Mara had taken the Missal, and hid it in the wall at the entrance of the house. She kept it hidden for more than 20 years, without telling anyone. In the 1990s, after the collapse of the regime, churches were opened all over the country, inviting people to turn to the true God. In our village arrived the priest to celebrate the first mass. As soon as she heard about it, Mara called her son and told him to cave the wall at the entrance of the house. Her son reacted “What do you want to do my mother? This is not a new house; the walls will break down.” “No, son, it’s not the walls that keep this house, but do what as I say,” Mara said. The boy walked slowly with the fear of the wall coming down on him, but he was surprised to find a book in the exact place where Mara asked him to cave. It was the Missal. Mara saw the book, kissed it and gave it to her son, saying, “Quickly, run to the Church and give it to the priest, for surely it serves to celebrate Mass. You run because I am old, but I’ll follow you.” Grandma, who knew how to raise eight orphans alone and
84 keep the missal hidden, every night prayed to God, and had begun to plant in me a desire for the living Lord. I remember that when I was little, the first class teacher always said to me: “Ardjana (the older sister) has done the homework for you.” I tried to convince the teacher saying, “I swear to God, it was me!” He would smile and say, “Does God exist?” I, a 6-year-old little girl who had not heard anything about God but had only been told “God does not exist”, kept going on my innocence to justify myself with an oath that without understanding I ended up raising questions that I had no answer for. I was convinced, because I had done my homework very carefully and expected to hear a “Well done!” Every day was the same routine: “Your sister did the homework for you” and then the teacher would continue “Does God exist?” Always frightened, I would answer in a low voice, “There is no God.” To my surprise, every time the discussion continued with me being blamed by the teacher “If God does not exist, then you are lying to me,” and in full confidence I went on again: “I swear to God, I’m not lying, I’m not lying,” which came naturally to me, even if I never thought of God. Only when I grew up did I understand that I had called the Lord as a witness to my life and He was there by backing me with the love of a gentle father. Years passed by and I grew up. I always had this question inside me, “Is there a God? If yes, why do they tell me that I should say that God does not exist? If He does not exist, why when telling the truth, we call Him as a witness that we are telling the truth?” Me too, like St. Paul, can see that the grace of God in me has not gone in vain. Only many years later, in my youth, I asked the first-grade teacher, “Teacher, God did exist?” He embraced me and said to me, “Yes, God always existed, even when I denied Him, and you affirmed with the belief of innocence and you should never deny Him.” A. Suli
85 Life in Albania during communism (Interview with Adriana Ndocaj, my grandmother)
Through different media, from stories from grandparents, or from documentaries and movies we have seen, we have come to understand that communism was a very difficult time for the Albanian people. We would like a clear, concrete opinion from you, having lived in the half of the last century. How was life under the rule of the cold hands of the dictator of that time? The years of dictatorship, or as we would call the “days of terror,” “days of violence,” “poverty”, remain in the memory of everyone who has lived and has known that governing system, no matter how many years have passed. It has been a difficult time. We lived in fear of losing our families, in fear of exile as a result of the pretexts addressed by the government, fearing they would call us “with a black stain” only for the fact that we came from an educated and intellectual family. Competition was not allowed at the time. Similarly the idea that someone was more intelligent than the other, could not be accepted. All these were in the framework of establishing equality among people.
Where do you think the injustice of that time had reached its peak?? Injustice at that time was part of the life of all the citizens and existed in the most minimal and vital things, such as in the rations of collective foods. Citizens would wake up very early, occasionally even at two in the morning, to stand in line to take their food ration. There was a food shortage and despite the fact that it had been divided in rations for families, it was not sufficient for everyone. There were citizens who returned home empty- handed. Food products were taken from the village, but the latter did not enjoy it at all, as the whole production was divided mainly for the city. The cities resembled more like a military ward, where people rose in the morning from the noise of a cannon and ran on empty stomachs to take over their assigned jobs. Life in those years looked more like a scary movie for all those who have only heard the stories, but that was the reality we lived in.
86 What reflected best the low level of politics of the government atthe time, in your opinion? The government had its own espionage system, through which it learned of any resentment expressed by the people, even though they kept silent about the negative things they saw and experienced. The dictatorship was fierce because any injustice to individuals was done on behalf of the people. Innocent people were sentenced only to justify failures in the economy and various groups of people were sentenced to shift people’s attention from the daily problems and chaos (Tears flowing from her eyes.)
What was the worst plague of the people? What I would call the biggest plague of the people was “Class struggle”. The government had its own purpose to distance people from their relatives, territories, tribes, or even from their own brothers. Disruption was a good way to keep them under pressure. Even in those cases when they were united, the pressure from above was high.
Is there anything you will “miss” from the communist years? Yes, no doubt that every cloud has a silver lining. Along with that entire negative vortex, there existed something that the today’s society lacks: safety. In those years theft or robbery was not even to be mentioned. There was no risk of anyone being kidnapped, even if you would go out in the streets of the city during the night. There did not exist the possibility of someone breaking into your house even if the door was unlocked. Actually, the keys were just used for the banks. (Laughs.) Safety was guaranteed and the crimes of society were very scarce. The only fear we had was of the government and their decisions that violated the normal lives of the people. In addition, schools and hospitals had reached a certain standard of service, which for the time was very good.
I thank you for the time you dedicated to use and the memories you shared with us, Mrs Adrian Thank you. Written by: Ester Tushaj
87 Reflections
I did not forget
You blossomed like a flower, in my solitude. You blossomed, all green and blue, you my golden rose, that shone so bright, and cleared my sadness away.
I wish I was in exile, but only in your eyes, oh how I wish I were a prisoner, deep inside your eyes. But where are those eyes? There where you are, there lies justice in work and law, humanity and righteousness, thoughts, art and happiness.
Love ends one day, But love for you lives to eternity... Because the land dreams of Freedom. Our blood is shed in prison, but not in vain Can you sense the heavy walls, the iron door and the blind window? Can you sense my pillow, my bed, the handcuffs, how my life is always in danger? Do you know all these I’m going through?
She came to visit me yesterday, and brought spring onions for me. It’s spring now in my home mountains, my cigarette smells of cloves and her hands were scented of spring.
88 Solitude
Who never lived alone, doesn’t know how silence plants fear deep in your heart, how ones talks to himself, runs toward mirrors, longing for a soul. They don’t know.
Those beautiful days
Those beautiful days were my doom In those beautiful days I abandon home In those beautiful days I started smoking In those beautiful days I fell in love In those beautiful days I forgot to bring food home And my ‘disease’ –of turning words into poems, got worse in those beautiful days. My beautiful days were my doom.
The evening comes early when in jail
The evening comes early when in jail, No matter how strong you are, the reason does not help you, nor does war, or having a fearless and brave heart. You cannot pull out the longing that has seized your soul. Nothing helps.
The evening comes early when in jail. Seven dense iron nets, seven heavy doors close, and in a bit the poor desolated yard will burst in tears.
At the wall opposite my cell, an apricot in a branch, falls in love with the cloud. The prisoner’s life begins. Darkness. Sadness. Nostalgia.
89 Someone is singing there beneath the sky, I wander among these old rusty beds, carrying my head full of silly, crazy, childish dreams.
What if they were to shoot me dead, what if I were to die in battle? Let it be! Let both hatred and friendship come from men, Yet I know: none of this will happen! I am mad about you!
To my mother
Your hair did not used to be grey, Nor was your forehead so covered in wrinkles, And every time you visit me, In your eyes worry twinkles.
I recall all you agony, Yet maybe not well enough, You suffered a lot for me mother, In this wild stormy life.
My heart fills with grief, When I see your sadness, I can see the sorrow in your soul, Even you smile to me with boldness.
And when between us, comes a surprised look from someone, You slowly and sweetly whisper to me, This was your fate, my son! When I think of the past, I can’t stop the tears in my eyes, Why does this miserable life, Makes us grieve while still alive.
That pure heart of yours, that glows bright in the night,
90 I know is all torn apart, there dwells no joy and no delight.
When you get up in the morning, To the kitchen slowly you head, I know, your eyes shine with tears, When you look at my empty bed.
When you put breakfast on the table, You wonder around silent never in peace, In every face your eyes search, For your heart is missing a piece.
And when darkness covers the sky, And the sun gathers home its rays, you look far from the door, and a rain of tears falls on your face.
When it’s time to rest your head, Your heart can’t dare to sleep, You stand frozen by my bed A good night to me you greet.
I wish I could describe your heart, Like mine beats for like no other, Nothing can compare to you, Nothing resembles the heart of a mother.
There will be happiness one day, One day everything will turn right, I will come and wipe away your sadness, I’ll see your soul full with delight
Collected from my father’s manuscripts during the time of imprisonment: Serena Pllumbaj
91 Acknowledgements:
A special thanks goes to the Regional Education Department of Lezhë , the Department of Psychologists and the Multi-Functional Community Centre, who welcomed the students and parents.
We also thank the “Mother Theresa School, in Lezhe and the High School of Kallmet, Lezhë .
Key stakeholders of this project have been the representatives of the Local Association of the Former Political, Persecuted People of Lezha, the Former Investigation Department “Actually the Museum of Shkodra”, who welcomed us and shared with us the essential details of the crimes committed during Communism.
We cannot forget Mr Agron Tufa, Director of Institute for Crime Studies and the Consequences of Communism and we thank him for the encouragement he gave and for reading the early section of this book “Imprisoned Freedom”. Collating the various components of this book was harder than we thought it would be and more rewarding than we could have ever imagined.
None of this would have been possible without the support of Sr. Imelda Poole IBVM, President of Mary Ward Loreto Foundation and Mary Ward Loreto staff who are always there to support and make sure that everything is done with excellence.
Aferdita Gjoni Msc: (Coordinator of this Project and Editor of this book)
92 Conclusion
• Service Learning has many different forms. As long as a school, a community and an NGO agree to apply it, it can already be considered a success, with the main outcome on students becoming better citizens and active leaders in their communities.
• MWL Foundation is now part of the official network of Clayss, and we will have the opportunity to present our Service Learning approach in Albania or in the Central and Eastern European Network, which is being built in Sarajevo.
• The core idea of Service Learning remains the same, with students serving communities and becoming better citizens, responsible leaders and role models.
• There is room for cooperation with other schools and universities as well, and MWL Foundation can always be the leading organisation in introducing the concept to others in Albania.
93 CIP Katalogimi në botim BK Tiranë Mary Ward Loreto A guide book for the methodology of service learning in Albania / Mary Ward Loreto ; bashkëpunuan nxënësit e gjimnazit jopublik “Rogacionistët” ; red. Flora Ujkaj. – Tiranë : Geer, 2018
94 f.: me foto ; 20.5 cm.
ISBN 978-9928-07-600-7
1.Arsimi 2.Edukimi 3.Komuniteti
4.Udhëzues, doracakë etj.
37.018 (035)
94 ISBN 978-9928-07-600-7
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