By Sabit Abdyli
Memorie.al / Petrit Alliu, joined the ranks of the first Albanian emigrants, who came to New Zealand, since 1951. Knower of many foreign languages, such as: English, Turkish and Italian, intellectual and sportsman with great success, after playing volleyball for the first team of Tirana in the years 1947 – ’48, later also for the American school “Robert College” in the period 1948-1951, while in the city of Auckland, he played football in the years 1952 – ’54. Petriti completed high school in Tirana and the American school “Robert College” in Istanbul. Today, even though he is advanced in age, he enjoys good health. He is married, has a son and two daughters: son Qerimi, a nurse, lives in Sydney (Australia), daughter Jasmina, an architect, lives in Adelaide (Australia) and Shpresa, an accountant, lives in Zealand.
The boy, Qerimi, to fill the void he felt for Albania, with a fake name and surname, joins a leftist party in London. In 1985, he went to Albania, but Qerimi could not visit his uncles, his uncle, the house in Tirana, etc., about which his father had spoken so fondly, so many times.
Petri Alli’s confession
“I, in April 1992, when I got off the plane, at Rinas airport, after 44 years, I kissed mother earth, I was happy, I was happy with my family, friends, colleagues, but I was also upset when I saw Albania worse , that I had left it in 1948” – Petrit Alliu tells us, in fluent Albanian, when we were drinking coffee at Zenel Tahir’s house.
“In September 1948, – says Mr. Alliu, I graduated from the Artistic High School in Tirana. My generation friends and I were given scholarships that same year to continue our education abroad. The scholarship was given to me a little later than the others, since the communist regime did not look favorably on us, who came from families with good economic well-being. That same year, we were sent on the Romanian steamer “Transilvanija” to Istanbul, then to the Black Sea, through the Bosphorus.
We had to go that far, since relations between communist Albania and Tito’s Yugoslavia had already broken down. There were 400 young people on the steamer, who were going to continue their education in the countries of the socialist camp, such as: Czechoslovakia, Romania, Poland, Russia, Hungary, etc. and we sailed at night.
Upon arriving in Istanbul, we jumped from the back of the steamer into the sea, together with a friend of mine from Tirana; Skënder Muka was his name, that’s how we secretly met on the deck of the steamer. At night, the lights of the city reflected on the surface of the water and we were convinced that we are very close; it even seemed that I could touch the lights with my hand.
“Towards the lights…!”Give it,” said Skenderi, who was stronger and a better swimmer than me. In the darkness of that night, we parted with Skenderi…! Medet! I never saw it again. While swimming, I noticed that the lights were very far away, and I felt more and more tired.
I turned on my back and with slow movements of my legs and hands; I managed to stay on the surface of the water. With lost hope, I started shouting with the little voice I had left for help, in Albanian and Italian. And the miracle happened. Two Turkish fishermen with a boat grabbed me by the arms…!
After the investigations of the Turkish police, about who I am, where I come from, etc., I was granted refugee status. With the help of the Refugee Organization, I enrolled in the famous American school “Robert College” in Istanbul.
I left college in 1951. There I learned English and Turkish. That same year (1951), I met Mazhar Krasniqi. With Mazhar, we decided to join the refugees, among whom, in addition to Albanians, there were also Bulgarians, Greeks, Romanians, and others, who were getting ready for New Zealand.
With the steamer “Goja” after 35 days of sailing, on May 1, 1951, we arrived in Wellington, the capital of New Zealand. From there by train, they took us to the “Pahiatua” camp, where I worked as a teacher for six weeks. I taught the English language to refugees, not only Albanians, but also Turks, Bulgarians, Romanians, etc.
In the second part of June, they spread us all over southern Zealand. After a year, I, Mazhar Krasniqi, Shaban Kryeziu, Shaqir Seferi, Fadil Kaceli, etc., settled in Auckland. I have to tell you that we Albanians won the sympathy of the locals very quickly, as hard-working, responsible people and good sportsmen.
Fadil and I played football (in the years 1952-54), very successfully, in the “Grey Lynn Comrades” team in the first league. We lived with longing and hope that one day we will return to our homeland. With work, we had all created conditions for a normal life. We, (I mean the Albanians), did not pass a week without meeting each other.
This is how we managed to keep the Albanian spirit alive. We formed the “Albanian Citizens’ League” in Zeeland, and the president of the League, Mazhar Krasniqi, always had our support. Sometime after 1970, a rally of the reds, as we called the Marxist-Leninist parties, was held here in Zealand.
Representatives of communist parties from all over the world came, among them two Albanians, representatives of the ALP. With the initiative of the Albanian Community, its chairman, Mr. Krasniqi organized a demonstration against the gathering of the reds. The protest made a big echo. The local media: both electronic and print (newspapers), gave it great publicity.
When we came to this remote island in 1951, we found an Albanian lady who had come to Zealand before us. One of us has contacted him. We know that she came from Egypt and spoke the Albanian language well. Where is it, what was done with it, I have no information.
Homesickness is great. You are also feeling this longing now, but today we have it easier. We communicate by phone whenever we want, we are regularly informed, and the road to Albania is open.
Then, when I wrote a letter, I didn’t write anything, I knew that the letters were read by the State Security people in Tirana, if you wrote more than; “I’m fine…”, she never reached where you had addressed her.
I also wanted to tell you this, when the boy, Qerimi, returned from Albania, he brought me many photographs, recordings, even the complete works of Enver Hoxha, (laughs out loud) which I still haven’t read. Memorie.al
