From Jamarbër Marko
Memorie.al / Jamarbër Marko were born on March 15, 1951 in Tirana. In 1974, he finished his higher studies at the Faculty of Philology of the University of Tirana, in the Journalism branch, but a year later in 1975, he was arrested by the State Security and sentenced to 7 years of imprisonment, for “agitation and propaganda against the government popular”. This sentence was a blow not only to Jamarbër, or as he was otherwise known by his friends and colleagues, such as Madu, who had begun to openly express his dissatisfaction with Enver Hoxha’s communist regime, but above all, he intended to hit his father to him, the famous writer Petro Marko, who at that time had just been banned from the book titled “A name between four roads”. After serving his sentence, mainly in the Spaçi prison camp, in 1979 where he was released early on bail, Jamërbëri was sent to work as a worker in a maintenance brigade at the “New Albania” Kinostudio. His passion was and remains poetry, which he has never stopped writing about. With the collapse of the communist regime at the beginning of the 90s, in addition to the writings and poems published in various press bodies of the time, Jamarbëri was able to publish two volumes of poems entitled: ‘Randestës me dashë’ (year 1995) and ‘Pro nobis’ year 2001) which have been highly appreciated, both by critics and readers. The short piece that we have chosen for publication here was written by Madu in 1984 and it is a singularity in the poetic prose experimentation of Jamarbë Marko, who passed away on September 4, 2010 at the age of 59.
THE POWER OF THE SPIRIT
I fell in love with my path, on the horizon of which the signs of a slightly grander future were clearly visible. And yet I gave the facade I saw a shadow of grandeur. Then I still kept within me the glorious beggar of happiness. This is how I had to blacken out of the inner fog, the ancient armor of a victorious march.
It was like a strong love, clinging furiously to the general movements of the time. My horse took flight with the endless army of desires, studies and maneuvers, that of animals and insects, on which other countless armor glittered…!
Under the water of indifference, our swords seemed careful not to surface. Now and then astonished circles swayed the turbid spots of our perplexities, sailing to dead shores. There were also sunsets that I spent under the cold horseshoes of my horse.
Time passed. It seemed that the love for a new construction left the followers behind. I was left alone. Only with victory? On the high facade of the miracle I placed myself as a knightly figure. Symbol for those waiting to enter my constellation. But passion has nowhere to go when dreams become a necessary point of comparison.
I say that independence is also related to the repair of characters. This is how far my love has come…! Then my sword melted under the glittering light that accompanies the entrance of those who bear on their backs the obligation to cure…and it was for the good of reason, which, I think, prevailed over my feeling.
These people now come silent. They present the documents and move on to combinations of devices that check the regularity of an empty perfection. In special cases they return again. But this time they are recognized by the clothing with visas of the institutions where they have earned the right to work. The concept of time has already shifted to a great degree…!
I hold in my hands the diagrams of the organization of their thoughts. X-rays reveal both silence and obedience. Their small loves are eliminated under the effect of great love. The sensibility is struck, and the differentiation based on feigned spiritual tranquility makes them able to resist the influence of all the past of humanity.
Their activity is a perfect coordination of medicine and politics. I have also seen indecipherable spots on special X-rays, but a special state-of-the-art camera eliminates them. At this point, I am pleased with the fall of disbelief that fills the trash platoon; their disposal is the duty of an external cleaning department.
Thus, stacks of fragments of characters burn far from the institution, but with all the extraordinary amount of smoke, the air is freely inhaled momentarily.
A few minutes ago, while contemplating the wonder of this mammoth, I was struck by an invisible weight somewhere inside me. The usual working day has entered its maximum rhythm. After a while the reduction will begin, but it will be felt only slightly in the automatic memory. However, something doesn’t convince me. A silent mechanism, like a black bird’s wing, touches the empty walls of my crippled memory.
Who knocks on the thick windows of my silence? All the arrows point to the normality of radiation waiting for perfection, leading further. No bugs? My heart on the big screen beats the moment.
Then a face that bends under the weight of the atmosphere. I don’t even remember the moment. I know that in the morning someone approached me, unlike the others. I want you to help me. ARE
…Documents in order…! Like everyone else, you too will be examined…! Yes…!
The voice, for a moment comes clear, and then is lost in the constant rush of machinery. A close person or more… More? Like everyone else.
Maybe mother. With the ring as old as the world. With the eyes. In the crack of the soul, the vapors of doubt condense on faces. The face that is moving with my breath.
My man. I run into the waiting room. Sitting, they wait for the moment. Unknown faces. With troubles, despair…! Maybe sister. Memory makes futile efforts. Doubt gurgles in the strong current. Maybe it was a while ago.
I run in squares, streets and corners. I can’t make out any faces anymore. Everyone heads with deadly calm towards the facade where the knight of old dreamed. Memorie.al
Tirana 3. 7. 1984
