By Maksim Rakipaj
The fifth part
Memorie.al / Maksim Rakipaj, originally from Përmet, whose family had helped and supported the Anti-Fascist National Liberation War, after graduating from the Navy School in Vlora, in 1972 he was appointed an officer in the Merchant Navy, where he served with dedication until in 1977, on the “Durrësi” steamer, he was arrested and sentenced to 15 years in political prison, as part of a “group”, which also included his colleague, Aladin Kapo, the son of Hysni Kapo’s brother. Family biography was also the reason for his punishment. After the end of the war, two of his uncles were sentenced to political prison, his grandfather was declared a kulak and in 1976, his father was expelled from the party. Maksi began serving his sentence in the Ballsh camp and in 1979, he was transferred to the Spaçi camp and then to the Qafë Bari camp. He was released on September 12, 1984, benefiting from a reduced sentence, from an amnesty. After being unemployed for a long time, with many hardships, he got a job as a miner in the Mzezet mine, he worked until 1991. After the 1991s, he started working in the administration of the Municipality of Durrës, he served until 1997 and after that, he returned to the Merchant Navy (the last captain of the transoceanic ship “Vlora”), until he left Albania for Italy, (illegally on a dinghy), where he currently lives for many years. Since the 90s, in addition to various jobs, Maksim Rakipaj has also devoted himself to writing, such as; poetry, prose, fiction or documentary, translations, etc., publishing several books, such as: ‘Prophet – Khalil Gibran’, (translation from English ‘Toena’ 2003), ’20 love poems and a song of sadness’, (translation from Spanish, ‘Toena’ 2003), ‘Alive after the shipwreck’, (published by ISKK, 2014), ‘Bukowski – poetry’, (translation from English, ‘ENEAS’, 2015), ‘Trilusa m’Tirône’, ( translation from Italian, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘Anthology of Arabic-Persian Poetry’ (English translations, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘The Complete Sonnets of Shakespeare’, (English translation, ‘ADA’ 2016′) , ‘Survivor’ (autobiographical novel, ‘2 East, 2 West’ 2018), ‘Nobelists – poetic anthology, (UEGEN 2019), ‘Hymn of happiness’ (‘JOZEF’ 2023), etc. From the creativity of Mr. Rakipaj, Memorie.al is publishing the book “Survivor”, (published in 2022 by “JOZEF” Publishing House in Durrës, directed by Mr. Aurel Kaçulini), where he has described his life chronologically, where the part the main one is that of serving the sentence in camps and prisons, as well as various characters, his co-sufferers that he met in the communist hell, etc.
Continues from last issue
Meri of Zade, a durrsak in Mat’hausen
Durrsaks remember it as; Mary of Zade, although her real name was Ymer Jakovija. I met him in 1976, in the Port of Rijeka (Fiume), I was there with the ship “Durrësi”, when a group of us went to meet friends, at the ship “Dajti”. One of us knew him and Meri invited us for coffee in the cabin, but we met the captain of “Dajt”, the unforgettable Xhevdet Gashi, who took us all to his cabin. During the conversation, I found out that Ymeri was one of the Durrsaks imprisoned in the Mat’hausen Nazi camp and I began to listen to his every word with curiosity. Captain Xhevdeti, after renting us, started harassing Meri: “Tell us when you left Mat’hausen, Mero”…!
That’s all Meri wanted and he started: “It was the American and Canadian soldiers who freed us, well, we said thank you… they enter the camp, we are happy, the tears flow from the joy…! When will you… give they ordered, all naked, let’s go. Come on, let’s get undressed, they’re giving us new clothes, I said… hehe! There’s Janina! Some soldiers in white clothes came, and they smeared us with some kind of powder white, they smeared us all… some of them started to itch, the American wall, one of them put them on the wall, I saw them with a machine gun… (those who were itched… that this dust found out who was shaved, there were sticky ronda spots)…a durrsaku, here, close to me…!
– Please Mero, I’m sick of itch, i will end …! Hold on, damn it, I told him, please hold on, they’ll give you the pen… I say to another friend: don’t give up your guts, so you don’t itch…! Hardly left, there was no one left, he asked us for patience, he started to shake like a madman… one saw the soldiers, one left… the boy go desert, I’m freed, I’ll take care of my own problems….”!
“Why take you to Mat’hausen, Mero”? – who asked him.
– “I guessed him because of his last name, I took him for a Jew”, – said Xhevdet Gashi, who was only interested in gallantry, and I did not find out the reason for his imprisonment in Mat’hausen. I found out later that Ymer Jakovija had been an assassin in the guerrilla unit of Durrës.
– “I’m sorry, how are you, Mero?” – we asked him.
– “I don’t care, hesabi prison, but when they cleaned up the city, then yes, we had it like it was New Year… because the German families, my God, they knew that we used to go to the loot boxes, and they painted it.” … under garbage, first they put newspaper, then food, then again newspapers again… they let us have dishes and clothes”.
– “Then, Mero”?
– “Meri told you… they gave us according to the states, we Albanians, as we were quite a few, they put us in the trucks, together with italians, since we got along with them, we had them. Don’t worry, the soul comes out, once we arrived in Bari, they tell us; you Albanians, ask the Allied Command here in Bari, find my representative, he will arrange it for you, he returned to me by steamer, straight to Durres. Ask this way, ask that way, when a gentleman drives by, he listens to me: – ‘Excuse me sir’, I say to him, – , this one tells me, how are you doing with us’…?!- Here, here, I tell him, it’s my problem…! ‘Ah, poor you’, he says to me, where are you going tomorrow, to Albani’, Demepija is waiting with him. Ti berra il sangue, medemek has to drink the blood, do you understand or not…?! Well, well, if you tell me where the offices are, we’ll drive and paint…!
– Tell me you’re a deserter, I’m in debt, don’t tell me, why don’t you come in, you’ll be sorry you left…! With me; You fart, I’ve come to fight for this day, I’m sorry, tell me where those offices are, so I can talk to my Albanians…! If not, this mu says to me, via start number start, look for the filon there, andbona whirlwind, this in boka al lupo, finally… you fall short, with those German, American letters oh, vouchers, get on the steamer Meri jot…! Thank you, I said, here’s the amount Mero, your troubles are gone, the day you fought for will come…! We arrived in Durrës…! Tears were in my throat, when we entered the port, one of us fell to the ground, while we were showering, in military clothes, as if we were rags. – Come with me, you, who are you, coming to us, where are you going? – bro, I’m talking…!
– ‘Where am I going’?! I’m sorry, I’m gone, I’m Ymer Jakovija, who wrote the letters to you, I’m a dog in Mat’hausen’s camp, I’m imprisoning them in prison…!
– ‘Slowly slowly you, take me to bed’, – he says, – come with me to the office, we’ll see your cards…! He put me in an office room, like a dungeon, he told me; wait for the commander to come, he clarified this conversation…! After a couple of hours, when the commander of that one comes, I start: – ‘What’s your name’…?! I told him…! Dad, what did they call him? What about the mother…? I told him everything, beginning to end…!
– ‘Now tell me, with what mission have your enemies sent you, to our country… and speak quickly, otherwise’ – … you are shaking the rooms…! Holy shit, Mero, I said to myself.
– Wait, sir – I tell him, you’ll find out soon, I come from the prisons of german, you put it in the cotton…! When he put on my cup opener, knocked me down, put me in a pair of Cypriot boots… I was put off, I was sent to Tirona prison…! I was there for a couple of months, every day this story, one lap comes in, another lap goes out, all the same conversation: – What is the name of the father, yes the mother…!
Hey, I said, what about this conversation? Let’s start, put one in and bring the other, where I’m going to kill you and where I’m going to burn you…. I forgot, that it’s my turn: they all introduced me, when they came, we’re from DMP ….(Directorate of People’s Protection). I know, dad, I know, I was saying to myself, but I didn’t care, because he’s from italians, I saw all that talk in Bari…
Meri Zade’s friends had “liberated” Albania!
3- Wartime – “war game”
Why is it not mentioned in the biography of Enver Hoxha that he was arrested, not even once, during the occupation?!
I was on holiday in 1971. I got up a little late. At the Navy school in Vlora, they used to wake us up early, at 5:30 in the morning, so when I was on vacation, I liked to stay up late. After I had breakfast, my father said to me: – “When do you intend to go to Tirana?” tomorrow? Well, go back to the mother, because her mouth dropped. Maksi is on vacation and hasn’t come to see me, he says. Don’t forget, did you hear? Friends and maids, here you are… don’t laugh, because I always have it in mind”.
– “Okay, father, I intend it myself, don’t worry. I also like to meet the mother”.
The next day around 10 am, I was at my little uncle, Ganiu, who was taking care of my grandmother, in his house. I knocked and when I heard the beloved voice, which said: “Come in, come in, don’t get me out of my place”, I pushed the door and entered. Sitting on the sofa with the grandmother was an old, gray-haired, noble-looking man. You had left Borsalina on the chair. I hugged my mother. I gave my hand to the man, who held it for a long time, studying me attentively:
– “Is this Xhafer’s son, my Xhevo? You don’t need to say it, it’s as if my own father said it…! Mashalla, pretty boy”.
– “My eldest son Xhaferi has this for me. Look, doesn’t Njazi look like a crow to me, eh?! This is Esati, be your mother, I have the son of my older sister…!
– “Thank you, my son. I’m leaving, Xhevo, because I took root here. Stay healthy…”!
When my uncle came back from work he said to me:
– “After meeting today and Esat P. will tell me, huh?! It comes when I know I’m not at home. You, the first time you bake with Esati?! You didn’t know him before”?!
– “No, uncle Gano, who is this?” The mother told me that…”!
– “Well, no, yes. Nephew has it. This Esati, that you say, had finished the military academy in Italy, in Modena, before our desert Njaziu. He was a gendarmerie major at the time of the King. In the time of the Italian and the German, he was a colonel and district commander, as they called him in those years. After the war, he was sentenced to 10 years. In Burrel, he did them all.
The trial was held at the ‘National’ Cinema, here in Tirana. The president of the military court was Koçi Xoxe. Unfortunately, the accusation did not find any witnesses against Esati, while there were dozens in his favor. Esat’s lawyer stands up and says: ‘Since no one has come forward to prove the charge of war crimes for my client, I demand his immediate release’!
‘No moreeeee’, – Koçi Xoxe jumped in, – ‘I myself am a witness, against the defendant Esat P’.
“It’s a great honor for me, for the lieutenant general to testify, even against me,” Esati said, “well, I also know what crime I have committed”?!
“Defendant, do you admit that on November 8, 1941, you were the district commander in Korçë”?
‘As you command, I accept’.
‘Remember you arrested me that day too’?!
‘As you order, I arrested you. If I don’t remember, how much was the lieutenant general sentenced then?!
“I wasn’t punished, but I don’t forget that you punched me in the ass, before you let me go to prison, so…”!
“Order, sir, and slap me ten times, I’m leaving myself at home, because my ribs still hurt from the beatings of your policemen…”!
– They sentenced him to 10 years, as I told you, – continued uncle Ganua – Yes, this one, Esati, was not only in Korça, those years. He was in Tirana and Kukës. When he was in Kukës, they also assassinated him, when he was in a car with the prefect of Kukës, one with the surname Spahiu. The prefect was killed in that assassination attempt, Esati didn’t get a scratch. After the assassination, there was a communiqué stating that; In the assassination carried out today by partisan forces, the prefect of Kukës was killed, in the car of the district commander Esat P…! Colonel Esat P. was killed by a partisan, so-and-so pistachio’. Even to this day, Esati keeps the communication at home. When he got out of prison, he was put to work in a shoe repair shop.
I knew this story from Esati. This former partisan worked with me at the car repair shop. One day I said to tease him: ‘Do you know Esat P., if you see him’? ‘Go, wait, don’t laugh’, he tells me…! “Go to the shoe repair shop and ask there”…! He goes where I told him. Go inside. Only young men worked there, the only old man was Esati. He approaches the old man and asks: ‘Excuse me, friend, a certain Esat P. works here’? Esati raised his head, saw him and turned to him: ‘Lord, you are that partisan, who… killed Esati with his own hand’?! ‘Yes I am’! ‘Yes, I’m glad we met. I am Esat. P., the hand itself”!
When he was district commander of Tirana, Esati says that he arrested Enver Hoxha twice. But Bahri Omari immediately called him on the phone: “Please, Mr. Esat, let the widow go home, restore the account”! When he released him for the second time, he tells what Bahri said to Omar: “I released him this time too, O Bahri. I have nothing to do with you; but know well that if they have the power of this knife, they will take our heads off , you and me”!
Like all of Albania, Esati’s family was divided in two. During the War, Esati was a colonel, his daughter was friends with Nexhmije Xhuglini, from the Women’s Institute, while the two sons turned out to be partisans, they also became communists. It hides from me. He gets angry when I tell him: “Ah, what did you do to us, Esat, you took the neck of an entire people. You put a bullet in Enver’s pile a while ago and we wouldn’t be like this today”!
– “Okay, uncle Gano, they didn’t harass this Esat anymore after prison”?!
– “And who knows these things, boy! The less you know, the better. Esati, even today, enters Nexhmija, as in his house, but when Enveri is not there…! The hound was a handsome man in his youth. But even today, you saw it yourself, it is considered beautiful…”!
Arrest
On April 26, we, the crew of the ship “Durrësi” had been in Durrës for several days and were holding a military parade. At 8 o’clock in the morning, as soon as I handed over the 24-hour service on the ship, the company’s courier informed me that I had to report to the office of the director, Bajram Thërmija. As soon as I got off the ship, I met the captain of the ship, F. K., how he looked at me, coldly, indifferently, and returned my “good morning,” muttering something incomprehensible through his teeth, and continued on his way with that characteristic gait of his, as a Chinese, with short, quick steps and with that cap ala Mao Zedong, I looked exactly like a small, incomprehensible Chinese.
Here’s Gaqua, the commissary. Even the way he looked at me, as if with pity, not with a smile, or the usual invitation for coffee, every time he met me outside, or inside the ship. The director received me with a fake cordiality, with a fake smile, prefabricated.
– “You have to leave for Vlora, Maksi. On the ship ‘Teuta’, you will replace an officer there, Gavrosh Mlloja. Many tomorrow, you must appear there, because you leave for Trieste; here’s your boarding pass, for ‘Teuta’. Have a nice trip”.
– “But I saw my captain, why didn’t he tell me anything”?! Then I have my father in the hospital, he suffers from heart disease, is it possible to send someone else, I want to be near him these days…! I intended to ask for the usual permission for this reason, please, fellow director…!
– “Maxi, I’m sorry… I’ll go to your father myself… then, here is Trieste, within a week you’ll be here, then do as you like, or go back to ‘Durresi’, or get permission, come , go now…! I went straight to the hospital. I found him outside, sitting on a bench, in the flower garden of the hospital, together with another patient. I approached and recognized the honorable captain of the ship “Korabi”, Haxhi Shehu.
– “Oh, this is your son Xhafer, I know him well, you came to me on the ship years ago, in Rijeka it seems, I heard good things about you and the officers of ‘Durres’…! You who build the Baltic road, you are really good officers…! You have a path with ‘Teuta’, so eh? Dad is fine, don’t worry, we are here together…”!
I hugged him with mine, to see him, then, only in 10-minute meetings, in the concentration camps, I shook hands with Captain Haxhi, whom I would never see again, and left for home, in Shkozet. I was also separated from my beloved mother, brother and younger sisters. I didn’t know what was waiting for me. At 3:30 p.m., the train left for Fier; there I would take the bus to Vlora, where “Teuta” was located. At 15:15, I was in Durrës, I had to hurry to catch the train. All morning, I had Angel G. behind me as a shadow, a boy from my neighborhood, who had just started work in the Internal Branch, as a Security Operative.
I saw him again at the bus station in Durrës, then I didn’t notice him because I was in a hurry. When I arrived at the polyclinic, a little boy, about 12 years old, came up to me with outstretched hands: – “Oh uncle, oh uncle…”! I put my hand in my pocket to give him a tip… but: – “No, no, no! You don’t want to, no! Only you, don’t go where you started… those of Branch, they’ve been waiting for you all day today… I’ll let you know, I’ll see you with my older brother…! When I left today in the middle of the port, you were there at the “Detari” buffet. A man with a black moustache, his father snorted to the young man: – where did you see your eyes, we lost you now… when you fap, come back… thanks for seeing you, don’t go, don’t go… .”!
I barely broke away from the train, which I didn’t care about, arrived at the old train station, cut the ticket and on the platform I saw the eternal Angel G. From the window of the wagon, I noticed that he did not get on the train. In Rrogozhine, I got off the train and got into another carriage when the train was moving. Nothing suspicious, no new face, came after me in the wagon. I calmed down a bit and I was remembering the dream – nightmare, which I had been having for two weeks in my sleep…!
Well dressed, before getting on the bus, I saw that suddenly, I was only in socks, without shoes and I woke up feeling dizzy…! In last night’s dream, I noticed that I was without shoes, only with socks, when I was inside the bus; suddenly the door closed, he left and I fell asleep drowning in sweat…! The train arrived in Fier, at the ticket office for Vlora buses, which was a long queue; the ticket cost 30 old ALL, I took out a five ten, gave it to someone who was right next to the counter (I knew he wouldn’t return the resto), I took the ticket and headed to the bus. When I just entered it, I felt a hand on my shoulder and: – “Max”!
I turned around and saw a dry face that I didn’t recognize before. That face is very serious, talking to me: – “Come here…”! I went: – “Yes! Who are you? What do you want from me?!
– “I am Spiro Spiro, State Security officer and you will come with me”!
– “Where will you come, where will we go, here in Fier”?
– “No, we will return to Durrës…”!
– “But I definitely have to go to Vlora tonight, because tomorrow…”!
– “I know, I know, but we talked to the director, he sent someone else to ‘Teuta’…”!
– “I’m going in a minute, as long as I sell the ticket…”!
But the man named Spiro, who introduced himself to me as a Security officer, spoke to me like an old friend, taking me by the arm:
– “Come on, don’t do this for a ALL…”!
I opened my eyes around and noticed several people in those characteristic dock suits, which the secret police wore, when they dressed as civilians, for various tasks…! No escape route. Where?! Where would I run away from…?! We arrived at the vehicle “Gaz”-69 of the Durrës Branch, the one who introduced himself as a Security officer, opened the door of the “Gaz” and pushed me inside, where I recognized Petro Bardhi, one of the Security operatives, for the Port of Durrës.
I took a seat next to Petros, who frowned, while the one who introduced himself as a Security officer, sat in front, next to the driver. “Gaz” started. When we were on the way out of Fier, the Security officer Spiro Spiro, turned back and looking me in the eyes, said sternly: – “You will be arrested, Maksim”!
– “Why, for what reason”?! – I asked her.
– “Shut up, you have no right to ask!” The questions here are asked by me, North Irons Petro”!
Petroja took out the bars, I took out my hands…!
– “Back your hands, quickly! Do you want to put the bars with your hands in front, eh, no more…!
For the first time in my life I saw handcuffs, they were of what they called “German”, with a screw without an end, which allowed them to be tightened, according to the desire of the officer. “With these irons, they tied both Njazi and Hysen Rakipaj” – I thought, while Petroja was diligently pulling them out for me.
– “When you get bitten, tell me enough” – said Petroja when she reached the knuckle bone.
– “Oh, enough”! – I spoke in a muffled voice.
After that “enough” Petro Bardhi turned twice more the butterfly-screw, of the German handcuffs of World War II, and my hands immediately swelled.
When we arrived at the bridge at the exit of Fier, it gave me the brain to kick the car door and jump, but in the eyes of my companions, nothing could escape. They stopped the car and S. S. came and sat next to me. After an hour or so, we arrived in Durrës. Before dusk began to fall, I eagerly saw the sights of my city, while in my head, the overture was playing; “Egmont”, by Beethoven. Why did they arrest me?! Will I ever come back here free?! Memorie.al
The next issue follows
