From Vepror Hasani
Memorie.al / “Suddenly we received a letter from the Vlora prison. It was 1972”, Haxhi Hasanasi from the village of Butkë i Kolonje begins to tell us the story of his brother, Hajrulla Hasanasi. “He had been imprisoned for 9 years, but the telegram that arrived suddenly informed that Hajrullau had died. I was speechless. How was it possible? He was healthy and did not suffer from anything! Everyone stared at me for reading the letter. My brother’s wife, Liria, my wife, Basania, and Hajrullah’s 5 small children; Peace, Viktoria, Laureta, Skënderia and Arbeni, were anxiously waiting to understand what had happened. They forewarned that something bad had happened to their father,” Haxhiu recalled.
Hajrulla Hasanasi died in prison, come and take the spoils!
“At the time when the letter arrived, we were no longer living in Butkë village, because after my brother’s arrest, we were interned in the cooperative ‘Bubullimë’ in Ardenicë village in Lushnjë. 8 of us lived in a small shack, the space of which was no more than 9 square meters. The news we received made the room even smaller. He was no longer blackmailing us. The anxiety was great. We were all shaking. We were shaking, because the letter did not come from my brother, but from the ward of the Vlora prison.
Something had happened. Hajrullah’s wife stared at me desperately, waiting for an answer. Her five young children were very shocked. My wife, Basania, was in the same situation. If my answer was delayed a moment longer, I had the impression that everyone would die from the terror of waiting. In that letter, nothing more was said than that: Hajrulla Hasanasi, died in prison, come and take the spoils”, Haxhiu told painfully!
“Cry, but in silence”!
Haxhi Hasanasi was silent for a moment, lit a cigarette and took a deep breath. “It was news of death,” he continues to tell us. – My eyes filled with tears. My brother, Hajrullau, was no longer alive. The evil that had happened was understood. The first to start crying was Liria, after her my 5 children started crying, brother. My friend, Basania, as she tried to gather herself, asked me: “Hajji, tell us what happened.” With my voice trembling, I stammered: “Hajrulla is no longer alive, he is dead”! I tried so that the news of his death was not heard by my brother’s children.
The paper slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. No one reached out to take it again. The small barrack in Ardenica, Lushnja, was covered by wailing and crying. No one could contain himself. For a moment I remembered that I was the only man in that shack and I raised my voice: “Cry, but cry quietly, so that we don’t have any more confusion, because today, we will have Security people around. Otherwise, they will arrest all of us, accused of calling a traitor to the country”.
For treason against the motherland
“Hajrullau was convicted of treason against the homeland, because in 1961, he escaped to Greece, while when he wanted to enter Albania again, he was arrested. The two women and the children obeyed my words so much, because the word ‘Security’ evoked fear in us, even in Arbeni, who was the youngest child in that shack. All together, 8 of us, we started to cry in silence, so that no one could hear us.
It was the wisest decision we made at that moment. Relieved by the solution to this problem, I started to cry too. We spent the whole night in complete silence, amidst the endless crying. In the morning, no one had to find out about the pain that had plagued our shack, there in Ardenica, Lushnja, where its space was no bigger than three by three”.
“Haxhi, can I cry here, where no one sees us”?!
“The morning dawned with rain. I went with my sister-in-law, Hajrulla’s wife, Lirina, to take the spoils of my dead brother in prison. We arrived in Vlora with random cars. While we were traveling to Vlora, Liria and I remained silent, each trying to suppress the pain inside himself. Suddenly I heard Liria’s voice: ‘Hajji, no one can see us here, can I cry’? More than a question, her voice was a pained plea. I knew, from crying silently the night before, she had not been able to get the pain out of her soul. ‘Cry’, I replied.
At that moment we were on the body of a car. There was no one to listen to us. It was raining lightly and her tears were not understood, they mixed with the raindrops. ‘Cry’, I told him again. – ‘You don’t have a better occasion to cry for your husband’. For a moment Liria raised her eyes and asked me; ‘Hajji, what do you say, it might not be true…?! Maybe some mistake was made…maybe it was written wrong…?! How does he know, Hajrullahu can be safe and sound…’?! I remember, that I did not find any answer to be. I had no doubt that my brother was dead. I knew some things more than his wife.”
I had met my brother a week ago
“The rain had no intention of stopping. When we arrived in Vlora, we entered a shelter, as if to relax a little. From my sister-in-law’s whispers, I understood that she continued to pray to God for Hajrulla to be alive, but I knew very well that my brother was dead. I had met a week ago with him…! The guard officer at the Internal Affairs Branch in Vlora did not want to let me meet. I begged him with all my heart, but he would not obey. ‘Hajrullau is fine,’ he told me, ‘what will happen to him, or is the government feeding him’?!
When I saw that they didn’t want to leave me, I was getting ready to leave for Ardenica in Lushnja, but at that moment I saw the operative of the area, in Kolonja, the man who had been following and eavesdropping on our family, in Butka. I don’t know why he was there that day. I knew him well. Doubts about our family had started a long time ago. Hajrullau spoke rightly and wrongly saying that communism was nothing but poverty. At that time, they had seized our properties and cattle”.
Everything was going wrong!
“The situation of Hajrullah became even worse when Liria’s brother, Zeqir Agolli, was arrested. She was from Bulgareci, from the tribe of Agolls, who had friendship and friendship with the kulaks of the village of Rov, in Korça. Then Zeqir Agolli’s father was also arrested, because he had not registered an apple root that he had planted in the yard. After these arrests, the operative of the area appeared at our house, whom I now had in front of me at the Internal Affairs Branch of Vlora.
– ‘Why did you come, he asked me’?
– ‘I wanted to meet Hajrulla, – I replied, – but they don’t want to let me’.
– ‘How is it possible, – he told me, – that you come from Lushnja and not be allowed’?! The operative knew that we were interned in Lushnja. He approached the guard officer and said:
-‘Let him look at his brother'”!
Theft of the photograph
“While Liria and I were staying under a shelter in the city of Vlora, long enough to collect myself from the street, I still kept thinking about how I had met Hajrulla a week ago in prison. The operator, after giving me permission to meet my brother, shook my hand and left. At that moment I remembered how I had met him. One night he knocked late at our house, said that he had been somewhere and had not been able to go to Erseka. He asked if he could sleep that night at our house. We looked forward to it with all the best. I remember we drank brandy and got into the song.
Hajrullau liked to sing: “As a bird sings, beyond the grove, a worry that I have, from my heart is not removed”, was his favorite song. The operative was doing iso. We sat until late. It wasn’t until after midnight that we went to sleep. In the morning the operative got up early and left, saying he had a lot of work. We escorted him to the gate and told him not to forget to come again, while we looked at each other and asked each other: ‘What about this man, what brought him to our house’?! When he was gone, Liria checked the room where the operative slept. After a moment he returned to the room, as if he had been terrified:
-‘Hajrulla,’ she said to her husband, ‘the operative has stolen a photograph from us’! At first we didn’t understand what she was telling us, but she repeated it: ‘Hajrulla, the operative stole the photo we went out with.’ – ‘What do you say my’! – said Hajrullau and his face broke down.
– ‘Why should he steal the photo’?!
– ‘He stole it,’ said Liria, ‘we only had two of these, one is there, the other is missing’.
-‘Look carefully,’ Hajrullau shouted, – it will be there’.
– ‘I looked for it everywhere, but I couldn’t find it…’! Freedom almost cried. We all got up as a family. We checked the room in every corner, turned everything upside down, but the picture was not there. It was probably distributed to all branches of Home Affairs. At that moment, we realized that Hajrullah’s case had become very difficult. Something was going to happen. As if not to appreciate the evil that was threatening us, I also got engaged to Basane, a girl from the Agoll tribe of Bulgarec”.
“Don’t worry brother, they treat me well in prison”!
“After the intervention of the operative, I was allowed to meet my brother inside the bars. I waited a moment until they brought it. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It was completely consumed, only the bones remained, nothing more. I noticed that he could hardly walk. It looked like it was going to fall at any moment. I did not believe that he was my brother, Hajrullau. When he was in front of me, I was horrified. He was not only weak, he was battered in every part of his body from his feet to his head.
There were black and swollen marks on his face, a gash could be seen under his chin. My eyes filled with tears. He also wept, just as silently, unable to hide his exhaustion. I hugged him longingly and he hugged me, but he didn’t have the strength to hold me. I hugged him tightly, but he was hurt by the wounds on his body and let out a painful moan.
– “Boll brother”, – he told me. A policeman was standing next to us, who was attentively following every word of our conversation. I couldn’t find out what had happened to my brother, but how could I ask him, how could I tell him, when a policeman was standing very close to us”.
“What happened to you brother”?!
“His condition shocked me. I looked at him and cried. Between the tears that I couldn’t hold back, I said: – In Butka, everyone is fine, we had our parents there. Even we in Lushnja are fine. Freedom makes you very grateful, your children have grown up and remember you every day’. I could feel him enjoying my words, but he didn’t even have the strength to put his lips on the gas. Then I decided to ask him again:
– ‘What happened to you, brother, but it was impossible, the policeman was always there. The gash under his chin still looked bloody. The open wound clearly showed that he had just been beaten. His swelling and bruised face made me cringe all over. I could not contain myself, I asked him:
– ‘What happened to you, brother’?! I saw that his lip trembled, he wanted to speak, but then he looked at the policeman. As he sat for a moment, he answered me:
– ‘Don’t worry, brother, they treat me well here. Tell the children the same, tell them that the father is fine’. I hugged him for the last time and headed towards Lushnja, to our shack with a space that was no more than 9 square meters. I told Liria that Hajrullau was in good health, but I could not tell her that; “They treated him well in prison”!
“The corpse must suffer the punishment, then you can take it, bury it”!
“I was immersed in my memories with my brother, maybe I would continue to stay like that, but at that moment I heard the voice of Freedom:
– “Let’s go on Hajj”. I was mentioned. We were in Vlora to take our brother’s spoils, because as we were told in the letter, he had died in prison. A few moments later, we found ourselves facing the guard officer. I explained to the officer that I was Haxhi Hasanasi and I had come there to take my brother’s spoils, since a letter sent to us by the prison ward told us that Hajrullau had died. While I explained to the guard officer, Liria waited anxiously, hoping to hear: ‘What are you saying…?! Hajrullau is fine…! Let’s ask how things are…’! But he didn’t say that.
– ‘I am aware,’ he replied, ‘but you will take his spoils and leave’. I will never forget that moment, suddenly I heard a loud noise. Liria had put her hands on her head and was crying. He no longer asked if there were guards, officers or policemen. She no longer had the strength to bear the pain. – ‘What did you do to me, Hajrulla!’ was her voice. – Why leave us alone, me and the children’!
We were waiting for you to come home! We waited for you more than 7 years, we would wait for you for 17 more! (Hajrullau was sentenced to 24 years in prison). We would expect the child to be happy, to have a father too. How do I tell the children now?! Why did you find us like this, O Haxhi?! it looked like he was asking me for help. But this situation did not last long, someone threw a bag of rags at our feet and told us to leave.
“Where should I come”?
“But where would I go without my big brother? How should I tell his children?! I turned again to the officer of the watch and said:
– ‘We don’t want the spoils, we don’t need them, we have come to take his body’, but the Security officer laughed under his breath.
– ‘Are you looking for his body?! You don’t know that he was sentenced to 24 years in prison. When he finishes serving his sentence, come get him. I wanted to ask him how a dead person could suffer punishment, but they wouldn’t let me say another word. They escorted us out.
– ‘Go, go’! – they told us, – when he finishes serving his sentence, we will send you a letter again, so you can come and get it’. I could not insist more. Because even if I insisted, I wouldn’t be able to take my brother’s lifeless body. let’s go”
“No one comes to cry for me”?!
“The road did not have any big changes, just as we went to Vlora and on the way back, we were accompanied by the same pain. Liria cried silently, while I, from time to time, told her to calm down, but I knew very well that without tears, the pain would not go away. On the way back we had only one change, a bag weighed down on my shoulder. They were the clothes that my brother had worn and slept in for more than 7 years, in Laçi and Vlora prisons. While Liria cried silently, I thought of my life, brother. After stealing the photograph, Hajurullau realized that he would be arrested. His brother-in-law had the same fate. One night he said to me:
– ‘Hajji, I will escape, because if I don’t escape, I will end up in prison. Take care of my children, I will make every effort to come and get you all. I will come and get you all’, he repeated. – I was sitting here. they will arrest me’. I told him not to take such a step, because it would hurt us all, but he did not obey me. At the end of 1959, he fled to Greece. After more than a year and a half, he tried to come and get us, but he was caught as soon as he entered the border.
He was sentenced to 24 years in prison for treason. Right after his conviction, in November 1961, the police car came to deport us. I had just married Basane. We spent our honeymoon in Ardenica in Lushnja, where we received only 3.7 lek per working day. We had nothing else: no land, no cattle, not even chickens. We had neither a front card nor a passport. Only one room of 9 square meters, where we lived for 12 years in a row, 8 people, Hajrulla’s family and me and my wife”.
“Children of Hajrullah”
“When we arrived at our barracks, Hajrulla’s children came before us and from the first moment asked us:
-‘How was dad’?!
– It was very good, I told them, while trying to hide the bag I was carrying on my shoulder. There among those unwashed and bloody spoils was their father. The evening had fallen, the police officers came, as they did every evening, and appealed to us. Haxhi Hasanas…? Liri Hasanas…? Basane Hasanas…? Peaceful Hasanas…? Viktorie Hasanas…? Laureta Hasanas…? Skenderie Hasanas…? Arben Hasanas…? After each name was called, a voice was heard silently crying and saying; ‘here’.
For 12 years in a row, we would say every evening; No one called him ‘here’, but only Hajrulla Hasanasi. One night it seemed to me that he came out of the bloody spoils in the bag and said: ‘I miss the children. They have never come to my grave, no one has come to cry for me’?!
– Hey brother, I told him, if we knew where your grave is, our tears would have made a whole sea there. We returned to Butka only when we finished our internment”! Haxhi Hasanasi finished his painful confession”, then he lit a cigarette and remained silent. A drop of tear appeared in his eye. Memorie.al
