Nga Sokrat Shyti
Part fifty-seven
Memorie.al /The writer Sokrat Shyti is the “great unknown” who for several years has shown the tip of the iceberg of his literary creativity. I say this based on the limited number of his published books in recent years, mainly the voluminous novel “The Ghost Night” (Tirana 2014). The novels: “BEYOND MYSTERY,” “BETWEEN TEMPTATION AND WHIRLPOOL,” “THE DIGGING OF NIGHTMARES,” “THE SHADOW OF SHAME AND DEATH,” “COLONEL MAIN HAND,” “THE FADING HOPES,” “THE TWISTS OF FATE” I, II, “SURVIVAL IN THE COWSHED,” as well as other works, all novels with 350 – 550 pages, are in manuscripts waiting to be published. The dreams and initial enthusiasm of the young novelist, returning from studies abroad full of energy and love for art and literature, were cut short early by the harsh blade of communist dictatorship.
Who is Sokrat Shyti?
Having returned from studies at the State University of Moscow right after the rupture of Albanian-Soviet relations in 1960, Sokrat Shyti worked in “Radio-diffusion” (which at that time was located on Kavaja Street), in an editorial office with his journalist friends – Vangjel Lezho and Fadil Kokomani – both of whom were later arrested and subsequently executed by the communist regime. Besides the radio, 21-year-old Sokrat had passionate literary interests at that time. He wrote his first novel “Madam Doctor” and was on the verge of publication, but… alas! Shortly after the arrest of his friends, to fill the cup, one of his brothers, a painter, escaped abroad.
Sokrat was arrested in September 1963, and in November of that year, he was interned along with his family (his mother and little sister) in a place between Ardenica and Kolonje of Lushnje. For 27 consecutive years, the family lived in a cowshed made of reeds, without windows, while Sokrat was subjected to forced labor. During those 27 years, he was legally obliged to report three times a day to the local authority. He had no right to leave the place of internment, was deprived of any kind of documents, etc. In these conditions, amid a cowshed, he gave birth to and raised his children. Precisely from this event, or more accurately a very long story of persecution, he based his writing of the book “Survival in the Cowshed”!
Agron Tufa
Continued from the previous issue
EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK “SURVIVAL IN THE COWSHED”
The days of rest with my mother and sister, interspersed with occasional trips to Lushnje, to walk and have fun with my fiancée, passed pleasantly. During this time, I took care of some internal arrangements and the arrangement of the yard. I ordered Nel to find reeds, and together we wove the outer fence, which on the northern side limited the yard to the village road, while on the east it formed the dividing line with the neighbor’s yard.
To express my personal and family gratitude to the Almighty, I went especially to meet him and greet him, I asked him about the health of the children and wife, in the end I asked his opinion; how I could arrange the septic tank within my means, so that it would not fill up and the sewage would come out on the surface. He vowed that he would deal with this issue himself, promised that I could talk to the person in charge of the Municipal Corporation today. He not only considered my remark useful, but also thanked me for pointing it out to him, considering that my house is located on the main road of the village, where passersby and cars rush, so as such it immediately catches the eye.
He also promised to talk to the mayor of the locality, so that the Municipal Corporation can build a drainage system specifically for the sewage of this block of buildings, to be connected to the canal across the road, which deposits all the spills in the large canal. – “With this solution, we will save everyone once and for all,” he emphasized with satisfaction. – But now it is imperative that the septic tank be isolated with concrete walls and a lid, so that the sewage truck can empty it from the road via pipes”.
Then he asked me how I was passing the days with the farmers and livestock farmers of the NBU.
– “Not bad for a start,” I said. – I organize cultural activities. I go to the plots where they work, read newspapers and magazines to the soldiers. In addition to the main news, with the approval of the commissar, we have selected some humorous stories from the magazine ‘Hosteni’, which make fun of and attack the shortcomings of our society, and are liked by the soldiers”.
– “Your commissar probably said: who brought this to me, you fish! Because you not only select the articles and pieces, but you also read them beautifully, which they enjoy. The commissar, with your departure, has made a bear, a capo! He needs you more than you need his support”.
– “It’s important to me that I read, and in a way I’m independent, I don’t kill myself at work to meet the quota. The command values me – I told him. – But in order not to hold any responsibility on myself, after I assign the humorous stories, I put them on the table in front of the commissar, saying: you choose which one I should read today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow… and so on. Write the number on top. This one enjoys it. When he comes with me, during the reading, this one bursts into laughter, and the soldiers laugh after him…”!
– “Why don’t you say you’ll do a variety show for a day”!…added the Almighty, quite pleased that things in the army were going like butter on cabbage. – “Tell your sister that whenever they need anything, let them go to Dhoksa without any hesitation, so that my wife can let me know. Because you know: Dhoksa doesn’t leave you without fulfilling her order”!
After thanking him for the care shown and his willingness, I said goodbye, telling him to convey my thanks to his wife and children. It was a miracle that the Almighty of the area happened to be a friend of our family, a tireless supporter and advocate, who knew how to choose and use with intelligence and skill the most successful ways to help us, without being noticed!
When I returned home, I told my mother about the meeting and conversation with Petron. He was pleased that I found time to express my gratitude for the continued care for us, adding that he and his wife are such kind people, they often send me greetings. Then he remembered to say that today Shaja had invited us to lunch with her family, and Lika is coming.
– “Did you come and tell her yourself, or did you send Nelin?” – I asked.
– “He was flying with joy when he informed me! For your Socrates I am ready to give my life, because thanks to him we are alive and we are being fed!… – he said to me, hugging me. – As for the lunch that he will serve you, do not take it at all, because it is just a drop of water, compared to the great kindness that he bestowed on me and Nelit!… For me in particular, and for us, as a family, my son, I consider it a great fortune to be so close friends with this hot-tempered woman and her tireless hardworking son”!…
(Arqelin was left with an extraordinary impression by the warmth and noble love of this wonderful woman, who smiled at every pore of her being, down to her long, thick hair, which she always kept, gathered under her black scarf! She served us with pleasure and a divine look, filled with tears of joy! I was convinced that this hot-tempered woman, for the first time she experienced a great joy of such shocking proportions, as she saw the hearth of the house filled with sincere and loving people, and imagined her mother Ana, as her mother! So it seemed a miracle and a surprise to her that such a good chance had come to her, and she was filled with sweet, inexhaustible feelings!
From time to time she would burst out laughing, until her mind was drowning, when I teased her about her second marriage to the old man, and asked her to imitate the pleading voice of the man with a mustache up to her ear, who was calling her to come closer to him. While this was going on, she would find no reason to do so, and would engage in various tasks. “But I was tiring myself in vain…! Because in the end I had nothing to hold on to, I would close my eyes, and tell myself: no matter how hard you try, you will give in, since this fate has befallen you, O Shaje!…” – she would answer me, laughing with teary eyes. She never spoke of her first husband and never mentioned him. It was clear: it was an unhealed wound, still dripping blood, she was afraid to scratch the scab!
Therefore, she tried not to forget the tragedy that happened to her: how a woman of rare beauty, at the most fragile age, was abandoned to the mercy of fate, especially pregnant!? As if this cruel and terrible punishment on his part was not enough, she was mercilessly struck like lightning by the ancient habit of parents, whose hearts had strangely hardened, and who had become alienated into furious savages, who abandon their own puppies, leaving them in the middle of the four streets!..Shaja was stunned, and she could not believe that the old woman dressed in black from Berat was not Mrs. Ana’s mother, but her stepmother! – “How is it possible that a stepmother can be so compassionate and loving, setting off in the dead of winter with bags full of food, to see her husband’s daughter, while my real mother, who carried me in her womb for nine months, raised me and married me, did not come to my house when my husband ran away”?!..,)
The lunch prepared by Shaja and her son was fantastic, with rare beauty and diverse flavors: The aroma of freshly baked corn bread enticed you with its intoxicating steam. The roasted birds under the blanket melted in your mouth. The sour cream yogurt did not spill from the bowl even when you turned it upside down! The sheep’s cheese with the softness of the sourdough spread the aroma of the pasture. The pickles prepared with spices gave you a taste you had never tasted before.
The sweet mulberry brandy had something special, different from other drinks. Or the wonderful syrup of the jam, the walnuts and peeled almonds. And finally the yshmeri drowned in butter and milk! All this richness combined with the extraordinary hospitality, remained in our memory for a long time! Arqelin was impressed, in addition to the variety of food, (which you could not find in any famous luxury restaurant), by another detail: on the plates of the engaged couple, there were two roasted birds!
– “Why this difference from the others”?…she asked the hostess timidly and in a whisper, because it was difficult for her to feel privileged.
– “Because you and Socrates are a couple!” Shaja replied, laughing lightly. “Since I have the opportunity to speak about you two, I am not ashamed to say it in front of my mother. (She used the dialect of the Darsia region, which includes the Dumre hills): Make a proper marriage vow to your golden husband, for you have him with your own hands and you have taken him with love!”
(Through these words, she expressed her extraordinary pleasure that our laborious efforts were crowned with an engagement. Perhaps in these minutes, she imagined herself at this fragile age, struck by infidelity and the hellish pressures of abandonment, left as a neglected herb in the middle of the desert!…)
To reward the wonderful hospitality as she deserved, my fiancée was very careful, she took timely preparatory measures, from the moment Shaja appeared the wish that one of these days, and you will be invited as a family to my hut for lunch. She went especially to the store and bought for Shaje’s mother a sharp black crepe, a thick winter blouse, and slippers. As for the sweaty Nel, a warm flannel shirt, scarf, and socks. Shaje’s mother was touched and tears flowed from the pleasure of this appreciation. Since she could not speak, (because the sobs in her throat prevented her), she took my fiancée in her arms, and covered her with kisses. This touching scene would be remembered for a very long time.
(The generosity and inexhaustible desire of these two simple people, mother and son, so pure and wonderful, with their volitional actions and amber purity became a natural part of all our future joys and events!)
When you are near loved ones, surrounded by care and attention, and find yourself at the center of their thoughts, the oppressive stresses significantly reduce their binding force, and take on the dimensions of bad dreams that must be thrown away. Therefore, the days of rest passed quickly, as if they flew by, being cooked with a dense variety of entertainment, so that not a single minute remained lonely, empty. But after all this pleasant entertainment, the bitter moment of departure came. And immediately the conversation I had with the Angel of the Military Branch, a few days ago, stirred me inside. The impulse told me to meet him again; maybe he had something new to add during these days.
So I went and informed the soldier on duty. The angel came out smiling on the platform of the outer stairs, and after shaking my hand he told me in a whisper that the situation had become even more aggravated with our southern neighbor, the harassment had become more frequent, how dangerous it was to repeat the provocations of August of the year forty-nine!
To respond to this situation, a general mobilization will be carried out at the level of the Republic! The new recruits called up to the army will serve for three years.
– “So the movement of troops is taking on alarming proportions. In addition to the shepherds and farmers, who will remain there, the rest of the soldiers from the NBU will be transferred. Autonomous regiments will be created with them. I believe more than that, you don’t care. Be careful on the road. You will keep the two permits, the one for leaving the hospital and the one for staying with the family, issued by our Military Branch, together in the outer pocket with a buttoned flap. Keep your uniform neat and clean, with a collar. I wish you all the best and good luck with your journey”! – He said, hugging me.
After this short conversation, which reinforced the message of the first meeting, I felt more relieved, with my feet on the ground, the security of my self-confidence in the transfer increased significantly. This state of mind advised me to strictly respect the military regulations, and above all to report to the unit at the right time. Because even the smallest violation can have serious consequences, and the worst for me is being removed from the transfer list, which means turning me into a farmer and shepherd. That’s why I told Arqelin that I would leave by train from Shkodra to Milot. And I would continue by bus, or by mining trucks.
– “You have to understand me correctly: for the created conditions…”!
– “For what conditions”? – she interrupted me worriedly, looking at me anxiously.
– “I have in mind the time specified in the leave, which must not be broken for a single minute in order to respect the colonel’s trust, thanks to which I came home, to make my mother happy and to spend a few honeymoon days together,” – I explained to her to disperse the gloomy clouds of suspicion, and so that she would not hope to extend the leave by a few hours beyond the limit.
She considered my reasoning right. So the next day I put on my soldier’s uniform, threw my backpack over my shoulders (it contained packed food for the trip, as well as a small bottle of mani brandy), and we went to the station half an hour before the train arrived. In order not to attract the attention of the train controller, considering that there is a policeman on every train (except for the military patrol on the occasion of general mobilization), I bought a ticket to Milot, and we went out onto the platform.
– “Who knows when another chance will come to come with permission”… – said Arqelini with tearful eyes, sighing deeply.
– “There are surprises and strange occurrences in the army,” I replied to calm him down. “Who would have thought that we would see each other before three months had passed? That’s what happened. Why not call today the first day that I’m going to be a soldier, according to the new, modern concept, where every recruit dressed in uniform presents himself to the unit? But according to this idea, there is a special instruction for engaged soldiers (since they are much fewer than the fingers of one hand), exceptions are made to the general regulation, and occasional permits are granted. Of course, when you hear this idea for the first time, it seems like a dream. But in fact, every intangible reality, at first, has the dimensions of a dream…” – I added, hugging him.
– “How I feel… – she said with tearful eyes. – I remember Shaja’s message: ‘Give Socrates a hug, because we have a son with Kim’s’! How will I take care of you, being hundreds of kilometers away? …
– “We went through several more painful vicissitudes than this farewell at the train station. Back then, we didn’t know what to say to each other, we were afraid to look each other in the eye due to the uncertainty of tomorrow. But today as engaged, and tomorrow married, we must get used to temporary separations, when life’s circumstances force us to. We must be satisfied that our main goal was fulfilled. It seems to me that the locomotive’s siren…” – I added as soon as I heard the whistle, both of us standing up.
– “How will you let me know that you arrived safe and sound?” – she asked with a searching look.
– “He’ll find a way”… – I told him, even though I knew that communication was the most difficult thing for us, especially when you’re inside the military unit. – “Maybe I meet a familiar traveler by chance. Now the time has come to say goodbye until the next meeting… for another meeting?!
– “At the moment we part from each other, you think….” – she asked in surprise.
– “And what should one think about when saying goodbye to the person of one’s heart, except to appeal to the desire of the soul, that the time may come as soon as possible, to be near each other again”?… – I added, kissing and hugging her. And immediately I climbed into the carriage. As soon as I took a seat by the window, I lowered the window so that we could see each other more clearly. The train siren gave the signal for departure. We waved our hands, and continued to kiss each other in the distance until our gazes blurred. Then we used our imagination, where the details of the portrait had been recorded, especially the expressions of the eyes, where all the feelings pour out.
When the train left the city, I raised the window glass, leaned against the backrest of the seat, to get comfortable, hoping to doze off until we reached Milot station. But to be safe, I politely told my neighbor, an elderly man, that when we approached Milot station, he should remind me to get off my doze, as I would get off there. He smiled and told me to rest without worrying. And without prolonging the conversation further, he continued reading the newspaper. Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
