“When the camp commander, in the presence of the group accompanying him, said to the convicted journalist: ‘Why did you exchange this beautiful profession for the Spaç wagon [mine cart/labor], he [the journalist]…”/ The unknown story of January 10, 1983

By Agim Hamit

“O well-fed oppressors do not despise the weakened oppressed ones!”

                                  Joseph Joubert

Memorie.al / On January 10, 1983, a special inspection was conducted at the Spaç mine. The inspection team included two envoys from the Ministry of Industry and Mining, the commander of the Spaç camp, accompanied by a squad of guards led by the chief of police, the mine director, as well as the director of the Forestry Enterprise of the Pukë district. The chief engineer of the mine and his assistant were part of the escort. The two ministry representatives had also assisted in this type of inspection the previous year. The large volume of work completed surprised them.

-Can we visit any working face?” one of them asked.

-Of course,” the police chief replied. “Zef, lead us to a working face where prisoners who are not severely sentenced are working,” he ordered one of the first shift police officers.

Puffed up by the mention of his name in the presence of the distinguished guests, Zef led the inspection group. After a few minutes, he stopped at the bottom of a vertical gallery equipped with wooden stairs and began to strike the metal ventilation pipe with a rock.

-Why are you doing that?!” one of the ministry envoys asked curiously. Guard Zef did not miss the opportunity to display his personal knowledge in the presence of important officials:

-The prisoners working up there are enemies of our beloved Party. Even though they have been sentenced more lightly than others, an enemy always remains an enemy. We must not begin climbing the furnace stairs until the same signal comes from above. Otherwise, they might deliberately dump a wagon of ore on us, justifying that they didn’t know people were climbing.

While Zef was displaying his professional knowledge, the signal from the metal pipe came from above. Loyal to the regulations, the police climbed first, followed by the delegation. When everyone was at the top of the furnace, the camp commander asked Zef:

-Are the prisoners far from here?

-About a hundred meters. But the closer we get to the working face, the more the dust will increase, since the group’s miner has started drilling with the jackhammer. Do you want me to call the other two prisoners to report here?

-Good idea, Zef. We prefer not to enter a dense dust.

After a while, the two prisoners reported to the visiting group.

-Where are you from?” the camp commander asked one of them.

-From Elbasan.

-What profession did you practice in your free life?

-Teacher.

-Why were you convicted?

-Agitation and propaganda.

-Can a good teacher engage in propaganda against the government of his own people?

-What if you are convicted for doing nothing?!

-A banal justification. What interest would our Party have in convicting its innocent citizens?!

-That, it knows itself.

-You should control your tongue well, otherwise…!

“…you will be arrested and convicted without ever leaving prison, just like what happened to me,” the other prisoner deciphered the camp commander’s reticence.

-With that long tongue of yours, I’m sure you must have been convicted for agitation and propaganda,” the commander speculated, addressing the other prisoner.

-Naturally, there is nothing easier than convicting a man for words said and unsaid.-

-What profession did you have in your free life?

-In the so-called free life, I was a journalist.

-Why did you exchange this beautiful profession for the Spaç wagon [mine cart/labor]?

-When the truth is imprisoned, a good journalist cannot live in freedom.

-But comes to scratch around here in the mine,” the camp commander completed, bursting into laughter.

Accustomed to following the example of their superiors, the police joined in the commander’s hearty laughter. Due to inertia, the other attendees also joined the humorous chorus.

When the laughter subsided, the former journalist said:

-It is better to scratch around in the mine than to become a gravedigger of the truth, while calling yourself its spokesperson.

-How many years in prison were you sentenced to?” the camp commander continued the dialogue.

-Ten,” the prisoner replied.

-How many have you served?

-Ten.

-How many do you still have left?

-Ten.

Outraged, the commander interrupted him:

-Don’t forget, enemy that the police officers present are taking note of your behavior and you will not get away with it. I am asking you about the sentence, I don’t feel like playing games with you.

-If you don’t feel like playing, how about me? It is the investigators and judges who are paid to play with the lives of others. A week before I was supposed to be released after the first ten-year sentence, they arrested me in prison and sentenced me to ten more years, which I have just started.

-Where are you from?

-From Tir…!

An explosion abruptly interrupted their dialogue. The jackhammer of the prisoner who was drilling holes at the working face fell silent. Concerned by this fact, the two prisoners near the delegation shouted in unison:

-Our comrade is in danger; we must go and help him.

Without waiting for anyone’s permission, they disappeared into the darkness, running.

-Comrade Camp Commander, we must descend immediately, as we do not know what has happened,” the police chief proposed.

The inspection team exited the mine in large strides. / Memorie.al