By URIM ELEZI
Part seven
Preface
Memorie.al / Urim Elezi, born on 18.10.1941 in Floq, Korça, are among those convicted twice by the communist regime with many years of suffering. He was imprisoned on 26.10.1963 and was released from there on 10.2.1989. He entered at 22 years old and left at 48, even blinded. At the age of 18, he completed the Instruction school in Gjirokastër, where he was promoted to non-commissioned officer. During his first sentence, he was a soldier in Unit No. 9357 Gjirokastër. The first time he was accused based on Article 64, in combination with Articles 10 and 14 of the Penal Code. He was on military service, together with his friend Hekuran Shyti, in Gjirokastër. According to the court, he had proposed to Hekuran to escape because a good life was lived in capitalist countries and especially in the USA. Hekuran is released earlier from the army and during this time finds the other persons with whom they would carry out the escape. Hekuran sends a telegram to Urim in Gjirokastër, with the request to depart as his mother was ill.
Thus, Urim joins his friends, Hekuran Shyti, Durim Shyti, and Robert Morava. Poorly oriented, betrayed by a local resident, they were caught by border forces at the border post of Nikolica in the district of Korça. The Tirana Military Court, with decision no. 21, dated 27.2.1964, declared him guilty and sentenced him to 18 years of deprivation of liberty, confiscation of property, the removal of the right to vote for 4 years, and the loss of the rank of sergeant. It was upheld by decision no. 23, dated 31.3.1964, of the Military College of the Supreme Court. For the second time, he was arrested on 19.2.1980. He was accused based on Article 55/1 of the Penal Code with very aggravating articulations. The Fier Internal Affairs Branch, with letter no. 112, dated 15.1.1980, requested the Prosecution Directorate to approve the arrests for three citizens, among them the aforementioned Urim Elezi. He had been taken into active processing on 17.5.1979 because he was conducting propaganda among the convicts.
Reports about him were made by “The Penitent” and “The Technician.” He was said to have expressed: “The Sigurimi has painted its hands with the blood of this people. They have committed the most hideous crimes that can exist in history, the Sigurimi has treated the people and the individuals worse than the fascists and Nazis have treated them..! There is no one viler than the communists. I call communists all those who have a star on their forehead like a tomato, regardless of whether they believe in Marx’s beard or Stalin’s mustache…! The most monstrous crimes in Albania were committed when the communists came to power! Life for us is a prison.”
The Fier District Court, presided over by Sokrat Dautaj, with the participation of prosecutor Kiço Koçi, with decision no. 94, dated 18.4.1980, declared him guilty and sentenced him to 10 years of deprivation of liberty, as well as the removal of the right to vote for 5 years. Convinced of the futility of communist decisions, Urim Elezi did not appeal the decision. After having sent a letter to Enver Hoxha, where he described him as a “colorless monster, sick with persecution mania,” on 6.12.1981, he was beaten by the police of Burrel Prison until he went blind. He was released on 10.2.1989, from Unit no. 305 Përparim, of the Saranda district.
Continued from the previous issue
Around 9:00 to 10:30, I was near the well in the courtyard. Officer Besimi, who was serving inside, arrived and had stopped A. K. and R. L. from hitting me. They take me and leave me near the cell. I don’t know how many hours they leave me there, but according to the words of the friends who were inside the cell, it was until late afternoon. My friends tell me that at that moment, the voice of the ward nurse, Kamber Libeshari, was heard. In the cell were Mersin Vlashi, Fatos Kërluku, Petrit Paja, Lulëzim Bregu, and Ibrahim Buzi from Mallakastra. On December 12, my brother Bilbil comes for a visit.
My friends take me and lead me to the inner guard door. At this moment, the police go to my room and take Ibrahim Nikshiqi from Shkodra. I was lying on the ground on the cement, and they order him to take me. Ibrahim Nikshiqi says: – “Mr. Gimi, where is Urim”?! Gimi turns, hits him with a stick and says: -“There he is, may your eyes rot”. (He did not recognize me). He takes me in his arms and drags me near the counter.
-“Speak to him” – Ibrahim tells me! – “Who should I speak to, I want my brother. This is not my brother.” After they had insulted him badly, my brother leaves. All these are discussions from my roommates. I was numb; I neither heard nor saw. All the friends, without exception, served me. My situation became an alarm. My friends told me that one day the autopsy people had come, while Agim Kërtuka and Ramazan Lika had taken a shovel to cut off my head, just as they cut the head of the cat, “Jack”.
(“Jack’s” head was cut off because he took the policemen’s shoes and put them inside). Lleshi and Besimi did not allow them. The Kosovars I had in prison notify their people abroad and ask them to send medicine for me, so miserable was my state. I mention Sytki Hoxha, Muharrem Shala, etc. After I was treated with those medicines for several months, my eyes began to straighten and sensitivity was returning, but I remained blind!
(Nikollë Skana would not allow me to take the food to eat in the room, so friends like Bedri Çoku, Vladimir Balluku, Vladimir Xhelo, Shik Stërmasi would come and bring me the food there. Nikollë Skana, Ramazan Lika, Agim Kërtuka, Mustafa Lika would provoke me and tell my friends that; “this one sees”. I come to the room and Vladimir Xhelo accompanies me to get the package from my brother Bilbil. We take the package and head for the room. At the guard’s post was the cat raised by Nuri Stepa.
When the three of us left, the policemen were arguing with each other; “he sees-he doesn’t see” and one of them hits the cat on the head with the iron rod they used to stir the heater. After this, Lulushi, the cat, could no longer see…! Once Mustafa hit the cat on the head, it didn’t see anymore. Since that day, except for Mustafa Lika, Agim Kërtuka, Nikollë Skana, and Ramazan Lika, no one bothered me anymore… (These four, even while I was blind, threw me into a damp cell).
In Zejmen, Ward no. 302 in the years 1983-1986.
In the years 1983-‘84, the door opens and they tell Mersin Vlashi to take me and bring me out to the courtyard, near the bunker door. Mersin tells me that Ismail Musta was there, a man 2 meters tall, a very humane person, so much so that even with the ordinary convicts in Bulqiza, he behaved humanly. – “Sit Urim down, Mersin. Bring his clothes,” he calls out. My friends bring the clothes from the room where I went blind. The commander knocks on the outer door. – “Load the clothes on this one,” – says the commander. As soon as my friends start loading the clothes, Agim Kërtuka enters and stops them. – “Why are you stopping?!” – asks the commander. – “Gimi (Agim Kërtuka) gave us the order.” – “You continue!” – orders the commander…! Gimi comes at this moment: -“Let go of Urim” – he tells Mersin and pushes us both to the ground. – “I’m going to search this dog because he receives written instructions,” – I hear the commander arguing with Agim.
– “Come on, come on, a prison commander who can’t deal with a mere policeman?! This is how I’d like to see you!” – I tell them. Agim kicks me in the stomach. The commander shouts at him and says: – “Go, wait at the Branch (Dega)”. On one side the commander and on the other Mersin, they take me to the car. I leave for Zejmen, where I stayed until 1986. There, the reading of the “writings of the cursed one,” the so-called Works, took place 4-5 hours a day. If you spoke to one another and the policeman saw you, he would catch you and throw you into a damp cell for thirty days. Until Zejmen, talking with my friends in the cell, we calculated my cell time: over 2 years, 8 months, and 10 days. (I say 10 days because Musa from Kukës sentenced me only that much; he was very human with notebook pages, because the arrest warrants were ready-printed).
In Zejmen, there was a television on the first floor in the canteen. My friends would take me and bring me whenever there was a good program on TV. For the devil’s luck, one day, I hear on Tv Tirana, the only TV in Albania, the voice of the cursed one saying: – “Step, step oh miner, for it is yours. It belonged to Shefqet Vërlaci, today it is yours.” In that moment I couldn’t contain myself and started speaking against him: how he mocks the poor miners; why, does he own Shefqet Vërlaci’s furniture? The policeman Andon Labi from Palokastra-Gjirokastër hears me and says to Jashar Meka from Bilisht and Nustret Kala from Zëmblak: “Take him and come with me.” He puts all three of us in the cell, as those two had brought me there, for a full 30 days. This was the first cell…!
The Vision
It was winter, deathly cold. The second cell: me, Nikollë Përleci, and a man from Puka. These two would walk around the cell because you couldn’t stay on the cement. My frozen body was stuck to the cement. I had crossed my hands and put them under my chest. I was wearing nylon socks, cloth underwear, a pair of shorts, a pair of long ones, and a shirt, pants, and a dyed cloth jacket. Suddenly six horses appear to me in an endless meadow with green grass. I approach them. The horses were white with brown spots, very beautiful. I was seeing them from behind. Their heads were lowered and I couldn’t see them.
I lower my head to see their heads. They weren’t eating grass, but had their heads inside a sack. I approach to see what they were eating. To the right of every horse, I see a human head. The head of every person, for every horse, was turned toward me and no less than 50 cm long. I am frozen and look at them. Suddenly, their bodies disappeared. I try to turn back and say; “but these are flying horses.” I say to them: – “hey, forgive me but who are you”?! –“We are the adjutants of Jebrail Lenin.”
I was shaken. – “But where is he?!” I tell them. They turn their heads to their right and say: -“There!” It was a horse just like these, with its head down eating something. As I approach to see Jebrail Lenin, the teacher from Puka catches me and shakes me: – “Urim, pull yourself together, what you are saying? Who are you talking to?!” Go away because I am talking to the adjutants of Jebrail Lenin: I tell them. They both lift me up and shake me…!
The Death of the Dictator
In Zejmen, on April 9, 1985, from the windows of the prison where we slept, the soldiers could be seen putting on helmets and were doubled, so for every troop another was added. All the prisoners thought it was a coup d’état. On April 11, 1985, the operative arrives and closes the entire rear area. All who were policemen, soldiers, cooks, etc., were ordered to gather at the loudspeaker area.
Four policemen came and checked everything very minutely. And when they saw two prisoners together, they separated them with violence, insulted them and cursed them. I distinguish the policemen Andon Labi and Selman Gagaçi, who with their sticks exercised violence without cause upon the prisoners. These two came only to torture us even outside their service shifts. I was in bed smoking.
They come to me and ask why I was smoking there. I tell them I had nowhere else to smoke and no one told me not to smoke here, as I cannot go outside. They started hitting me. I distinguish Andon Labi, because he insulted me and hit me first. Across from me was Eduart Vata from Shkodra, with his legs cut off. He jumps and because he couldn’t move says to them: – “Enough, for you have killed him, he is blind. Don’t you see his head is in pieces from fractures?!” They take me on a stretcher and bring me to the cell.
They bring Eduart Vata to the cell as well. The reason is known, only because he intervened for me. After us, the cells began without pause. 11 cells and 47 people within four days. Horror, terror, tortures of the most diverse kinds. Every 24 hours, no less than five times of continuous beatings, squeezing of genitals…! The cell was filled with the groans of Petrit Velo, who when they hit him said to them: – “After 38 years you want to make me a spy? Even you, Commissioner Lucaj, are hitting me like the policemen?!” They slam him in the cell.
In Ward no. 305 Përparim, in the years 1986-1989.
In 1986 all the sick people were released from prison, about 60 people. The only one of the sick who was not released was me. Even the Command Branch of Lezha was amazed. The prison commander, Musa from Kukës, along with a prosecutor from Lezha comes and tells me that one of my most trusted friends must write a petition for me, describing my health condition. I refuse and do not do it, but Xhevat Agolli, Selami Meka, and Cen Çaushaj gathered together with some of my other fellow sufferers and made the petition.
They give it to Jashar Meka, who was the son of Selami Meka, to put it in the Post…! In 1986, they transfer me to Shën Vasij-Saranda. (By order of the dictator, they called the village of Saranda the village “Përparim” [Progress]). Here, among the most criminal of criminals, were officers Rasim… from Bulqiza, Vali…. from Korça and from the policemen Jani Varellaj from the village of Livadhja-Saranda.
These three, often at night while they slept, would hit the prisoners with a slap to the face. From the power of the slap, they were so shaken that they fell from the bed. From Pogradec, there was Bel Starova who fell from the bed and crushed his pelvis; he stayed 6-7 months in the hospital and about 2 years on crutches. As for Jani Varellaj, I remember that every time he came on duty, he badly beat the over 70-year-old man, Velo Lamaj, and Syrja Vrapi from Vlora and Femi Frashëri from Përmet.
In one case Vasil Jani (Vlach) and Vangjel Papaj from Saranda speak in Greek to Jani Varrellaj: – “Aren’t you ashamed of their age? They are around their 80s?!” He hits them hard. He breaks Vasil’s glasses. Later he forces them, in the state they were in, to run outside. Vasil and uncle Vangjeli, when they come to us, tell us that Jani Varellaj has forced them not to sit with any Turk-Muslim. Jani Varrellaj together with officer Vali, take me one day, for no reason.
They put me in the cell and beat me half to death. After 30 days, it was time to leave the cell. That day there was a terrible heat, it was April 23, 1987, so I had fainted. I wake up in the prison infirmary. There I see two doctors: Muhamet Kosovrasti and Petro Rako, both political prisoners. After a few minutes, they bring Sami Dangëllia on a stretcher. At this time the inner guard was the policeman Çeço, a very good man. He urgently goes and notifies the guard officer to take us both to the hospital, as our condition was very grave. They both come there.
-“But when did you complete 30 days of cell?!” – Vali asks me. – “Comrade Commander, let’s take them both to the hospital, they are in very grave condition” – the doctors tell him. “Get out of here, clear off!” – Vali tells the doctors. -“Comrade Vali, take them because it’s a pity. This one is elderly, this other one is blind, you know his condition. They will die here on us,” – Çeço says to Vali. – “Eh, let them die, this old man has done enough with 40-odd years of prison, and as for this other one, let him rot because a toilet will be cleaned. You don’t know what a viper’s tongue this one is,” – Vali replies.
Before 24 hours had passed, Sami Dangëllia, with 42 years and four months of prison, passed away. There, four persons come to me from the Internal Branch of Saranda to sentence me again. But the former prison operative Kristaqi and the prison commander Aleksandër Trajko, along with some other officers, saved me. On February 9, I meet with my brother Festim and my nephew Haxhi, where I tell them to come and get me tomorrow, as I am being released. On February 10, 1989, after the roll call around 8:00, I am released. They take me and bring me out to the main Vlorë-Sarandë road, which was next to the prison door.
There, after we walked a bit, a policeman grabs me by the scruff of the neck and sits me on the ground. They left me there for several hours. I didn’t understand what part of the road I was on, but cars passed me from one side to the other. They had left me in the middle of the road. Ilir Karaj from Tirana sees me in the middle of the road and comes, along with his mother and brother, who were also released that same day, and they plead with me to go with them, promising to take me to Korça. I tell them I cannot go with them, because I was waiting for my brother and nephew. These people remove me from the road and stay with me until they met my brother and nephew, who were brought by a taxi.
They greet and thank this noble family and each continues to their own destination. I was exhausted. I couldn’t leave on my own feet. At that time, all of Saranda had two taxis. No one would come to Korça, because taxi drivers at that time were forced to be collaborators of the Internal Affairs Branch. When my people had told the taxi driver to stop there near the prison door, the taxi driver had been stunned.
After they take me, the taxi driver furiously asked what I had been sentenced for, and after he finds out the reason for the sentence, he tells them that they must go to the Branch to get the transit permit, because one couldn’t pass “Tre Urat” [Three Bridges] without a permit. The brother at that moment shows the taxi driver that he had taken the transit permit from Korça. After the taxi driver reads it, he lets us wait and goes to the Branch himself. When he returns, he tells us that he could only take us to Gjirokastër, no further. From there he states that we must go to get a permit again at the Gjirokastër Branch.
The taxi driver says to me: -“Why did you fall into prison?” – “Attempted escape the first time, while on the verge of release from prison, I was sentenced to 10 years for agitation and propaganda.” – “How many years of prison have you done?” – “About 26 years” – I tell him. – “Without leaving prison at all you have done all 26 years?” –“Yes” – I say. –“But how is it possible, by the Constitution the maximum sentence is 25 years of deprivation of liberty and still during the sentence, there were reductions during holidays, pardons, amnesties, etc.” My brother jumps in: “We told you, man, why he was sentenced.”
– “Yes, yes you told me only for attempted escape and not that he has done about 26 years of prison in a row?!” – “Please, do not disturb my brother anymore, can’t you see, he is pale in the face!” During this conversation, we had traveled 1 km of road, but the road made me sick. We stopped a bit and I told my brother and nephew to wait for me a bit outside. Nervously I say to the taxi driver: – “Mister taxi driver; whatever you want to know and however you want me to tell you, I will, but not in front of my brother and nephew.”
-“Well then, these things you will tell me, do you accept them?” – “How, accept them?!” – “Well, like accepting them at the Branch, because you are an enemy of the Party.” – “I am not an enemy of the Party, it is the Party that is my enemy, because it has brought me to this state, I haven’t done anything to it. If I don’t accept these at the Branch, I am a cur and a spy.” – “Listen, I live by this. I am Panajotis. Even if I know that they will take my license now, my morsel of bread, I will take you to Korça myself, come what may.” I was very moved…! We go to Përmet and without crossing the bridge, he leaves us at the “Martyrs’ Graves.” A truck with a trailer comes to us. We get on it, we embrace and I ask for his name…! – “I am Panajotis, get well!” I do not forget Panajoti’s name even to this day. For 26 years of prison, Bilbil, Festim, and Myzafer never left me./ Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
