By Sami Repishti
Part Four
Sami Repishti: – “In Albania, the communist crime of the past has not been documented and punished; there has been no ‘spiritual cleansing’, no conscious confession and denunciation of ordinary communist criminals! -“
‘In the Shadow of Rozafa’
Memorie.al / During the 1930s and 1940s of the last century, with the descent of the unstoppable fascist and communist deluge over Europe, sooner or later over the whole world, “fate” also seized the Albanian nation by the throat. Like all young people, I too found myself at a crossroads where a stance had to be taken, even at the risk of life. Then I said “no” to the dictatorship, I took the road that had no end, a sailor on the wide sea, without shores. The rebellious act that almost killed me, freed me at the same time. I am an eyewitness to life in the fascist and communist hell in Albania, not as a “politician”, a “personality” of Albanian macro-politics, but as a student, as a young man who became aware of my role, at that time and in that place, out of love for the homeland and the desire for freedom; simply, as a young man with a pronounced sensitivity, faithful to myself, to a life with dignity.
Continued from the previous issue
V
At the head of the column, a worker and a fascist policeman remained killed. It was the baptism of blood! With such acts, the fascist police sealed the confrontation with our resistance, prepared the ground for the inevitable: armed war. National freedom was enriched with new martyrs, whose memory would give birth to legions of heroes. At home, father asked me about the demonstration and scolded me for the careless way of working and the great danger we faced. I revolted for the first time, against the parent I loved so much. As a young man, I was convinced that sacrifice was the food of freedom. In that moment of exaltation, the almost unquestionable authority of my father suffered a crack that never completely closed again. He looked at me with surprise and clear despair, as if he had been attacked suddenly, unprepared, and after carefully observing my gestures, he lost all hope that I would ask for forgiveness, and began to change color.
Two drops of tears rolled from his eyes down his cheekbones, which now showed the signs of passing age and fatigue. Without moving from the spot: “My son,” he told me, “doesn’t forget that I am your parent”! No other word would have had the magical effect of this expression, so true and so simple at the same time.
I threw myself into his embrace. He hugged me. Father and son understood well that, in the future, I would be freer and more independent in my acts and at the same time, I would not forget my father’s heart, the safest nest for shelter in the most difficult days. I had a great need to burst out! I no longer wished to feed on hopes, or to believe in the kingdom of heaven, which awaits all “good people”. The revolt placed before me a world that promised the fulfillment of our desires here, on this earth, pointed the finger at the path to follow, and gave the signal; “Forward to the attack!” I set off. What would come later was unknown. This time, I didn’t want to think!
An illegal meeting. In front of the gate of the designated house, a man stood guard. We passed without speaking, one by one, every two minutes. Judging by the security measures, I understood it was not an ordinary meeting. In the small, semi-dark room of a ground-floor house, I found three friends. Later, others came. I saw unfamiliar faces. Unexpectedly, the door opened. Two men, clearly “illegals”, entered briskly. “Comrades! Death to fascism”!, they said, raising their fists. The first was an average young man, with two lively eyes, wearing glasses, with very energetic gestures and a sweet smile. We stood up. The second didn’t speak at all. He seemed to be the guard. Without much formality, we sat around the table. The newcomer looked at all of us observantly, placed two hand grenades and a revolver on the table, and took out a pack of papers full of notes from his bag. We were all silent. Outside the house, the regular steps of the guard were heard. This time, I was living the atmosphere of a dangerous activity. “Comrades,” he began in a commanding tone, but with a low voice. “As is our custom as communists, we must set the agenda, give the respective reports, and start the discussions.”
The word “communist” caught me unprepared. I interrupted him: – Excuse me, comrade! – Speak! – he ordered me. – Is this a meeting of communists? – Yes! – replied the newcomer. – Didn’t you know? – No. – I said. He got worried, and in a harsh voice demanded: – The comrade who brought him here, stand up! One of my friends stood up hesitantly. – Did you tell the comrade that this is a meeting of communists? – No, comrade. – You made a big mistake, comrade! – And turning to me, he added: – If you want, you can leave. – Yes, – I replied, – I want to leave! Without any further exchange of words, I got up, didn’t greet anyone, and left the room. The guard accompanied me to the outer gate, with a clear order: “You are forbidden to speak about this meeting. Do you understand?” – Yes, – I said, – I understand.
I had kept in touch with classmates, held political discussions, faithfully attended every meeting, participated in bloody demonstrations, and with full conviction, propagandized the justice of our cause. During these three years, I had worried my family with a somewhat libertine attitude and had not hesitated even to lie to my parents, hiding my activity. But I never doubted the justice of my act.
“Ideal” makes one fanatical. I lived a Spartan life, I didn’t spend and I scornfully kicked away any amusement. Everything for the cause! All this time, a kind of infatuation had brought me to a state of exaltation. Inspired by heated speeches and reading provocative brochures, I had formed the conviction that my moral duty was participation in the liberation “revolution”. Emotion, this strangely strong feeling, had fully mobilized me. My young age helped a lot in this regard, and the objects pointed out as symbols of occupation, oppression, and misery was numerous among us. At the height of this ideological intoxication, I began to feel within myself the voice of logic. Inside, something I didn’t understand created a feeling of unease. Alongside our political agitation groups, other, more powerful groups with different tasks carried out acts of violence. When sporadic cases began to increase in frequency, they became the subject of daily conversations. I began to ask myself: “Which was our path”? I myself didn’t even know! As long as I didn’t think, everything moved forward without obstacle. Now, from the seed of doubt, the great need to think was born. I began to understand that what I was saying, thoughtlessly demolished, and destroyed the old, without finding an acceptable new one to replace it…! The creation of a new world “without exploiters and exploited” attracted me like an irresistible magnet.
However, I had begun to doubt! The persistent preaching’s and indoctrinating readings cultivated violence, excluded the essence of human nature, love for the creature. I had begun to doubt! During the days of this state of doubt, a broad meeting of our group was held. This time, the discussions entered a new and unknown variety. New phraseology and expressions were used carefully, but insistently. There I heard about “the liberation war of peoples against fascist dictatorships in Europe” and about the victory guaranteed by the “great Anglo-Soviet-American anti-fascist coalition”. To my surprise, there was no talk of the heroism of the English people who resisted, alone, against the Nazi threat, and who became a source of inspiration for all of us, nor of the Soviet-Nazi collaboration that disappointed us so much, nor of the great industrial and military potential of America, on which the hope of oppressed peoples rested in those days. There was emphasis on the war of “our Yugoslav brothers”, under the genius leadership of “comrade Tito”, as well as the “heroic resistance of the Soviet Union”, under the “genius leadership of the world strategist, comrade Stalin”. All this was presented with rare rhetorical skill by a young man, who was not a student at our school, and who expressed his thoughts with a mastery and determination that captivated you.
The young man continued: “… Comrades! The task before us today is greater than ever, more important than ever before. Fascism seriously threatens the existence of the Soviet Union, the great homeland of socialism and the international proletariat. Our duty, as communists, is to show solidarity with our Soviet brothers, and to throw ourselves unreservedly into war against fascism, nailing down here, in our country, as many enemy soldiers as possible…!” With the pronunciation of the word “communist”, the atmosphere began to change. I glanced at the “communist comrades,” but they remained silent, like living statues that seemed somewhat comical. Some others, unprepared beforehand, found themselves in a bad position. But no one left the room. The “young man” continued: “… Let every inch of our land burn under the feet of the occupier. We must create assault groups, everywhere, at every step and at all times, we must cause as much damage as possible to the enemy’s military machine. This is our duty, and it is an urgent duty…!” Everyone listened attentively. He continued: “… Comrades! Our objective must be achieved without fail: final victory in our war. And in this war, nothing justifies loss; everything is permitted for victory…!” Everything ideological; nothing Albanian, close to our lives! Most of us were numbed by the effect of his words, by his studied phraseology, and by the new elements he brought among us.
Little by little, within us, a feeling of insecurity began, reinforcing our ever-growing doubt. There was something inside me that said: No! This war for freedom, trumpeted with so much energy, simultaneously demanded the rooting and deepening of a feeling that did not seem human to me, that of hatred. From the first days, “they” had sown the seed in our minds, nourished it skillfully, and cultivated it. Now they sought to reap its fruits: the world being prepared today with hatred would tomorrow be inseparable from it. The path we were advised to take had only one direction: to believe unconditionally in the new cause, in “a free, just, and happy world for all.” Clearly, after the Nazi aggression against the Soviet Union, the war for the defense of the “homeland of socialism” was a top priority! What I was hearing at this meeting was not accepted by me without being judged and weighed. The effect of a destructive propaganda that had shaken me, this way and that, for nearly three consecutive years, was coming to an end. It was becoming clear that a propaganda which had transformed me into another person, contrary to my true nature, had activated me to say what I didn’t think, to act as I didn’t wish, to defend principles I wasn’t prepared to accept. An immediate, swift, powerful reaction arose in my mind. Inside my chest, a fire suddenly ignited, and a voice, as if commanding me: Stop! It was the voice of my awakened conscience.
When the speaker finished with the words: “Comrades! Any questions?” I raised my hand and, unable to contain myself, said in a full voice: “Comrades! I am not a communist.” He fell silent! I didn’t understand if it was the effect of my words, or the lack of tact I used, that made everyone turn their eyes to me. I stood up, placed my hands on the table, and glanced at my classmates. I immediately understood that none of them expected my behavior. They had lowered their eyes, and in silence waited for the speaker to get out of this difficult situation. The final test of their blind submission was now clear. I nodded coldly in greeting. A few minutes later, I was walking thoughtfully home. I was in a very difficult situation. Something had gripped my throat from nervousness. What I had been ruminating in my head for so long, wanted to come out all at once. I felt I was not able to control myself, but what frightened me was the doubt in my ability to show what I felt and thought. The silence of everyone, including the non-communist colleagues, made this situation even more difficult. “I cannot be a communist!”, I said to myself. Honestly, what I was hearing no longer inspired me. The constant calls for revolution, the spiritual preparation for war, the demands to kick away everything around us “to destroy the old”, with complete disregard for the country’s tradition, the contempt for everything that hindered “victory”, sounded like drums without rhythm, off-key sounds, noise, just noise, but dangerous.
I understood that I could not cast aside my nature, the nobility of my thoughts and feelings as a young man, and replace this nature with “promises” that frightened me because of their very dubious nature. I understood that I could not blindly submit to a community that promised regimented “freedom” and controlled “independence”. I could not accept a society that promised violence and hatred, a society that trampled on the moral principles that were the basis of a three-thousand-year-old civilization, in the name of a merciless war that sought to establish human well-being on the blood of victims sacrificed on the altar of the God of “the war against fascism”. With all the respect I had for the noble minds that over the centuries tried to find solutions to the problems that torment man, I could not accept “ideals” that were realized through violent means, and that were served by militants kneaded with hatred.
That evening, I lived with the memory of events that proved decisive for me. After finding enough courage to openly tell my comrades the conclusions I reached after a long time of doubt, I enjoyed a great feeling of relief. I was freed from the weight of the contradictions that followed me step by step. As if a curse had been lifted, the enthusiasm that occasionally lifted me above reason had received a strong blow, as if the chain of justifications that called me to return to the core of my nature had emerged victorious. I had the impression that now there was no obstacle in the efforts to build my new dwelling. Before me stretched the infinite space of the fields of speculation, where thought is free to fly. I wanted the destruction, piece by piece, of the idols created and the beliefs accepted that, for so long, had enslaved me unconditionally. Everything past, I seemed to summon to trial before my conscience, accuse without fear, condemn without mercy. I remembered the first days of education in that spirit, the power of captivating words about freedom and justice, the influence of propaganda material, the power of calls for subversion, the overthrow and destruction of our rotten world…! Whenever the figure of the noble builder of the “new world”, the “free world”, the “world without exploiters and exploited” appeared before me, the new building with “free and happy people”, the enthusiasm that these noble ideas for a common fraternal life inspired in me was renewed, and a smile, as if timid, would involuntarily pass over my lips.
Nevertheless, the circle of friends stood powerfully before me, as an inseparable part of me. At no time during this period did “they” give me the impression of elements ready to submit. Together we spent many hours in illegal meetings, in actions that threatened our lives. I saw “them” as courageous, full of will and conscious of their work. In those days, I was convinced that, like me, “they” worked, fought, first and foremost, to be good Albanians, and good people. This patriotism and this ideal of freedom that filled us with courage for action was the only driving force for me and for my former comrades. Now I saw myself separated, and so far from “them”. I recalled their attitude at the last meeting, their bowed heads, their complete silence, and their hostile stance against me, with a blind conviction. My “comrades” I now saw as without courage, voiceless, full of fear, as a result of the regimented life they had chosen and which did not honor them. Despite the great pain this separation caused me, leaving a circle that had been an inseparable part of my wholeness for three years brought me the pride of a free man. The abrupt change I underwent could not pass without leaving its mark on my relationships with my friends. Without delay, I realized I was facing opponents! The next day, at school, the attack was prepared.
During Sunday, the “comrades” tasked with this purpose had worked hastily. With the first contacts, I felt the cold atmosphere that surrounded me. No trace of our companionship! Seated at my desk, I faced this situation calmly, following the professor’s explanations attentively. Throughout the morning, I spoke only with Eqrem, my deskmate who always remained loyal beside me. I mobilized myself not to allow a single word or gesture to betray my inner self. I had decided to resist the attack, at any cost. Spiritually relieved, with the joy that liberation from duality brings, I was ready to accept the duel that this “isolation” offered me, and that the “comrades” had prepared for me. Undoubtedly, they were also preparing an atmosphere of exclusivity for all our activities, where only they had the right to direct and control. The most important thing was that I felt completely master of myself and consistent with my nature; everything approached, reconciled, and moved in step with it. Within a short time, a harmony was created that gave me life and unlimited power. It was my inner world, which I was building with my own hands. It was my world that required constant effort, but did not torment me.
After lunch, my cousin, who was also my best friend, approached me. Without giving me time for a greeting, he unloaded: “You have views that for us are reactionary, even dangerous,” he began. Without allowing me to ask: “What are these views?” he, with an impatient gesture, continued: “You are afraid of what is to come, of the new society that we will create, and which you view with such doubt…! You are afraid of what you see today, of the great and harsh proportions of the war we communists are leading, and you draw back. We are not surprised! We have seen such cases before, and we will see them later. Certainly! After all, we have no need for young people raised in bourgeois environments, kneaded with its morality. We are aware that the bourgeoisie is our main enemy, and we are not surprised when opponents emerge from its ranks….”, and he left without saying goodbye.
I was in the most critical phase of my youth, in the phase of forming my personality. In every case and in every place, I faced something new that questioned, that demanded an answer, a continuous duel that gave me the necessary substance to build my new sanctuary. Scarred by premature suffering, taught by harsh experience, this nature of mine was being forged under the influence of a free spirit, which now seemed to circulate through all the veins of my blood. Effort and freedom! After this experience, I avoided any discussion with classmates. I was fully occupied with myself. While days flowed seemingly calmly, inside a volcano was being extinguished, and with its cooling, a great need to withdraw into myself grew more and more each day. I had a strong need to think! Even in my outward appearance, during daily life, I began to change. I was no longer so lively, I discussed less often, I didn’t speak with infatuation, I avoided meetings, returned home early and slowly, I was eliminating irregularities in dress and appearance. But, the need to think was persistent!
From school, I usually went straight home. One day I heard behind me some steps I knew well. They were Lili’s steps. Since the day of my departure from the circle of “comrades”, Lili, the sweetest memory of my youth days, had changed a lot. She greeted coldly and passed by. She avoided conversation and didn’t smile at me as before. When she looked at me, I no longer recognized her beautiful eyes, and she spoke without interest. This time she didn’t stop! – Lili! – I called her. She turned lazily, and without speaking, looked at me as if she were scolding me. – Forgive me, Lili! I want to talk to you! – I said. I took two steps, and when I was near her, I saw in her, for the first time, two eyes fixed deeply on me. Not a facial muscle moved. Her lips seemed sharper than usual, and her cheekbones more prominent. Her eyes shone, but not within the frame of the joyful face of the Lili I knew, in a face that had become pale, even sallow from anger, not a glow of joy, but a kindling, which for me was unexpected. Before me was Lili who hated me! – Speak, please! – She told me curtly and with a tone of determination. – Why have you changed so much, Lili? – You are mistaken! – She answered. – On the contrary! You are someone else, you are completely someone else. – I don’t understand you, – I said. – But I think…! She interrupted me. – You have thought very well…! What you think has caused all your friends to leave and the creation around you of a cold social circle. Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
