From Sokrat Shyti
Part Three
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, primarily the voluminous novel “The Phantom Night” (Tirana 2014). The novels: “BEYOND MYSTERY,” “BETWEEN TEMPTATION AND WHIRLPOOL,” “THE DIGGING OF NIGHTMARES,” “THE SHADOW OF SHAME AND DEATH,” “COLONEL KRYEDHJAK,” “THE SWAMPS OF HOPE,” “THE TWISTS OF FATE” I, II, “SURVIVAL IN THE COWSHED,” as well as other works, all novels with 350-550 pages each, are in manuscript form waiting to be published. The dreams and initial fervor of the young novelist, who returned from studies abroad filled with energy and love for art and literature, were cut short early by the harsh blade of the communist dictatorship.
Who is Sokrat Shyti?
Having returned from studies at the State University of Moscow, shortly after the interruption of Albanian-Soviet relations in 1960, Sokrat Shyti worked at Radio “Diapazon” (which was then 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. In addition to the radio, young Sokrat, at the age of 21, had passionate literary interests. He wrote his first novel “Madam Doctor” and it was on the verge of publication when… alas! Shortly after the arrest of his friends, to top it all off, a brother of his, a painter, escapes abroad.
Sokrat was arrested in September 1963, and in November of that year, he and his family (with his mother and younger sister) were interned in a place between Ardenica and Kolonje of Lushnja. 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 obligated to report three times a day to the local authority. He had no right to move from the place of internment and was deprived of all kinds of documents, etc. In these conditions, amidst a cowshed, he gave birth to and raised his children. Precisely based on this event, or rather a very long story of persecution, he was inspired to write the book “Survival in the Cowshed”!
Agron Tufa
Continued from last issue
EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK “SURVIVAL IN THE COWSHED”
“In the last month of spring of the second school year, before the exam season, (in the educational system of that time, students underwent exams at the end of each year, from fourth grade to fourth grade of high school, in addition to state exams in seventh grade and the Matura), the school director called me to his office to give me a somewhat unusual announcement:
– “Today, the Pedagogical Council, when considering the conclusion of this year’s educational program, also made a unanimous decision regarding you, that you should go home to relax. The professors deemed it unnecessary for you to take the end-of-year exams, considering that during this school year, you successfully managed the daily explanations for the officers of the Department of Internal Affairs, providing a valuable service to the school.
Being a student with all five grades, without any fours, the professors believe that you fully master the subjects, therefore your answers in the exam will be at a high level. I have no doubt that this wonderful evaluation will continue in the future. You are halfway through the cycle of completing high school; the time has come, after deepening your scientific-pedagogical knowledge, to firmly determine your field of studies, taking into consideration, first of all, your natural inclinations. You may leave for home starting tomorrow. I will speak with the dormitory director today. I wish you a good journey and may you have a peaceful vacation!”… – he emphasized, hugging me.
It was a fatherly embrace that made me tear up. I couldn’t deny that especially in this school year, the high school director had kept me close and occasionally showed special concern. Therefore, I thanked him and the Pedagogical Council for the high appreciation. But when I left the office, I was confused, tangled with a feeling of emptiness because I was disturbed inside by the thought that something must have happened back home (without pinpointing the time, whether now or before).
Based on this fact, the professors found it reasonable to send me home to my family, considering it the most opportune time, which would not raise suspicions, and the longing for my family and city of birth had increased, as I hadn’t gone home during the winter breaks, not only due to the flooding of the roads from the rivers overflowing their banks and the biting cold, with icy roads, but even if the weather had been milder, I still wouldn’t have left, for the greater state reason, as during these vacation days, I conducted four teaching hours with the officers of the Department of Internal Affairs, being compelled to complete the program by the end of January since in the first week of February, they would “take” exams before a commission to receive their educational certification.
I certainly felt relieved that I managed to fulfill that difficult task in the role of “professor” before “students” with higher ranks, the youngest of whom was more than twice my age, and who were complete beginners in scientific knowledge, compared to first-grade students who, after learning the letters of the alphabet, start writing words.”
“The fact that the Pedagogical Council valued my work clearly indicated that the state commission established specifically approved the level of knowledge required for the officers, to further enhance the educational standards in military vocational schools abroad, mainly in the Soviet Union! (In fact, some professors of mathematics and physics expressed their personal gratitude to me directly for accepting the school director’s proposal without showing any resistance, and for taking on this difficult task, which actually belonged to them. Through this explanation, which was interrupted here but continued in silence, they expressed their immense gratitude towards me, as if they had said: ‘You saved us from being involved in a terrifying and hopeless mess, with serious consequences in case of resistance or hesitation!’)
-When I went to the dormitory, Director Muhameti called me into his narrow office, located at the turn of the stairs, as he wanted to join the thanks of the Pedagogical Council and to inform me verbally that starting tomorrow, my summer vacation begins. – “Therefore, you should go right now to the travel agency, taking with you our directorate’s authorization for reserved tickets, according to the rights that our institution has,” – he emphasized in a friendly tone. And immediately, he began to write. – “When you arrive there, in addition to the authorization,” – he added after signing and sealing the document, – “you will have my phone call as reinforcement. I have the impression that your visit home at this time, before the exam season, will be a surprise for the family…” After these words, he fixed his gaze on my eyes).
“Apart from what the school director mentioned, do you know any special reason why this exception is being made for me?”… – I dared to ask before I left. – “Are you concerned about any harassment for asking this question?” – he replied with curiosity. – “I have nothing specific…”! – “In that case, you have no reason to dwell on doubt!” The school director’s explanation regarding the decision of the Pedagogical Council was as clear as sunlight: “You should feel proud of this recognition, just as we, the dormitory leaders feel, because you are a member of this large community of students.
In response to this high evaluation, you should only express your gratitude and dismiss any gnawing doubts in your mind that do not pertain to reality!” – he emphasized with a reproachful tone, standing up. – “Now that your hair has grown and you have the appearance of a handsome young man, you will please and delight your family,” – he added with a smile. – “I am very pleased that your efforts over the past few months are beautifully reflected in your charming appearance. This testimony shows the respect and special care of your older students towards their tireless professor. It can be said that there was mutual treatment from both sides, with good impressions and high evaluations.”
“But now we don’t have time for analysis, as you might get delayed. So go to the agency to buy your ticket. You should keep in mind: you won’t have to pay for the ticket, as you are an authorized person. As such, you will only need to sign in their ledger. The state has provided us with a special fund for exceptional cases and services.” I thanked the dormitory director for his care and went down the stairs. But when I left through the door, I still felt constrained by a worrying suspicion that within this friendly stay, something was hidden; there must be a causal reason that compelled them to treat me with such gentleness and mature responsibility!
However, even after racking my brain, I found nothing concrete. Because the great distance from my homeland, the lack of telephone connections, and extremely rare letters from home hindered me from forming even a superficial idea or a rough impression of what could have happened during the past five months of this year, especially after the harsh winter, which struck the coastal cities with piercing cold and severe frosts.
Certainly, anxiety revolved mainly around my father’s weakened health—whether he had been able to withstand the cold air and low temperatures of January and February with his bronchial asthma, knowing that even March had turned somewhat hostile, with pronounced seasonal fluctuations, aligning more with the continuation of winter, or deceptive spring that overwhelmed even healthy bodies, let alone those with chronic illnesses like my father!
I had no doubt that this dreadful weather would have caused at least a prolonged illness in bed or a hospitalization. If this bitter suspicion coincided with the truth, and my poor father was on the brink of death’s agony, then the school director and the Pedagogical Council were quite reasonable in their decision to exempt me from the end-of-year exams. However, when I reached this conclusion, the staggering question arose before me: “How did the school become aware of this situation? Who informed them?!” Since our large family had dwindled: only my mother, my sick father, and my sister remained at home.
But these three seemed excluded as messengers of any bitter news to the school directorate; they could not inform about the severe health condition of a family member, as it would immediately cast suspicion mainly on my father. Was it possible that an official notification had been sent to the school directorate by some inspector from the education section (certainly ordered from above), accompanied by the suggestion that, if possible, this family’s son should be at home at an appropriate time….?
“If this suspicion turns out to be true, there is an official notification, then something terrible must have happened—my father has passed away!” – I murmured to myself, trembling. – “When did the tragedy happen: these days, or some time ago…? How would they have formulated the official telegram?” But that matters little. Poor dad! The treacherous asthma finally took his soul! It was horrifying to see him suffering so much and being tortured, gasping for breath with shoulders heaving, leaning against a telephone pole or the corner of a wall, with an agonized expression, waiting in anxiety for someone to pass by to help him at that moment!
Then, with trembling hands, he would pull out a packet of powdered ephedrine from his vest pocket, throw some onto his tongue, and swallow it like a gulp of water…! For years and years, the cursed asthma had ravaged his health! It wouldn’t allow him to enjoy even two days together without tormenting him with its excruciating breathlessness! He had to engage all parts of the upper body, primarily the constricted ribcage, so that the fluid-filled lungs could make more effort to oxygenate the blood!
I did not want to accept that this deadly disease had presented itself in the leather factory, from the use of chemical substances, in horrifically poor conditions, without proper ventilation and protection with masks, (when he worked as an immigrant in the United States of America). And especially, it seemed utterly paradoxical to me that a highly developed country like America had backward medicine and could not cure bronchial asthma!
Not only during these minutes, as I envisioned my father’s corpse inside the coffin (by now, I had started to believe this version), but even before, when I was a child and helped him as much as I could in the shop, whenever I saw him struggle to breathe through the movement of his shoulders, my conviction grew stronger that this disease was caused by migration. If he had not emigrated to America and had worked in the leather factory, but had started working as a tailor in his early youth, today he would surely be enjoying normal health; at the very least, he would not be suffering from this soul-consuming disease.
When I arrived at the travel agency, I showed the person responsible at the counter the authorization from the dormitory director. He quickly glanced at it, took me into his office, and asked if I caught the closed bus during my walk. Then, from the ticket block, he cut out the ticket with number five, and while handing it to me, he asked with a smile:
-“Do you know why I assigned this number?” – he said.
-“Maybe because it belongs to the authorized tickets,” – I replied.
-“For the general case, this possibility is accepted. But for you, number five has a special significance because five symbolizes the excellent student!” – he added, shaking my hand. And when he wished me a good journey and further success for the next school year, he told me to send regards to the dormitory director. I signed in the large service ledger, where my name and surname, student of the second year of high school, dormitory resident, as well as the authorizer of the ticket purchase, were noted. Then the responsible person handed me a piece of paper folded in four, inserting two parts into one another, saying:
-“Keep this very carefully, so when you return to Shkodër, knock on the door of my colleague’s office in Tirana, so he can give you a ticket from the reserves…” The turmoil created by the heavy emotional state kept me constantly under a pressing weight, filled with haunting and distressing thoughts. Neither the care of the school director nor the dormitory director influenced the slightest alleviation of the imagined catastrophe. I could barely wait for the hours of the afternoon and evening to pass so I could lie down in bed, hoping that sleep wouldn’t overtake me until dawn.
-Certainly, I wouldn’t confide in any close friends about leaving early for summer vacation, as this would inevitably lead to annoying questions and a burning curiosity as to why the Pedagogical Council made this special decision?! This provocation alone would irritate my nerves and increase the bitterness of despair.
Thus, to avoid creating friction and misunderstandings with my friends, primarily a lack of trust, I asked our guardian, Fadili, if I could leave my suitcase in his room until the morning. Through his keen sense, he immediately grasped the intention of my request and was willing to help me. As soon as I prepared my suitcase, I would let him know so that he could come and pick it up when all the students were downstairs in the study classes.
The next morning, at five thirty, when the wake-up bell rang, I got up and began to arrange my bed. At that moment, I remembered something quite important: the submission of the materials received at the beginning of the school year, when we came to the dormitory two or three days before September. Therefore, so I wouldn’t be delayed, I went to the guardian’s room to express my concern, knowing that the storekeeper reported for duty at seven. The guardian told me to attend to my morning routine and to refresh my mind once again to ensure I hadn’t forgotten anything, especially any engaging book I wanted to read during the summer.
“As for the submission of the materials, consider it a done deal,” – he told me, – “as the process is handled by Gjystja when the dormitory students go to school.” He spoke with me completely freely and fluently, as if I were his younger brother, without showing even the slightest sign of emotion, giving me the impression that the dormitory director had not informed him of what had happened to me at home, but had only mentioned the well-known reason that “Sokrati is leaving before the exam season since this school year he had a double load, as an excellent student and an untiring ‘professor’.” Perhaps that’s why the guardian felt it was his duty to accompany me to the travel agency, making me blush with his action, as he personally carried my suitcase against my repeated objections.
“Is this done out of respect for the excellent academic results and the willingness I showed in responding to the call of the directorate and the pedagogical council to prepare the military students? Or is this care mainly linked to the disastrous catastrophe?” – I asked myself as we walked silently along the alley to the ‘Great Café’. – “Since you’ve had breakfast, and a long four-hour journey awaits you in a closed environment, I believe it would be a nice thought to share a coffee with cream here,” – the guardian surprised me, turning back to the entrance of the ‘Great Café’. – “What if we’re late?” – I expressed my concern.
-“No, we’re just on time,” – he added, checking his wristwatch. He gestured to the waiter to come over. As soon as he approached, he placed the order: “Two coffees with cream! But please, make it quick, as we’re in a hurry.”
The waiter said, “Just a moment,” and flew off. – “Guardian! This is the first time we’re sitting alone without the presence of others. May I ask you a question that’s been on my mind?”… – I took the courage to speak freely. – “I enjoy talking with you!” – he replied, focusing his glassy gaze on my eyes. – “I’ve noticed for some time that you precisely master the scientific subjects of high school. And I’m convinced you were among the best students in your class. May I ask why you didn’t continue your studies further?” – I added, feeling emotional.
-“Simply for economic reasons. I was the only son in the family. My sisters were growing up, and the time for marriage was approaching. My father couldn’t meet the urgent growing needs of the household. So, I made the painful decision to help my father and family…” – he explained briefly. – “But later, after your sisters’ marriages, why didn’t you continue your studies as an external candidate?” – I inquired.
-“Well, later I grew up as well; I was no longer the young boy I once was, and I had to think about my own family life. If I started studying, my engagement and marriage plans would have been interrupted. A delayed family life brings later consequences for the children. Therefore, I thought it better to build a family on solid ground than to earn a diploma…!” “But what about these?” – he addressed the waiter as he brought not only the coffees with cream but also two large cookies.
“You get all of these from the café!” – the waiter replied at once, – “It’s the wish of the manager and ours. We’ve had the ‘Professor’ as an esteemed client for some time. We felt pleased that this young man in this age was successfully fulfilling the difficult duty of being a professor, especially with special, not ordinary students!”
“Please express on my behalf and on behalf of the professor our sincere thanks to the manager and your collective for this high appreciation!” – said the guardian. – “We would have liked to exchange a few warm words of courtesy with your esteemed manager, but we are in a hurry and must leave.” Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
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