By Reshat Kripa
-The story of a monstrous crime, still unpunished!-
Memorie.al / It were approaching the middle of June 1985. That year the summer was quite cool. It seemed as if this freshness combined with the political events of that period. Dictator Enver Hoxha had died and in people’s hearts the hope for changes had arisen. They expected changes from his successor. People were tired of their lives, of the camps and prisons that were everywhere, of the big prison where the whole people lived and that had separated the son from the father, the mother from the daughter and the son, or even the brother from the brother, etc. They wanted to become the same as the other nations of the world, from whom they had been separated for years. But would such a thing happen or would everything remain a lost illusion?!
Sotir Nastua from Narta, was a soldier in Ravena of Karaburun. As he took three days leave, he left to go to his native village. He went out into the street and after waiting a bit, got into a car that took him to the city of Vlora. There he took the urbane that was going to his village. When he arrived there, the sun was setting, and along the way, the cooperators could be seen returning from work in the many vineyards of the village. Among them, he saw his mother, whom he met and hugged fondly. They went home together, but he didn’t stay long. Washed, changed and got ready to go out.
– “You’re out, son, you just came. We still haven’t grown old” – said his mother. But he pretended not to hear her. He went outside and headed for the center of the village. He wanted to meet his close friend, Jorgo Shella. Together they had talked about a plan, which they kept secret. He went to his house but did not find him. He went back to the center of the village and entered the club. There he saw Jorgo talking at a table with Aleksi, a young man from the village who was a soldier in Saranda.
They greeted each other and Sotiri sat down and ordered a glass of wine like his friends. He wanted to talk to Jorgo, but Alex’s presence bothered him. She couldn’t wait for him to leave. When Jorgua suddenly said in a low voice: – “I discussed that problem with Alex. He knows the country and is ready to help us”. Sotiri was stunned. Jorgo’s action had surprised him! How had he dared to open up to Alex? How could he have faith in something so dangerous? But now it was a fait accompli and there was no going back.
– “I wanted to come with you too, but you know my situation” – said Alexi. He was an only son and his mother was sick. That evening they stayed there talking until late. They decided to leave the next day. – “Tonight there is no end to your conversation”, – said the barman – “Get up now, it’s getting late and I have to close the club”. They looked around and noticed that there was no one left. They got up, greeted the coffee shop, and after taking a walk through the deserted streets of the village, each went to his home.
The next day they got up in the morning and left for Vlora.
– “Korba, I got a son, but the mother didn’t see you at all” – said the mother to Sotiri – “Why didn’t you tell me last night that I had fried some cookies”?! – “Don’t worry, little girl. Where we go, we will find everything” – he answered leaving. In Vlora they took the Saranda line bus. They arrived there in the afternoon. They began to wander the streets of the city, waiting for the hour to go to the appointed place.
In Pavllo Shella’s house, there was silence. Their son, Jorgua, had left with Sotir and Aleksi for three days and had not returned! He had said that he would go to his aunt in Vlora. But they hadn’t even seen him there. Pavllua began to worry. He noticed that even those in the village council seemed to avoid him. – “Get up, man, and go ask the Almighty, because then they will tell us why we didn’t notify” – said his wife with tears in her eyes.
It was made a rule at that time, that for every such case, the powerful of the village, or the Department of Internal Affairs, should be notified. – “We will wait tonight too. If he didn’t come, I will go tomorrow in the morning” – he answered worriedly. That evening at the gate of the house, several loud knocks were heard. Pavllua got up and opened it. It was Avniu, the Security operative of the area, accompanied by Jollanda, President of the United Council, and two policemen.
– “We have come for control”, – they told Pavlos. – “Why”?! – He asked in surprise. They did not reply. They pushed him away and started to overturn everything. They searched everywhere. Pavllua and his wife stood as if frozen. When they found nothing, they left again. When he reached the threshold of the gate, Avniu turned to Pavllua and said in an icy voice: – “Your son betrayed the country and for traitors, there is only one punishment. You have his body in the Saranda morgue”.
The old woman immediately fainted. Pavllua remained as if frozen. He didn’t know what to do. Did he call you?! And who?! Screaming at you?! There was no power. As he collected himself, he turned to the old woman, whom he mentioned by wetting her face with cold water. She opened the door loudly. The village heard it, and the people began to come immediately, but when they found out the cause, they left as if cholera had struck them. Even the old woman’s brother and sister did not dare to come. Only Pavlos’ sister and two or three other relatives came, who tried to console them as best they could?
The same scene was repeated in the house of Apostol Nastos. Even there the same check was made, the same thing was given. The same oil exploded there too. Even there, people began to leave because the plague had struck. The aunt had covered both families. Apostle Nastua did not dare to go to take the corpse of his son. The fear and consequences of this action forced him to keep the pain inside his soul. In his house he didn’t even dare to cry. Sotiri’s body was buried in Saranda by municipal workers.
Pavllua decided to bear all the consequences. And what could be worse for those two poor old men?! The next day alone he took the road to Saranda. There was a married niece of his. She waited for him and told him the terrible story that had shocked all of Saranda and would shock anyone who would hear such a story.
– Everyone says that the friend who accompanied them denounced them. When they arrived at the appointed place, they undressed and jumped into the sea, to swim towards Corfu. Their friend returned and notified the Internal Affairs Branch. The motor boat of the Coastal Defense forces was immediately launched, which reached international waters. There they had the opportunity to catch them and bring them to the city, to punish them. But they didn’t do that. They knew no law and had no human feeling. They acted like they were born criminals, killing and massacring two of their peers without flinching!
They took out their machine guns and killed them both. But even that was not enough for you. Their blood turned them on more. They started hitting them with the propeller of the motorboat, maiming and surprising them. And if that wasn’t enough, the next day they tied their bodies to a truck, which dragged them through the streets of Saranda, to terrorize the population of the city, to scare those other citizens, who might be thinking of carried out such an adventure. All this was done by order of the Head of the Internal Affairs Branch.
“Be strong bro! A terrible sight awaits you tomorrow. You have to face it with dignity.” – “Yes, my daughter and uncle, yes.” Dajua is strong and will know how to stay”. – replied Pavllua firmly. The next day they went to the city morgue. There, a beautiful sight awaited them. Pavllua did not recognize his son. Traces of seven bullets were visible on the body. He recognized her only by the underwear she was wearing.
His friend Sotiri, who was nearby, had the same view. Taking advantage of the kindness of the hospital employees, they left the corpse and dressed it in a pair of clothes, which they bought in the shops nearby. Then they placed it in the coffin, sealed it so that it could not be opened again and left in the municipal van to the village. They arrived home late at night. There they found only very few relatives of the family. The car left immediately after handing over the body.
The next day, Lazari, a member of the United Council, appeared at the door of the house. Without going inside, he called Pavllon and said: – “You will not bury the corpse in the village cemetery.” We do not allow a traitor to rest near those honorable men who are there. This is the decision of the party organization”.
– “How can I do it?” – asked Pavllua, confused. – I have family graves there”?! – “Bury it down there in the ground and leave no trace of the grave. I believe you heard me” – said Lazari, in a commanding tone and left. Pavllua remained frozen near the gate. How is it possible that those who until yesterday saluted him and talked cordially with him did not give him any grave place for his son? He returned to the room and told the few people in the room the terrible news.
– “We will go to complain to the Department of Internal Affairs and if necessary to the Party Committee” – said Andoni, Pavlos’ nephew. He left immediately for Vlora. But even in the Department of Internal Affairs, he received the same answer. He went to the Party Committee, but no one even welcomed him there despite his persistence. In the end, the guard who was at the gate said:
– “Go away, boy, don’t open yourself up anymore.”
An honorable situation had been created in the village. Most of the village was closed in their houses, not to riot in this event. While some brazen types, such as dentist Nashua or, Apostoli one, a pensioner, shouted loudly, that no one should go to their house for the funeral ceremony, since the boy had died as a traitor. The very small corteu left that afternoon for Jalli. As he passed through the village, the few people who were on the road, turned their arms while a shameless provocateur took a song from him, in which the incident happened.
Other painful events followed in the days that followed. Spirua, the communist and responsible sector, told the woman alone that her father had gone to the funeral. While Pandeli Andoni, Pavlos’ brother-in-law, could not resist the great pressure and drank the poison, ending his life, because he did not accept the dictates of the People’s Council of the neighborhood, to separate the woman.
The year 1990 gave the signs that the great upheaval had begun. The dictators of Eastern Europe had begun to fall one after the other. Only this one of ours was left. Pavllua thought that the time had come to restore his son’s remains near the graves of his relatives. He did the exhumation and headed towards the village cemetery. But Jollanda and Antigoni, the Secretary of the Party, came before him and said:
– “Don’t you remember that we are dead?! No, no, no. We are alive and we will crush your head. Return the bones to where they were, because that is where they belong.” Pavllua was silent and returned to where he had come from. The bones were placed back in the jalli. Only after March 22, 1992, they were able to occupy their rightful place in the village cemetery.
I met these two old men one day in April 1993, when I went to their house together with my friends, Mihal and Dino. On their faces was only pain. With tears in their eyes, they told us the incident I described above. They had great sorrow in their hearts. Would the culprits of this thing be punished?!
We were interested in Jolanda, Antigone, Avniu, Lazarus and their other lackeys. We were told that they had flown to Greece and the USA, where God knows what they were doing and what they were preparing! Surely new horrors like the one in 1997. Pavllua had only one request. He wanted democracy to establish justice for the massacre and desecration of his son’s corpse.
Under the pressure of the Association of Former Persecuted and Political Prisoners of Albania, and also of the public opinion, it became possible to arrest the former Head of the Saranda Department of Internal Affairs. But his trial turned into a judicial farce. He was only sentenced to three years in prison for abuse of office. Oh, the irony of fate! Three years in prison in exchange for the lives of two twenty-year-olds?! Pavlos’ heart was disappointed again. The crime went unpunished again! Memorie.al
