From Përparim Hysi
Memorie.al / Durim F., became as if with wings when he received the news that he would continue the insurance school in Tirana. He was the son of an officer and, even though his father was dead, his biography followed him. Connected as flesh and bone with the party, Durim F., was already calculating where he could end up: he thought to himself, to be caressed inside, with an embassy or even a chosen one of the high investigation, that he had been an investigator and the deceased, his father, Hysen F. This idea of his was supported, among other things, by another fact: that he was from the same province as the Prime Minister, Mehmet Shehu, and that was not enough. If you then add the other fact, that his father, Hyseni, was in a brigade with the one who was now prime minister, for the young man, Durim F., there was no door that was not opened.
There, in the school, they were told that what prepared these loyal cadres, provided them with a diploma that was equal to that of Law, so that every one of these was removed or recognized as a lawyer. What I write, it’s not that I write a priori or that’s what I want.
It was a truth that does not play the ball: any of these “loyalists”, when they fell off the horse, for one reason or another, they met and started, as if without harm, and taught philosophy in high schools, that “they had finished law”. That’s it!
Durim F., finished school and, while waiting for some appointment boom (well, for those deserted embassies, his eyes were crying), he met and was appointed an investigator in a city in the South of the country. This one was from the South, but not in his town, but somewhere, far away. Investigating and wondering why this city had two of them. One was the boss, an old scythe who had pulled out the “teeth of political opponents” with horse tongs, and the other: who else?
Except Durim F., who posed and demonstrated strength and imposingness, because he was not an investigator in vain. Related to the Liberator, son of the investigator and, apart from these, where he comes from: the prime minister’s birthplace. It is genetic – they say – that all those who come from the deep provinces, like Durim F., when they come to the city, are alienated and become ridiculous, because they want to throw away the old skin they are wearing.
This attempt, usually, is of mediocre people who, without realizing it, become ridiculous and a little Don Quixote. That’s what happened with Durim F. He wore the clothes they had given him (they were models that made people cringe); he never took off his collar, and when it was hot, no matter how much evil mouths said that he did not know how to tie it, and, besides, he walked with a heavy, almost, alone and with the eyes of a hunting dog – he traversed the entire promenade.
That, as he thought, such an investigator should be: unapproachable; cold marble and, when I speak, raise his voice almost an octave above the other, to say that he is far, far away from any other living being. That he fights “enemies of the party and the people”.
And Durim F. knew this work well, especially there in the dungeons of the Inner Branch. He was so devoted to this “craft”, that he could not sleep comfortably, if he had not properly tortured those “enemies”.
And this syvigilent of the Party saw a potential enemy in everyone. And when this “potential enemy” fell into his hands, he himself knew how to twist his neck. Then, after all those unimaginable tortures, he kept his breath going straight to the sightseeing of the city, where he relaxed, among other things, with the blonde bartender of that city. Durim F. was not an investigator in vain.
That’s how and with the “great and secret work of the party”, it was discovered that in the south, in an agricultural cooperative, from the chairman down, they were “sold” there: in Greece. And the whole group, en bloc, was arrested.
The news about the “discovery” of this group, that the en bloc group, which was known, among other things, as a group of folk singers, was a little shocking. Durim F., I went into an “orgasm” of pleasure. That he would deal with an angelic group and he, pampered in the seder, does not forgive torture and “whitening of the truth”, leading the “trampoline” of his rise to responsibility.
And it started with those “snacks” they had learned at school. The investigation, this time, for the “cap of the group”, who was the former chairman of the cooperative, was done by two people: one who “executed the actions according to justice, alla communist”, and the other, to be as “real” investigation, you had come as an assistant, from another district.
This other one, – well, a more established school than that of the Security, – looked at the possibility of raising itself to responsibility and was removed more prudently, in the implementation of the law. I had the law in writing, that torture should not be used against the defendant.
Durim F., you let out as much power as you had with slaps on the unfortunate. This “helper” was just watching, and when Durimi got “tired” and went straight to the tourism for “relaxation”, the “helper” says to the absentee: – “Complain that he slapped you, that I became a witness.”
The defendant did so and in the confrontation, the “assistant” who saw Durim as a shadow, put a crutch on him. The next day, Durim F., instead of going to the embassy, undressed as an investigator (“assistant” immediately took over) and arrived in our city. There, I learned that he was assigned to teach philosophy in one of our high schools. What I told above, I have from his mouth.
He taught philosophy, but his mind was working further: there to some place where he could relax and he had become an obsession: Cuba. That Cuba, at that time, was a friend and, apart from that, this cracker and sadistic fun was overflowing in salty waters. From training as a teacher, it was empty. Take away the “made in Enver” chants, memorized slogans, and it still stuck with that during the investigation.
He did not break the company with those “greys” and, when he found out that one of them came to Paris, he lost his mind and became very nervous. Where he and where I? Why, – I intervened, – but he had to do with sh. Enter (Kapo). But I’m not dealing with sh. Mehmet? Even my wife grew up there, at Shehët. That’s what he did to me, Lugat, who betrayed me. And for whom? For an enemy?!
The political thermometer in Albania was rising. In addition to external enemies (revisionists and imperialists, now Chinese tribotists), the danger from within was increasing. The Beqir Balluku Group and Co. had been “discovered”… and now, everywhere, “enemies” were being discovered. “Opportunity is coming to the door”, – said Durim F. – You have to see when they call me.
That it takes “specialists” to break down “enemies” who have worked under the “skin”. When, one day, the news was just given that the prime minister, Mehmet Shehu, had “committed suicide”! Durim F., his complexion had changed, he had become, almost, yellow wax, and he couldn’t hold back his tears. “I laughed at the post office,” he told me, “and I sent a telegram to my friend Enver.” I consoled him for the ‘loss’ of his close comrade in arms.
That of the letters that I am, he also showed me the text. And today he did not forget that text, which, as much as it makes you laugh, makes the former investigator, Durim F., even more quixotic. To make it a little more tangible for the reader, he is bringing it as I remember it:
“… like everyone, I am shocked by the ‘disaster that has fallen on your head, you and the party’, unable to be by your side at this moment, please kiss the corpse for me”.
Durim F.
December 19, 1981
As inquisitive as he was, I think he was so shocked that he could not notice, like my disgust in this text, so buffoonish. However, thunder would be felt later. The text, obviously, could not be noticed, as long as the “shock” that was experienced by Sh. Enver from the “loss” of the “close comrade in arms” and as compensation for this quixotic consolation, “customs” also comes.
Durim F., he had to leave his job, but a little “delicacy” was needed. And the “delicacy” was fabricated with as much “fineness” as it did. The students of the school had gathered to enter the classroom, and while the teachers were in charge, someone broke through the students and in front of the whole school, punched Durim F.
The image of the teacher that was violated. He could not teach there, and while he was waiting to be transferred to another school, he was taken as a storekeeper on a farm. Then, with seeing and doing. But one thing is certain: Durim F., not only did he not go to the embassy, but he remained a worker. Except when democracy came, he came back and became a lawyer. Why not? Who better than him knows how to “protect” people’s rights.
I, – it was explained among the people, – for a “kiss by correspondence” I suffered and, as for the past as an investigator, he didn’t even put it in his mouth. Yes, the rest of us didn’t even mention it. The bad thing is that even that “helper”, who appeared as a “witness”, has received the status of a former political victim. And the “volunteer” who shot him with the palm of his hand, in the eyes of the students, is now the head of a party in the district. Memorie.al
