By Angel Dine
Second part
Memorie.al / It’s been a while since I get a wave filled with a bunch of feelings that run through me to the deepest point of my soul and then it returns to where it came from, as quickly as it appears as if it were a tide true, it takes everything with it, leaving a huge void behind, a void that takes time to fill again. And what is the truth, as long as this “tide” continues to rise, in this completely unexpected way, like a cunning thief who steals often and a little, so little that it is not understood that something is missing, it will come out, take everything with you. I’m not a writer, I don’t even have the right vocabulary of the Albanian language to express what I want to say, as I feel it, or as I experience it with my mind and soul, however, today I have something to say, ” “that” that gnaws inside me insistently wants to come out, and it seems that it is stronger than the will to defeat it.
The next issue follows
And today you are white-cheeked; today you enjoy all the good things that were denied you for the better part of your life. Today you are the parents of lawyers, company presidents, successful businessmen, company directors, engineers, university professors, painters, writers, political activists, financiers, managers, restaurant owners. Those who inherited your genes and blood, those who were denied the right to school by the communist dictatorship, beyond eight years even though they had excellent grades, just because they were your children. However, they made it as you did. There was no other way; “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”!
How long will the guilty of the crimes and all the injustices that were done to you, Lady of Justice, bow before you? As well as the two proud Eagles, which at one time stood face up above the fiery background, during the time when your fathers and forefathers shed blood without account for that land, for that flag, for that eagle that, the communist devils with their arrival in power they tied him, nailed his arms and legs, just like the Romans crucified Christ. Today, it sits upside down against a backdrop reddened with the blood of thousands of innocent people.
Both of these symbols were taken hostage in Albania since the day of the arrival of communism and they continue to be hostages even today. As long as the sons and daughters of criminals, have occupied the place inherited by their forefathers, continue to divide and rule the people even today, we, your children, will never get tired, writing about the injustices that they did to you, we will not stop writing the truth, we will not stop writing who these pseudo-democrats and socialists really are. I will not stop writing, about your exemplary behavior, about your steadfast attitude.
Until justice is not put in the right place, until your sufferings and the injustices done to you are mentioned only during electoral campaigns, with empty speeches, with decorations baked in the oven of former communists who today have become democrats and socialists, Albania will not to be able to breathe freely. Like a wounded body, with old wounds still open, in this serious condition, I will take slow steps from one day to the next in the hope that one day, a cure will be found for the disease that has damaged him so badly.
Aware of the fact that you were killed and persecuted, that your best sons and daughters left you. And for as long as Albanian historiography will continue to hide the truth, for the many sins committed on thousands and thousands of innocent people, for as long as it writes superficially about the victims, without mentioning the guilty, for as long as that society will continue to sow poisoned seed, justice will be delayed. They say: “you will reap what you sow”! In the case of Albania, this is not enough. In Albania, the same poison is planted that was harvested, and so the cycle continues…!
I have seen some beautiful things in life, some events worth remembering. The first beautiful thing I remember was the fall of communism. The day came that I had heard about all my life: “that your day will never come again”. The fall of the bust of the dictator, criminal Enver Hoxha, whose name I refuse to write like all other people’s names, due to the fact that he was not a man, but a devil, and the next day, I met family members who, until then, lived across the Albanian borders, people who, until that day, we never thought we would ever meet.
Brothers, sisters, parents and children met for the first time after 45 years. The sister was meeting her brother for the first time, after half a century, I heard with my ears the sad words: “Where are you, my sister”?! In a manly voice that trembled with the emotion of the moment. The tears that slid down their cheeks, on the rough skin with wrinkles that in itself, showed not only suffering but countless hardships and sacrifices.
However, for those moments, their faces shone and so confused, happy, longing, they missed each other, and all those whom their hands had caressed, with the arms that had embraced the dearest people in life, whom “fate” separated them forever, for half a century, or forever.
There among the tears and hugs, a part of my heart remained broken forever. The birth of little Veronika, the first child in our family, whom I love twice because she has the mother’s name, seemed to give renewed life to my grandfather and grandmother, whose faces I had never seen so happy happy, never before.
I saw in my child’s eyes, the first sincere smile. A kind of smile that communicates what doesn’t need words, as if with her smiling eyes, full of light and with unconscious love, as if she was trying to show me that even though I don’t speak yet, I know who you are. But the most beautiful thing I have seen in life, are your faces, your human spirit, your love that was never exhausted, not only for your children but for all your friends and colleagues, and my greatest achievement in life, it is completely not my merit, it is the fact that I am your child.
There is nothing in this world that can surpass the happiness and gratitude that I feel every day of my life that; i am your child And I am more than sure that your other children also share the same feelings, I am more than sure that all the children of your co-sufferers, those who supported you until the last day of the communist dictatorship, feel the same about their parents Theirs.
In closing, I want to use a sentence that I read by chance, written by Kozeta Zylo. A sentence that when I read it reminded me of the wave and the tide that I mentioned at the beginning of the article. It is expressed like this, textually for your class: “…But a day will come from these pains, the world masterpiece will be written, if it hasn’t already started… it is inside YOU!…”!
You are the world masterpiece! I have been living in the most diverse country in the world for 23 years, I have met and known people closely, and from all over the world, and until today, I have not met anyone like you. And I can honestly say that I will never meet people like you again. I don’t have to meet because; people like you are not born anymore Mother! They say that once upon a time only Spartan mothers gave birth to real men, I say Spartan mothers, since they were Albanians! You never agreed to cooperate with communist criminals.
You lived in a time when Evil was rewarded and good was punished, and you chose the side of Right and Good with the full knowledge that such a choice would cost you dearly. You were broken neither by torture, nor by imprisonment, nor by psychological pressures that appeared in different ways, nor threats to children and other family members.
This does not mean that you loved your children less than others; this shows that you were and continue to be people with superhuman values, with discipline and moral power, of another level, of an elusive level, imperceptible by conditional measures, to follow…especially compared to the society of that time.
And the day will come when you will be put in the right place, you will be used as a model for the masses. You will be the compass with which the societies in the future will be oriented, you are the stars of the night, steadfast, immovable and when no orienting instrument of time, does not work, you are the guide that people will be oriented, for new find the way. If Nitche were alive today, he would use you in his famous work Zarathustra, and you would be the ones who would give Albania a name, because Nitche would admit that; the superman was achieved in Albania, and it was realized in the most unpredictable way, it was achieved collectively.
You are the world’s masterpiece that has not yet been written. I hope that those who have the power of expression, those who have a passion for writing, write and write and write and keep writing, until their fingers can no longer hold the pen, write and not tire of you, for the unsung heroes!!!
Although today, thanks to God, I am surrounded by a family and a large tribe, with many friends and friends, I have enough to be satisfied in life, from time to time I feel a slight irritation, a void that weighs no a little. This emptiness is the heavy burden of not-so-pleasant memories, the burden of the injustices done to you, and my inability, as an individual, to do anything… the inability or unwillingness, by all of us, to take the killers you’re in court.
And I am more than convinced that the wave and the tide will continue to appear from time to time, as long as the culprits and criminals must be held responsible for the suffering they caused to the Albanian people, for the countless crimes they committed against their own people, for the crimes they committed against you, against humanity, not only have not faced justice, but still continue to enjoy the same status, as in the time of communism.
I may not be able to provide you with the much-needed justice, but I can write for you, within the possibilities and abilities I have, as I have done for years, in various Albanian forums, and I have noticed that many of them, you do not like to hear about you. If you were that mirror that shows the deepest, darkest parts of the human soul, where the light is not allowed to penetrate.
And if that wasn’t enough, the most beautiful memories of life, like the waves of the sea when they come, fill me with joy and when they go back to where they came from, it’s like they take you with them, leaving behind a void that can never be filled. . This void is your absence, some of you are no more, and some of you are no longer part of my daily life, as then.
And when I hear about your troubles today, it weighs me down, when I hear that you are sick, I worry, when I hear that you are no more, my heart beats one less, when I hear your name for good, my heart becomes a mountain because you were so important and you influenced my life so much that, what were and influenced the people closest to the family.
In fact, we were a family, a big tribe who helped each other through the hardest times imaginable. The help and support you found in each other enabled you to survive physically and spiritually. And in these circumstances, extremely difficult amid indescribable suffering and sacrifices, bonds were created, eternal knots that are never cut!
Now I want to mention the names of some victims of the communist dictatorship, mostly people I knew personally in Lushnja camps such as: Savra, Gradishta and Gjaza.
Sazan Dine & Veronika (Dosti) Dine
Tomorr Dine & Shkurta (Serdari) Dine
Hajredin Dine & Adriana (Radi) Dine
Xhelal Dine
Skender Dine (Uncle who died at the age of 28 in the political prisons of the communist dictatorship)
Rukie Dine (my grandmother who “roamed” all the internment camps with small children, starting from the infamous Tepelena camp and, until she closed her eyes forever, in Gjaza)
Sultana Dine and Llan Kaziu (sibling)
Fuat Dine and Meleqe Dine
Genc Bajraktari and Hana (Dine) Bajraktari
Viktor Dosti, Hyria (Kupi) Dosti
Tomor and Suta Dosti
Leka Dosti
Ernest and Fatbardha Dosti
Tomorr Gjergjani and Tefta (Dosti) Gjergjani
Fatbardh and Lirie Kupi
Ibrahim Sokoli Shanisha (Dosti) Sokoli
Fatmira (Dine) Hasho
Xhina Mirakaj
Sokol Miraka and Valbona (Çoku) Miraka
Simon Mirakaj
Lekë and Loli Mirakaj
Mojsi and Dava Mirakaj
Lazër and Vitka Radi
Vasil and Lajde Kokali
Besnik Ndreu and Dudie (Kupi) Ndreu
Ded Markagjoni
Gjon Markagjoni (Gjonmarkaj),
Marta Markagjoni.
Bardha Markagjoni
Selami Xhydo
Neshet Talo
Naim and Lufta Staravëcka
Ali Dema
Tefta Dema
Ismail and Xharie Spahiu
Genc and Albina Previzi
Valentinë Previzi
Lek and Beba Previzi
Xhavit and Sheqre Matjani
Elami and Seçi Agolli
Pal and Gjyste Kaziu
Families: Kaloshi, Menet, Spahiet, Previz, Demet, Biçaku, Kokali…
I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the support you gave to parents, brothers and sisters during the most difficult days of their lives! I also wish you a long life, a happy old age, and to be able to see grandchildren and beyond, because it is good that they too are lucky enough to be touched by this inexhaustible source of love, from your hands and hearts.
This writing is mainly dedicated to my parents, family and relatives, friends and their closest friends, co-sufferers and all victims of the communist dictatorship, throughout Albania.
P.S. I apologize for any names I may have forgotten to mention. Memorie.al
