By Maksim Rakipaj
Part twenty two
Memorie.al/ Maksim Rakipaj, originally from Përmet, whose family had helped and supported the Anti-Fascist National Liberation War, after graduating from the Navy School in Vlorë, in 1972 he was appointed an officer in the Merchant Navy, where he served with dedication until in 1977, on the “Durrësi” steamer, he was arrested and sentenced to 15 years in political prison, as part of a “group”, which also included his colleague, Aladin Kapo, the son of Hysni Kapo’s brother. Family biography was also the reason for his punishment. After the end of the war, two of his uncles were sentenced to political prison, his grandfather was declared a kulak and in 1976, his father was expelled from the party. Maksi began serving his sentence in the Ballsh camp and in 1979, he was transferred to the Spaçi camp and then to the Qafë Bari camp. He was released on September 12, 1984, benefiting from a reduced sentence, from an amnesty. After being unemployed for a long time, with many hardships, he got a job as a miner in the Mzezet mine, he worked until 1991. After the 1991s, he started working in the administration of the Municipality of Durrës, he served until 1997 and after that, he returned to the Merchant Navy (the last captain of the transoceanic ship “Vlora”), until he left Albania for Italy, (illegally on a dinghy), where he currently lives for many years. Since the 90s, in addition to various jobs, Maksim Rakipaj has also devoted himself to writing, such as; poetry, prose, fiction or documentary, translations, etc., publishing several books, such as: ‘Prophet – Khalil Gibran’, (translation from English ‘Toena’ 2003), ’20 love poems and a song of sadness’, (translation from Spanish, ‘Toena’ 2003), ‘Alive after the shipwreck’, (published by ISKK, 2014), ‘Bukowski – poetry’, (translation from English, ‘ENEAS’, 2015), ‘Trilusa m’Tirône’, ( translation from Italian, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘Anthology of Arabic-Persian Poetry’ (English translations, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘The Complete Sonnets of Shakespeare’, (English translation, ‘ADA’ 2016′) , ‘Survivor’ (autobiographical novel, ‘2 East, 2 West’ 2018), ‘Nobelists – poetic anthology, (UEGEN 2019), ‘Hymn of happiness’ (‘JOZEF’ 2023), etc. From the creativity of Mr. Rakipaj, Memorie.al is publishing the book “Survivor”, (published in 2022 by “JOZEF” Publishing House in Durrës, directed by Mr. Aurel Kaçulini), where he has described his life chronologically, where the part the main one is that of serving the sentence in camps and prisons, as well as various characters, his co-sufferers that he met in the communist hell, etc.
Continues from last issue
4 – An Albanian from Cuba
I made many friends from the convicts, who come from Tirana here in Ballsh. They are excellent people. Among them is Jamarbëri, the son of the well-known writer Petro Marko; Gëzim Peshkepia, who shot his father in 1951, for the bomb planted by State Security at the Soviet embassy in Tirana; is Beqir Omar, the grandson of Bahri Omar (the vampire Enver couldn’t get enough of his uncle’s blood!); Nezir Stërmasi, who comes from one of the most honorable Tirana families; Shefqet Kau, big in body and soul – the well-known women’s volleyball coach of “Dinamo”; playwright, critic and writer Miho Gjini; the greatest among the greatest, Luk Kaçaj and many others. They have a wide culture; one learns a lot from associating with them.
The writer Petro Marko regularly comes to see his son. His curly gray mane is visible from now on. Everyone noticed him from afar, before he approached the camp. He fought in Spain, Petroja, he was in prison during the fascism, on the island of Ventotene. He was also in Burrel prison. Now, in his old age, he also has to suffer the imprisonment of his son, Jamarbër, or Madu, as his friends call him. Every time Petro comes to meet, it’s a party for Madu and his friends. It is also a celebration for those he helps.
I see him handing a pack of cigarettes and something to eat to an old man, as I go to say hello to him, and he leaves without waiting for the old man’s thanks.
– “You don’t know Dhimitri, Makso”?! No? He participated in the Fan Noli movement in June of ’24. When Zogu returned to power, he fled the country. He spent several years in Europe and, I don’t know how, from the 30s or later, he ended up in Cuba. He also met Hemingway in Havana, talked and drank with him. How is it possible that it ended up here, you say?! Wait, I’ll come there too…, but come with me, I’ll introduce him and talk to him yourself”.
That’s how I met Dhimitër K. No one wants to meet him in prison. He smokes and finds it difficult to live, only with food from Ballsh’s kettle. At first, he collected cigarette butts on the ground, which he crumbled to put in his pipe, while the feeling of hunger never left him.
His condition changed for the better, since he began to associate with different people. Here, everyone who knows him gives him something: someone gives him an open cigarette, another gives him his kettle ration, someone a piece of candy…! Dhimitri is a proud guy, he never begs people for anything. When one of his friends tells him:
– “It is a shame to collect cigarette butts on the ground. Everyone knows you, it’s enough to ask and everyone will give you, O Dhimiter”!
– “No, I’m not ashamed to collect cigarette butts… – he answers. – Shame belongs to those who put me in prison…! It is a shame to beg and fall on others’ necks, to steal. Like that”?!
As soon as I introduced myself to Dhimitri, Aladdin and I decided to invite him for a coffee.
– “I am much honored to have a coffee with you – Dhimitri told me – that you were officers on the steamship ‘Durrësi’. I visited your ship in ’62, when it came to Havana, to load sugar…”!
While Aladdin was making the coffee, I gave him a piece of cake that my mother had brought me.
– “Your mother must be from Korçë. When I was little, my mother used to do like this too…! I lived in Cuba for many years; Ernest Hemingway also had a villa near me. We were friends; the photos I had with him were taken by the investigator. Even the photos with Che Guevara, with Fidel…! Fidel Castro was not a communist…! He was even related to the dictator Batista.
It was just a rebellion against him…! The Russians kept their ears perked. In a spontaneous meeting, Fidel, just like that without thinking long, made that famous statement: Americans say that Fidel Castro is a communist! If someone who protects the interests of his people for them is a communist, I declare universally: Yes! Fidel Castro is a communist!
I heard it with my own ears. Aaa, you want to know how I ended up here?! I think it was 1962; I had gone for a walk from the port of Havana, when I saw a ship with the Albanian flag. My knees buckled when I saw it. The port employees told me that the ship would stay there for over a week, loading sugar. The authorities told me that I could board the ship, without any problem, the next day. They would notify the ship’s captain of my visit. The next day, I took a couple of bottles of ‘Rum’ to present to the captain and with an indescribable emotion, I climbed aboard the ship.
Almost 40 years without speaking Albanian, the church. I also found the ambassador of Albania there. I did not know that Albania had an embassy in Havana. I was received very well, what I can say. I had tears in my eyes all the time, from longing. The ambassador told me that the embassy had its doors open for me. The Albanian magazine gave me a chance…! I was surprised, how much the country had changed! Longing burned my chest. I didn’t want to die without kissing my soil once… ehheee.
I talked to the wife…! Have you seen my photos? Here, I went out with my wife, to our villa in Havana…! This blonde is my friend, English…! The one with black hair is the son’s daughter-in-law, this little one is the nephew…he will be a man now. The woman was afraid: No, my dear, I have heard a lot of horrors about communist countries. I feel that I’m leaving, I won’t see you again’! I told him not to believe the propaganda of the imperialists and the tales about the ‘iron curtain’.
I wrote a letter to Enver Hoxha, when he took Albania out of the socialist camp. I openly told him my opinion, as an Albanian, as a communist. I told him that with this adventurous action, he was doing a valuable service to imperialism, those words about revisionism, did not convince me…! For theoretical issues, you should sit at the table to talk.
A country isolated from the rest of the world, it served only its personal, absolute power and imperialist secret services. I had no answer. I also spoke to my fellow ambassador about this. He shook his head and smiled: “Be sure, Comrade Dhimitër, that the party and Comrade Enver take your letter and thoughts into consideration. We do not suppress the opinion otherwise.
You can go to Tirana yourself, whenever you want, and convince yourself of that. You can personally meet any comrade of the leadership, even Comrade Enver himself. When you want, tell me. I told you; call the embassy like your home! He convinced me. I asked him for a visa to Tirana. He gave it to me immediately. As soon as I arrived in Rinas, they put handcuffs on me! How much have I been punished? How many years do I have left? As long as Enver Hoxha is in power, I will be in prison. My wife was right; she told me when she saw me off: My heart feels for Miti, I won’t see you again…”!
5 – Warsaw students
Even a group of former students, who had graduated from the University of Warsaw, could not escape from that wave of arrests that swept the whole country. Most were mechanical engineers. One of them, the late Vedat Buzi, is a martyr’s brother…! “Pupupu, look where the enemy himself is hitting… the martyr’s brother, how he dare step on his brother’s blood. He also seemed like a wise man”?!
…And Vedat is wise, calm, well-educated, family-oriented guy. In prison he is reserved, still afraid of the investigation. From this group, I have more company with Spiro Nikolla. He worked as a chief engineer at the Car Park in Tirana. He was also in Spaçi camp. He suffered an accident from the collapse of an armature in the gallery, which took him down, but his friends managed to get him out quickly. At the hospital, they wanted to amputate his left leg. He did not accept. They operated him step and go, the bottom was a piece of a prisoner and an enemy.
They removed the knee cap and left leg, it drags, however Spiro is satisfied, at least he has his leg. There are fond memories of Poland and the people there. I have also been to Poland. Poles are wonderful people. When we made the route to Poland with the ship “Durresi”, I had quite a few Polish friends. Spiro, tell me about his investigation. Investigators have had the notorious Ali Korbi. They were being investigated for espionage. He also shows a joke from the investigation, Spiro has a sense of humor.
“One day,” says Spiro, “in the afternoon, the policeman takes me to the investigator’s office. I find Korbin standing, dirty, as if he were going to a ball. He didn’t call me to the investigator’s office for a week. As soon as I entered, all polite, the raven offered me a cigarette and lit it for me. It was a Polish cigarette.
– ‘Did you Miss Polish cigarettes?! You got it from your Polish spy chief, Colonel Dombrowski. I just came back from Warsaw. A good man, this colonel Dombrowski…he told me everything about you all…he had confidence in you that you would walk, he had respect for your intelligence, Spiro…! He told me, he told me, everything: how he met you, how he recruited you…! Hey, what do you have to say to me now, beautiful girl?! You intend to talk, don’t you…’?!
– Yes, – I told him, – but can you tell me why they demoted Dombrowski?! As long as I was a student in Warsaw, I knew the general. Eh, how are these jobs?!
– Thank you for finally speaking. Without telling me, how did you know him?!
– I met him by chance, I was in the park with a Polish friend of mine and she introduced me: My beloved Nikola let me introduce you to General Dombrowski.
– ‘Hey, what did you say to him, where did you go, what tasks did he assign you, what did he say… go on…’!
– What could he say; he was on top of the horse, like Skenderbeu. You still have him there, on a horse. The Poles have him as a national hero. But why did they lower his rank, from general, to colonel…’?!
Korbi beat me that day, until I fainted, but when I came to my senses, I laughed with tears, when I remembered how Korbi made the mugs. Except to see it…! It was worth eating wood for. After several months of investigation and all kinds of pressure, I was officially informed that the accusation of espionage had been dropped. I said that’s the end of the trouble.
– Now, brother – I said to Korbit – how will you tell people that you died for us these months in vain? Do you remember that we will leave this work at that?!
The raven laughed, he scolded the sea, he did not stop:
– ‘You pleased me, Spiro. If I knew you were a wise man, you would have been a fool from the brain…! Ahahaha…! Uh, the desert, he remembers that he will be released. Wait, take it, Janina is here. What are you going to wear, without getting at least 20 years in prison? To the people, you say, what will we say?! Shit, we have nothing to say. Let me tell you how it’s done: I’ll go home myself. Bitter, gloomy, with ugh and ugh. The woman speaks to me: Ali, put the coffee on? Hich I, open and close files. ‘Ali, where is your mind, the coffee I tell you…’?! I pretend to be mentioned and say: ‘Where do I have it, white door, where do I have it…?! I lost my soul with these Polish agents, whom we have arrested: Nikola, Vedati, and so on…! Every day, we discover new things. I’m off; I have to make a secret meeting. And listen, woman, don’t open your mouth to anyone, because these agency jobs are useless! You heard, I heard say…!
I go to put two or three doubles, with a friend, while my wife has filled the house: Pupu, black, black Ali, with these Romanian, Bulgarian, English agents… with Spiro Nikollat with friends. ..! But, my Ali has made a broken person, so what can I tell you, my Zenepe! The next day he went to Shkodër, Saranda and wherever you want Stupid. You know yourself to be wise, but you don’t know the Labor Party”!
English, poetry and cognac at Qaf-Bar
After finishing the shift, I also taught the English course. Some of my friends had ordered the “Essential” methods and asked me to help them. I was not easy with them. They were highly educated and knew several foreign languages, so I had to prepare well to be able to answer their questions. I was happy when they were happy with me.
The great singer, Sherif Merdani, also came from Burreli, where he was transferred after his re-sentence. The many friends he had were waiting for him with enthusiasm. He also became my friend. When I was young, I met Sherif after prison, when he gave a live concert at the Sports Palace in Durrës in 1996. When he sang “Se gantonim let it be”, he approached the place where I was sitting with my wife and sons hugged me while continuing the song…all the spectators missed me.
In Qaf-Bar, the Sheriff brought many poems in English from Burrel prison. He was very passionate about Anglo-Saxon poetry: “There’s a lot of music, rhythm, poetry in English, Max. Don’t forget it when you translate into Albanian. It’s not enough to just know the language in translation.” I have always kept his message in mind, not only when I translated poetry from English.
I’m on a shift with Nikola Kali. Every time we enter the deserted gallery, we recite “Invictus” out loud and feel stronger. Aladdin continues the work of cutting and dividing the loaves. They are all happy with it. He provided a report that he suffers from heart disease and cannot work in the mine. The policemen and officers of Dibra have lost their brains, they speak well of Haxhi Lleshi, with whom Kapot has a relationship and they love him so much. I, as his friend, also benefit from this. This makes me also have the kindness of policeman Beqiri towards me. Although lately I’ve been a little cold, because I didn’t accept his proposal to work in the kitchen.
One evening, when I was on the 3rd shift and I was smoking a cigarette in the bedroom (which was forbidden by regulation), the door opened with a bang and policeman Beqiri entered, who was on duty in the camp that evening. He hides the cigarette quickly. Beqiri looks at me and addresses me in a harsh tone: “Rakipaj, run downstairs and wait for me at the office! I’ll tell you how to smoke in the room”!
The police office, on the ground floor, serves as a place to beat those who break the rules. Beqiri comes, opens the door of the “office” and, always serious, speaks to me angrily: “Come in!” I enter and stand away from him, next to the hanger, where Beqiri had hung his coat. He goes behind the table, takes the rubber club from his belt and slams it on the table. I said that’s all I had. I speak trying to be calm:
– “Listen, Beqir B., listen here, we are alone. Don’t be fooled into thinking that you can beat me loose and I will sit like a chicken. If you give up, neither of us will get out of here alive. Do as I say, tie my hands behind my back, or you will flatten me. Except beware of one of my kicks, beware of your throat, because I will sink my teeth there…”
The bachelor put the stick in the drawer and sat down in his chair without speaking. Silence. After a while, he speaks to me in a muffled voice, looking me in the eyes:
– “Max, what do you say, I don’t understand you. Go to my coat and put your hand in your pocket, but before me, put the key to the door.”
I locked the door with the key. I put my hand in his coat pocket, touched… the bottle. I took it out and put it back in place. It was a bottle of cognac. I saw from Beqir. I didn’t understand anything. Beqiri spoke seriously, but not with the feigned anger of the beginning:
– “Take that crappy bottle and drink quickly, I’m telling you, I have the glasses here.”
With the bottle of cognac in hand, I reached over and handed it to him. He opened it and filled two glasses of water full, he handed one to me. I took it without knowing what to do.
– “Sit down, Max, sit down. Cheers! Go here and congratulate Beqiri, with all my heart, for the top of the kalamoy! Ishalla a few hours ago, go to your place! It is halal”!
– “Thank you Beqo, I haven’t had a drink for a while, the brandy smell will come. What will I say then? Speak openly, why are you doing this”?!
– “Max, I’m a high school graduate. I don’t have the culture and languages that you have, but you fool, I’m not Beqiri. When you rejected my proposal, I took it badly. I’m talking straight, leave that chatter. You told me then that you don’t know the political prison. You see, I had no idea. But I have seen all the letters that are for you, in the command, everything that comes from Spachi, from the operative there, how you did there, others, others that I can’t tell.
I’ll say one thing: I’ve been dealing with prisoners for 18 years, but we haven’t had a day until now. Take care, Max! As long as I’m here, no one will touch the hair. I respect you, but I will watch over you from afar. I can’t date you, as before, you understand. Drink that glass, good luck! He put the clove in his mouth again, with the smell of cognac. I do this for myself. Finally! Give me that hand; you’re my friend, Max. Don’t talk to anyone… but you know it yourself…!
I told only Visar and Aladdin, everything, the next day. Memorie.al
The next issue follows
