From Sokrat Shyti
Part Forty-Four
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 few published books of his in recent years, mainly the voluminous novel “The Ghostly Night” (Tirana 2014). The novels: “BEYOND THE MYSTERY”, “BETWEEN TEMPTATION AND WHIRLPOOL”, “THE DIGS OF NIGHTMARE”, “THE SHADOW OF SHAME AND DEATH”, “THE HEADLESS COLONEL”, “THE HOPEFUL NAMES”, “THE CONFUSIONS OF FATE” I, II, “SURVIVAL IN THE COWS’ SHED”, as well as other works, all novels ranging from 350 to 550 pages, are in manuscripts waiting to be published. The dreams and initial fervor of the young novelist, returning from studies abroad full of energy and love for art and literature, were early cut short by the harsh blade of the communist dictatorship.
Who is Sokrat Shyti?
Returning from studies at the State University of Moscow, just after the interruption of Albanian-Soviet relations in 1960, Sokrat Shyti worked at Radio “Diapazon” (which at that time was located on Kavaja Street), in an editorial office with his friends journalists – Vangjel Lezho and Fadil Kokomani – both later arrested and subsequently executed by the communist regime. In addition to the radio, the 21-year-old Sokrat, if we imagine him, had passionate literary interests at that time. He wrote his first novel “Madam Doctor” and was on the brink of publication, but… alas! Right after the arrest of his friends, to fill the cup, a brother of his, a painter, escaped abroad.
Sokrat was arrested in September 1963, and in November of that year, his family (with his mother and younger sister) was 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. Throughout those 27 years, he was legally obliged to report three times a day to the local authority. He had no right to move from the place of internment, was deprived of any kind of documentation, and so on. Under these conditions, among a cowshed, he gave birth to and raised children. It is precisely from this event, or rather a very long history of persecution, that he based his writing of the book “Survival in the Cows’ Shed”!
Agron Tufa
Continues from the last issue
EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK “SURVIVAL IN THE COWS’ SHED”
– “Currently, I work at the hospital in Berat, as a General Practitioner,” he replied with his friendly smile. “I hope to start my specialization in Cardiology this September!…” he added with the same smile. “But let’s see how this wish will come true…!”
– “Do you feel completely dedicated to this human profession?” I asked him.
– “Medicine, in my opinion, occupies the first place among all professions because it requires dedication, passion, will, readiness, and persistent perseverance more than others. Medicine comes right after literature and art. Am I exaggerating?” he added with a gentle gaze.
– “You have made an accurate assessment. I also place medicine in the most primary position among all professions, not only for its extraordinary role, because it serves us with passion and dedication, but above all, it offers us the opportunity to improve and extend life and alleviates the severe consequences of diseases. Therefore, I have held and continue to hold the highest esteem for doctors.
But certainly, only for those who deserve it. Because not everyone can become a doctor. Firstly, one must genetically possess vision and a human spirit. That is why in developed countries, special tests are conducted for candidates who express a desire to study medicine. Because no matter how capable you are of acquiring knowledge, when the backbone of a doctor, humanism, is lacking, you can be called a craftsman, but not a doctor. Do you agree with me?”
– “In our conditions, where a doctor covers more than three times the standard number of patients, according to the World Health Organization, compared to developed countries, the primary goal remains increasing the number of specialists. Several more decades must pass before thinking about testing candidates in that regard. Because for the time we live in, this idea is considered a luxury for two reasons: First, the general cultural level of the population hinders us. Secondly, we don’t have either the complete staff of professors needed to conduct this testing or sufficient budget.”
“Certainly as an idea, your thought stands. But this idea could serve the new leaders of the state, those who will come after two generations, when the country creates a solid economy, with growth each year, and the educational and cultural level aligns somewhat with the European average. The current rapid developments do not have the time or opportunity to focus on qualitative advancement. Not only here but everywhere in the world, massification feeds on the back of quality. That’s why there is a significant difference between specialists trained here in our universities and institutes compared to those who graduate abroad in developed countries. Even if we had two or three professors with a high professional level equivalent to renowned university professors, our students cannot receive the same knowledge as students from those universities, primarily due to a lack of material resources. Education, in general, but especially higher education, requires substantial funding.”
To reach the educational level of developed countries, according to the definition of an economist, it takes at least two decades of the budget that our country spends on living and survival, plus all social and cultural activities, and all mental and intellectual efforts. In other words, only a very powerful economic boom can raise the level of education to the minimum heights of the time. The fact that here our development rates are compared to centuries of backwardness, during the Kingdom, when illiteracy was over ninety percent of the population, and in every city there was either one doctor or none, naturally means that this kind of progress cannot reduce the gap between us and the advancements of centuries-old states.
Even if we accept for a moment that our development rates are double that of some countries with great economic potential due to the crises that accompany capitalism from time to time, considering that in many fields we are developing from zero (and this includes education and healthcare), their distance appears to us like the horizon line, which, no matter how much we approach it, it recedes and remains unreachable. In short, that was my response…” he said in the end, looking at me with a sweet gaze.
– “Wonderful lecture! – I responded, not merely out of politeness or to please him, but because it really was such. I particularly liked the depth and agility of his thoughts, especially considering that we live in a time filled with surreptitious surveillance, where a word can be prolonged beyond a phrase, then take on disguised forms, like explosives wrapped in chocolate paper.
– “You had the great fortune to study at the famous university in Moscow, from whose auditoriums scientists and scholars of the future have graduated and continue to graduate,” my childhood friend from the “Vakef” neighborhood spoke after a while. “I imagine and believe you must have seen and experienced some of the successful achievements of Russian medicine…!”
– “Let me tell you about an amazing case that left an extraordinary impression on me…,” I began, ready to share an example that was both interesting and surprising: “A friend of mine from Albania, in the philosophy faculty, complained of chest pain and couldn’t catch his breath. In the central building of the ‘Lomonosov’ university, there was a fantastic, wonderful medical clinic.
Fortunately, I had the opportunity to help him directly, as I knew and had talked to a student in my course, the daughter of a specialist at that clinic. One day during our conversation, I mentioned my Albanian friend’s complaint, and she immediately showed readiness to inform her mother. The next day she told me to let my friend know to come there, so the three of us could go to the clinic together. For the first time, I saw a fairy-tale-like medical clinic where, without exaggeration, within that fantastic environment, perfection existed!”
It was a medical paradise! The mother of my friend, a pleasant woman with an aristocratic education, welcomed us with a smile. The nurse offered us tea. Then the doctor began with diagnostic questions. After a careful examination, she asked us for permission to step out for a few minutes to do a lung X-ray for the patient. I continued to curiously observe the medical cabinet during the minutes I was waiting for their return. The doctor entered the room with the X-ray in hand, quite concerned.
After placing the developed film on the illuminated screen, she signaled for me to come closer.
– “Do you see these dark spots?” she asked me in Russian. “With all due regret, I am forced to state that your friend is in the advanced stage of tuberculosis!… How is it possible that your doctors in Tirana have not diagnosed this?” she added, nervously concerned.
To get out of this difficult situation without tarnishing my position and offending my Albanian friend, I had to fabricate a response: I told her that our doctors had made the same diagnosis as hers, but the patient pleaded with them not to write it on his card; otherwise, his right to study would be interrupted, and he would be promptly admitted to a sanatorium. (He had heard from doctors that tuberculosis is among the chronic diseases with the longest treatment duration, which can last for several years). When I expressed all this to the Russian doctor, she looked at me quite surprised, as it seemed like I was recounting an event from World War II. She felt pity that my friend had been experiencing the anguish of a slow death for several months!
– “Do you still treat tuberculosis in Albania with syringes?!” she asked, shocked. “We haven’t used vials for over a decade. Modern medicine bombards infections with diffuse methods. So please reassure your friend, tell him not to be afraid. Because the modern treatment used in our clinic has a very rapid healing cycle, with no side effects, and causes the patient no pain or discomfort. Just watch and see!”
Meanwhile, the assistant of the specialist doctor had poured the blend of antibiotic liquids into the treatment device, in a glass container with a hermetic lid, from which a rubber tube emerged and was inserted into the patient’s mouth during the time the device was put into use, and the mixture began to evaporate until not a single drop remained. This entire procedure lasted fifteen minutes!
– “How do you feel?” the specialist doctor asked my friend.
– “It feels like I’m witnessing a miracle with my eyes wide open!” he said, looking in my direction to see if he could express himself accurately and without mistakes in Russian. “I am ashamed to tell you how long this miraculous treatment lasts, so please help me!” he added in Albanian.
– “You will feel the same sensation until the end,” the specialist doctor emphasized after my intervention. “When you have the second X-ray in two weeks, you will see with your own eyes the great change and how the dark spots in both lungs will completely disappear!”
– “So soon?!” my friend remained stunned with a look of disbelief. “How is it possible that within two weeks, advanced tuberculosis can be treated with such a comfortable method, while back home, you lie in bed for months and years?!”
– “I also read about this wonderful method of treating tuberculosis in a foreign scientific magazine, and naturally, it made an extraordinary impression on me,” Dr. Vangjeli affirmed. “What happened when you compared the X-rays after two weeks? I believe you were breathless!” he added with a sigh.
– “It felt like the terrifying infection had vanished magically! The improvements began in the first few days; he was breathing more easily, and within his chest, he felt fundamental changes: it seemed that the magical liquid he inhaled through his mouth was dismantling the metallic mesh that prevented his lungs from filling with air…”!
– “How is it possible for such a rapid rejuvenation of the lungs with healthy cells to occur within two weeks?” I asked.
– “Here lies the miraculous advantage of this method: by simultaneously bombarding the entire surface of the lungs with the vapors of the antibiotic mixture, day after day, the infected areas are increasingly being cleared out more deeply. In contrast, with injections, it takes a much longer path, and one does not precisely know how much of the drug acts on the infected cells.”
– “Another case has remained in my memory from the ophthalmology medical clinic named ‘Fjodorov’,” I added after Dr. Vangjeli’s supplementary explanation.
– “Miracles also happen in this clinic!” he affirmed.
– “My friend and I went to the famous clinic to have a detailed examination with the world-renowned professor, Fjodorov. Of course, we had spoken previously on the phone with his chief secretary, and the day and time of the visit had been set. My myopic friend was in a condition where he could barely see anymore, as his vision had deteriorated so much recently that a thread of silk was all that separated him from the brink of blindness! Even the strongest skeletons couldn’t hold the thick optical glasses!… After the visit, the famous professor ordered the patient to be taken to the operating room. I don’t know how the miracle was accomplished in there, but I saw with my own eyes that after the procedures, he came out of the clinic without glasses, with perfect eyesight! Russian medicine stands at the peaks of world medicine, alongside American medicine and that of several European states. It especially shines in neurosurgery and ophthalmology!” Dr. Vangjeli emphasized confidently.
– “If we here doctors were given the opportunity to specialize in those clinics, we would surely climb several rungs of scientific knowledge, which could be applied if new modern equipment were to arrive. But events unfolded against our wishes, and now we struggle with our own resources!” he smiled.
– “Did we arrive in Berat so quickly?!” I was surprised when I noticed the famous fortress, the Osum River bed, and the ‘Goricë’ neighborhood from the bus windows.
– “This shows that our conversation was quite interesting. How long has it been since you last came to Berat?” he asked.
– “About six years. Have there been any changes?” I inquired.
– “Berat, as a city of two thousand four hundred years, is part of the ancient antiquities, and it will remain so forever!” Dr. Vangjeli said with pride. “However, partial changes have occurred in our ‘Vakef’ neighborhood. I believe you remember the Great Church, the cobblestone alleys, the houses with yards and wooden gates? Not a single one remains; all have been flattened! On the site of the church, two main committees of the local administration have been built: the Party and the Executive Committee. Besides ‘Mangalem’ and ‘Goricë’, the names of other neighborhoods have been changed: our ‘Vakef’ is now called ‘Çirimi’.”
– “I’m sorry to hear that ‘Vakef’ has been flattened! This neighborhood was a natural continuation of the city’s antiquity. I loved to admire the wonderful view every morning from my window, especially the watermill right near the house, as the big wheel turned, forming the line of water below it!”
– “All the structures below the road have been flattened!” the doctor sighed in disappointment. “It was a heartbreaking action that caused us pain!
– “It is known that our parents experienced the demolition of the houses with great sorrow.”
– “And what about our generation? How did you see this action?” I asked, looking curious.
– “We experienced it painfully, as along with the houses, the most beautiful memories of childhood disappeared! It felt like they ripped the muscles from the bones of our bodies! Naturally, our parents, who built them with so much sacrifice and toil, felt a pain several times more intense, because it seemed to them that from now on, they would be left with torn hearts!”…
– “Perhaps the initial provocation to undertake this urban massacre was the grandeur of the church, which attracted the attention of passersby like a magnet, and many of them crossed themselves…” I expressed my opinion. “But there may have been other reasons, mainly the construction of multi-story buildings to house the population coming from the villages. Has the center changed?”
– “The streets and gardens have been arranged, and a little further down, Tourism and the Library will be built. I forgot to mention something else important: temporarily, they have given shelter to uncle Naun in the entrance neighborhood of Berat, in ‘Murat Çelepie’, until the new buildings in the ‘Çlirimi’ neighborhood are completed. Then all families will be gathered in one building.
– “I can imagine how upset our grandmothers are!” I added. “They didn’t let us die on our own land, but put us in prison!” – They complained to each other when the order came for us to leave the houses. “So when the bulldozers arrived to demolish, they hastily moved them away, so they wouldn’t see with their own eyes the effort of a lifetime crumbling and breaking apart, as they knew that cries of despair would come and they would curse…”!
– “But now, when I get off the bus, how will I orient myself to find uncle’s apartment?” I asked, worried.
– “We will go to the old hotel ‘Collombo’, which you remember very well, since only the local staff know exactly where to find their social service manager. I am confident that the hotel manager will accommodate him in the waiting room, so when uncle Naun arrives, he finds the best conditions…” – Dr. Vangjeli smiled. And before saying goodbye, he signaled the waiter to come over, to inform the manager that the nephew of Naun has arrived.
– “I would have accompanied you myself until Bert’s father arrives,” he added, “but I have to leave, as I am expected at the hospital!” (As he was hugging me, he noticed the manager coming towards us). He was quite courteous: immediately after greeting us, he ushered us into the waiting room and asked us to eat and drink something from the hospitable kitchen, explaining that during a journey, a person’s stomach empties faster than usual.
I remembered quite well the skill of the cooks here. Uncle often brought me to this pleasant environment, the most luxurious in the city, to feed me with the tastiest dishes. Then he would take me upstairs to his resting room, so I could take a nap. Such warm and friendly care from my uncle for his nephew, I had not encountered in any novel, story, or narrative. This divine care stemmed from quite special feelings, which ordinary people do not possess, as an inner gift of some rather rare individuals, equipped with otherworldly love, unmatched by anyone else.
This enchanting, wonderful treatment gave me intoxicating pleasure; I considered myself fortunate to have such a perfect uncle! Not only I, but all those who knew him wondered in amazement: how could endless love and compassion for people spring forth from his heart?! Anyone who addressed him for something, he would always respond: “oh brother!” And with his sweet voice and friendly smile, which soon transformed into a joyful laugh, he provided warm and convincing explanations that soothed everyone. His presence brought me, at every moment, a springtime delight; I felt happy! It seemed to me that I was climbing to the top of Olympus and entering the temple of the Gods of Ancient Antiquity! Memorie.al
Continues in the next issue
