Koliqi: “In the Albanian world, I don’t understand why I am known as an intriguer, mean-spirited, and why many people hate me without ever having spoken to me.”
Memorie.al / Where he was, he lacked nothing. His academic and research life was going well; he taught, conducted research… but for Ernest Koliqi, it was unacceptable to be called a traitor in his own country. These were the 1950s, and the communist regime had been established in Albania. The writer Ernest Koliqi had been declared an “enemy.” And it seems this was the writer’s great worry. This is shown to us by an exchange of letters between him and Karl Gurakuqi, his friend and collaborator, prepared by Dhurata Shehri and Agron Gjekmarkaj, published in the critical journal “Letra,” a publication of the Department of Literature at the Faculty of History and Philology, Tirana.
In this correspondence, Koliqi appears open-hearted; telling his friend what troubles him. As if to calm himself, in one of the letters, he lists everything he had done for the benefit of education during the time he was a minister during the Italian occupation period…!
The First Letter of Ernest Koliqi to his friend, Karl Gurakuqi
Dear Karl,
Your letter reached me in time. Petraq (Petraq Vuçani – editor’s note) informed me verbally about the matters over there. He loves you. Every hour he says: the professor said this, went there, spoke like that. He told me that you care for them. Thank you for loving them, advising them, and supporting them. Tell them not to get involved in politics before finishing their studies. They have time later to get upset. Now, they should focus on lessons, the beauty of nature and art, and women (in moderation).
Politics makes a man old prematurely. They should preserve that treasure, which is youth, as long as possible. You and I, unfortunately, let it slip through our hands. And we only say through our hands! Your articles are not only accepted but sought after. The first one is published for us. This second one, which you sent to Ismail (Ismail Verlaci – editor’s note), will be published in the next issue.
Regarding your work, there is no need to ask me to take care of it. I always have it in mind. I hope something will happen in the new academic year. Don’t hope for it sooner, unless God performs a miracle.
In these days, I will return to ‘Relazioni Culturali’ where a friend of mine has now been re-appointed. I was very happy for Spiro: first, that his operation went well, and then for the arrangement (as much as could be done) of his school position. I am going to Rapallo for Easter: I will restart lessons on April 3rd.
This year I developed this argument: “La poesia di Naim Frashëri e gli influssi orientali nella letteratura albanese” (The poetry of Naim Frashëri and the oriental influences in Albanian literature). I was forced to read the history of Persian literature and the poems (in a well-made French anthology) of Hafez and Rumi…!
I spoke to Ismaili, and he promised me that for Easter, they would remind me of the insults of the belbacuk (insignificant/troublemakers) of the Albanian language, through the radios of Tirana and London (they agree on insulting me) and the epileptic writings of rascals who stand on tiptoe and deepen their voice to appear as serious politicians—they neither heat nor cool me.
My conscience is clear. I have always carried out my duty as a good Albanian, in the most difficult circumstances, focusing on the substance of Albanianism, not appearances.
Those who know me well know that the accusations directed at me are completely unfounded. You are one of those who stood by me as a collaborator in the most critical moments. You know very well that during my time, the Italian advisors were ineffective.
We prepared texts, established once and for all the school terminology, founded the Institute of Albanian Studies (which the communists kept by simply changing its name overnight), improved the situation of teachers and professors, and sent educators to clinics and sanatoriums.
Our main focus was (at a time when the Italians were in charge): Albanian culture above all else. I sent scholars to collect historical news in all branches of the Bektashi, I sent students to the mountains to collect folklore wealth, I brought deacons into Kosovo before its liberation, local boarding students with Albanian books.
As Minister, I re-employed Lasgush Poradeci and Gjergj Kokoshi, who had been fired by my predecessor, and gave them back pay.
I released on personal guarantee, after a fierce conflict with General Guzzoni, before whom all of Albania trembled at the time, Tajar Zavalani – Vasil Andoni – Mihail Zallari.
I hired Abaz Ermenji as soon as he returned from Greece (if we hadn’t hired him, he would have gone to Ventotene even then).
Vasil Andoni, against the opinion of all the ministry heads, was appointed director of a dormitory in Prishtina when Kosovo was liberated.
We sent, on personal responsibility, before general instructions had even arrived from Rome for the liberated lands, 200 teachers and professors to Kosovo, and I tried to lay the foundations of Albanian education before the formula by which Kosovo would return to Albania was even known.
At that time in Rome, they were talking about leaving the Slavic language in schools and administration for at least 10 years. Many people know what we did for the place of the Albanian language in schools.
Yet, thousands of people served the Italians without opposition (opposition began when Italy was clearly losing the war), hundreds of thousands of people got rich and profited – and today “traitor” remains only me: I brought Italy, I wanted to eradicate Albanianism (by publishing Albanian texts), I alone got rich, I suppressed the intellectuals.
I destroyed education, eating a professor for breakfast every morning, two teachers for lunch, and a dormitory director, roasted spit-ferlik, for dinner, like a giant.
Am I capable, or am I not? Me alone to do all these things?! When I think about it, I swell up like a turkey from pride (especially when I remember picking up the phone and telling Mussolini): order it and take Albania, because I’m selling it to you at a low price! And Mussolini, after my phone call, came and took it?! Am I capable!
Health and all the best to you and your wife.
Ernest Koliqi
The Second Letter of Ernest Koliqi to his friend, Karl Gurakuqi
Rome, July 9, 1955
Karl, my very dear friend,
Your letter of June 19 has been on my desk for several days. Not the waiting, but the lack of good news, has forced me to delay the answer.
But let’s take things from the top! How could I forget you, dear Karl? You know me and you know that I am inclined towards friendship and warm relations: I have never given cause for anyone to fall out with me: when I could, I did not hesitate to do favors for both acquaintances and strangers.
Yet, in the Albanian world, I don’t understand why I am known as some sort of villain, an intriguer, mean-spirited, cruel, and many people hate me without ever having spoken to me. Those who were once close to me and have now distanced themselves, and who spare no effort in inventing things against me everywhere, took offense for nothing, without any concrete reason. Ask: what did Ernest do to them?? They won’t know how to answer with a concrete reason. And those who attack me increase daily.
The Italian, American, English, etc., offices are full (who first) to report especially against me: mason, adventurer, secret service agent, charlatan, etc., etc. An American told me a couple of months ago: “Do you know why the majority of Albanians fight you: because they cannot understand you, as you are, as far as I can tell, the most westernized among Albanians.” This quality is not just mine but that of all Shkodrans.
That American only knew me. But if he knew D. Lazri, P. Bernardini, you, etc., he would have given a more collective judgment. It seems we are different from others, dear Karl, and they hate our masculinity like flies hate red pepper. “Albania is not made with Lahuta e Malcis alone,” an intellectual is said to have recently commented.
But what do they have against poor Father Gjergj?! He’s in the grave, Lahuta e Malcis (The Lute of the Highlands) is expelled from the array of literary works of Albania! They want his name not even to be mentioned. We have suffered a lot, my friend, and I don’t know how this will end, but you, whom I have known for 35 years now, have always understood me, supported me, and loved me! And how could I not remember you?
Among the few who think words of meaning and value, who encourage me, who embolden me not to completely abandon the path of Albanian literature’s foolishness, is You, and I thank you for the comforting words, which have been like balm to a heart filled with bitterness from recent events.
Petraqi must have told you something; it seems that, fearing the momentum of the madness from the Bloc, after they forcibly reached a compromise with the Committee, also touching upon the sympathy of the Americans and the Italians for this serious and factual political group, elements of different parties have agreed, and from tomorrow onwards, moving from America to Turkey, from France to Egypt, some have started a campaign of slander and dismissals against the exponents of the B.I. (Independent National Bloc – editor’s note), and especially against me.
The main motives of their propaganda: – The Albanian people know Gjomarkaj, Verlaci, Kolbiba, Koliqi as traitors, and will never let them return to Albania. So, whoever supports them as a party is wasting time and beating the air. Ernest has positioned himself like a hydra at the door of the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and does not let anyone approach. The favors, support, honors, and aid of that ministry are poured into his family, his brothers, and his relatives.
For example, for a year now, they have monopolized the scholarships for their relatives and for his brother-in-law Vuçani, and for a friar, Çesku and Gilbert. Other students wait, suffering in camps, while these, instead of graduating in time, stay indefinitely, enjoying the scholarship, which no one dares to ask for, because Ernest jumps on them furiously, intending to leave it for his relatives until they get old.
– If Ernest, Gjonmarku, and Verlaci were removed from the door of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, all Albanian patriots would become friends of Italy. (How much, dear Karl, has the love for Italy grown recently, even you would be surprised! The paratroopers that the Bloc says (and the Americans say, not the Bloc) performed excellent work by staying 18 months in the field, while the groups of other parties could not work clandestinely for even ten days in a row, remained, yes, some in the mountains of the North, but there they killed, slashed, looted, violated, burned, and cooked.
(Gjon Gjinaj executed about 5 communist spies, and Ndue Pjetër Gjomarkaj killed his cousin, Bardhok Biba, a pillar of communism in the mountains of the North, and these people here, who symbolize the communists more than us, vent their spleen with such accusations!).
– Anyone who goes to Yugoslavia as an emigrant is a volatile individual looking for political adventures: naturally, those who go to Greece (and half of those who leave Albania go to sign up with Northern Epirus organizations) are anti-communist patriots.
(Poor Dom Lazri used to say in Vienna: “Klisura (Këlcyra – editor’s note) goes to the Yugoslav minister, and the Albanians say he went to do politics; I go, and they say I went to do espionage!
So, to do politics, one must be a Tosk and a Muslim; why are Ghegs and Catholics all spies!?) This campaign, failing today, failing tomorrow, began to bear its fruits. The Italians got the impression that by helping the Bloc too much, they were alienating and annoying others too much.
This explains our crisis at the beginning of the year, the reduction of subsidies, started by the Italians to win new friends who, while keeping those they chose until now, love Italy and its politics to death…! Memorie.al
Regards and greetings to Hanni from my whole family, who remembers you all fondly.
Greetings and best wishes to Gilbert!
Affectionately embracing you,
Ernest
