By Maksim Rakipaj
Part sixteen
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
Peppa
In Spaç, I knew Islam P., but we all called him; “Pepe”. I have been told that in Berat, those who inherit their grandfather’s name are called by this name, Pepe. Uncle Pepja had graduated from the military academy in Italy, together with Prime Minister Mehmet Shehu, Reshit Çollaku, etc. In Italy, he married the daughter of a well-known Italian general, General P. When Italy attacked his country, Pepja, like Reshit, immediately returned to Albania, to serve the country, the end to fight had studied. Pepja became a Partisan, managed to get the rank of major, after the war, while Mehmet Shehu, a friend of the academy, had become the Minister of the Interior…!
“It was the year 1946 or 1947,” Pepja said, “we were called as major officers to a meeting at the National Cinema in Tirana. I went. When I saw Mehmet, he had become a general, yes, a lieutenant general. I honored him. militarily…! When he is telling me:
– ‘What did you get here’?! I couldn’t bear it and waited: – I’m surprised with you, what do you want here?! After a week, the bracelets you say, I was arrested. 10 years in prison and confiscation of assets”!
And since then, how many times did the Communist Party change allies, in Pepja prison. We broke up with the Soviets in ’61, Pepja in prison in ’62. 10 years. We broke with the Chinese in ’78, another 10 years Pepe. And always, the punishment was accompanied by confiscation of property, they also took the money sent by his wife and sons from Italy.
– “Why is Mehmet Shehu angry with you, brother Pepe”?! – I asked him one day.
– “Because I know his teeth and gums. Do you know what we Albanians called Mehmet in the academy?! When it came to, let’s say: The one who licks the boots of the Italians’, he was the spy of SIM and OVRA. We were all wary of him, none of us associated with him…”!
Mehmet’s “suicide” happened and Pepe was called to command. When he entered the camp, Pepja was sulking…!
– “What’s up, uncle Pepe? Did you meet someone from the family”?!
– “No, boy, no. It was a big one from Tirana. “Hey, he told me, what do you know about Mehmet, tell us everything.” Run away from where you came from, I told him, you have no business with me, you are also Mehmet’s friends. That’s how I told him and left him like shit. The slovenly… killed him and now they want to find the culprit in me…”!
A “colonel” who “bombed” London…!
We always said to each other when we were in prison: “Will they believe us when we tell them what we took away, or will they look at us with disbelief and tell us: – Don’t overdo it now…! How there is a possibility that you are alive then”?!
Most of us didn’t really get out of there alive. They were shot, killed while working, in those inhumane conditions in the mine. Not counting those who were shot…those who died in the mines. Like the late Ilmi Çoçka, with another son from Vlora, who was taken by the collapse of the mine in Qaf Bar; like Shkodran Nush Topuzi, like many others…! Others have written about them, Fatos Lubonja, Hysen Haxhia, Visar Zhiti, Gëzim Peshkëpia, Gëzim Çela and others…!
Their names are in the associations of former Political Prisoners, in different cities. There was no revenge on our part, although it would have been more than justified. But how can we agree with the mockery that was made of us, when the judges and investigators of the dictatorship had and continue to hold very high positions in the judicial hierarchy, when there were even decorations of those prosecutors?! I’m not saying that all those who dealt with us should be put in prison: policemen, investigators, judges and prosecutors, but not spoiled by the Democratic Party and the Socialist Party in power, with high positions and decorations!
Most of us were young then, but many elderlies and seriously ill, blind, mentally ill, etc. also suffered in prisons. Only in Enver Hoxha’s Albania, those macabre things happened. In the camp of Ballshi, the desolate old men perished daily from bad food, lack of medicine, from cold and humidity, until they ended up at the machete of Bilal, a convicted nurse, who was forced to perform an autopsy: i.e. ., to cut them with his machete, so that the command was sure of death.
To end up on the hill of Panahori, so torn and accompanied, with a bottle, inside which a piece of paper was inserted, with the generals of the deceased. No distinguishing mark, outside the grave. The family could not attend the funeral; he had the right to take the corpse, only after the dead man had finished his sentence! Writing about these things today is like experiencing them all once again. I couldn’t understand why people with mental problems and disorders, people who needed specialized medical treatment and care, were kept in prison. Well, the rest of us, but they too, were a danger to what was called; “popular power”?!
…Rako K. in Spaç, a convict with delayed mental development, was completely harmless to others, but they forced him to work underground, the deserted Rako. Everyone loved Rako. They tried to make him bathe, but it was impossible, he had not bathed for years. In the bed he slept together with the dog, the famous Bol of Xake Bregu. It will never be forgotten, Rakoja. He greeted everyone, waving his right hand, like Enver Hoxha, and smiling, he said: “Drungli! Drungli”! Even today, many of my friends greet me like Rako, saying the famous “drunglin”…!
“Pilot” was also in Spaç. His name was Nasip M. and he was from Vlora. The people of Vlonia who had known him for free, remembered him, like Leshko, who sold roasted chestnuts in paper bags…! The word got out in Vlora that the Moorish Nasip, after being an agent (!) You couldn’t determine his age: the skin of his face like ancient parchments, his mouth without any teeth. He was a small man, with always smiling eyes and weighing less than 50 kg. Nasip was reminded that during World War II, he had been a pilot in the Italian military aviation. Just tell him: “Tell us how you bombed London, Nasip” and he would start:
– “I received an order, I commanded you, what do you say, to bomb London…! What were we doing? Order, order, a ride on my plane and there and in London. I’ll make an entry, below the Thames bridge, me by plane…! “No, said the Queen, this will be Nasip”! On the radio I heard this: ‘Aman, Mr. Nasip, don’t bomb London, the evil, be it to me, Nasip…’! No, I don’t answer them back, but once again we are under the bridge…! Goat Queen…! “Mr. Colonel Nasip M., – he told me, – I am the Queen and I am begging you, come and talk for a while, then do as you please…”! – Okay, I say, – wait for me, I came, I want to find you alone’! – ‘as you order’, – this. I make a sitting one to the plane. The Queen’s car was there, waiting for me. There in the palace. This was waiting, in the living room, in the closets. One saw me, right on my feet, and jumped on my neck. ‘The evil’, – he told me, – ‘what do you want, just don’t throw the bombs at me here, throw fresh blood’!
– You have it in hand, I tell him. A madman does this, in front of me. Naked. Oh evil, oh mother, oh mother…! I know how I spent the night with him until daybreak. There, I went, where did you leave the airplane…”!
– “And then Nasip, what did you do”?!
– “Then what did I do”?! I did the task. I carried out the orders I had received…! I made London smoke…! The next day, all the newspapers on the front pages, my picture, with the title “Il kolonelo sinjor Nasip M., ha bombardato la Londra”! Dangerous enemy, the desolate Nasip…?!
Unexpected meetings
I grew up in Shkozet, Durrës. I had and have many friends in Shkozet. But of all of them, I only had three close friends: Din Muçon, Stavrin and Kujtim. It is natural that they also have a place in my memories. Dini and I graduated from “Naim Frashëri” high school. Stavri and Kujtimi continued a vocational school. Stavri started working as a mechanic in an enterprise in Shkozet, Kujtimi, after finishing school, joined the army as a policeman in Tirana. There he also met a girl, whom he fell in love with and married in 1975.
After the army as a policeman and with the intervention of his father-in-law, Kujtimi started working in the Department of Internal Affairs in Durrës. In those years, I had very wide company, but these three remained my dearest friends. Many years have passed since then, but the memories of my friends always remain vivid. I started work in September ’72, in the Merchant Navy. I always met up with old friends after every cruise.
I just started working in the fleet. In February 1973, the sinking of the ship “Tomorri”, a wooden ship, where I was practicing as a seaman (officers fresh out of school, had to do the compulsory internship, as ordinary seamen, at least 6 months, in those ships). We were decorated with the order “For Civil Bravery” and after that experience with the “Tomorr”, I started as an IV officer, on the ship “Durresi”, on the line Durrës-Gdansk. From my company with Kujtim, I also got to know Kujtim’s work colleagues, officers and investigators of the Branch: investigators Agim Çani, Jani Kolezi and Skënder Gj., who I have mentioned other times, in these memories.
When I was in the Port of Durrës by ship and I had a 24-hour service queue, they often came to my cabin to visit, to have a drink or a cigarette, but especially to take a shower, with the shampoos and aromatic soaps, which I brought from abroad. The memory, worried, ordered me: “Be careful with them, don’t talk to them.
They really seem like good guys, but don’t forget that they work at the Branch and whoever works there has no friends; he has superiors, orders and a duty to perform. If they ask you questions about life abroad and shipmates, try to avoid them, change the conversation and don’t hang out with them anymore! As far as I remember, they were very fair with me in those years. They never asked what ports I had been, or what I had bought.
In the Internal Branch of Durrës, Ramadan H. worked in an important position, the people of Durrës knew him as; “Miklovani”, because of his resemblance to a Romanian actor, from a popular movie in those years, the movie “With Clean Hands”. Ramadani was a cousin of my aunt’s husband, he also knew my father. I also knew him, I had coffee with him several times. I will talk later, about Ramadan. Now I will talk about Memory. I don’t know how, but Ramadani and Kujtimi were transferred six months before my arrest: Ramadani in Tirana, Kujtimi in Kukës.
…March 1981. This week I have the night shift in Spaç. I am as if drunk from fatigue, I also have a pain in my right shoulder that does not go away. I’m taking a walk with Andrea Mërtir, or “Topçi”, as we call him, since Andrea was an artillery officer. It’s getting dark and the weather is mild today. Lazër Voci, the police officer in the camp, approaches me. He whispers in my ear, so that Andrea doesn’t hear:
– “Go upstairs, someone wants to meet you.”
I did not expect. Meetings with family members are not allowed at this hour. Arrest, is the first thought that comes to my mind. See you face to face with Andrea. He takes off his wool sweater and gives me:
– “Get dressed! The next winter will catch you in the dungeon.”
When we hug, I tell him in his ear to give my translation notebook to Visar, or Zydi, immediately, so that they don’t confiscate it.
– “Don’t waste time” – says Lazri. And when we approach the gate, he speaks to me again:
– “It’s not an arrest Max, be calm.”
We approach a one-story building, where meetings are held with family members. I knock.
– “Enter”!
I push the door, enter and… behind the table, I recognize my childhood friend, Memory. 5 years without seeing each other. My clothes and especially my appearance, so thin and bald, shock the Memory. He stands up and hugs me. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, without speaking. Then he sits in his seat. I also sit in front of him. In the corner of the room, as if in a semi-shadow, I can now see Shyqyri Toska, the Camp Operative, who greets one through his teeth: “Evening” My longing left immediately. I don’t speak at all; I’m waiting to understand something. The memory begins:
– “How are you, once?! Baaa, how many years have passed without seeing each other, five seems to me, eh?! How are you from home? To be honest, I have not seen them, because I am on duty in Kukës. Yes, I’ve been there for 6 years…! I have three bags, you got it, eh…! Today, late in the afternoon, I was ordered to go to Tirana. I stopped in Rrëshen, but my mind was on you, to tell you the truth.
There I found Shyqe, I asked her to meet you and here I am…! Shyqe, Maksi and I are friends, since we were child that is. You understand, don’t you? Eeeh, no, how do these things work. I always say: it’s gone like the wet, with the dry, do you understand or not?! It was taken in vain, that is. What can I say…?! But I have never hidden that I have Max as a friend. Shyqe, tell us something…”?!
Shyqyri Toska, very serious, coughs and begins:
– “Listen, friend Kujtim. I will repeat what I told you on the way, about this Max…! He is one of the most negative types we have here. Do you know what the problem is now?! There is trouble, how will he justify himself to his friends, who thought about his arrest…! That this man and his friends, if someone goes up here, not to meet his family, or to sleep in the dungeon, they immediately stick to him: a spy, go with the next spy…! And let me tell you, this one has a very bitter tongue. And I’m sorry, as you told me, the family was fine. I want this, help us, it does us a lot of work, because we have a lot of friends: with Zogistas, Ballistas, Eurocommunists. With all types, but you don’t like fun, help us…! For himself one time. See is like a bo, in a mine, like a corpse is a cuckoo, I will die, by the way…”!
Memory does not speak; it lowers its head when I look into its eyes. I took out my pipe and asked permission to light it. The memory doesn’t offer me a cigarette, no matter how much it looks like a “DS” (Durrës Special) package from its jacket pocket, but it says worriedly:
– “No, Max, what pipe are you going to light…?! By the way, I don’t even have cigarettes. Shyqe, the evil brother, because I got dirty with Max, go run to the club, get me a ‘DS’. I have to give him at least one cigarette, thirty ALL…”!
Shyqyri Toska, slumps in the chair unhappy, collects the mugs, but gets up and leaves. As soon as he leaves, I stand up and address the Memory angrily:
– “I thought we were friends, Kujtim, and I never expected you to come here to introduce me to the Camp Operative. You came with this purpose, I’m very sorry, we have never been friends together. I’m waiting for him to return and I’m going to the camp”!
– “I swear, I won’t find the three children alive, I just came to see you. I said take the chance. I never do that, I’m not lazy, come this far. Do you have a problem that you can tell me before that shit comes back? How did this happen bro Max?! I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you, but I swear, I didn’t know anything. I was in Kukës for about a year. I have been working for a long time, only for Military Counterintelligence. You don’t know, now I’m telling you.”
– “Okay, I believe Kujtim. Forget Shyqe. I’m in prison for nothing. I have done nothing to be punished so severely. I am convinced that I am in prison, as a friend of Aladin Kapo, you know, the nephew of Hysniu. According to my reasoning, it is a power struggle between those who expect to inherit Enver Hoxha’s throne. Hysniu died, he is no longer an obstacle. Mehmeti and Ramizi have an open road now. But I don’t understand why I still have to stay in prison. can I bear you even…”?!
When, without knocking, the Operative enters with a pack of cigarettes in his hand:
– “Take Kujtim, the clerk gave it to me from under the counter. Too bad for ‘DS’. Hey, what’s the world talking about, when it wasn’t me”?!
– “Nothing, we remembered old things…! Okay Max, I’m not holding you anymore. Maybe you are tired and you will rest…! We finish these cigarettes and you can leave. I was pleased to meet you. Save yourself. Understand”?!
– “But wait a minute, I’m with Max, how are we going to leave together”?! – said the Operative.
– “You have Max here. No one stops you, meet him when you want. Today it was here, for me. Thank you for arranging the meeting, Shyqe. That’s it for now.”
– “Good, how about a shower. But do you know, if the order comes from above to arrest the anyone, I need some time, give me the file. As soon as I received the order for Max, I took the file out. Com material, I die all my life, here I am”.
I can’t stand it anymore. I get up, shake the hand of the Memory and head for the door, when the Operative extends his hand…!
– “I can’t shake his hand.” You are not my friend. As for the re-sentence you mentioned, I don’t know at all, if you delay it. Good night. Goodbye Memory”.
When I was released, Kujtimi was in Durrës. One evening, when I was returning from my sister’s house, Kujtimi broke away from a group and called me “Max”!
We are still friends together. He has his own beliefs. I have mine. But our society is clean, like when we were 10 years old. /Memorie.al
The next issue follows
