By Shkëlqim Abazi
Part Thirty-Three
Memorie.al / I were born on 12. 23. 1951, in the black month, of the time of mourning, under the blackest communist regime. On September 23, 1968, the sadistic chief investigator, Llambi Gegeni, the ruthless investigator Shyqyri Çoku, and the cruel prosecutor, Thoma Tutulani, brutalized me at the Branch of Internal Affairs in Shkodër, they split my head, blinded one eye, deafened one ear, after breaking several ribs, half of my molar teeth, and the thumb of my left hand. On October 23, 1968, they took me to court, where the pitiful Faik Minarolli gave me a ten-year political prison sentence. After half of the sentence was cut, because I was still a minor, sixteen years old, on November 23, 1968, they sent me to the political camp of Reps, and from there, on September 23, 1970, to the Spaçi camp, where on May 23, 1973, during the revolt of the political prisoners, four martyrs were condemned to death and executed by firing squad: Pal Zefi, Skënder Daja, Hajri Pashaj, and Dervish Bejko.
On June 23, 2013, the Democratic Party lost the elections, a process more than normal in the democracy we aspire to. But on October 23, 2013, the General Director of the “Renaissance” government sent Order No. 2203, dated 10.23.2013, for the release from duty of a police officer. Thus, Divine Providence was interwoven with the Neo-communist “Renaissance” Providence and, precisely on the 23rd; I was replaced by, no less and no more, but the former Security operative of the Burrel Prison. What could be more significant than that?! The former political prisoner is replaced by the former persecutor!
The Author
SHKËLQIM ABAZI
R E P S I
(Forced Labor Camp)
Memoirs
We endured the first three days as best we could. The weather was consistently cold, but it did not rain. I took advantage of this temporary break in the weather to sit on the bench on the porch, [airing] my wet clothes, and thus I ended up with two sets of clothes, which saved me from the bitter cold. In the following days, the friendship with the priest was growing, but I still noticed signs of mistrust in him, so I once asked him: – “Dom Mark, I’ve noticed that when sacrifices are needed, you are ready to take risks, but in discussions, you are overly reserved, you evade answering?” I instantly regretted this tactless question and got ready to withdraw it, apologizing, but surprisingly the priest sat in the corner and looked at me with eyes that shone with a clear light of trust. He cleared his throat and with his usual rumble, he began:
– “Yes, perhaps you are right! But here where we are, the miserable person doesn’t know what to guard against first! We are living in difficult times, my son, where evil comes from where you least expect it! And well, this is my prison sentence again; to tell you the truth, we have gone through severe sufferings! This time they sentenced me to death, and I stayed a full month, chained hands and feet, with a hood on my head. After the month, I was pardoned, but they executed two of my companions. Do you understand what it means to wait for death? Well, by God, it is really hard! May even the enemy not have that fate?”
“With the passing of the days, you get used to the idea that you are superfluous in this world, and you pray for the executioner to come an hour sooner and take you. And when time passes, you feel that life has become a burden, and you want to hand it over to someone else, but he doesn’t want to come; then existence turns into cruel torture. And this endless torture, I experienced myself, those days when I was waiting. But the ferman (order) came, and they pardoned me, but they took my companions! I felt great pain! However, the whole life after the pardon is pain! Do you understand me?”
– “I think so!” I affirmed, out of habit. – “Well, now seeing that bad people and spies have increased here, you have to carefully choose your friends. But I myself have only just arrived recently. And even though I have many old acquaintances, I don’t know everyone. But you, boy, are getting better! I’ve reached this conclusion by seeing the company that surrounds you in two months, I have to admit, and you deserve my friendship too. And well, friendship must be honored with worthy behavior, it must be protected strongly, and more than oneself. But for this, one must find the means, and this is only through learning, learning, and learning, continuously.”
For three days and nights, the pain tormented me; I barely recovered from the shock. My shoulder hurt from time to time, especially at night, while my wrists were severely bruised and continued to be swollen. The cold made them even worse; pus-filled discharge oozed from the cracks the wire had left. But the constant care of the priest seemed to relieve me, if not physically, at least spiritually. We passed the time with general conversations, with ordinary questions and answers, without delving into political matters. We made, so to speak, an acquaintance, because we were forced to – whether we wanted to or not, we would stay together twenty-four hours, non-stop.
We could also meditate in silence, as the priest sometimes did when immersed in an incomprehensible monologue. Nonetheless, living in a space of five square meters imposed itself. Thus, the conversation generally focused on the education I had received, the place where I had worked, the family where I grew up; that is, things without harm. On the third day, in the morning, the camp commander Gjeto Gjini, a career military man who had been transferred from the border defense troops in the Korça area to a post in Reps, visited the dungeons. As a military man accustomed to commanding troops of effective soldiers, he lacked experience in directing political camps and prisons.
But like all the military men of the time, braggarts and fanatics of the communist doctrine, he covered his shortcomings with the fury of class hatred he expressed everywhere and nowhere. That is, he tried to compensate for the missing experience with arrogance. He boasted about the allegedly broad Marxist-Leninist culture that he supposedly possessed, and he showed this toward the condemned, but especially toward the Catholic clergy, for whom he expressed pathological disgust. He openly displayed his brutal behavior toward them, he attempted to publicly discredit them, blasphemed endlessly, opposed religious doctrine without any argument – so he had turned into, so to speak, a deposit of venom against the clergy.
Initially, we explained all this malice as a consequence of the communist education he had received at the State Security School, where the most obscurantist and myopic homophobe cadres of the security army were trained. But later, it became known from his fellow villagers who were political prisoners that this hostility towards the clergy and clerics had its origin since the time of the murder of Bardhok Biba, when his father had participated in the reprisals against the defenseless people of Mirdita, where dozens of people from the noblest and most famous families of the region were executed without trial, and several hundred others ended up in internment, in the swamps and marshes of Myzeqe, where they either died from malaria and the miserable conditions of food and housing, or ended up in prisons as political prisoners. It was said that Gjeto Gjini’s father was the person who had tortured his parish priest and, after cutting him into pieces with a knife until his life ran out, had thrown the bloody flesh to the pigs. Thus, the hatred had been transmitted in a genetic line.
That morning, accompanied by the duty officer, the rough Lushnja native Xhevdet Balla, as well as two other officers-one was the camp operative and the other a clerk, which I learned after they left-they inspected the dungeons, supposedly by chance. He addressed us all, one by one; where we were from, why we had been convicted, why we were in the dungeons, etc. When it was my turn, he asked me almost the same questions he had asked the others, but then he paused and stared at me intently, as if at that moment he remembered why he had come, and he turned to Xhevdet: – “Comrade Xhevdet, isn’t this the boy who hit Sala?” – “Yes, the one himself!” confirmed the duty officer.
– “But this one is young, man! Why did you put him here, with this old wolf?! Should I ruin him and make him like himself?” – “What can we do, Comrade Commander, we have two dungeons!” Xhevdet seemed to excuse himself. – “I didn’t mean that, but you shouldn’t have left him with the priest. Hey, do you know these priests?! They are so vile that even if you leave me with them for a few days, they’ll corrupt my mind with their nonsense, allegedly about the resurrection of Jesus Christ and who knows what else! Right, priest, what do you say to us?” – “Sir!” the voice of Dom Mark thundered. – “I have never denied my convictions and I will not deny them, but as for the sermons that you, sir, are mentioning, I use them according to the place and the people.”
– “Do you consider this a suitable place and these the right people?” – “Sir, the place is more than suitable, in fact, I think there can be no more ideal place to address the Almighty God and ask Jesus for help, to protect us and save us from the evils and sins of this world, and in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, to guide us not to deny the faith and all the goodness of the eternal world. As for the people, I don’t know if they are the right ones, but what importance does it have? Today, they are under torture, both Christian and Muslim; before the Great God, they are all equal, even those who do not believe anywhere, the atheists.” His powerful tone filled the cell’s space, but the small volume couldn’t contain it, so it crossed the concrete walls, and as if he were in the pulpit of a church, it spread throughout the Reps valley.
The sermon did not sit well with Commander Gjeto, who interrupted him brutally: – “Shut up, you wretch! With your blabbering, you deceive fools, but not us! The Party has opened our eyes, and taught us to distinguish your lies from afar. All of you priests will leave your bones here, did you hear me, or not!” – “Yes, sir, I learned that back in ’45, since you haven’t stopped killing and jailing priests!” – “This is your place!” – “Well, even Christ lived in a cell, but he remained the King of the world!” – “Shut up! For the sake of the Party’s ideal, I’ll kill you with my own hands!” the commander interrupted, irritated.
Meanwhile, the two officers with handcuffs in their hands headed toward the priest. Without thinking much, I blocked the narrow space of the door. They froze instantly. Because they were dealing with the priest, they had forgotten about me. Perhaps my standing up reminded them why they had come, and they turned to me: – “And you, you filth, who do you take us for? Don’t tell me you thought we were Sali Nela’s friends?! We will take your soul, we will skin you like a kid, without you even breathing, you vile enemy!” They didn’t spare any insult. Nevertheless, I stood my ground, not because I was known for any rare bravery, but because I had nowhere else to go. Then, to save the skeletal priest, I dared to take the first wave of blows myself, as much as I could.
But there was no need for heroism, because Commander Gjeto intervened, now calmer: – “Leave the priest to his own filth!” Then he whispered something ear-to-ear with the operative, which I couldn’t hear due to the distance. – “And you, who did that beating, how many days have you been here?” he turned to me. – “Three,” I replied. “How much did they sentence you to, man?” he pretended not to know. – “One month.” – “Too much! After all, it was just a squabble between kids!” He minimized the incident, and a devilish sneer shone in his eyes. Perhaps through this gesture, he sought to give the act an ordinary color, which made me think that a trap might be hidden behind those words.
I made to reply, but instinctively I exchanged glances with the priest, who signaled me to be silent with a quick blink of his eyes. “Be silent, avoid confrontation with the devil!” at least that’s how I translated that signal. – “Come on, man, this trouble is overcome with a ‘forgive me’!” Gjeto Gjini continued, grinning with a grating cackle. – “Say that poor ‘forgive me’ and leave, see to your work with your comrades!” – “I haven’t done anything to apologize for, Mr. Commander!” He stopped laughing, looked at me in surprise, then more seriously: – “Hey, what are you trying to do, sir?! Were you looking to cause some major trouble?! Why, does this seem too little to you? To beat us up now, too? That’s all you have left to do! Did you understand, or not?”
– “I don’t know what to say, I thought they should apologize to me!” I added. – “Wow, wow, he wants an apology too, unbelievable! You’ve caught the virus, greetings to you! You’ll serve a full month, every single day! And then we’ll look at this matter of yours again!” Having finished his threatening claim, he turned on the heels of his shiny boots and walked away, leaving us there in the dungeon: Dom Mark, to complete his last ten days, and me, another twenty-seven days. The escorts followed him, but the operative turned back to me one more time and threatened:
– “Listen, you weakling, this priest has cast a good spell on you! But we will pull the foam out of your ears, because it comes out of everyone’s mouth! Understand?! And you, old coward, instead of seeing to the trouble that has befallen you, you engage in sermons! Know this well, the crows will build their nests with your bones, but you’re also bringing these young people to ruin!” he confronted Dom Mark. – “Mr. Operative, why don’t you leave us to the trouble that has befallen us!” the priest retorted in his usual tone. – “Quiet, priest! Do you think you’re in a church, addressing me with that damned tone?! Or do you, sir, think you’re talking to your comrade?”
– “I know where I am, but I am doing my duty!” Dom Mark cut him off. – “Then, die where you are!” and he left with quick steps, following the others. Even though the commander struggled to disguise himself behind ignorance and insisted on forcing me to apologize for an action that should have at least suspended the one-month sentence, the truth was actually different. But I would only learn this truth after I had served the month. Pressure had been exerted on my colleagues at work to testify against me.
Starting with the foreman, and in order, Gaqka and Maqua, as well as Hafëzi, Father Zefi, Qazim Vula, and some others who worked near the scene, they had been called in one by one. After being threatened – some with transfer to the quarry, some with the dungeon – they had been asked for statements. But Velko was the first to dismiss the operative’s threat with disgust. The operative had boasted in the presence of a large group of prisoners that he would give me an exemplary sentence that would be remembered for a long time.
Velko Stepanoviçi had replied seriously: “Mr. Operative, if you intend to punish the boy, there is no need to ask us; do your job. If you ask us, the boy is innocent. That scoundrel deserved the stick a long time ago! He got what he deserved, man!” Qazim had spoken in the same language, even harsher, while the rest denied having seen anything and expressed the suspicion that the spy was simply a provocateur. They alluded that he had self-inflicted the wound to gain points by punishing an innocent person.
Naturally, these insinuations did not please the operative because he failed to achieve the objective of punishing me again for the beating, nor did Commander Gjeto Gjini feel comfortable with the depositions of my colleagues. Ultimately, they had given me one month of isolation; subsequent actions would depend on my answer. So, the whole conversation with me had been a bluff, to discredit me. Without knowing anything about these vile games that were being played behind my back, only through stubbornness had I escaped the shame of having to apologize.
Thus, the operative would have implemented his plan, which he tried to realize case by case, as would happen when, two weeks later, they would tie us to the posts all night, together with Dom Mark. But I had no way of knowing all this, in that devil’s dungeon where I was. When they let me out, my friends told me, and then I thanked Velko and the others, who took the risk and saved me from re-sentencing.
After the police left, Dom Mark sat in a corner and whispered something silently. Nervous, I continued pacing the length of the cell; I wanted to calm down, but also to warm up. It was very cold, the icy wind blew more fiercely, and the currents entering from under and around the door crashed against the opposite wall; the whistling air currents created a kind of miniature cyclone. I left the priest to pray, frozen in his corner. He repeated this action often during the day, and also in the late hours of the night.
This habit had caught my eye from the beginning; he immersed himself in an illusory world, lost his mind, talking to the ether. I believe that at those moments he was not living with us, ordinary mortals, but I don’t know in what universe, which the rest of us couldn’t grasp or even imagine. At those moments, he wanted absolute silence; perhaps praying in silence reached higher faster, so he didn’t allow anyone to interrupt him. But I didn’t speak to him either. Not even at those moments did I speak to him. When he finished the prayer, he made the sign of the cross three times with his fingers pointed towards me, moved his collected knees under himself with difficulty, and fixed his gaze toward the door, somewhere at a distant point, on the invisible horizon. He let out a muffled sigh, and then said:
– “They will persecute you badly, my son! You won’t even know yourself who to confront first! Many difficulties will be placed on your path! From now on, you must change tactics! Because even iron, which is iron, will break if you hit it repeatedly in one place! Look at this pipe under the door; the drop has always fallen right here and has made a hole! And well, over time, it will break, let alone the Lord’s servant, who is made of flesh and bones! Therefore, you must avoid head-on clashes!”
– “Please, Dom Mark, you teach me how I should act? They don’t leave me any other path! Should I have apologized, perhaps, for defending my dignity? Should I beg an immoral spy to forgive me and finally make him my friend?” – “No, my son, I didn’t say that! You acted rightly! That kind of people has brought ruin to many young men, and they must be shown their place! But how should one act? I don’t know! For now, you must be silent! Later, when you get out of here, we will see what you can do!” He hung his bony head over his exhausted chest, stood still for a moment with his eyes closed, then changed the subject:
– “Do you see how cold the weather is! Such a winter only happens in Siberia. No matter how strong a person is, we are here in harsh conditions, we have great shortcomings. Minute by minute, we lose our patience, day by day, we lose weight, month by month, we lose our life! Do you know how many young men have not been able to make it to the end of this road? Do you know how many have not been able to endure the tortures and have thrown themselves onto the barbed wires and lost their lives from the soldiers’ bullets? Do you know how many have lost their minds and been ruined, and have completely disappeared in psychiatric hospitals? Do you know how many have ended up with tuberculosis and coughed up pieces of their lungs, vomiting blood? And even worse, do you know how many young men have become cell spies and lost their honor and turned into immoral people? So, you have a road of suffering ahead, you must face it and win it. But the war is not won only with a gun, because even the bravest is hit by the bullet! Do you understand what I mean?”
I remained silent, while he continued: – “Just so, you must find the best way to get through it with as little pain as possible. This is your duty, right now and for the future. But not only yours; all of us must support you, guide you, orient you. For this, we must think! God is great! ‘ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME,’ the ancient Romans said…! So, forward!”
This is how we spent our shared weeks, until two days before Dom Mark was released from isolation. We had already strengthened our friendship, and the trust between us grew. The conversations flowed more freely and more deeply. The philosophy for facing difficulties and the difficult path toward the good, which this colossus of resistance preached to me, as well as the other theologians I would meet later, would serve me as a guiding light for all the years of prison, and even later. Thanks to this knowledge, I would overcome very serious situations that seemed hopeless. The time of isolation served me as a complete cycle of lessons.
Especially the episode two days before the priest’s release would be one of the most poignant events in my prison life and would increase my credentials later on. But what happened? Nothing more and nothing less than what always happened in that environment! One afternoon, colder than any other day, under a drizzle as fine as a needle point, which turned into icy thorns even before hitting the ground, they brought a wretched man tied with wire.
He was a young prisoner, who had been there for about a year, but was widely known because he belonged to a nationalist tribe from Mallakastra. Several members of that tribe had been convicted together, and one of them had even been executed by firing squad. This family was also known in prisons because his grandfather, one of the most respected for his intransigent and unwavering stance for two decades, was serving his sentence there. For the grandfather’s sake, they also respected the grandson. But he himself had not had the opportunity to pass any test of resistance.
The afternoon they brought him tied, they did not put him in the dungeon, but chained him to the electricity pole, a few meters away from our cell. From the door holes, we could see the tied man, but we couldn’t go to him, so we gave him courage with words. In the afternoon, when the police came to take us to the bathroom for personal needs, the tied man was bruised from the bitter cold, his face was filthy, and he had lost his vitality; blood was dripping from his fingertips. A red puddle had formed at the base of the pole. From the open latrine, I looked at him with pain, but it was completely impossible for me to help him. Nevertheless, on the way back from the bathroom, I couldn’t help myself, and I spoke quietly to give him heart: – “Hold on, A… you’ll get through it! Be brave, like your grandfather!”
But the sharp-eared policeman, who heard what I said even though I spoke softly, gave me a kick in the rear and yelled: – “We’ll see the bravery of him and yours!” and pushed me toward the dungeon door. I, who didn’t expect it, almost crashed face-to-face with the priest, who was just coming out to the bathroom at that moment. While the policeman was dealing with me, Dom Mark took advantage and approached the tied man, he said something that neither I nor the policeman dealing with me heard. Meanwhile, the other one who was guarding near the bathroom corner spotted him, grabbed the priest by the throat, and shoved him violently into the cell.
A little later, they left, while the tied man began loud screams: – “Mercy, I’m dying! Come on, untie me!” He paused for a moment, then sighed: – “Oh Great God, I can’t take it anymore!” and other similar things. The weather was getting colder and colder. The icy needles, whipped furiously by the wind that roared like a madman in the Fan gorge, violently hit his bruised face. The painful screams stung us right in the heart; the prayerful sighs were nailed into our brains like a spike.
From both dungeons, solidarity cries erupted simultaneously. But we could only give him courage; we couldn’t do more, since we were locked in. The distance separating us was not even two meters, so much so that even his breathing, which sometimes sped up and sometimes flattened, making you think he was finished, we heard as if he was behind our back. This situation lasted a little while, then he started screaming again.
While we were shouting, the priest continued to pray. But during the pronunciation of the text, he forgot where he was and raised his tone. The baritone voice thundered and went out of the concrete dome; the furious wind snatched it and spread it across the slopes and valley of Fan, as if it were a spiritual comfort unfolding in nature. Several hours passed, until the moment of the shift change arrived. Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue
