By SIMON MIRAKAJ
Part eleven
“Camps under the shadow of Tomorri, 44 years of internment”
– Memories –
Memorie.al / I put these memories down on paper after a long period of hesitation. This is probably because the subjects were always fresh in my mind, which followed me mercilessly during the years after the fall of communism. But there comes a moment – when time takes its course – and the images of horror and suffering, came fading to me – almost the suffering passed into oblivion. Then I decided to repeat the most impressive events – first in my mind – until they took the form of these narratives. As dim as these accounts may seem – they create the idea of the harsh reality and misery of the camps.
Continues from last issue
The Dentist, 1971
The toothache became unbearable; those who have suffered its pain understand me. We performed medical visits in Ngurez, which was 5 minutes away from Gjaza, where we lived. In order to go there in any case, we had to get permission from the person in charge of the appeal; the permission was sometimes given verbally, sometimes in writing, where it was said… “Internee Simon Mirakaj is allowed to go to Ngurez, for a visit to the doctor”.
I had an unbearable toothache for two days; I had no way to calm down, as I had to go to work. In Ngurez, there was no dentist since 1971. There was only an assistant doctor. I had been soothing the toothache for several days by putting brandy in my mouth. The person in charge of the appeal had no right to give us permission to visit the doctor in the city of Lushnje.
When I went to buy bread in the store, I saw the operator Kosta Sillo inside, I bought the bread and went out waiting for him to leave the store and then, to ask him for permission to go to the dentist. It didn’t take long and it came out. “With permission”, I address him. He stopped.
“I have had a toothache for two days, if you can give me permission to go to Lushnje, to the dentist.” He noticed my tooth, as it looked swollen from the cheek, took out the fountain pen from his pocket together with the pad, and started writing the permit. “Take it”, he told me. I took it and read it, where it was written:
“The internee Simon Mirakaj is allowed to visit the doctor in Lushnje, he is only allowed the road that goes to the ambulance. The permit starts at 9.00 in the morning – until 15.00 in the afternoon”.
With the permit, I had to appear at the Department of Internal Affairs to the guard officer, to hand it over to him. I left, at 10:00 I arrived at the Branch, took the permit out of my pocket and gave it to the guard officer.
“Where are you from”? – told me.
“From Gjaza”!
“Okay goes ahead. When you finish, you will come to get the permit”.
I left and headed for the ambulance. I lowered my head because I didn’t want to see anyone, because they could stop me from talking, because they hadn’t seen me in years, they were also afraid to talk to me, so I lowered my head. In the ambulance, I went to the dentist and he motioned for me to wait, because there was another one inside.
Fortunately for me, I knew the dentist, he was a good guy, we had lived together in Savër, but with different fates, I closed the door and sat on a bench in the corridor. I saw the operative, who entered the ambulance, but he didn’t see me, he opened the dentist’s door, of course to check if I had come to the dentist, he closed the door and when he turned to leave, I told him:
“I’m here because there was no line to enter.” He saw me, did not speak, seems to have calmed down and left. The dentist, Behar Lame, waved at me and I entered, I explained that I had been suffering from a toothache for two days.
“This needs to be filled”!
“Please take me away; because I have no chance in the future, I have no chance. We begged you to tear me away because he can’t stand it.” He obeyed my prayers, inserted the needle and, after ten minutes, removed my tooth. I stayed for a while to recover, after I calmed down and thanked the doctor; I left to get the permit at the Internal Branch. When I arrived I knocked on the counter of the guard officer, and it opened.
“Are you done”? The officer told me.
“I’m done.”
He took the permit and marked it; “The internee Simon Mirakaj arrived at 10 am and is leaving for Gjaze at 2.30 am. minutes”.
I took my leave and left for Gjaze, happy that my tooth would no longer hurt. As soon as I went to the yard outside the branch, I heard a woman screaming loudly:
“Why don’t you take the food for my husband, because my husband did not go to prison for politics, but he went to jail as a thief.”
He directed these shouts to the prison guard, who was taking the food of the prisoners who were arrested there.
Upon arriving in Gjaze, I handed over the permit to the person in charge of the appeal.
Me and Quiet
July had broken out with a scorching heat. As always, after submitting the appeal, we were directed to take the work plan to the brigadier. Gjoni and I had been in a brigade for years, and as soon as we approached the brigadier, he told us:
“You and Gjoni, you will go to the irrigation plant, go to the warehouse because two carts are waiting for you to load the pipes.”
The warehouse was nearby, we went inside and started loading the pipes into the cart, after we finished the load, and we headed home to get the bag of bread and water. We were both dressed in shorts and kilts, with a straw hat on our heads and, bags with a 5-liter water bottle in our arms, we continued on our way, following the carts behind. Hot vapors rose from the ground and danced like waves.
The road didn’t even have a single tree, they had all been cut down, you had nowhere to put your head, on the side of the road, you could see children bathing in the canal, women with their backs down, with their straw hats thrown from a white cloth, they looked like seagulls, with a hoe in their hands, that rose and sat down, plucking corn.
Some women who were younger would go into the canal with all their clothes on to cool off. A little further on, the tractor pulling the sleigh hummed, the workers following it with forks loaded with straw. The road was all dusty, quiet, some from the load, some from the heat, they had stuck out their tongues, their mouths were aching, their necks were sore from hard work and, from the collar, their ribs were being counted, from bad nutrition.
We also resembled oxen, from poor nutrition and hard work, our ribs were also counted, and the soup had reached the tip of our noses. They were freer than us, they didn’t get permission from anyone to move, when your collar was removed, they went wherever they wanted, to find food, while we only went to the toilet without permission.
At dinner they slept peacefully in the stable, while we couldn’t sleep without appearing in the appeal, where not infrequently the irons came to your hands, accusing you of being an “enemy of the people”, that’s why I was greedy for their peace, that and our shoulders were scarred like their necks, carrying pipes, fertilizer bags or 50 kg bags with wheat, the body was covered and drained of sweat, every now and then we turned the water can, to quench the thirst.
The driver stopped the oxen from walking for two or three minutes, got down from the cart with a big bucket, led you to the canal and filled it with water, threw it to the oxen to cool them down, went two or three times, the oxen started wagging their tails with pleasure, got back into the chariot and, with the bodec in his hand, poked them a little, so that they could start the road again. They were also tired from the weight they were pulling and, the heat was getting hotter and hotter, their bodies were also covered in sweat, they cooled down a little and with pleasure, they walked faster. We cooled down a bit in the canal, little by little; we were getting closer to the plot.
Both of us had taken off the boots and the halves of the boots, we were walking barefoot, we were ready to take off the skin as well, it seemed to us from the heat that it was weighing us down as well. Finally we reached the plot, we took our bags and water bottles off our shoulders, sat them on the ground, there was no shade. We left the bags of bread in the sun, while we put the water cans in a hole we dug. We started unloading the pipes, the plot was ten hectares, the pipes arrived half way, the carters took off the collars of the oxen and threw grass from one hand.
John and I started installing the pipes and sprinklers. We had unloaded the pipes at the top of the plot, because the corn was grown and would be damaged by the cart, so when we took two pipes in our arms, the sweat covered our bodies, every half hour we entered the canal to cool off. We got out of the canal and started again, giving each other courage; we are almost done. We were only in panties and a hat on our heads.
The installation took us two hours. Zetorist Periklius, a good but very lazy man, started the engine, threw the suction hose into the canal, and started watering. We were tired and dripping with sweat, our bodies were covered in red lines, from the corn leaves, they started to burn us. We stood a little longer, noticing whether the pipes were leaking or the sprinklers were rotating. The brigadier had told us that the sprayers would stay in one place for five hours so that the plant could get the necessary moisture.
With John, we directed you to the bags of bread, which were standing in the middle of the sun; we took out the canisters from the pit and began to drink with thirst, although the water was boiled with eggs. John took some corn stalks, tied the ends together and so did I, so that we could make a shade for eating bread, we threw grass and our canes on top of the corn stalks. We opened our bags and started eating with great appetite, tomato bread and some cottage cheese, John had filled the jar, full of cottage cheese.
“How much do you like cottage cheese John”? He didn’t answer, but put his mouth on the gas. “Look Simon, are the sprayers working because Periklius fell asleep, and he doesn’t remember seeing them again.” I got up immediately and luckily, everyone was working and I sat down. After we ate bread, we started to prepare a little place to lie down, we flattened the place with shovels, removing the soil and piling it in one place, to serve as a pillow. After seeing that there were no human legs around, I turn to John; “Ore, will we ever get rid of these ignorant people, who are taking our lives unjustly”?
“I don’t believe that the day will be far.”
Under the sunlight, we closed our eyes to take a nap.
The unmasking of Xhevat Tarusha
Unmasking was a method used by the State Security, as psychological pressure, on the internees chosen to unmask them; these people came from the declassified class, as they called us. At the same time, through this exposure, there was pressure and terror for all the “enemies of the class”. The security in cooperation with the party bodies, had picketed the person who was going to be unmasked and brought him out in front of the collective, at the same time they had chosen the people who would insult him with the most banal and insulting words, the “enemy of the people”.
In Gjaza, where I lived as an internee, they unmasked a former internee, named Neshat Talo, he was from the village of Tren i Devolli, a working man, about 60 years old. Neshati was an honest man, but the secretary of the party, Rita Vogli, who came from the farm directorate, told him:
“Speak, accept that we recorded you and filmed you! What movie did you watch last night, or did you listen to Italy, hey, speak enemy”.
Neshat, yellow and tired, had worked all day with the scythe, so he could barely stand. As soon as he was about to speak, he was chased by the ordered, with the most banal words, just like hounds. We had also heard about the unmasking of Tasim Spahija and a lady named Tefta Tasi in Grabjan.
We had heard that the Tasi family, after they left the meeting, was stoned by the people ordered by the Security operative. Actions like in the middle Ages and Tefta Tasen were arrested a little later and sentenced to prison for agitation and propaganda.
In winter, we had the dinner call at 5:00 p.m. As soon as we gathered at the appointed time, Vangjeli, the person in charge of the appeal who, for the sake of truth, was a young man, but very polite and did not provoke you. Of course, he was a reliable person, but, as I said, he was very kind, so much so that we turned the appeal into humor.
“Hey,” he said, “the football team gathered”?!
When they all came, he told us: “Now as we are, straight to the ‘Red Corner’, because there is a sector meeting”.
We looked at each other; we thought that maybe this would be an arrest, since they used all kinds of methods to instill fear and terror. We left, the hall was almost full. Into the hall entered the Secretary of the Farm Party, Petraq Nushi, the chief spy, Nikolla Jani, the Secretary of the Sector Party, the Chairman of the Front, responsible for the sector, Rrapi Germeni, a yellow boy, whose long arms reached his knees, who was very negative person, etc.
As soon as they arrived, the hall began to hum with shouts; “Party-Enver…” and the aria took its place at the head of the table set just for them, a young man from the party took the bust of Enver Hoxha and placed it on the table.
Comrade Rrapi took the floor, who after talking about the sector’s accomplishments and successes, said: “But these successes we have achieved, the class enemies we have here, such as Xhevat Tarusha, seek to overthrow us.”
“Who is Xhevat Tarusha”? – said the secretary of the party.
Djevat stood up, he was next to me.
“I am”! – said Xhevati calmly.
“Sworn enemy comes out here, we have many enemies, but we have crushed all of them and we will crush their heads”.
At this time, when Xhevati came to the front of the hall, operative Plumbi entered. He took a seat on the colt reserved for him. Xhevati had come to Gjaza, after serving 15 years in prison for an escape attempt. Xhevati was from Rajca e Librazhdi, he had escaped at a young age, 17 years old, but after a stay of several months in the Macedonian Investigation, he was returned to the border and put behind bars.
“The investigator in Macedonia, – Xhevati told me, – told me that we will return, that if you run away, who will extract the chrome for us”?!
Xhevati was a very hardworking and honest person. He spoke in a low voice and you had to be close to him to understand what he was saying. This was characteristic of the prisoners, along with the way they walked. His only flaw was that he smoked a lot.
I had a lot of friendship with him, of course, after we convinced ourselves that we were dealing with a safe man, who you could talk to without fear, about anything. They began to accuse him of what he had been convicted of.
“For what I did,” said Xhevati, “I received the punishment…”!
“Rest, don’t talk…”, the other person from the hall attacked him, cursing him:
“Trash worm”! – after him, the other one started, the situation in the hall was difficult, for us it was a horror, to see your friend in that state and, not being good at protecting him. I shudder to see a kennel of wolves and ignoramuses, who delight in slandering an innocent man.
As soon as he opened his mouth, Petraq Nushi, the Secretary of the Farm Party, who led the unmasking, shouted at him, then another and another. It was approaching 12 o’clock at night. We had already entered at 5:00 p.m. and Xhevati was coming after tiredness from work, seven hours on foot, listening to the swearing and insults of the fanatical communists and the indoctrinated. The script was prepared…!
“More,” says the party secretary, “does this have any friends who can tell us a word about this enemy”? Agron Qosja, a wheelwright who worked in the sector, stands up:
“This one has a friend Simon Mirakajn”!
“Who is Simon”?
“I am Simon Mirakaj…”, – I stand up.
“What do you have to say about Xevat? For the enemy we are facing”!
“What do I have to say?! I have the best words to say about him, I am proud that he is my friend”.
“Like that”?!
“Get out of here quickly, because you are more of an enemy than this one.”
Sokoli, Sazani, Tomorri, Dinja, Xheviti, were sitting behind me. Sokol stood up and pointed at the pariah who was leading the meeting:
“Be careful not to swear, arrest us and do whatever you want, but not with swearing, because we won’t get out of here alive”!
I turn to Sokol and say:
“Calm down, because the words and insults of these people enter me from one ear and come out the other, so sit down. We are used to these people, because they have been insulting us for 45 years. If they would praise me, then I would feel sorry for you and me”, and with my lips on the gas, I arrived near Xhevat. My presence gave him heart. A girl brigadier, who was in the first row, says to Petraqi:
“Comrade Secretary, this one is laughing”! – Petraq returns to him:
“Why, what do you expect from enemies? Do they cry”?!
“Huh! Who has anything to say about this Simon”?
I was lucky that it was 01 in the morning, people were tired and the next day we had to go to work, they waited for ten minutes, no one spoke, then he addressed us:
“Come on, run away, and be wise, because we will crush your head, as we have crushed all our enemies.”
Unfortunately, Xevati is no longer alive. Xhevati will be remembered with respect by all those who knew him, both in prison and in the internment camp in Gjaza. Memorie.al
The next issue follows
