From Luan Rama
– In memoriam portrait: Miranda the good…! –
Memorie.al / She always walked at the same pace. She walked beautifully. And quickly…! She walked with a light step. She held her body straight. She never lowered her head. Throughout all the time she lived in that city, three were her routes: from home to work at the hospital and back, from home to the bread shop and back, and from home to the roll-call of the internees, at the “arshiva” across the city bridge and back. This was also the longest road she was forced to travel. (The locals called “arshiva” the former building of the State Archive, an object of special importance guarded with force by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and where three times a day the roll-call of the internees was also held. They were forced to appear at 07:00 in the morning, at 15:00 in the afternoon and in the evening at 19:00).
Her silhouette seemed to me like something intermediate between a woman and an angel, whom great misfortune had brought to that city set deep among mountains, to become equally a image of goodness among those people. Expulsion, internment, murder, pain, abandonment could not diminish her goodness. Everyone looked at her with admiration. And they did not hold back from showing her their admiration, even though most did not speak to her. She felt it and radiated goodness.
A wordless goodness, noble. Eternal and earthly equally. And imposing. I still have before my eyes the portrait of that good woman. Even though 48 years have passed since I first saw her, that portrait in my memory has remained the same. Unchanged. I was a child then. 46 years have passed. But even later, when I grew up and became a man, that woman has always fascinated me. Yes, yes, she has fascinated me. I do not exaggerate in anything. Anyone who knew her will agree with me. The beautiful face.
The attentive eyes, conveying a light that surely flowed from her soul. The beautifully combed hair. Always the same.
And always gathered behind her ears, to make more visible the contour of her noble portrait. Perhaps also to reveal more fully her goodness. She spoke little. Very little. What words did not say, her entire being conveyed. With great dignity. Miranda Theodhosi had the dignity and bearing of a lady. Because she was and remained a lady. Her aristocratic charm made her stand out more. Internment in Kurbnesh among the mountains did not fade her dignity in the least. It put it to the test. But she defied even the trial by fire into which they threw her.
The murder of her husband (she was the wife of Koço Theodhosi, a member of the Politburo of the Party of Labor of Albania and Minister of Industry and Mines, sentenced to execution by firing squad in 1977!), even though it was “murder” also for her and her two children, Nina and Beni, could not lower her head nor impair her pride. It did not diminish in the least either her charm or her goodness. She was and remained always a lady of nobility in that city, a woman strange in her goodness, which everyone loved, respected and honored. She was and remained Miranda, the good…! / Memorie.al
