From Sokrat Shyti
Part Thirty-Five
Memorie.al / The writer Sokrat Shyti is the “great unknown” who, in recent years, has shown the tip of the iceberg of his literary creation. I say this based on the limited number of his published books in recent years, primarily the voluminous novel “Phantom Night” (Tirana 2014). The novels: “BEYOND THE MYSTERY,” “BETWEEN TEMPTATION AND WHIRLPOOL,” “DIGGING OF NIGHTMARES,” “THE SHADOW OF SHAME AND DEATH,” “COLONEL THE HEAD OF THE MOUNTAINS,” “THE HOPES OF DOWNTRODDEN,” “THE TURBULENCES OF FATE” I, II, “SURVIVAL IN THE COW SHED,” as well as other works, all novels ranging from 350 to 550 pages, are in manuscript form waiting to be published. The dreams and initial enthusiasm of the young novelist, who returned from studying abroad filled with energy and love for art and literature, were cut short early on by the ruthless blade of the communist dictatorship.
Who is Sokrat Shyti?
Returned from studies at the State University of Moscow, shortly after the interruption of Albanian-Soviet relations in 1960, Sokrat Shyti worked at Radio “Diapazon” (which at that time was located on Kavaja Street), in a newsroom with his journalist friends – Vangjel Lezho and Fadil Kokomani – both of whom were later arrested and subsequently executed by the communist regime. In addition to the radio, 21-year-old Sokrat had passionate literary interests at that time. He wrote his first novel “Madam Doctor” and was on the verge of publication, but… alas! Immediately after the arrest of his friends, as if to fill the cup, a painter brother of his fled abroad.
Sokrat was arrested in September 1963, and in November of that year, he was interned along with his family (his mother and younger sister) in a place between Ardenica and Kolonje of Lushnje. For 27 consecutive years, the family lived in a cow shed made of reeds, without windows, while Sokrat was subjected to forced labor. Throughout these 27 years, he was legally required to report three times a day to the local authority. He had no right to leave the place of internment and was deprived of all types of documents, etc. Under these conditions, amid a cow shed, he gave birth to and raised his children. It is precisely from this event, or rather a very long history of persecution, that he based his book “Survival in the Cow Shed”!
Agron Tufa
Continued from the previous number
EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK, “SURVIVAL IN THE COW SHED”
– “They will pursue me at every step, as long as I live. Even when I am no longer physically present, their shadows will rummage through and dig up my manuscripts. There is a strong possibility they will confiscate my literary wealth, all my manuscripts, to prevent them from falling into the hands of critics in the future, as they do not want the inner secrets of a militant writer to be publicly revealed. But your novel, ‘Madam Doktoresha’, I have hidden in a safe place…” – he added, noticing certain unease in my eyes. – “Now let’s continue with the rest…!”
– “Your friend and my benefactor gave a strict order, and his command was immediately carried out: I was sheltered in a state-owned house in the village of Kolonjë!”
– “This is truly wonderful news!” – he said, quite pleased. – “Today I am telling you for the first time, because I knew it would hurt you: your family’s shelter in the cowshed seemed to me the most inhumane punishment! I expressed this opinion to the Chairman of the High Court, who knew you personally. Even he felt ashamed before me, as the implementation of this decision had led to such a miserable state. – How is it possible for such things to happen, things that even members of the Government Commission cannot explain?!” – I asked, astonished.
– “When those who make decisions don’t know how to answer, how can others, like us who deal with writing, guess?!” – he said. – “Now, what about the second piece of good news?” – he hurried to add, glancing at his wristwatch. – “Let’s focus on our concerns, setting aside for lack of time the annoyances of the moment, caused by the irresponsibility of the authorities…” – he advised me.
– “By a strict decision, personally from Comrade Qemal, I will be assigned a job in education!” – I emphasized.
– “An exceptionally bold decision!” – said the writer. – “Only a great-hearted leader makes such decisions! He must have left the other high-ranking officials of the district speechless…!”
– “Especially the Chairman of the Executive Committee,” – I pointed out.
– “Did you have something personal with him? Did he know you or your family?” – the writer inquired.
– “In this specific case, the saying applies: ‘Your own kind will gouge out your eyes!’ Because precisely when I expected a somewhat comforting response from him, as a local from the village of Halilaj near Kolonja, he cut me off harshly: ‘For the declassed, there is no other work but the pickaxe and shovel!'”
– “Under these circumstances, my friend must have had a very difficult time making the decision. Nevertheless, he made it! I will sincerely thank him for this courageous act when I meet him next time,” – said the writer, pleased.
– “But before he expressed his opinion, he presented me with the harsh conditions of employment: ‘You must know that you will have triple the weekly workload, morning and afternoon, teaching over ten different subjects, with more than thirty pages of daily records!'”
– “That is indeed an exceptionally heavy burden!” – said the writer. – “Can you handle it?” – he asked, concerned.
– “I believe so. The exact sciences have equipped me with complete knowledge. Had I studied literature or another humanities field, there would have been no talk of employment in education, despite Comrade Qemal’s great desire…”
– “This is how contradictions intertwine!” – said the writer. – “So, my clever friend has found a powerful argument to place you in education, convinced that no one else could take on such a heavy burden, especially since no teacher can master all the exact sciences. He, having weighed your scientific abilities and the financial benefit, has achieved an excellent balance to defend his decision, because in fact, you will perform the workload of three teachers for one monthly salary! In the face of this reality, all objections are defeated.
Of course, I call this an achievement and a success for you, the current turn, even though you will face an overwhelmingly heavy workload!” – he muttered, exasperated.
– “Nevertheless, despite the fact that you have no opportunity to engage in literature, as all your time will be devoted to daily preparations, entering the education system will free you from the scorn and petty gossip of society.
From now on, you will be seen with kind eyes by the locals, as all of them have children in school. Fortunately, you have a gentle tact and character, and you know how to win over students and parents, including local authorities. Therefore, very soon you will see that these new relationships will significantly ease the oppressive weight of disdain and contempt. Your ears will find peace. You will no longer hear the hated label ‘declassed’! Instead, you will be surrounded by the cheerful calls of youth and parents: ‘Teacher! Comrade Teacher!’
An exceptionally significant change! It is important to be aware of the conditions you are experiencing: you are forced to sacrifice your creative ability for the sake of securing a simple, normal life. Although no one can predict the future, one thing is certain: every phenomenon has a beginning and an end. You, as a writer, have a far-sighted vision.
Who would have thought that party and state politics would change so radically here?! You were a student in Moscow; you experienced the shocking events of the 81st Conference of Communist and Workers’ Parties. No one can imagine what strange surprises, beyond our imagination, the invisible underground currents might bring!” – he said, looking at me with optimism, straight in the eyes, to strengthen hope for the future. – “Now tell me: besides these, is there anything else that will lift my spirits further?” – he asked with an expectant look.
– “The third can be called a direct consequence of the first two, because without them, it would remain a utopia, a broken dream…”
– “A love made possible and fulfilled, after much effort and opposition?” – he interrupted me.
– “Exactly,” – I confirmed.
– “The girl of your heart must be quite brave and determined, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to withstand the opposition from her family,” – emphasized the writer.
– “She stood alone against everyone, even when there was no sign of a positive turn in our family’s situation!” – I replied with pride.
– “There is no greater proof of a love rooted in heart and soul!” – he added with a smile. – “Such things happen very rarely. But both of you deserve this gift! Did you know each other before?”
– “Since childhood. Who would have thought that I would return to Lushnja after my studies and work at the Radio, and that circumstances would lead me to the House of Culture to replace someone who left the amateur troupe?!”
– “Is your talent for acting in the theater a family inheritance, down to your younger brother?” – he smiled.
– “I’m not at that level. But fortunately, it was enough for me to join the childhood circle, and that’s how my name reached the benefactor…”
– “So, the amateur theater was the starting point for getting to know the main leader of the district?” – the writer asked with great curiosity. – “And this fortunate turn of events happened because no one else would approve the presence of a declassed person in the amateur theater troupe?”
(I nodded.) – “And my clever friend began asking questions about the boy expelled from Tirana, to uncover why he was being treated so harshly, why he was sheltered in a cowshed like a criminal?… Only an intellectual with a great soul and heart would take such a deep interest in a condemned man, who is scorned by all state institutions. If someone else was leading the Party Committee, a radical turn would have been unthinkable, and your name would have been forgotten in the dust and mud…” – he emphasized with a deep sigh.
– “A truly remarkable subject for literature, one you will keep eternally in your memory, as the most precious treasure, for the extraordinary values it carries!” – he added, glancing at his wristwatch. – “It’s time for us to part. But this time, the parting is not like three years ago, when you descended from the cowshed in muddy boots, broken and hopeless. Now you have a nearly normal shelter. Soon you will enter the flow of an acceptable reality and create your own family with the girl of your heart! Fortunately, the terrible period of inquisition is over! But this does not mean that the threats against you have become less dangerous. Therefore, you must remain very attentive and cautious at all times, as the malicious shadows will follow to seek revenge, setting traps and ambushes in the most unexpected ways….”
The Chairman of the Executive Committee of the District People’s Council, deeply offended and humiliated by the remarks of the First Secretary during the Bureau meeting, was contemplating a way to retaliate against the main leader, though not directly (since, no matter how hard he tried, he could not achieve this goal). He would be satisfied even if he could strike obliquely at the most sensitive point, where provocation takes on explosive value—just enough for the gossip-monger to blow off some steam. What method would he use to ensure this covert maneuver remained undiscovered?
First and foremost, the Chairman of the Executive Committee’s indirect attack against the First Secretary of the Party Committee would target a completely unknown figure, someone with no weight in the political and social life of the district, a human being with a tarnished status—a “declassed” individual, without identity documents or the right to vote! Even if someone’s mind happened to wander to my name, it would sound like an absurd fabrication, with the reasoning that the head of the district’s government would never stoop so low as to use a mere fuel porter as an Archimedean lever to strike at the head of the Party in the district, when he had countless other ways to orchestrate sudden attacks from behind, with the help of higher-ups in the party and state pyramid, or by slipping sticks under the wheels.
(Indeed, it sometimes happens that the big rabbit emerges from the small burrow, and the most experienced hunter is left stunned and disappointed, having passed by it carelessly with his gun on his shoulder, letting the long-eared one mock him. But no one would think of this exception, and no one would compare the head of the government to the careless hunter.)
The Chairman of the Executive Committee acted quite differently from what one might expect: he called the head of the Military Branch of the district and invited him to his office as a guest for a coffee. Naturally, the strange phone call threw the lieutenant colonel into great confusion, as often happens to subordinates when they are suddenly ordered in a soft tone to come and relax for a few minutes in a comfortable office, without a clear purpose, leaving them to wonder what the sudden invitation for coffee might entail. Such an unexpected invitation undoubtedly carried a mystery, one that filled him with a sense of dread, as it could not exclude anonymous denunciations or even implications and attacks on the Chairman’s own reputation through shameful comparisons.
The lieutenant colonel racked his brain to find a reason for this surprising invitation. Would the Chairman’s coffee stick in his throat, or would it bring on Malta fever, with its terrible consequences, leading to his crucifixion on the pillar of punishment for something he might have let slip during a conversation with one of his deputies?
The lieutenant colonel could not deny the truth (and this fact embarrassed him): despite the importance of his position and rank, he was considered the fourth figure in the district (coming after the head of the Internal Branch) and, in fact, did not even make it into the top ten of the district’s most influential authorities. This painful devaluation stemmed from the nature of his duties, which occupied a very narrow space in social life—the mobilization of new recruits. Therefore, the greatest honor he could bestow fell within this narrow scope: assigning recruits to special units, where some might have the chance to serve abroad.
(However, after Albania’s withdrawal from the Warsaw Pact, this possibility vanished? From then on, parents of conscripted sons, especially those from economically weak backgrounds, would beg and plead with the head of the Military Branch to assign their sons to a two-year service, the shortest term in the Albanian military. Typically, these requests were not made directly by the needy families but through certain military personnel close to the lieutenant colonel, with whom he maintained good relations. The families would swear and promise to reward the head for this great favor, as gaining an extra working hand a year earlier was no small matter.)
In addition to these, there were parents who wanted to send their sons to prestigious units, such as the Republican Guard, the Security Battalion, or special aviation units, where the uniforms and food rations were enviable. Meanwhile, continuous efforts were made to keep their sons off the lists for the Navy, due to the double service term of four years, even though the food rations there were of high quality.
After considering all these advantages, the lieutenant colonel found it laughable and utterly impossible that the Chairman of the Executive Committee would directly propose something regarding someone’s son, given that the Chairman had dozens of lackeys around him, and it would suffice for one of them to inform him of a friend’s request to get the job done. Therefore, he ultimately ruled out the possibility that the coffee invitation was related to his direct duties with the head of the Military Branch.
Could it be that the Chairman had heard some secret rumor from various sources within the Ministry of Defense, involving his name, and was now seeking confirmation or denial from the lieutenant colonel?…
Troubled by these unsettling thoughts, the lieutenant colonel climbed the stairs under the oppressive weight of his suspicions and knocked on the door of the Chairman’s assistant. The assistant greeted him with a smile and “kindness,” somewhat easing the heavy burden, and politely asked him to relax in the armchair while he informed the Chairman. However, the assistant’s excessive readiness did not free the head of the Military Branch from the grip of anxiety, as this was the first time the assistant had shown such warmth toward him (in other instances, he had been cold and dismissive, almost treating him like a beggar!). And precisely this overly soft and ingratiating demeanor further deepened the lieutenant colonel’s suspicions.
The assistant emerged from the office with a smile and invited the lieutenant colonel inside, after he handed over his pistol. The head of the Military Branch was overwhelmed by a powerful surge of emotion, as if he were about to meet the Deputy Minister of Defense regarding some mysterious matter about which he had no information. With a ready stance and his right hand clenched in a salute, he presented himself as a soldier before the head of the local government, who had risen to his feet and was heading toward the relaxation corner. Memorie.al
To be continued in the next issue…
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