By URIM ELEZI
Part two
Foreword
Memorie.al / Urim Elezi, born on October 18, 1941, in Floq, Korça, is among those sentenced twice by the communist regime, enduring many years of suffering. He was imprisoned on October 26, 1963, and released on February 10, 1989. He entered at the age of 22 and left at 48, moreover, blinded. At the age of 18, he completed the Instruction School in Gjirokastra, where he was promoted to non-commissioned officer. During his first sentence, he was a soldier in Unit No. 9357 in Gjirokastra. The first time, he was accused under Article 64, in combination with Articles 10 and 14 of the Penal Code. He was on military service together with his friend, Hekuran Shyti, in Gjirokastra. According to the court, he had proposed to Hekuran that they escape because life was good in capitalist countries, especially in the USA. Hekuran was discharged from the army earlier and during this time found other individuals with whom they would carry out the escape. Hekuran sent a telegram to Urim in Gjirokastra, requesting that he come because his mother was ill.
Thus, Urim joined his friends, Hekuran Shyti, Durim Shyti, and Robert Morava. Poorly oriented and betrayed by a local resident, they were captured by border forces at the Nikolica border post in the Korça district. The Tirana Military Court, by decision No. 21, dated February 27, 1964, declared him guilty and sentenced him to 18 years of imprisonment, confiscation of property, loss of electoral rights for 4 years, and stripping of his rank as a sergeant. This was upheld by decision No. 23, dated March 31, 1964, of the Military College of the Supreme Court. He was arrested for the second time on February 19, 1980. He was accused under Article 55/1 of the Penal Code with very severe articulations. The Fier Internal Affairs Department, by letter No. 112, dated January 15, 1980, requested the Prosecution Directorate to approve the arrests of three citizens, including the aforementioned Urim Elezi. He had been placed under active surveillance on May 17, 1979, for conducting propaganda among the convicts.
Informants “The Penitent” (I penduari) and “The Technician” (Tekniku) reported on him. It was said that he had expressed: “The Sigurimi has stained its hands with the blood of this people. They have committed the most hideous crimes in history; the Sigurimi has treated the people and individuals worse than the fascists and Nazis treated them…! There are none viler than the communists. I call communists all those who have a star on their forehead like a tomato, regardless of whether they believe in Marx’s beard or Stalin’s mustache…! The most monstrous crimes in Albania were committed when the communists came to power… Life here is a prison.”
The Fier District Court, presided over by Sokrat Dautaj, with the participation of prosecutor Kiço Koçi, by decision No. 94, dated April 18, 1980, declared him guilty and sentenced him to 10 years of imprisonment, as well as the loss of electoral rights for 5 years. Convinced of the futility of communist decisions, Urim Elezi did not appeal the decision. After sending a letter to Enver Hoxha, in which he described him as a “colorless monster, sick with a persecution mania,” on December 6, 1981, he was beaten by the police of Burrel Prison until he was blinded. He was released on February 10, 1989, from Unit No. 305 Përparim in the Saranda district.
Continued from the previous issue
At the Border Post
The one with the severed finger said to the other: “Comrade Major, shall we take this one to the other? That way, we give him the paper to sign in front of the other, since those two other dogs have already signed. Sign here, dog!” – the other soldier said to me, kicking me in the head. “No, I won’t sign without Hekuran’s presence,” – I shot back without hesitation. He struck me hard with a clash between my shoulder and neck for what I said. They sent me to Hekuran. Hekuran had been tied with wire, all swollen and drenched in blood like me. “Hekur, please sign it, they told me they won’t torture us anymore if we sign!”
Hekur didn’t speak at all, or I couldn’t hear him because my ears were ringing. Immediately they untied my hands and gave me a paper, without allowing me to read it (even if they had allowed me, my eyes couldn’t see through the blood, and I wasn’t fully conscious). The moment I began to sign, they started untying Hekuran. The colonel with the missing finger yelled at the policemen nervously: – “Wait, tie this dog first, then untie that one!” “Wow, the Party has fed this dog well, he weighs a hundred kilos.” After I signed, they tied me and untied Hekuran. He signed too…!
They tied us in such a way that even they would have found it difficult to untie us, throwing coats over our heads. In front of me was the Post commander, behind me the person named Ibrahim, and behind him Hekuran. Behind Hekuran was a soldier, and behind him Durim and Robert. (I learned these things after the sentencing in Korça prison). During the journey from Nikolica to Dardhë, we went on foot. Every now and then we fell, and got up only when we ate a kick or a punch; otherwise, they dragged us. After midnight we arrived in Dardhë. As soon as we arrived, they put us in a large military truck. I don’t know how many of us were in the truck, but there was an endless noise of moaning and groaning. A soldier approached and asked: – “Which of you is that non-commissioned officer?”
“This is him” – someone said, pointing at me. From the truck bed (spont), he jumped on top of me and began with the heaviest insults, as only befits them. – “Why, dog, what were you looking for, did you want to become a general?!” – the soldier fumed. (Hekuran tells me that when that soldier, whose face I will never forget, climbed on top of me, the wires on my hands left marks that remained forever on Hekuran’s shins). I lost consciousness for a few moments. My military escort removed the brute that had climbed on me and said: – “Wait, wait until he regains consciousness, because if he dies, you will be responsible” (my friends told me this later). When I came to, I heard the sound of the engine and no human voice… I was terrified!
We arrived in Korça, at the Defense Battalion. There, leaning against the wall, someone with a police helmet approached me: “What is Myzafer Elezi to you?” I didn’t give an answer. As I was, he grabbed me by the beard and slammed my head against the wall. “He is my brother,” – I replied loudly. “Well, you’ve brightened his reputation (sarcasm),” – he said. “I neither brightened it nor blackened it!” (He cursed my mother and punched me in the chest). In this situation, a large-bodied colonel, I believe the battalion commander, pulled him away and said angrily: – “I am here! Take them quickly and send them to the Department (Dega).” They picked me up like a rag and threw me like a bag of cement into the car. We left in great haste for the Dega (Department of Internal Affairs).
At the Department of Internal Affairs (Dega)
On the way to the Dega, the escorts ordered me: – “Relax your leg because you have a seat!” Some pushed me, some pulled me, and I fell from the seat, becoming even more broken than I already was. At the Dega, they put me in a room full of civilians, soldiers, and policemen. Of all these, I remember two people: a civilian and a soldier. The civilian in a gray suit was Petro Tasellari from Korça, while the soldier was Major Ago Sina from Vlora. I knew them before I was arrested. Petro held my left arm. Ago Sina asked me: – “Where were you going?” “I was going from Greece to America” – I told him with a full voice. – “To whom?” – he continued to ask. “To my uncle” – I said. “To Hysen Mullaj?” – said Ago Sina. “No, to Alizot Zyfer Floqi!”
Ago Sina struck me, and like others of his kind, cursed with the heaviest insults. I lost consciousness, and when I woke up, I saw that I was in a cell. I only regained consciousness in the cell after I heard someone kicking the door: – “Number 20, Number 20????”
I groaned – “Uhhh….” – “Hah, you’re alive, that’s all we wanted!”
Under Interrogation
For about 20 or so days, they gave me medical treatments. No interrogator, no questions, nothing. I remember the dentist. Dentist Fundo was of medium height, with glasses and a small suitcase; as soon as he saw my teeth, he said: “This is not for me, no. He must be hospitalized.” This visit took place on the stairs, between two iron doors. At night, two men took me with a blanket thrown over my head and escorted me by the arm. I couldn’t climb the stairs, and my hands were handcuffed behind my back. I could barely speak, barely hear, and barely see. They took me to a room. Of the 5–6 people there, I only knew two: the head of investigation, Petro Tasellari, and Major Ago Sina.
After making his customary greeting – specifically Ago Sina, who used the foulest insults – he said to me: – “We will squeeze your mother’s milk out of you here, but tell us, how many other brothers and friends did you talk to about escaping? Who else did you talk to besides Hekuran Shyti when you were in the military unit in Gjirokastra? Tell us also what hostile activity you wanted to perform there? I repeat it once more; don’t make us struggle for nothing!” After enduring many insults, I retorted in the same way any person whose mother, sister, and sister-in-law are insulted would act. From there they took me to the dungeon (birucë). They brought the doctors to me again. My body gave off a horrific stench from the blood. I realized this 3–4 days after they took me for interrogation. There, they said: – “The stinker has fouled the air for us, what is this smell, the dog is suffocating us.”
One of the policemen said: – “Comrade Ago, this one hasn’t changed since the day they arrested him, it’s been almost a month with the same clothes!” “Change the stinking mess, but do not accept any food from the family, nothing except clothes for his body,” – replied Ago. After 2–3 days, my clothes arrived. The person in charge of the cells gave them to me. His name was Xhako, and he was a very good man. He told me to change my clothes and put the old ones in the bag he gave me. Forgive me for my way of expressing it, but believe me, my underwear was full of blood crusts.
After I changed, Xhako came, opened the hatch, and took the bag of clothes. He said to me quietly, so the dungeon guard wouldn’t hear: – “When the interrogator takes you, ask him to allow you food, because they have taken away your right to food.” That night they took me, and I remember when I climbed the stairs, Ago Sina was there wearing overalls and a brimmed hat, pulled down so far I could barely see his eyes. He grabbed my arm and put me in a room. Petro Tasellari was waiting there with another man, both in civilian clothes, gray suits, and no hats. Somewhere on the side of the room was a table, and on it a somewhat white towel. Ago sat in the only chair at the table, and after five minutes he got up and, with a tool like a hatchet handle, packed the sawdust into the stove (shpor).
Petro Tasellari turned to the table, opened the towel, and said to me: – “We were at your house. Your veteran mother gave us this oshmare (a type of traditional dish). You have a wonderful family, with a veteran mother and father. Your mother, while crying, told me about your brothers. Avdyl, the eldest brother, is an old communist, with a rifle and shotgun. See how much trust the Party has in your family. And Myzafer, your third brother, do you know what rank he has?” – I was surprised and didn’t speak for a moment, thinking to myself that my brother Myzafer is a topographer; he has nothing to do with these people…! The other one said: “Hey, speak up, what you are whispering under your breath?” – “My brother is not in the military, don’t confuse him with me, but I too was a non-commissioned officer.” – “He is a captain!” – Ago shot back in a heavy tone. (I don’t remember if he said first or second captain). I was shocked!
“Do you know where you are?” – the other one asked, quite calmly with a soft voice, but I clearly noticed his face changed. “Tell us whom you told among your brothers and what hostile activity you were going to carry out in the army and with whom you were going to carry it out?” I didn’t know what answer to give, because I understood nothing of those infamous questions. At this time, the other one stood up along with Petro Tasellari. They sat me in the chair and both of them hit me with a barrage of blows, with fists and kicks to every part of my body. Each of them grabbed me by my big toes and broke them. (Even today, the broken big toes on my body bear witness). At that time, when I was lying completely on the ground, the brute Ago Sina came with that wood like a hatchet handle and told them:
-“Leave him, leave him, you don’t know who this is. He is the nephew of Hysen Mullaj and that’s where he was going (Hysen Mullaj, one of three brothers from Floq, Korça, had been in prison, and the day he was released, he escaped). “You don’t know who the people of Floq are?! This one has the head of Muharrem Dikolli. We found rifles and machine guns in Muharrem Dikolli’s courtyards, and Muharrem Dikolli wouldn’t admit they were his, but said; others planted them on me. In the basement of the school at the Mosque in Floq, there were clay jars. I took them and broke them over his head; I stripped him naked and tore his skin with the pieces of clay jars, so much that his blood ruined my best suit… exactly like this dog, son of a dog! That’s why today I am dressed in overalls! I will either make him say the donkey flies, or don’t call me Ago Sina!” From that day until three months (November, December, January) that I stayed there, the most inhuman tortures began, which for me seemed like they would never end, as they had only just begun…!
Torture: blows with a whip like those of horse dealers, and with every blow, they reminded me they called the whip the “red belt of Korça.” The hardest part for me, which forced me to say “the donkey flies,” was something like a sink, where they would submerge my head and squeeze my testicles with their hand. Bile would come out not only from my mouth and nose, which burned me in the dungeon, but likely from my ears as well! In short, in those moments I felt as if I had climbed onto a military “Zil” truck, a three-differential one, which usually doesn’t go fast, but the one I had climbed on not only moved fast but left a suffocating smoke behind, as my soul was leaving me. I pounded my fist on the driver’s cabin: – “Stop it, hey!”
However, the truck did not stop. I stuck my head out the driver’s side, looked inside, and there was no one there at all. I climbed onto the truck bed and saw nothing but a mist of smoke from the dust raised by the truck’s speed. I decided and jumped!!!! I will never forget it!!!!!! Lying there, on my right cheek, I noticed a large foot. I heard a voice: – “Urim, Urim.”
“Uhhh,” – with a faint voice. “Does the donkey fly?” – he said. “Yes,” – I told him. – “Does the donkey fly?” – again. – “It fliiiiiies,” – I told him.
At this time, I saw Ago Sina with the others dancing. I gathered myself, looking at the hatchet handle wood in Ago Sina’s hand.
Ago Sina: – “Urim, will you sign that the donkey flies?” – “Yes,” – I told him. Ago Sina: “Quickly, take off the irons!” They took me by the arm and lifted me. They gave me a newspaper to wipe my nose, as secretions had come out of my nose since they put my head in the water. I struggled to put my hands forward. They gave me a grass-colored pen to sign that “the donkey flies.” When I approached the table, I couldn’t distinguish where and what I would write, as my eyes were fixed on the towel and the oshmare my mother had sent me, which they surely wouldn’t give me to eat…! As soon as I finished writing “the donkey flies,” Ago Sina said to me: – “Hey, we can make you sign… with your mother!”
I thought of nothing else, because my soul and mind were with my mother, my sister, and my sisters-in-law. What I did at this moment, I ask you—what would you do if you were in my place? Due to my health conditions: with three vertebrae out and a past cerebral hemorrhage, I cannot recount all the tortures and how many times I was tortured, because what I went through is harsh and I hope it remains unknown to you. After a long time (hours or days), they brought the doctor to the cell. He had a syringe in his hand. It was this same doctor who, whenever they took me and tortured me in interrogation, stood with a blood pressure monitor in his hand and a syringe. I never saw Ago Sina and Petro Tasellari again after that day. But I saw Person-X (the other one who accompanied them) along with two others in every torture session.
This same person told the others that they shouldn’t deal with me anymore. “Rako Qirjako’s pliers” no longer worked; if they were there, he would do to me as he had done to Hysni Hasankolli and Hamit Floqi, also from my village. He continued further, ordering them to take me and Hekuran to Unit X in Tirana, since according to him, we had committed the crime in Unit 9357 Gjirokastra. (Rako Qirjako’s pliers/bins are underground rooms, as the Police had been there in the beginning; I learned this in prison from friends who had “passed through” those rooms. There, not only the tortures I had undergone, but in addition to those, they would pull out nails, insert pine splinters and light them on fire; not to mention, they applied electric currents in various ways to the body). At the end of December, besides the tortures, I was in agony about when they would take us to Tirana and what they would do to us there.
Food was indeed not allowed for me, or for Hekuran! I dreamed, in sleep or with eyes open, as if my father was coming (he had passed away before I was arrested) and brought me a quarter-loaf of warm corn bread, which I ate with great hunger. The strangest thing was that I ate the bread endlessly, but I was never full. The anxiety of the Tirana tortures left me on January 2, 1964, after midnight, when Hodo came, the head of the cells (a man who never shouted at anyone, but as soon as he arrived, he sat in a chair and read a book). Hodo himself held me by the arm as if I were his close relative, without the criminal-guard inside, without handcuffs, and without a coat or blanket on my head; together with Rizai they took me up to the second and third floor of one of the Investigation buildings.
Rizai – the first captain – had with him a slab of wheat bread, a towel, and a piece of marmalade over 1 kg. He gave it to Hodo in my presence, and Hodo himself gave it to the guard below: – “It’s for Number 20,” – he said, “but don’t let him eat it all at once (he was worried I’d eat it all and die), give him as much as is needed, and tell the others too!” In the building, Hodo and Rizai, Riza Shehu, sat me in a chair and talked to each other. Rizai: – “Go Hodo, you go on, I’ll bring Urim.” Hodo left. Rizai took off his shoes and was warming himself at the stove: “Listen Urim, I was with Myqerem, your brother. That bread, I asked him for it for you.” (Silence)
-“How do you feel Urim? Speak!” We were looking at each other…!
-“Speak, O Urim, speak, for we won’t be building rockets, oh no! We saved both you and Hekuran from Tirana. But now we must save your head. Tomorrow, Comrade Jani will come, so be careful so we can save your life now! Don’t talk anymore about the break in relations with Russia or about our leader.” (During the investigation, whenever I said why we broke with Russia, since this is a disaster, Xhako, Hodo, Rizai, and Jani showed me through facial expressions and actions that they were pro-USSR). I was truly as if in a dream; life turns out to be very painful, but before torture, death is much easier!!! / Memorie.al
