From Marçel Hila
Memorie.al / – Hey there, have you decided who’s going to be arrested?
– Yes, yes.
– Who is it?
– A painter – replied Sigurimi officer Zigur M. to the head of the City Internal Affairs Branch, N. Fiçorr Brataj.
– Why did you settle on him?
– He’s the right one.
– A painter?
– First, they told me he speaks against [the regime]; then, that he likes foreign fashions in art… He was under processing as a 2/B [a category of political suspicion].
– Aha, good, good, but why didn’t you choose a musician or a writer?
– Because for this one I’ve found an easy charge.
– What…?! – asked the fearsome superior curiously.
– I asked around whom might be the most suitable…
– Yes, – the chief showed interest again.
– They told me the charge against him is very easy, it’s conspicuous, just enough to arrest him – afterwards we can add whatever we want.
– Is that so?
– What charge?
– He made a painting in the tourism hall, with mountains and fields…
– And?
– In that painting there are some goats.
– Goats?
– Yes, goats. There are thirteen.
– And what is that supposed to mean?
– This makes it easy for us to catch him in our snare, because we’ll tell him he was trying to depict the Political Bureau as if it were a herd of goats…!
– You think? Will that work? Will it be believed?
– I’ll insist on the fact that he painted 13 goats, I’ll focus on the number, and then it will come out by itself that…!
– That what?
– That he wanted to portray the members of the Political Bureau, to degrade them.
– Is that so? – the chief laughed bitterly. – Does that hold water? Do you think so?
– Of course it does! My informant told me so, he put the idea in my head. He works at the city’s tourism department. It’s possible that this painter said something ironic while he was painting, and the informant heard him. He said something, and now here we are. With this wordplay we’ll arrest him. I’ll pressure him until he admits that he meant to portray the Bureau members as goats. This case is closed!
– We’re late. An artist should have been arrested a long time ago!
– Well, they told me about a musician – he’s completely a simpleton. No bourgeois foreign influences. And as for the writer from neighborhood B, he deals with rhyming couplets [bejte – traditional Albanian folk poetry]. I read some of his writings; there’s nothing to charge him with. I couldn’t find anyone else. But this one… it’s easy, it’s right there on the wall… thirteen goats – easy to verify!
– Go ahead then, we have no time! – the chief concluded the conversation.
– Why did you choose goats to depict the members of the Political Bureau as if they were a herd? – the investigator asked the painter.
– That’s not true at all. Who said I did it with that intention?
– Never mind who – I know. That thing goes “baaa,” it’s easy to recognize. You think you’re going to fool me?
– I swear to you, no, – replied the poor victim, terrified, who had been interrogated for days and was being forced, with violence and much torture, to confess to the charge his tormentor had pinned on him.
– Why thirteen? Why?
– Well, if that’s the case, please give me the chance – I’ll go and remove one goat!
– No, man, you want to remove a Bureau member? You want to expel another enemy from the party’s bosom? Who are you to reason like that?
– No, no, I swear it’s not true – then, let me add one – said the artist in a pleading voice, in a posture begging for understanding – and that makes fourteen…!
– And who are you to increase the number of Bureau members? Has your madness gone that far?!
– No, I swear, don’t misunderstand me… I… there’s nothing to it…!
The District Court of N, today, on May 25, 1973, after reviewing the materials… sentences the defendant Agim A. to seven years of imprisonment on the charge of agitation and propaganda, carried out in the arts, in painting, where the presence of foreign influences is clearly visible, camouflaged with elements of hatred toward our power and our party…!
They brought him to Spaç [prison]. He served the full seven years. But just before his release date, the District Court of Mirditë gave him a second sentence, for agitation and propaganda, and sentenced him to ten more years. This second sentence was heavier than the first, because it was given to him as a repeat offender.
The prisoner Pajtim Sulaj saw that his bunkmate was rushing toward the barbed-wire fence surrounding Spaç prison. It was Agim A., poor man, who had long since lost all peace of mind. His mother had died, while his father lay alone at home, in misery and utter abandonment. He still had to do eight more years. His friend realized he was about to do something crazy. He ran after him to stop this suicide attempt.
Agim saw that Pajtim was following to stop him, so he sped up his run.
A loud shout was heard: “Stop!” The painter did not stop. He reached the wires. He threw himself over them. A long burst of automatic gunfire rang out…!
The unlucky artist was riddled with bullets. He fell to the ground, shredded, his blood covering his body.
A squad of prison guards, together with four ordinary prisoners, loaded his mutilated body onto a handcart.
Somewhere, in an unknown place, they dug a hole and threw him inside, without any identifying mark. Memorie.al
