“They sent a card even from Paris, when at the end of 1919 in Vlora, someone had arrived who said he was an envoy of the American President Wilson himself, and at the house of…” / The memoirs of the former signatory of Independence.

By Hajredin Bej Cakrani

Part Two

Memorie.al / In Durrës, I meet Abdi Bey (Toptani) and he tells me quietly that since the beginning of autumn, from the Serbian side, an Englishman had arrived; the bajraktars guarding him fell into an ambush and were killed, but he escaped by a hair’s breadth and was wounded. This indicates that he is someone of importance who stepped on their toes, even though they are all victors together and can roam through one another’s territories. But when he came to my estate, he told me that the Government of Durrës has requested an Italian mandate at the Conférence de Paix – this is the greatest catastrophe! They want to split us into pieces as they have already planned, and the English have given them the word to take Vlora as their kaza (district) under that document they called “hinterland.” Their eyes were set on all of Albania.

                                      Continued from the previous issue

-“Who will go tell them, you, Aqif Pasha? After all you’ve done for the people of Vlora during that time, after all those things you did with them, which you well know! I am not doing this for the people of Vlora, Pasha – for if they come, I don’t know who they will appoint – but for Vlora and for the significance of that day! And what do you say, should we leave it in the claws of the Italians? Lest they come here and then we tell them we didn’t know they were coming – this stinks, Pasha! You have been a shelter for them at all times; let it be now, I will take the responsibility! And if some catastrophe occurs and you have no representatives in our district, do what you can with those you have, but if we leave it today, we will mourn Vlora and the District tomorrow, Pasha!”

By mid-January, delegates had begun to arrive, and we were in a bind regarding our friends in Vlora; from what we saw, I didn’t think they would let them through! Then, Imer Agai (Radhima) appeared, frostbitten from the cold, his sky-blue eyes shining and tearing up, riding a white mare. Our first question was: “How did you escape the Italians? They would have killed you on sight, especially since they know you.” He replied: “I escaped partly with cunning -saying I’m going to such-and-such village for a wedding – and partly by running when I saw the open field. But the others will be late; they fled through the villages to reach your side, and God willing, they will be here within a week!”

He told us how, after the riots and the clashes in Vlora with the Italians over Flag Day, and the fight they had with the Durrës Government – to whom they said: “Are you Albanians or not? If you let our flag be dragged behind street dogs, shame on you, for we have died and will die for that flag at any moment!” They even sent a card to Paris when, at the end of 1919, someone had arrived in Vlora claiming to be an envoy of American President Wilson himself. At Osman Agai’s house, all the local leaders gathered.

With Hamza Agai, Ali Asllani, our friend the Catholic Dom Marku, Jani Minga, Qazim Agai, Imer Agai himself, and others, they had spoken and sent with him a memorandum stating that Vlora wants to unite with Albania as its own district. He was to deliver this directly to Wilson. The Italians forbade them from even thinking of it, let alone letting representatives from Vlora come here!

So, that American matter had some roots among them as well. “At least you’ve done one piece of work,” said my brother Bektash, who arrived just then and said we should head to Lushnje. We were in great anxiety because the Italian armies and those from Durrës were not letting the delegates through, but Imer Agai’s arrival would at least start the list of the Vlora delegation.

We would not leave a stone unturned; the state we barely built and which the Great Powers finally recognized – there was no greater catastrophe now than the fact they wanted to erase it. We would only let them do it over our dead bodies! My brother Sulo Bey kept his horse ready; as a young man, he moved like the wind everywhere. I teased him, as he remembered the war with the “unwashed” (të palartë – referring to rebel factions) in these parts. Thus, he wanted us to be honored this time, no matter what.

“Hajredin Bey, haven’t you tired all these years calling them ‘unwashed’ in anger? They became a swarm of flies, for you know the Albanian sides with the victor! Even a few Orthodox peasants joined their army because they were told: ‘Now that the Beys have made the state, not only will you not get a piece of land, but they will take your wives and everything!’ And so, ‘Let’s burn this and that,’ for the Albanian is a lighting fire for evil even in water!”

Not only those who made their army a swarm that poured out as if it had known the place for a hundred years, but everyone, as Sulo Bey said. They sided with them even from our ranks, for we Bektashis are so wicked that even in teqes and vakefs (religious foundations), instead of saying a good word to the world to settle matters as a holy place should, behind those walls we commit a thousand and one evils! They have no fear of the Great God at all – equal to or much worse than the Masons, who keep a thousand and one transgressions hidden from the world!

Who helped them and fought us in Mallakastra, in the battles of Ballsh and Berat? Wasn’t it the Shehu of Çorrush with other hounds following him?! While we were on this side of the trenches, they gathered people on the side of Haxhi Qamili and put Isuf Ohri on their committee. In Berat, all our houses, those of Aziz Pasha and so on, they raided and terrorized men, women, and children and burned them – though I had no kin of my own there at the time, only a few guards for the house I visited rarely.

They had committed atrocities against others as well and did not forget to terrorize and torture all those who struggled so much for the school, the language, the flag, and everything! These things were a thorn in their side! These were the patriotic Christians like Jorgji Karbunara – even though he was very old, they hadn’t forgotten him and were waiting for him – and others too. “Why didn’t it ignite in the North, where there are also good Muslims who love the country?”

But they had no way to deceive them, for those people have a rifle and five goats; you can’t scare them with people, and I am not convinced they truly love Islam! “And who? Those who didn’t know how to recite a single word of the Quran,” said my brother Bektash mockingly. This had always been a great danger hanging over our heads, and though an entire district listened to us, many were truly those who were digging our graves! So now that these days our map was laid out on the table, news reached us that it was a matter of hours before they decided which piece this or that person would take! Although we were rushing, I said now it is written that time is not with us and it seems we have lost the cause!

Bektash stayed in Lushnje for good, because the few delegates who had arrived each had their own mind about who should be appointed, as they had served in this or that government or fought in so many wars – the Albanian way! Three or four times I met him there, he was arguing with Aqif Pasha, Abdi Bey, and others that no one who had “shined” in previous governments should be placed at the head! Everyone was on thorns: “Why shouldn’t it be one of our sides who are so capable, someone who has been in so many governments?” “Let us be wise,” my brother said, “and chooses a man of ability, not a man of the marketplaces!”

Aqif Pasha looked at me, and I said without malice: “No such men are left!” “Hajredin Bey, you are approaching sixty and I envy the mind you have; you certainly settled the score with those of Durrës!” “I wasn’t in the government, Bektash Bey, or I would have left the second day! Not the day, for I am mistaken – the night!” I left them, as Albanians were trying to convince one another. When I reached the door at dusk, he nearly ate me alive, saying there were very few people with him.

They had barely seen among themselves who was the most capable patriot, but also a composed man capable of communicating with everyone. For these people think capability means shouting and screaming! Now the work was complicated; times couldn’t be worse, and one had to be a diplomat, eloquent, with heart and everything! He was trying to convince them of this! They had all become one fist, but with these things happening, they didn’t make a fuss and most had accepted: it should be a capable man who hadn’t been involved in the Vlora government, nor Durrës, nor Roshbull!

For this, they had called the brother of Namik Bey Delvina, Sulejman [Delvina], who had been in Istanbul, attended schools, and had been everywhere! In their administration, from the Grand Vizier who signs decrees to the ministries, a great man directing all the vilayets! He had even been a Professeur de lycée in Galata, but Albanians get stuck on one thing just to spoil the work! “But where has he been during these times when we were building the state, for better or worse?” But even for this – at the end of the year, he had been in Paris as part of the Istanbul delegation for the rights of Albania, which naturally, since they were trampled upon, brought us to a fever pitch today!

“Perhaps now they won’t be able to say there’s no more time, that he has done this or that like these others here! But it is also risky, for these young men we want to appoint and who are so needed today… we’re stuck: ‘He must be heard because he is old,’ ‘Put this one in because his word carries weight.’ These young men don’t know their habits well! This time the trouble is so great that the one who feels it must saddle the horse from wherever he has come!”

And here in these muds, no one is out of their mind to let the government we make stay here, for we can’t find a proper house; but long live Kaso Bey (Fuga) who said, “I’ll arrange it for you and it’s ready as long as you want!” Thus, we are set for Tirana, because in Durrës we can never stay as long as Esat Pasha’s men are there! We won’t put Aqif Pasha in Elbasan to suffer, for when there is nothing, even God provides nothing; in Tirana, he hung them all himself and is at peace now that he isn’t there too. We will say it once and for all: “Are we a Kingdom, a Principality, a State, or a Vilayet?” And we cut it short this time – though it wasn’t much to my liking as they will bicker like the Albanians they are – but it couldn’t be otherwise, so we remained a Kingdom!

But in place of a King, there shall be représentants religieux (religious representatives) – with Muslims and Bektashis, Abdi Bey and Aqif Pasha; with Orthodox, Doctor Turtulli; and with Catholics, Monsignor Bumçi. “Wait, you haven’t left any of those from Durrës without taking them, but with Monsignor Luigj Bumçi, you couldn’t even talk about Italy when we were there!” “Listen, he is l’homme justifié (the justified man) as a Catholic, but you had Myfit Bey (Libohova) who would jump at your throat for the Italians as if you were insulting his own father!”

Thus, we will do our best to mix Gegs and Tosks, Christians and Muslims in the ministries, for that is what people want. I spoke with Aqif Pasha, who without a word will lead the Congress, and others. This time, to guard the country, as Minister of the Interior, we will put that lively young man, Ahmet Bey [Zogu]; let anyone oppose me and say he is a child in these evil times! In foreign affairs, we can’t move Mehmet Bey [Konica], for we barely got him, and they recognized him at the Peace Conference!

Let us not send twenty delegations of representatives to be mocked again as the Italian did to us in Paris; for justice, we will put Iljas Bey of the Vrionis as he is younger – for Aziz Pasha and Omer Pasha, who sacrificed themselves for the motherland, are no more! The Prime Minister himself will handle finance, but we won’t put anyone from around here after what we’ve suffered, so we thought of the Catholic, Mr. Ndoc Çoba! A family of merchants, educated in Venice, capable beyond doubt – for this, the administration had appointed him director of all customs!

I was ready to interrupt him, but Bektash Bey had read my mind and said: “I know you’ll say I had him in Durrës too, but I explained the matter with the Catholics earlier, and don’t forget, he was in Father Fishta’s club, like we were with the old man. Esheref Bey Frashëri, who works here in Lushnje and is with us on the commission, a very hardworking man, to take over public works, plus schools and telegraphs with the people of Korça! The first, of course, is Mr. Sotir Peci, who in the first Manastir [Congress] of 1908 was director of the ‘Kombi’ newspaper in America and a teacher at the Normal School – you couldn’t find anyone more cultured! And Mr. Idhomene [Kosturi], a determined patriot, who with others had done for Korça what no one else could.”

It was said they would all accept this burden; only this time the work doesn’t let you even drink a cup of coffee, let alone think of transgressions. He looked at me; I must have looked somber. Not because I heard many names from those of Durrës, though my mind told me that the snake had bitten them in a bad place too, so they stayed there out of necessity!

“Hajredin Bey, we won’t talk here of President Wilson or anyone else to solve things for us in this evil hour! We will season ourselves with our own salt; don’t make it worse for me, for either this hour finds its path now, or we shall never stand on our feet again!” “How do you know, Bektash Bey that I am brooding over what you say? But this is a dangerous trial to fill it with young men and then seek the hour of prosperity,” I turned to him.

“Well, these and those you brood over, up until today, whoever they were, have ‘shined’ – look for yourself where we are, on the edge of the abyss!” “Either we have fallen behind the world, or I don’t like this game! Putting children in government is unheard of!” My brother Bektash smiled, understanding my worry.

“First,” he told me, “he is no child, for he is doing what no other man can; he is bringing Lieutenant Prengë Jakë, who has been under him with an entire battalion, to roam and guard the country! Second, if he has thought it through so deeply, don’t you worry, for he will take that ministry to guard the country! And if the one you’re thinking of appears before him, let uncle and nephew fight, for we have already been killed and torn to pieces enough!”

Everyone was marvelling, but Kamber Bey listened and smiled at how we brothers bickered, as if we were talking about things happening on our own estate. But the motherland does not let you sleep; it grabs you by the leg and shows you every hour and minute the oath you have taken for it! / Memorie.al

                                                          Continues next issue