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“This morning a young Albanian woman came to the infirmary riding a mule; she was delicate, graceful and…” / The unknown memories of the Italian military doctor in Albania during World War I.

“Sot në mëngjes më erdhi në infermieri një grua shqiptare e hipur mbi mushkë, ishte e njomë, e hirshme dhe…”/ Kujtimet e panjohura të mjekut ushtarak italian në Shqipërinë e Luftës së Parë Botërore
“Sot në mëngjes më erdhi në infermieri një grua shqiptare e hipur mbi mushkë, ishte e njomë, e hirshme dhe…”/ Kujtimet e panjohura të mjekut ushtarak italian në Shqipërinë e Luftës së Parë Botërore
“Sot në mëngjes më erdhi në infermieri një grua shqiptare e hipur mbi mushkë, ishte e njomë, e hirshme dhe…”/ Kujtimet e panjohura të mjekut ushtarak italian në Shqipërinë e Luftës së Parë Botërore
“Sot në mëngjes më erdhi në infermieri një grua shqiptare e hipur mbi mushkë, ishte e njomë, e hirshme dhe…”/ Kujtimet e panjohura të mjekut ushtarak italian në Shqipërinë e Luftës së Parë Botërore
“Sot në mëngjes më erdhi në infermieri një grua shqiptare e hipur mbi mushkë, ishte e njomë, e hirshme dhe…”/ Kujtimet e panjohura të mjekut ushtarak italian në Shqipërinë e Luftës së Parë Botërore

-The letters of an Italian military doctor about Albania in 1916-1919, where men smoked and women were used as pack animals-

Memorie.al / Only four years have passed since Albania gained its independence, and the Albanians still feel lost. Extreme poverty, ignorance, violence…! In these conditions, a foreigner, “stuck” in Albania, becomes a witness to the situation. There are 767 letters, unknown until now to the Albanian reader that Damiano Bruno, an Arbëresh doctor mobilized in the Italian army during World War I, sent from the rear of the Albanian front to his family in Italy. The book, published by the “Naimi” publishing house, “767 Letters from the War Front,” was prepared for publication in Italian by Luigi Intrieri, based on the original letters of Damiano Bruno. In the Albanian language, it comes from Erla A. Velaj.

Presented chronologically through the letters that Bruno sends to his niece, Mariela, the Albania of 1916-1919 is revealed to us. The military doctor, who traveled to many areas of Albania during his stay, talks about the Albanians, their nature, customs, vices, poverty…!

As a man coming from Italy, from a country known as a lover of women, Bruno could not help but pay special attention to the difficult situation of the Albanian woman. The narrative is direct and at times makes you feel bad, but sometimes it also makes you smile, with the ironic sense and surprises that the Albanians gave him every day.

Gjithashtu mund të lexoni

“Theodhoraq V., from the Korça district, a former naval officer, sentenced with the group of Teme Sejko, after having contributed to the denunciation of his comrades, now…” / Testimonies of the former political prisoner about the Rrëshen camp

“The problem of settling colonists in the emptied places is no smaller than the departure of the Albanians, but more natural, since…”/ The secret plan of the well-known Serbian academic, Čubrilović

Through a a introductory note to the reader, the well-known Albanologist Francesco Altimari describes the book as “an excellent historical research work.” “On the pages of this intimate diary, it is worth exploring daily life. The military doctor uses his diary not only to communicate news to his niece but also to sincerely express his deepest spiritual states.

There is no lack of judgments (but also prejudices) that the Italian doctor expresses during his military journeys in Southern Albania. What emerges from the diary is the reflection of a true social drama, as Albania was at that time, having just emerged from Ottoman rule. The country lived in conditions of severe underdevelopment, a situation reflected in the descriptions and narratives of the military doctor,” writes Altimari.

Some letters from Damiano Bruno’s epistolary

March 2, 1917

Dear Mariela!

Today I had to take a walk up the mountain. To tell you the truth, when I arrived, I felt exhausted and with a sad soul. But I do not regret yesterday’s sorrow. It is wonderful to walk through the endless forests covered entirely with snow.

For the most part, the road resembles a gallery of green and white trees. The Albanian mountains are harsh, but under the mantle of snow, they lose their roughness, the valleys, the landscape is dressed in a fantastic, unreal, fascinating look.

Kiss Mariela and Luigino.

March 4, 1917

Dear Mariela!

In the Albanian village, at the 291st battalion, where I am staying, I heard women screaming beyond the hill, calling with a deep cry like that of a bird. In Albanian, a woman is called “woman” and they really look like women when they walk next to each other.

Here the Muslims do not use bells; it is the screams of women that announce death. The way they dress makes them look like swallows from a distance, because they wear white pants and a black vest. You cannot imagine how many visits I am forced to make to the Albanians.

March 5, 1917

Dear Mariela!

This morning an Albanian woman came to the infirmary riding a mule; she was delicate, graceful, accompanied by her father and husband. Here in Albania, to see a woman treated so well is something unusual. For example, this afternoon I saw a miserable woman; we helped her with every treatment and gave her some coffee and soup today.

But her husband did not seem touched by poverty or by the fact that she was at the end of her life; he did not seem touched by our attention either. In fact, it did not seem as if the husband would await death unhappy, in order to find another woman.

March 9, 1917

Dear Mariela!

The laziness of the Albanians is unbelievable, even something monstrous. I myself have seen men every day who sit and smoke and watch a poor old woman hoe the ground, the tobacco, and the onion sprouts. I have been told that while crossing the river, they had once seen an Albanian who had climbed on a poor woman’s shoulders to reach the fruits!

He deserves to be put in cold water with a razor and whipped. Today, when we were coming to the 291st battalion, along with the policemen, we found a man who was going to the city with his old wife, who was loaded like a donkey. The police immediately ordered the man to carry the load.

March 16, 1917

Dear Mariela!

If I were given the task of treating other military units, I would do it with pleasure. What worries me is that I have to treat the Albanian people, who are full of parasites and cannot enter without removing the disgusting parasites. Now that the weather will get warmer, I have thought of doing visits outside the infirmary, in an open place.

So I am building stone benches; I will cover them with a thin layer of cement. I will no longer do visits inside, as I have had to use a lot of carbolic acid. In the morning, a rich and well-dressed woman came. In the afternoon, another woman came to have her suppurated finger examined, but she began to raise her voice when I saw her coming. I was forced to keep her away from the door.

March 21, 1917

Dear Mariela!

The Albanians, who bring women to me for examination, accompany them with great seriousness. Today a woman came to the infirmary riding a horse, accompanied by two Albanians. After the visit, I offered her vermouth, but she did not put it in her mouth. The religion of Muhammad forbids alcoholic beverages.

So I gave her chocolate, which she immediately started to eat. And since appetite comes with eating, she chewed it all up in a very short time. I did not give anything to the men, not even a cigarette, something they get a lot of here, they desire it, they like it, even though their tobacco is not good at all.

March 24, 1917

Dear Mariela!

Here it is not the bells that blind you, but the wind that blinds and confuses you at the same time. Yesterday evening, in the village I saw many people going to the house of someone who had died. They sent a goat and a ram, which they then cooked and ate, together with the family of the deceased.

In the morning, while going to the mountain, I passed in front of the deceased’s house from the artillery. I saw a woman at the entrance of the house; she was speaking loudly and was wailing for the deceased with her hands…!

March 25, 1917

Dear Mariela!

Today, the officers of the 10th company of the 307th battalion asked me to have lunch with them and respected me immensely. Then they led me to visit the ruins of an ancient but destroyed castle. Only the walls remain standing: and it is surrounded on all sides by puddles.

The small chapel blackened by smoke is still standing and traces of fresco can be seen on the walls. The construction is of Byzantine style, about a thousand years old. In the dome, there is space for owls and each of these is delineated by holes, where the immeasurable desecrations of the destructions can be seen.

March 25, 1917

Dear Mariela!

I’m becoming known in Albania too. A few days ago, while going to the village, I was accompanied by a young man who was taking the same road as me. He himself was riding a mule, while he had left his wife to walk on foot. These people are jealous of women and try to hide their faces, but when they meet an Italian doctor, they start to make friends with him; the young man signals to his wife to pick violets, which are so widespread that they release a fragrance in all the fields.

Recently, with an officer friend, while we were on a distant excursion, I met an old shepherd who greeted me and offered me some eggs, but I did not take them. He made my friend understand that he had been cured by me.

September 8, 1917

Dear Mariela!

Italy is performing wonderful works, which will soon be able to change the appearance of these lands; majestic roads, public buildings, schools. But to change the Albanians’ costumes, centuries will be needed! This people are so apathetic that they sleep like cats, with their eyes open and neither see nor are interested in anything.

This part continues to take its roads, and it is truly rare to see caravans of mules on the roads. As the mules walk, next to each other, without a rope, forming an endless line, so do the women walk, bowed, one after the other, and the men and children also walk in silence. What slavery and backwardness!

September 10, 1917

Dear Mariela!

If you saw the Albanians hesitant and afraid in the hospital! They have never heard of doctors and medicine; they only remember the violence of the Turks. To be examined is a situation that embarrasses them. In the morning it happened that someone came from a distance and to treat him, patience was needed.

He paced back and forth, as if he were a prisoner. Then he took courage and asked for permission for when he could return for the second time. I replied that if he would wash himself and remove the parasites, he could come whenever he wanted.

January 12, 1918

Dear Mariela!

In Albania, women do all kinds of work in the field: they work with hoes, harvest, pick olives, graze sheep, and prune olive trees. Today, near my house, a woman suddenly appeared among the olive trees; she was cutting the branches at random, ultimately ruining the poor plant, already dried by the years.

More than to help her, I told one of my soldiers to prune a tree, so that she would learn how this work should be done. The woman was pleased and gave him a lot of wood for the fire. Memorie.al

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