By Maksim Rakipaj
The seventh part
Memorie.al / Maksim Rakipaj, originally from Përmet, whose family had helped and supported the Anti-Fascist National Liberation War, after graduating from the Navy School in Vlora, in 1972 he was appointed an officer in the Merchant Navy, where he served with dedication until in 1977, on the “Durrësi” steamer, he was arrested and sentenced to 15 years in political prison, as part of a “group”, which also included his colleague, Aladin Kapo, the son of Hysni Kapo’s brother. Family biography was also the reason for his punishment. After the end of the war, two of his uncles were sentenced to political prison, his grandfather was declared a kulak and in 1976, his father was expelled from the party. Maksi began serving his sentence in the Ballsh camp and in 1979, he was transferred to the Spaçi camp and then to the Qafë Bari camp. He was released on September 12, 1984, benefiting from a reduced sentence, from an amnesty. After being unemployed for a long time, with many hardships, he got a job as a miner in the Mzezet mine, he worked until 1991. After the 1991s, he started working in the administration of the Municipality of Durrës, he served until 1997 and after that, he returned to the Merchant Navy (the last captain of the transoceanic ship “Vlora”), until he left Albania for Italy, (illegally on a dinghy), where he currently lives for many years. Since the 90s, in addition to various jobs, Maksim Rakipaj has also devoted himself to writing, such as; poetry, prose, fiction or documentary, translations, etc., publishing several books, such as: ‘Prophet – Khalil Gibran’, (translation from English ‘Toena’ 2003), ’20 love poems and a song of sadness’, (translation from Spanish, ‘Toena’ 2003), ‘Alive after the shipwreck’, (published by ISKK, 2014), ‘Bukowski – poetry’, (translation from English, ‘ENEAS’, 2015), ‘Trilusa m’Tirône’, ( translation from Italian, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘Anthology of Arabic-Persian Poetry’ (English translations, ‘UEGEN’, 2015), ‘The Complete Sonnets of Shakespeare’, (English translation, ‘ADA’ 2016′) , ‘Survivor’ (autobiographical novel, ‘2 East, 2 West’ 2018), ‘Nobelists – poetic anthology, (UEGEN 2019), ‘Hymn of happiness’ (‘JOZEF’ 2023), etc. From the creativity of Mr. Rakipaj, Memorie.al is publishing the book “Survivor”, (published in 2022 by “JOZEF” Publishing House in Durrës, directed by Mr. Aurel Kaçulini), where he has described his life chronologically, where the part the main one is that of serving the sentence in camps and prisons, as well as various characters, his co-sufferers that he met in the communist hell, etc.
Continues from last issue
Dashnor Mamaqi in prison
Someone in a striped coat of brown paint, I couldn’t take my eyes off…! I became curious, because it looked like a familiar face, cautiously, I asked someone close to me: “Who is that guy over there”?!
– “Dear Mamaqi, why don’t you know him”?!
– “He has weakened so much, I would never recognize him, only his nose was left…”!
The lover approached me very politely and with that soft melodious voice (only the wise have that kind of voice), addressed me: – “Excuse me, but your face reminds me of a friend of mine, when he was about my age yours… it’s short: Do you know Xhafer Rakipajn”?! – “It’s my father, Mr. Dashnor.”
– “Ah, did you recognize me…?! I don’t know if he told you, but I loved Xhafer very much, I found him at home, in Mokrica in ’43, Xhakua (my friends called him Eti, that’s what they called him for short) was a ballist then, that’s how Përmeti was in those years, Ali bey Këlcyra used to go, – he would take them with his head, I would go, I would take partisans, the boys just wanted to kill the enemy…then, when my Hope was wounded, in the winter operation, and I didn’t know anything…! Xhakua carried him for hours on his back, I’ll never forget it…I remembered one day with Spresa: do you remember Spresa, I told him, when our Commander, the beloved, the great Enver, came to our house…” ?!
…I couldn’t help myself, I removed the arm that you had put in my arm and I said, separating the words with syllables: – “This is the last time we are together… with all that you have taken away: Hope with the children in exile, you in prison, and you still love the criminal Enver Hoxha?! Or are you afraid of me and thus insult me more seriously?! When will you think of mint…when you have the firing squad in front of you, like your friends?! Or even then, will you scream long live that criminal”?!
– “Wait, boy, keep your voice down, tell me, they only give you 10 years, but the bullet is waiting for me!” I don’t even have to worry about my family, children…”! He looked around, made sure no one was listening, and said almost in a whisper, “If you knew that dog as I do, you should be really afraid of him! You have no idea what a criminal he is”!
– “Okay, Dashnor, but there is no one else who thinks like you, in the Bureau, for example, why don’t they get rid of him…”?!
– “Because he doesn’t keep them from getting together, because he watches over and eavesdrops on everyone, he is terrified, like all dictators, and the terrified kills you in vain… and this one is not satisfied with blood. Thus. Long live for making me say what I think, for so many years…! I’m leaving because the appeal started…!
Years later, I found out that the desolate Lover died in the prison of Saint-Koll, in Lezhë, without being able to hug his loved ones freely…! But he was not the only one who had this fate.
V. F. L. P. and Down with Communism
Year 1978. The political camp of Ballsh, (I spent a few months there, before I was “lifted” to Spaç… to “lift” me back to Qaf-Bar).
One of our pastimes was reading the daily newspapers. My friend from Durrës, Jani Pano, subscribed to the newspaper “Adriatiku”, the organ of PPSh for Durrës. After he finished reading, I always asked him to read it slowly… because I miss Durrës, for the people. That day, probably February – March, I was impressed by an article about the ‘People’s Hero’, Hajdar Dushi. In short, it was written about his activity as a guerrilla in Durrës, during the Italian occupation.
In one of those actions, it happened that the Italian invaders arrested him red-handed, writing on the walls of the city the slogans of the time V.F.-L.P., and I don’t know. Hajdar Dushi, armed with a pistol and grenades, resisted arrest, firing a gun. Finally, injured, they arrested him and after treating him, they sent him to court. The fascist trial sentenced him to 6 months in prison (six months!) for armed resistance and subversive propaganda. After his release, the hero became a partisan and was killed in the war. May his memory be eternal!
With Jan’s permission, I put the newspaper on the camp newspaper stand, where a prisoner from Korça also read it. When he was arrested, he was not caught writing anti-communist slogans on the walls of Korca… because he had never done such a thing. He was convicted for writing slogans against the regime, without writing them. From the shooting sentence, they left “only” 25 years in prison!
A few months ago, one of my friends told me that he still hasn’t received the first installment of compensation…! (written during October, 2012)
“I gave 30 or 300 tajares…”!
For a year or so, a special type from the villages of Peza has been in the Ballshi camp. Round face, smiling all the time, happy… and it reminds me of that quote by the famous Socrates…! A group of prisoners has surrounded him and is talking to Seiti. – “How much have they punished you, O Seit”? – “Three years, three years of hell.” For a word of mouth”! – and Seiti laughed. – “They have given you a little, Seit. These for a word of mouth, give you 10 years, my friend. What about that chatter of yours, it was small, without much damage…?!
– “One, Seiti says to you, judge for yourself Masanej. As if, I just said: ’30 young men should attack us, and we’ll have fun’! Ahahaha, no, Mr. Judge, I mean 300 tajare. I’m uneducated, but when you say 30, your lordship knows it well. Ahahaha, I’ll allow 30, as you wish. Don’t spoil me with the government, for the sake of tajares, to make fun of you.
That’s how your Seiti ate it, I swear, in vain. Not 30, but 300 tajares. The slave goes to prison, for that?! Bab Lymit was very upset when he found out that I was killed. He loves me so much, for God’s sake. He still loves me, Lymi won’t let me…! I’ve been back to Lymit since I was little, I didn’t come and make fun of my aunt. He said to my slaves: rest easy, he said, I know this conversation…”!
As soon as Seiti hesitated a little, he didn’t stop: – “Hey, don’t I look like a slob?! Wait, I’m telling you, father, because I found someone, I’m not stupid anymore…! I had a new dog, there are dungeons where I was alone, yes, oops and oops…! What’s the matter with you, you’re hurting me, for agitation without a program, I’m not breaking the trap, don’t worry, you’re still young, take care of yourself…”!
– “Hey bro dad Seiti”, this one, they accuse me of having a relationship with Cia.
– “Batall respects me very much, you went to Cija, didn’t you, you told me”!
– “Leave Monday, Sei, because you are not a mule at all”, this guy tells me.
– “Do you have any cloves?” Gas crack…
– “did you say any prayers, I was released, Seito”?
– “No, please pray for me.” Why do you take it from me, Bab Lymi prays to whom?! Go where you need to go, I give the order: ‘Bring me out of the prison, Seit, because he is my slave! He is not afraid of anyone, his brain said to him, God bless him. One of you has seen them, when tomorrow – the day after tomorrow, whatever, except your Seiti”.
And indeed, of the three years they sentenced him, Seiti did not even serve a year and a half. Before he was released, someone teased him: – “Tell me the truth, how many tricks do you need, Seito?” – “I need as many years as I was sentenced. I wanted to tell the judge that day, but I didn’t have the amount left…”!
Baba Mehmeti, who had given Mustafa Qemal Atatürk a hug
In the Ballshi camp, among others, I met very special people. I will try to bring them to you, not according to their importance, nor according to chronology, but as they come to me…! One of them was a Baba Dervish. Baba Mehmeti, from Teqe e Frashëri, arrested in 1968 and sentenced to 15 years as far as I remember. When I met him in 1978, he was about 85 years old, but very well maintained.
In the camp, there were many who called him with the Bektashi title “Baba”, but he, embarrassed, answered them – “Why, black Baba, Baba without a beard…”?! Only I was allowed to call him with the title “Baba”, we had introduced ourselves from the beginning and I was surprised that he knew my ancestors very well, from my grandfather, Sabriu and uncles, with their stories. He had a melodious voice and preserved the characteristic speech of Naim Frashër’s time. As if Baba Mehmeti sang when he spoke.
– “Father, good morning”! – “Good morning children”! – and his eyes were laughing. – “Will you come and give you the meeting coffee?” Mine arrived yesterday…”? – “Straight ahead, as soon as I finish a job, two minutes and then…”! …It was about the conversation Dad… – “Where did you study dad”? – “Istanbul, children, Istanbul. I also met Mustafa Qemali there”.
– “Really, how”?! – “I will confess to you, son. I was a young man at that time, just finishing my studies and one afternoon, on the 25th, I went to a tea house in Istanbul, for a cup of tea and I said, don’t even see the company, because we used to hang out with each other there. , in the teahouse. When do you want? Some 20 men with rifles enter you, shouting: Get on my feet, quickly! My feet! Honor the great Kemal Ataturk’! I didn’t play from the place you say… when you saw… Mustafa Qemali straight to the table where I was. I stood up, I had nothing to do…’!
– What’s their name? – me this…’! – ‘Mehmet, I tell him…’! – ‘Where are you from’? – “Albanian, I tell him…”! When he also gave me back Albanian…! He spoke for 10 minutes on foot with me, only in Albanian…! – ‘I recognized you as soon as I entered because you are Albanian, he told me. Why didn’t you stand up when the soldiers told you?! – ‘I got up, sir, – I replied – But not out of fear of them, but out of the respect I have for you…’! Mustafa Qemali laughed out loud, with these words of mine…”!
Baba Mehmeti was truly a brave man. When they tried to destroy his teke in 1967, that year when all our religious institutions were destroyed, Father took his rifle and shot into the air, shouting like Ali Pasha Tepelena in Ioannina: – “Put it down! Get over it, jeziter”! A party secretary approached, Babaj did not allow anyone to approach. Only the head of the Internal Branch was allowed to enter the premises, they had been partisans together in the war. Babaj had been a partisan, he had also received the rank of major…!
– “Why did we leave?! Don’t tell me?! To lay Jesus cross-legged in our homeland? We didn’t talk like this, in forty-three…”?! They then called him to the Department of Internal Affairs in Përmet: “Just for clarification, the mayor would like to have a coffee with you, Father,” the policeman told him. He drank that coffee with the mayor and they didn’t let Baba Mehmet out of there. They sentenced him as an enemy of “popular power”, 15 years in prison.
Nikolë Daka, tell me about Arshi Pipa and…
In the Ballsh camp, I heard for the first time talk about Arshi Pipa, about the books written by him in the USA, about the years spent in prison in Albania, how Albanian intellectuals gave up their lives, under the boots of the policemen in the cherry tree, in Burrell prison. in the years ’47-’48…!
…I thought that Nikollë Daka must have definitely known him. I find Nikolla and ask him: – “Did you know Arshi Pipa, professor?” You were in prison with him”?! – “Yes, I was in my first prison, with Arshiu, but I had him as a friend before entering the prison. He was a high-class intellectual, with the title ‘Doctor of Philosophy’, he knew foreign languages, he was a poet, he was not what they say; bean juice’.
By the end of 1956, not long after I was released from the first prison, I went to Durrës for a job. Arshiu was also released from prison and settled in Durrës. He started working as a literature professor in a school in Durrës. They seemed to be satisfied with their work, but they were quite scared: ‘They are listening to me, Nikol’, he told me, – ‘They are checking my every step, every word I say’!
I advised him to flee abroad. I gave the address of a friend of mine in Shkodër, who informed me of the border and others, my friends, helped me. Bani did as I told Arshiu and, praise God, he crossed the other side, and it was good. I know he is in America. That’s it. I was arrested for the second time, after a year… I continued my life in prisons and here we are together…!
Ehhh, when I was your age, I had my first prison, Max…! A story must be told, earlier than this. I only told Arshi Pippa then. It was, as I recall, the middle of the year fourteen. I was teaching at the high school in Tirana. Did I mention that I also have Ramiz Alia there behind me?
He was a very intelligent boy. Sin, he got involved with the Serbs and the communists… but if I told you that I am a high school teacher and it was May or June ’44. Regency time, you know? The country was governed by four regents; Father Anton Harapi, Lef Nosi e, two others. An uncle of mine, called Pashk, was a major with the government troops.
One day, they informed me that my uncle is ill, he is in the hospital and I was just waiting to meet him. I immediately go to the hospital, I wait for him, a nurse accompanies me to the door of the room where my uncle was lying. There was an armed guard at the door. He told me to wait. Okay, I said, I’m waiting. The door opened and a German colonel, wearing a doctor’s white blouse, appeared. The guard spoke to him about me.
He beckons me and takes me to his own study. The colonel was an army psychiatrist. “Your uncle,” he told me, “is under the influence of a strong nervous friend.” He speaks gibberish, meaningless words. When it’s done well, it only curses Father Anton Harapin. It has been in this state for a week. Today he seems calmer and asked with him without you. Meet him and, if possible, don’t tire him, don’t tell him things that might irritate him. Go.
I entered the room where my uncle was. He was lying in bed and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. He saw me, went and grabbed my neck…! – ‘Ah, take it, Nikol’, he told me, ‘I’m not tall, I’m playing smart, we never had to believe him, because…’! – ‘Ah! Calm down, uncle’ – I told him, – ‘don’t act like that, there’s nothing that can’t be fixed…! I brought you two packs of cigarettes. Light a cigarette, calm down. Men don’t do that…’!
He lit a cigarette without speaking, then another…! – ‘Nigjo Nikol, I’m only telling you. I received a certain information, where these leaders of the communists are located and the people who are commanding them. Battalion alert. But I need you to beg permission from the government, money. I go there and beg for permission. Father Anton Harapi himself is waiting for me. Here, here, I say. – ‘Okay, you tell me, – but you don’t have to do anything right now. Tomorrow yes. More Easter? – ‘As you order, tomorrow, I tell him. The next day, when I went to catch them in the loop, I didn’t find a communist camp and went there. Start at Anton Harapi.
Do you believe what he told me…?! – ‘They are our brothers,’ he said, ‘Easter, I don’t need to spill someone else’s blood…! The Germans are on the way, soon we will be free, Albania is ours, not only us, but also the communists… after the war, you should rebuild the country, not I was killed and I will take revenge, among you. Go Easter, praise Jesus Christ and God be with you. I think at the beginning of Easter, you understand?!
I don’t remember what I answered, except when I saw him tied up and in the hospital, like he was going crazy. This reminds me that I used to play…! Do you know what I’m doing, like driving Father Anton Harapin, with a rope around his neck, hanging from the communists…”?!/Memorie.al
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