Forsaken Albania

By Artan Lame
Tirana, 1942. I have frequently written about construction work done in Albania during the years of the Italian occupation, but today, I wish to revoke another, just as magnificent performance of a people, who, in my opinion had embarked on the wrong road of weapons manufacturing, after centuries of brilliance in the Arts. In general, Italian buildings stand out, not only because of the quality with which they are constructed, but also due to their artistic forms and shapes, which are never overlooked.
The Italians completed the new Tirana-Durr쳠road that linked these two cities and continued south bound, via the village of Ndroq. In memory of the construction of this road, at its point of departure, somewhere at the exit to Tirana, a memorial was erected. This memorial build with decorative bricks and marble, had an inner memorial chamber, and on its front fa袤e, mounted on a large plaque of marble, a bas-relief had been engraved This depicts a strong labourer, holding a pistol and drilling into the rock. This nationalist style of work promotes one of the values so powerfully eulogized by the dictators of all times; the value of labour. On the right hand flank of the monument, at the top, you can discern with some difficulty the sash of a Lictor, also done in marble.
Photograph 1 depicts this memorial and was taken on the day of the inauguration of the newly built road. At the start of this road, standing to attention are an Italian police officer, a villager in national dress from Central Albania, and a labourer in overalls. If there had been a star at the top of the monument and if we were to replace the Italian police officer with a partisan, we would have a classic scene of socialist realism. This is the invisible spirit that pervades all dictatorships in the same manner.
There exists a legend, according to which, somewhere in the vicinity of the village of Ndroq, the drama of a love story between a young couple was consumed many, many years ago. This is a story that ended with the tragedy of their suicide. Evidence of this story is in the local place names. To this day the “Grave of the Ashik” (Ashik meaning lover in Turkish), remains the same.
In the course of the construction of this road, the Italians came across this legend and they tried to perpetuate it.
Photograph 2 shows, in the center, the old stone grave, underneath the leafy canopy of a magnificent old oak tree, probably of a similar age. Encircling them is a decorative wall with decorative brick columns, linked by chains. On these columns the lines of a poem have been engraved in memory of this legend, “Red-handed I caught him/ when your lover, he became/ poor me, the pain, the chagrin/ heart turned to stone and eyes that blaze.”
With these two assets, the Italian occupier has very cunningly tried to evoke love both for labour and in local historical heritage, but we never fell for this, because we never dreamed we would need these two assets. And what other evidence could a person need that Albania has no need of work or memory, when it is a fact that both of these objects have long since been demolished without a trace.