It was a simple invitation, that Elvira Lika made me, to know and to be able to read Anilda Ibrahimi's book "Red as a bride". I hadn't read it, I didn't even know her as a writer, so many things concern traditions and customs of tradition of the south of Albania that are told in this book and that I, despite being Albanian, do not know open and close chapters that slip you away in a moment.
I didn't even know that so many Italian readers love this Albanian author, Roman by adoption, interested in a nice meeting with her. Like in the library even in schools. It is the example of Parma and the desire to tell the Albanian women. Thus the event of the association "Scanderbeg" is born, welcoming the idea driven by the admiration of many women like Elvira, through the lines of that book, in my opinion, original and light to digest. A tangle of lived stories, of apparently patriarchal families, but with a fiery vortex of motor of life accentuated to the feminine. Like the veil of a bride that should never be observed by the society that surrounds it ... because "the dress" is more important. "I wanted to tell the clan of women who lead the life of families where men were becoming increasingly absent" - says Anilda - "not the suffered life of abused women!" It arrives with simplicity, the same one in which it also opens its story.
He has a little bundle in his arms and we talk in a corner while nursing in the room set up for the occasion. Talk about her, her three wonderful children, there is time for the book.
A table of wonderful bouquets of mimosas and red roses awaits you. More in the, mention of Vivaldi, winter. The other invited by chance is the violinist Ornela Koka.At the same time she too with her six-year-old daughter next to her who lovingly follows her. I think, while I am speaking with them privately, that these women live in the dimension of the person who knows the life through an awareness of having an important role, they esteem, which derives not so much from the rules that the world and society puts and imposes on us, but from the rules that we women establish about our lives.
So on Tuesday, 8 March 2011, at the 18.30, at the Parma International Library the much awaited meeting, also by Parmesan readers, begins under the notes of Vivaldi's scores, a picturesque exhibition of the painter note Elona Marica and the desire to be there as female history represented by the Anilda Ibrahimi. An atmosphere full of participations and impatient faces to learn every speech that you link to the idea of the book: "To go towards the future we must know all our stories. - you start talking to the moderator of the evening Elide La Vecchia - there are Fragmentary stories in this book, I did it on purpose, it was not a limit. The fragments recall your past and bring nostalgia. For me they are fractures that never pass, that are created after an exile, I don't say emigration because the word "exile" sounds soft to me ... it's more poetic. I always have fractured fragments with me in a drawer that they can serve, but they will never heal. "" I spent my childhood with women ... I already knew one thing from an early age: I would not have had an easy love life, with all the women in the family.
Women can help you discover the world of adults, but they can also ruin you. Those who have lived in large tribes of women surely know what I'm talking about. "Who among us is not reflected in these lines?" I am very self-deprecating by nature, a black humor that I like so much.
Irony always saves me, even in dark moments ”.
Her journey as an author goes back to the 95 I believe, a collection in mother tongue of poems, she had never thought of writing a book. He wrote poems because he was lazy! "I first thought of creating a family for myself, then a ten-year break ... I wanted to learn more and take possession of the Italian language to try again one day. Exactly, written as it is, my first chapter on my book: "It arrives in a September morning, in a late season, where the rains are long in coming. She is dressed all in red. Like blood. As a human sacrifice given as a gift to the gods to profess the rain. ".
I had to get someone I trusted to read, someone who knew me well. And to whom if not to my husband. I state that it is not part of the world of literature, it is a public employee and of this I am fortunate - she smiles with self-irony - because so there are those who think of the daily bread of the family and I can indulge myself with writing. "You wrote it well , it is a true story, you did it with love! ”- a few words that launched me into an unknown challenge but always desired by me. That sentence was enough "you wrote it with love ..." and I picked up the story that in four months has become the book we are talking about today. I don't know, I think about it sometimes, maybe I should have taken more time, or maybe it was right to throw away the entire accumulation of ideas and literary thoughts collected with the notes of a lifetime, for years inside me.
Our stories are telling, they are part of an oral culture in Albanian, how does it feel to write in another language? "I felt normal to write in Italian. Many lives are lived. At the moment, after ten years, I feel this language is mine.
I showed the first chapter to my husband and according to his opinion it was very well written. I really trust him because he has a vast culture. I can't stand rhetoric. My language has so much. When I felt convinced I sent her to the publishing house "Einaudi" ... they answered me in twenty days for a contract in Turin. I aimed at an important publishing house, I had time to explore the less complex ones .... perhaps conceited as an idea! Impressing yourself is the most difficult thing in the world; with others we do it continuously. I was surprised at myself, after that quick reply.
Everyone has their own way! The second book "The rags of time" was in the form of notes, so I gathered so many stories, it didn't matter to whom they belonged. The suffering is the same. "The title how did you find it?" Red is in fashion, I see that in the windows there are many red dresses.
I am very direct and for this comment so now. It is the only color that belongs to the love of these women not loved by their husbands, red like blood, like the earth, like tradition.
I had a Sting song ... even if the Russians loved your children ... he said. And if the Albanians loved their children ... a provocative title ... I thought I'd put this title.
The editor told me that a novel should not be provocative, so "Red as a bride" was perfect! It has been released recently in German and other languages. But in Albanian still not.
Writers to tell ... Italo Calvino.To learn Italian we wanted a simple book ... Susanna Tamaro, "Go where your heart takes you". After reading it, I had the Italian in my hand. Italo Calvino, it is he who guides me in my linguistic skill. Of Albanian writers, regardless of his personal way of thinking, but simply for his great value as a writer I prefer Ismail Kadare.
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