Childhood. Eh, that went like this, in the blink of an eye. He passed quickly, passed to the flight. Passed like a balloon that you raise it up in the air to pass it to a friend, to pass it to another world, where you are no longer the girl "capricious" and "obedient" where you are no longer the "chick" without wings.
Indeed, you try to emerge from the vortex of cuddles and protection, you try to flap your wings and fly, you try to breathe where there is more air: in your horizon, which is all yours. In that horizon where you see and hear the birds flying by singing. They are your friends! How beautiful! blue sky with white clouds! And down there the world of good and happy people! Land blossomed with the aroma of love and goodness ......
That was my childhood, full of fantasy, delicate, beautiful and simple.
Educated by simple parents but with high ideals for life. I was proud of myself, of myself, of Albania! Slowly I grew in stature and temporarily even in the desires of a teenage girl. What was happening? Where are those childhood dreams? Imagination? I realized that I had to agree with my father when he said: "Keep your feet on the ground!" Yes .. my feet were on the ground ,, only the distance from the ground to the test was no longer that of an infant.
My heart beat differently, my gaze deeper, the blood throbbing, every time he passed me, that boy with his eyes so sweet, so simple, so magnanimous! Every day, every minute I asked myself: What does this mean? ? Why does his presence break my heart? I was growing up, I knew this, I was no longer the girl who saw the surprise world. I understood what I wanted and what I was looking for. I was looking for love I had found it there, in the eyes of that nice boy, I saw myself, in his eyes, I read my name written in his smile ...
Adolescence presented itself to me with love. It has come slowly, tacitly, it has stuck in my soul, it has chained me, mixed with my desire and the ideals of the age I was living. Writing, creating poetry, they said I had talent. I don't know if to write what your heart tells you means to have talent. My heart spoke so much. I loved the world around me, my friendships, school, relatives, family, but, more impressive infinite love, was the one for the boy I had just met. It was the source of the life that flowed and of the years that flee ..
And the years fled, they fled, they fled ... Suddenly I found myself without air, without blood, without a soul! A piece of ice. A stone! A merciless lightning fell. He burned everything !? There was nothing left but the ashes of that sweet and fragile love. And maybe, not even it! It has disappeared in the rays of the sun.
I knew nothing more, I only knew that there was no more, neither world, nor sun, nor sky, nor birds nor flowers.
I wanted to go back to my childhood! I turned my head back, stretching her hands to catch her, she had slipped into a deep precipice. In that precipice where, long ago, I felt so happy. Of course, because I was small and the little ones don't understand the darkness of the time in which they live. They are happy and that's it. Close to the people who love them, who are fond of them, who care about them. We lived in a time when the most beautiful feelings could not be cultivated because it was a "shame", among these, love for a boy. This happened to me. A heavy headstone fell on my love. Pressures, ignoble thoughts were slaughtering the soul. Every day that came and went, I received and escaped an image of an amor who imposed on me the society in which I lived. Suddenly, I felt something that slipped, that broke.
And I was wrong! I slipped on the sledge of my life falling to pieces. I slipped into the claws of a love I didn't know. He was not gentle, neither sweet nor sincere. It was not the intense and pure look I was in love with. Where was I? I was locked in a cage of violent love. I was forced to love the husband who was next to me. Atrocious cries made my ears detonate ... Married life flowed without events. There was no reason for rare events. I felt like a bird with the breathtaking, in a pair of hands that held me tight so as not to fly. Inside me, only the memory of the first love is beautiful! It was May of 93, how you feel a sweet warm sensation in the icy soul, a delicate fire that melted my heart. It was my little Laura! Wave of enormous joy, wave of happiness! From now on I would have been strongly in love with the sweetest creature in the world: my daughter! In the meantime I had finished university and worked as a primary school teacher. I was also an external collaborator at the city's university, where I lived. I didn't want more from life. I had the job and my Laura! And the days, the months, the years simply passed, with the love for work I was doing, and the love for my daughter. I wanted a better life for her than mine, a life, where you choose what's best for you, what you want to do! Maybe, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Albania was evolving ... we were no longer living in profound isolation! The joy of change has made me enthusiastic, faithful, and proud.
Moisturizers blow, and they form giant waves on the marele, gray patches are incised in the sky. Moisturizers blow, the birds hide in their nests, and the petals fall to the flowers. So it was with my life. A moment came when I felt, bitter and painful, anger towards my people. He hit me in the furious chest up there, where he felt spinal pain, tremor, tears, anxiety.
He was killing his brother, his brother! The friend, his friend! It was the 1997 year, the year I cursed the day I was born, which aroused my terror. The minutes passed with gun shots. I was counting the hours, counting the shots of horror! I kept going to work every day, even risking her life! Not only for the daily bread, but also, because in those desks my dear students waited for me! I went on foot, in those days there were no cars and I could not go by bike. Two miles out and back, walking beside the houses to protect the bullets that fell on the head like hail.
I was overwhelmed by melancholy when I saw the pain of my little pupils, pain because someone had lost his mother, someone his father, his brother, his uncle ... I read those delicate looks, with childish eyes, and my soul trembled; did you study Alban today? Silence ... those round sea-colored eyes went down. He did not answer, and I imagined the answer: "the mother cries all day, the father who is no longer there! I have no notebooks, pen to write, I am very hungry! ”This was his unspoken answer. You can't forget those tired, lightless eyes! You go up and say: "The teacher will give you the paper, lamatite, and today we will learn together, ok? Without words, without a word, a rapid movement of the eyes, they gave light to the innocent and tiny face, muscles" of it contracted in a smile that stayed there all day! And for all that day, I thought, I thought. I thought of my people's unfortunate fate, subdued for centuries ... I saw it dark in the future, in his and in my future! Oh, how I wished I had a powerful punch, to make all those dark thoughts which my soul whetted disappear.
Oh how I wanted to have a steel hand in order to grab the cruel anguish !! And suddenly I decided, I decided to take the road, the way of escape, like my brother, so many years before. The only road that could save me from gun shots, from fear of the future! And my thoughts went crazy for crazy actions, I was leaving my home to find refuge in an unknown place, where, as many said, there is peace, freedom, tolerance, where the woman did not stamp her foot, where children are happy. This happiness I had to hug her, hold her, because it was the happiness I wanted to give to my daughter! I left ... with joy and anxiety at the same time. I left, I didn't turn my head back, I gave everyone a dry kiss, I was afraid to kiss them with passion ... and I promised my daughter, a reunion soon. I didn't turn my head, no! You only hear voices of greeting. I did not turn my head back because these voices entered me and strongly corroded my soul, my chest was full of tears, I was suffocating from the bitter abandonment of the people I loved most in the world, my people, my country. ! Poisonous tears, which left me breathless, which were taking my life away. I didn't turn my head! My legs were shaking, I felt them made of wood, my mother's scream had stuck in me: "Good luck!" I landed in a new land, I didn't feel its consistency. I felt cold, it felt like a frozen earth.
But inside me, there was a fire and that fire warmed me, made me come back, gave me courage, was the fire of the promise I made to myself: I have the right to a happy life! And I was right there. In that unknown place that I had chosen by now, to create my happy future. In the place where many and many Albanians had chosen to work and live.
I sighed deeply, I liked the air! He opened his eyes to see me around, I liked the image! I walked and slowly, observing, convinced myself that I had made the right choice. I had left a suffering, fragmented Albania. I found a beautiful place, embroidered by human hands. I walked and didn't stumble. They were beautiful streets, buildings, shops ... Camminavoe wanted to give my hand to greet all the people I met along my path. I saw them in my eyes so, shy, dazed, happy ... Useless! No one turned their attention to me. No one returned the smile I had given him. Suddenly I saw a smile, which clung to my eyes, came close to me, a family smile, I hadn't met him for a long time: it was my brother's smile.
They were years when I didn't see my brother. He was the major one. The greatness of a nostalgia involved me. His presence calmed me down, his sweet words, his simple smile, and minutrii of his serenity! The night came. Nottemischatraconfusione and imagination! In front of me smiling, sad, there was the portrait of my daughter.
That portrait that never disappeared. Written with gold lettering! With eyes closed, it lit up.
With open eyes he exuded a joy of life.
I closed my eyes exhausted, exhausted by the journey, exhausted by thoughts, by the joy and enthusiasm of unavitabella who had opened my arms.
That night brought me a new morning! A morning full of brightness with the thawing of the snow from the long and sleeping winter. I was waiting for that morning! I waited for her to free me from the stiff arms of angry winter. And it arrived, it entered my soul with grace. He knocked in the window where I slept: "Wake up, wake up, he said to me." I opened my heavy eyelids from sleep. The excitement immediately caught me again! Oh marvelous morning! I warmed the colors of the rainbow in my chest, whispered to the birds and they flew. I uniquely have their frantic hearts. I looked up into the endless horizon, reached out to touch it. I wasn't dreaming no! I was there, in that new bed. I turned to greet Laura, to cuddle her, I looked for her ... and I didn't find it .. I felt trembling the many kilometers that separated us ...
I didn't want to waste time, I had to find a job, any job that would allow me a salary, to be able to help my parents, who took care of my child.
Every day that passed, he found me flipping through the newspapers with job advertisements. They gave calls one after the other. Anything! None of the answers I expected. Finally I saw a tall man arrive at home. He was one of my brother's friends. He seemed very considerate, with all the good will to help me. Hosospirato. I was shaking for the first day of work and it has arrived. I will never remove from my mind the encounter with those two ladies, with such a well-groomed appearance and with luxurious machines. They were the owners of the company where I had to work.
I had to clean the offices, the hotels, the stairs of the buildings. I thanked them deeply. I lowered my back, rolled up my sleeves and started working. The days went by, I got up early in the morning when it was still dark.
It was cold, I didn't have the courage to wash the face with cold water, the house was like a frozen shelter at the top of the mountain. I went out closing the door slowly, turning my back to reach the narrow street that connected me to my colleague's house. I felt fear there alone, but above all I felt the joy of going to work. I didn't feel the tiredness of those many hours of work, no. I was glad the idea that the more I worked the more money I would have had to make Laura the most beautiful gifts in the world! I loved those women who were offering me hours of work. Two hundred a month, between ice and snow, between morning and night on Terminillo cimedi, to clean hotel rooms. I used to bandage my bleeding hands with detergents from bandages and work with the song in my mouth: How much nostalgia I have to see You talk to you, to hug you How much nostalgia I have! happy Laura. I imagined his exuberant joy, the beating of his heart. On the gaunt face she slipped into tears. They were tears of joy! I felt myself swallowing a mountain, a hurricane rammed into my body, when 200 000 lire was placed in the cracked hand. I had done the accounts differently. Where was the reward of 200 hours of work! Those ladies so beautiful, with a sweet voice "explained to me" that they kept me at work because they felt sorry for me, to give me a hand, even if they "risked" big. They said to me: "If finance finds out that we have you in black, do you know what they do? They make us do a c..lo so! "Accompanying with the gesture! I was not alone, I was with my brother. I saw the blush on her cheeks, I heard her voice pick up, one punch on the table: Leeches! He threw me a quick glance, and said to me: "Don't take anything! Don't just work for money, you also work for dignity! Come treasure, do nothing, "the door came out so hard that it made my eyes sparkle and between those sparks Laura appeared to me in my mind:" Mom! "I put my hand up, took the money, thanked him and left too. With a quick run I went to the post office.
I sent half of the money to Albania, the other half was used to feed me throughout the month ...
The pain of a job without a harvest turned into joy when the news of another job arrived. I dressed quickly and went to see the place of work. I liked it. It was a butcher shop. At first I just had to clean, then, slowly, learning, I could do everything, from the cash desk to serving customers. "It depends on you, how you handle it," the shop owner told me. I looked at the man with admiration. The week passed quickly and very lightly. I tried to learn everything I was taught. I had it done! Exactly two weeks passed when I had learned everything, I heard a voice from behind my back: "I can't hold you anymore" and once again I felt the constant flow of my tears ... That voice behind my back kept talking to me: "I
I can also keep you. I also need a woman who meets my needs as a separate man, do you want it? If you agree, you can work as long as you wish. ”Something stirred in my stomach so much, it made me taste my vomit! He disgusted his eyes, his face and my soul. I left the discouraged shop. Empty! How empty I felt! A piece of rag to clean shoes! Where was the joy of the first days? Where the "Italian" is so good and generous that I had heard of! Where they were! My brother's family waited for his eldest son. I didn't want to make them worry that much, so I thought I'd look for a grandmother who needed me, my attention. And I found her, a woman, unable to move, but with an extraordinary kindness. With a round face, gray hair, aged skin, tender eyes. He lived there in that warm house. Every time we sat down to eat, we talked, we talked about the long walks on the river bank, it seemed to me that I had my beloved grandmother in front of me. To each of his requests for help, I answered promptly and tenderly. I was happy, finally! I never stopped thanking the good heart of this grandmother, who always worried every time I heard her speak on the phone with Laura. He felt my pain away from her. And thanks to her and the work she had offered me, I was able to fulfill the promise I made to Laura: "Soon we will be together!" I walked the same road, I crossed the same sea that separated me from Albania, from my people. I did not lose myself in that infinite sea, I already saw the shore, where Laura was waiting for me with anxiety.
I pulled the heavy suitcase of toys, clothes, with difficulty. Misono found in front of my people. I was amazed! Stop as a statue when I saw her! I had left her for a minute and found her a different child, with long hair, with another smile. He smiled at me, and shouted loudly: "mammaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" We have been embraced for a long time, I don't know how long ... never to separate us again! And so, united, we have taken the road back. The grandmother waiting for our return, opened her tired arms from the weight of the years and welcomed both.
I was no longer a desperate woman.
I was happy! Eh my life! Amara, sad, beautiful! Bitterness, sadness, beauty have turned into color. They mixed and painted it in a particular color, which made me stronger, more courageous, more confident. Which made me see the world with a longer, more penetrating look.
Life flowed, flowed. The heart of my grandmother who had hosted me no longer beat. I started another job, started studying to adapt to the state I was living.
I was at peace, but this peace broke every time I heard about the Albanians, from the mass media, in the first place! The idea of an Albanian thief, villain, thug, criminal was spreading! Some said they knew them well, even to the roots. And I threw myself into my thoughts: "Who knows our roots well ?! Maybe! Those who really know them did not dare to speak with this language! "I was sorry for my people, and I was ashamed for some Albanians who stained the deforest of Albania! And I set myself a task, that of telling the whole of Italy and the Italians that" the Albanians are people like you, they feed like you, they sleep like you, they suffer like you, they struggle like you, they defeat challenges like you, they are mothers like you, they pray to GOD like you, they are wrong like you, they work like you, they love you, like you! ” my imagination goes towards a world without borders, multi color. A world that sees with the clear look of the eyes, it doesn't matter if they are round or almond-shaped. A world that speaks with a firm voice, it doesn't matter if it comes out of a mouth with thin labbracarnoseo. A world that breathes pure air, no matter if it has a small nose, Greek or aquiline. A world that is not afraid to demonstrate the beauty of the face, no matter its color. A world in which the same language is used, that of peace and tolerance! A world in which all the people who are holding hands around it, sing song with the title: WE ARE SONS OF THE SAME WORLD!
Author: Rudina Hakani