Albania Fall 2000

October 27

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    To open the conversation I posed, "Where did you get your jacket, Sadi?"
    "Not bad for a coat from the gypsy grab bag," he answered without affecting the dignity of the question.
    "A grab bag?" I asked.
    "Yes, they get the clothes from the UN, World Bank, or even Greek cab drivers I've heard!" he answered.
    Sadi lives in the village of Peza, a long and narrow village that follows closely a small river valley for about six miles to the south of the village center, away from the Adriatic.
    The rugged, trackless hillsides that border the end of Sadi's village have a river bottom's breath that at times emits a mist and at other times an eerie reflective sunshine that not once shows any glimpse of hope. With little difficulty Klara, Eldina, Mersin, and I drew close to our destination. We aimed for the smoke of the house but because of the haze we had a better guide by our noses. Sadi's house is rather low and square-ish, built with half mortared stones, with a roof, steep and short covered with aging tiles.
    He was there to meet us in a flash, pouncing like a tiger to our outstretched hands. He is 56 years of age and singularly owns a flushed face like that of a cherub. Today he is bald headed. We chose a meeting spot six feet from his front steps. Crumbling chairs were carried to the yard that doubled not only for sitting but for the convenient home of onions, cats and rusted hammers!
    I have concluded he is the owner of one skill, avoiding work and his principle occupation is finding shade. He truly has had bad times and they are marked well on his face. Granted the Communist stripped him of his youth, stripped him of his land, stripped him of his rights, but to be continuously clouded by depression, makes a man grow old and more than a little broken.

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    Poverty pervades this household. I can only imagine those thick bronze fingers tying his shoelaces made of electrical wire each morning. Sadi is hoping for the lives of his chickens because that in turn is to hope for the life of his family. He says that grab bag clothes leads to a grab bag life.
    Conversation of spiritual matters ranks somewhere in priority between his labor and his effort. As in most households you can only say so much about the Lord. It's the same situation from house to house, questioning their beliefs is like trying to guess someone's secret. 
    By now the sky has cleared and a great deal of daylight lingers and so we move on. 

    Fall 2000 Index