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According to all reports, the family knew the time was close, the
hour had come. When Aisha
turned ill this summer, death had made it’s pre-announcement, the
invitation had been sent, and now the date for her departure had come.
Aisha lived anything but a queen’s life.
She was born during the flower years of her country, but most of
her life was lived during the dark years of communism.
Strong-willed enough for the preservation of her family, she
survived communism to experience
Albania’s transition to freedom and independence.
Her quiet departure reflected the tender, womanly way to go.
Be quiet, be in the background, and make death your duty!
It is your duty to die. She
was the prodigy of generations dying before her and the spirited presence
to those who surely will follow her in death.
“The whole village is in black today,” my neighbor
related, as she hurried to melt into the sea of dark clothing. They
were following Aisha, this girl of ninety-three summers in the village, to
a quiet field bordered by trees.
Albania
is a challenging place in which to die. Even graves dig hard.
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