Albania Winter 2000

February 15

     The sunlight was two hours old when we arrived in Bultice, a village with irresistible charm. Conceived long ago to lay on the west bend of a north flowing river, God took a dozen dabs of color and set in place a valley for Melakneena's home. 
     If ever a lady was marked for supremacy in a family, it was Mel. With grandchildren around her, like tiny bouquets, she is the very transport of joy and gratitude towards them.
     Mel describes herself as an apple with a very active appetite. I can tell you she is round and rosy. Without being able to read a word in her entire life, she has only traveled 13 miles from home in all of her 67 years. She doesn't cook, ("two daughter-in-laws"), doesn't meddle ("too busy") and her speech is half Turkish and half Albanian (very difficult for my translator).
     She has two passions in life: goats and her god. The little goat in the picture nibbled on my hood string for all of the picture session. The care for him, along with 87 others made Mel's shepherd's heart very apparent.  There's something very beautiful in a village setting to see baby goats dissolving from one formation into another, tangled, then untangled as they waltz around the shepherd.
     But I created something uncountable when I inquired about her god.  Muslims are notorious about the great knowledge of their faith until it's questioned. Mel's answers about heaven, death, and her future, were frugal and unfortunately artificial as plastic grave flowers. But she certainly doesn't pretend and we agreed to re-examine God in the future and to try again to change each other's minds.

    Winter 2000 Index