Tuesday, June 8, 1999

Albanian Chronicles 2: "A Typical Day in Albania"

This day started in the middle of the night when I awoke with the

runs. My first in Albania! Possible souces as I look back...

brushing my teeth with tap water, a driver washing off an apple with

water from a jug in the back of his vehicle, a greek salad... who

knows. And then I couldn't get back to sleep until it started getting

light out. And the mosquitoes were coming in my fifth floor

window, focing me to close the sliding glass door (no screens) on

an already hot and breezeless night.Worst of all, I was schedules to

travel to Shkoder the next morning‑ a 3‑4 hour drive (on good

days) over horribly bumpy roads, to meet the 3 new social workers

for their first day of work. A hard one to cancel, so I took an

Immodium A.D. and went. The first 2 hours were torture on my

stomach. The compassionate driver, Bernard or Nardi, kept

checking in with me regularly... "OK David?" to which I just

groaned. Did I mention there is no air conditioning in these

vehicles? Did I mention the clouds of dry dust and exhaust fumes

that envelop roadways? Did I mention the rush‑hour kamakaze

driving that one has to practice to get anywhere? Did I mention the

flat tire? You get the picture... I was definitely not in my comfort

zone in any sense of the word. But it was all mitigated by the fact

that I KNEW this would be a hard place to live and work, so my

expectations were being fulfulled to the utmost.

Our first stop was a collective center in Schenkoll. A collective

center is different from a camp because it is less formally organized

and planned than a camp. It is an already existing place such as a

church or school or old factory where refugees find their way to or

are put. There are 136 Kosovars at Schenkoll. All of them are

from neighboring villages in Kosova (the Albanian spelling of

Kosovo). It is run by an Italian priest, Fr. Luigi, be he was gone at

the moment, so we spoke with Fr. Willy instead, a Phillipino priest.

I stopped by here on our way further North to straighten out a

situation where our social worker was nor allowed to enter the

center yesterday. We all talked for a while, and then I left a note

for our social worker who would be arriving shortly in another

vehicle. Schenkoll is based in a Catholic church/school comlex out

in the middle of agricultural fields. The entrance is gaurded by some

refugees who ask who you are and then run into the building to get

permission from the good father to let us in. The centers in most

easily accessible parts of Albania are frequently being visited by

humanitartian organizations ( called NGO's, i.e. non‑governmental

organizations) offering their services. So the managers of these

centers need to keep track of which services they need or do not

need and keep those folks out who are not needed, or it can turn

into a big mess. And there seems to be quite a lot of competition

among the NGO's to provide services in as many centers as their

staffing allows.

On to Shkoder. This city is at the end of a long valley with lovely

mountains on both sides of the road. That's the loveliest fact about

this city. The architecture is early communist, with identical 4 story

apartment houses in varying degrees of disintegration. Here we

went to the office of Caritas Northern Albania to speak with the

Director, Fr. Mario, another Italian priest, who's permission we

need to enter any of the Caritas‑run camps in this area. He was

very rushed, so didn't give us very much of his time, but directed us

to tour some of the Kosovar families which the good sisters are

caring for. It took us two tries at various convents to locate the

sister he called to arrange for our visit. This sister was small and

bursting with enthusiasm for us to see their work with these people.

She only spoke Italian, but luckily, so did two of our Albanian

social workers. She especially wanted me, the lone American, to

personally meet each of the family members in each of the homes.

She practically took me by my hand and led me from home to

home. She pointed to one small room with two double beds in it

pushed together and said that 7 people slept there... the whole

family. All of them seemed very happy to meet an American, and a

few of them who spoke some English, thanked me for saving their

country from the Serbs. I, of course, took all the credit. It did feel

good to experience their obvious appreciation. Another small room

had three single beds in it with 3 teenage girls who had been

sleeping (in the middle of the afternoon). They looked very sluggish

and perhaps depressed. Sister would have kept introducing us to

families, but we told her we needed to move on. She then asked us

if we wanted something to drink. I was extremely thirsty so we

accepted her offer. Another sister, Sister Simonetta, brought us all

a glass of cold tea and some sweet biscuit cookies. We talked with

her about what services are needed for these families. She seemed

eager amd pleased when we offered our social workers to work

with these families.

After exchanging contact information, we were off to the prefects

office. Albania has prefectures which are equivalent to our

counties. It was in the local government building from the

communist days. The reception area was a large totally unfurnished

room except for a small desk and a couple chairs. The receptionist

did her best to turn us away so she wouldn't have to do anything,

but we were persistent, and one of our staff had worked in this

building recently, so she agreed to give us the phone number we

could call in the morning to set up an appointment. We were

headed down the stairs when she called to us saying that the

Secretary General had just walked in and could see us now. His

office was a bit better furnished but still extremely sparse. He sat

across a narrow table from us and in a monotonous voice, recited

from memory, the rules for working with refugees, as if he had

recited this a million times before, without any expression and no

eye contact. He then lightened up a bit and said we were the first

NGO to come to ask his permission to offer social services to the

refugees. He seemed slightly pleased. He lit up a cigarette and

offered everyone else one as well. Smoke‑free workplaces seem

so, so far away right now. I asked for a written statement from him

so he signed the form letter he was referring to. We all shook his

hand and said 'goodbye' in Albanian...mirapafshim. I exaggerated

it when I said it to him and he laughed, because that's what I said to

him mistakenly when I entered the office instead of the typical

'hello', menenderit. An Albanian social worker quickly corrected

me and chuckled. But I got it right this time.

Four of us then went to lunch as it was already 2:30. I was hungry

but dared not eat anything but toast and Glina (mineral water with

gas). I wrote up a four page plan to give to Fr. Mario at our 4:00

meeting with him, while they ate. Fr. Mario was much calmer and

more receptive to our offers of service and gave us permission to

enter all of his Caritas sites, and requested that the social workers

also wear Caritas identification badges in addition to our own. He

introduced us to the secretary, and all of a sudden, we're family!

It was after 5:00, so we called it a day after making plans for the

next day in Shkoder. I came straight back to the hotel looking

forward to doing nothing... and ended up writing this!