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hilfreiche Erzählungen für kosov@-albanische Kriegs-Flüchtlinge -
von / by Shqipe Malushi
helpfull tales for kosov@-albanian war-refugees -
in albanisch
in english
Chronicle of the Dead
THE RED GRAVEYARD
POPULLI  I  HARRUAR
The Forgotten People
Chronicle of the Dead
                 by
       Shqipe Malushi
 A very young girl Yeta (Life) played in her grandmother's garden with her dog. The dog was lame and blinded in one eye so she had put a black patch over it to prevent it from the cold.
 Yeta was an orphan raised by her grandparents. Her father was dead and her mother had left her for a husband who didn't like children. Yeta's grandparents kept her trying to give her the best they could until she grew up. But they didn't have much to give her except a beautiful garden with flowers, a grapevine , a dog and many stories that they invented to keep her busy. They were old and knew that perhaps Yeta will be left all alone when they will pass away, so they tried to teach their grandchild about life and gardening. "remember," the said, "land is everything, all comes and goes from it."
 "You mean we go inside the land," Yeta asked.
 "Yes," grandma answered, "garden is a womb were we sleep."
 Yeta was content with her dog closest to her, and her garden. She had no friends at all , for there were no children living in that street. That was the street of the old people. When Yeta went to play outside on the street she saw all the old people sitting in front of their doors, just sitting and telling stories to each other.
 "Why do you always sit?" she would ask them.
 "We are waiting." they'd answer.
 "Waiting for what?" Yeta would ask.
 "For you to grow up." They'd answer.
 Then she would go from one to another, listening to their stories. They hugged her and gave her gifts from rocks to little baskets to flowers to patched dolls, to food etc. She gave them back her glittering hope about future.
 "When I'll grow up," she would tell them, "I will go far far away And I will find a golden land where no one gets old nor sick ever. Then I will build all new houses and I will come back and take you there. I will shine like a star and will always take care of you , we will live there forever."
 Old people laughed at Yeta's dreams they patted her cheeks, teased her dog who ran after her constantly. They tried to hold on her dream about the golden land, by letting her tell it to them every day.
 "Don't ever leave us," they said to her, " that golden land is right here among us. We don't want you to go."
 " But I'll be back," she said. "I'll be back to get you."
 "You may not find us again if you go?" they said talking as though it was going to happen the next day. Yeta took her dream of finding a place where she could keep hear dear people forever, very seriously. This came to her because her grandparents always talked of going somewhere, saying "when we'll be gone, you must remember this, and that..." She then began wondering where will they go and why. They were so happy together in their garden. She first had to grow up and find her father and mother who also had gone somewhere, before she finds a dream place so they didn't have to go anywhere from there.
 When she played with her dog, she would tell him how the two of them when they grow up will be so happy. "I will heal your leg, and we will find your lost eye and you' be strong again, no one will ever touch us they will be so scared of you. " The dog listened carefully too. "Then, " She continued, "
will you protect me?" and the dog barked once or twice as though it understood the question, "Then, " she went on, "I'll find my mother and father, and they'll come in our garden and live there forever."
 The dog couldn't tell her that her mother and father would not be back. They couldn't be found, how could one tell this to a little girl who wanted to give all her life to find her parents and to keep her old people alive. She just didn't understand that they were gone, "But where could they have gone?" she often asked the dog. Little did she know about the ways of people.
 As she grew up in her garden guarded by the stone walls, she noticed day by day that her old people were vanishing, not all at once but one by one. She asked others who were still there about more and more empty chairs in her street. "Where is everyone?" she said, " I want to tell my story." But most times she met their silence.
 After so many days of asking this question, one day an old man said to her: "They have found your golden land before you, So they went there to surprise you when you get there."
 She was confused how could anyone get in her golden land before her, that was to be her gift to them, and now they took away her dream. She just couldn't understand.
 As days passed and many of her old people left for the golden land to wait for her, the street became emptier and emptier and the houses quieter.
 "Grandma," She asked one day, " When will we go too?" Grandma looked at Yeta with deep longing, "We'll go soon, " she said, "But you, you have to wait for a wile until your dog is healed." This answer satisfied Yeta, she could wait until her dog healed and then they will go together.
 One day when all her old people were gone and her street was empty Yeta saw strange people who spoke a different language from her move to the old people's houses. They wore black masks and heavy leather jackets. They were big people, drinking from big bottles and talking loud. They too didn't have any children. She shuddered not knowing why. Then she held her dog close to her and went inside her house. "We shouldn't go out anymore," She said to her dog, " our people are safe now you know where?" The new people were dog hunters, and they made their jackets from dog skins.
 One day her dog went outside in the street without Yeta and new people caught him and killed him right away. When Yeta woke up she looked for her dog everywhere but couldn't find him. She searched and searched but no help. Her grandparents told her that they would get her a new dog, "perhaps he went where the old people went to the gold land to wait for you," they said. But Yeta's heart was broken. How could her only friend live her without taking her with him, why did everyone leave her without telling her, she just didn't understand.
 That night Yeta had a strange dream:
 Her street had grown ten times bigger than it was and all stone walls and houses grew narrower and narrower in a spiral form. It as all empty. She walked through the narrow streets calling her people, but she was not herself she had turned into her dog. Only she knew it was her because she felt and thought the same as she did.
 As she ran through the spiral street she found nobody, then she saw a narrow wooden room with just one bed in it. The door was open so she entered.
 But as soon as she entered a large knife bigger than her stabbed her and she felt down. She saw a man in leather jacket from her street. He killed her then skinned her skin and hanged it on the door to dry, leaving blood all over the floor.
 But she was alive, she laid on the bed and rested. It felt cool and pleasant to be out of the skin, her eyes half closed, her body, although she couldn't see it, just felt it, was all relaxed, she knew she will be in this room for a while. She closed her eyes and dreamt:
 In her grandmother's garden daisies had blossomed. Her little dog was there waiting besides Grandparents who sipped their tea in silence. Suddenly the door opened and all her old people came in, they were back holding the same gifts for her from the golden land, little glass bells all the same size. They placed glass bells in front of the dog, "save them for her." they said and sat down waiting in silence for her. Then the daisies started growing bigger and bigger covering all the garden together with everybody in it. She heard a voice say to her, " First find yourself, then them."
 "I'll find them," she answered. Then the glass bells rang for a long time while everything disappeared, the first and the second dream. She opened her eyes and besides her were her grandparents. "My dog, where is my dog?" She asked in agony.
 "He is gone," grandma said.
 "Can we go too?" She asked never hearing grandma's whisper.
 Her fever was raising higher, her eyes remained closed while she wept in her sleep.
 Again she was going somewhere this time she was herself walking through the dark rooms. She passed from a room to a room leaving all the doors opened behind her. She was looking to find her dog. Suddenly after who knows how many rooms, she came before the last room. This one was light as though the sun was shinning inside. She opened the door but didn't enter, just looked inside.
 The room was large and all made of glass. The light was too strong. In one side of the room she saw all the new people with black masks, from her street, chained to one another with heavy chains. They were dead. On the other side of the room stood all her old people alive and well, free of chains. She wanted to scream from happiness that she had found them but no sound came from her. The room was divided with a thin hair and an empty throne stood between the living and the dead.
 They all waited in silence for someone to come. "Maybe this is my golden land?" she thought to herself.
 Suddenly the silence was broken by someone's walk. She saw her dog who had grown ten times larger than he was, even larger than people, walking slowly toward the throne. His patch was still across his eye, he hadn't found his eye yet. His leg was still lame. "He must be waiting for me," Yeta thought.
 He sat down on the throne while no one dared to say anything.
 After the dog was seated, coughed a few times, looked around the divided room and began to talk with Yeta's voice.
 "You will forgive me that I cannot see well, but I am here to hear your story and tell you about your journey where you will find your real selves, in a golden land." The dog said. "Now line up and I will call you by numbers in order to keep an orderly chronicle."
 Then he first called the chained people. "Come you will be first." he said, but they couldn't move from their heavy chains.
 "What did you do with your lives," the dog asked them while waiting.
 "We tried." one of them spoke. "We wanted to find a place were we could be accepted."
 "And were was that?" The dog asked.
 " We never found it." the man again answered.
 "Why?" the dog said.
 "We tried, but everything we did it became killing. So we learned how to kill."
 "Is that how you died too?" The dog asked again.
 " From the dog bite " they said " We killed them not knowing that dogs can't die. They came back one day and chained us and ate us. We died that way."
 "Have you killed people too?" the dog asked.
 " Oh! Yes, yes, they were next after the dogs," they answered.
 "How come you are so honest with yourselves now? " the dog asked.
 " Our chains are to heavy," the man said.
 Outside of the Door, Yeta watched her dog and these people, she just didn't understand anything yet.
 "You will walk over this thin hair," said her dog, " carrying your chains. You will try to pick up one of the two things that are hanging on the hair, patience, or deception. Then which ever you pick up will show you the path of your journey."
 Chained dead people tried to move and climb the thin hair that divided the room while everyone watched them wondering if the same thing was waiting for them.
 "give us another chance?" they cried " We will try this time better,"
 But the dog waited there patiently. "You can't go back." he said.
 Finally they were all walking over the thin hair toward patience and the deception that looked the same. They pushed each other to grab what they thought was patience, but not being able to patiently look at the both they grabbed deception.
 Suddenly the dog laughed and laughed the hair disappeared from the room, the people started falling down as though they were falling on the floor, but there was no floor everything became a huge fire and one by one they all felt inside it. Only the chains remained hanging empty. They couldn't burn.
 "Is this a dream?" Yeta thought to herself while watching, "Where is this?"
 Then the room became the same light room that it was before, the old people were there still waiting. When some other door from behind opened and a man and a red head woman walked silently before the dog.
 The dog stood up. "You don't belong here!" he said to the woman "Who brought you here!" But she said nothing.
 "It is not her," the man spoke. "This is her illusion I am carrying with me."
 The dog sat down on his throne.
 "I left her home to take care of our child," he said, " But she was gone from there, and I won't let go from here, before my child learns to see the truth."
 Yeta trembled she felt this was her father holding her mother.
 "What did you do with your life?" The dog asked.
 "I gave life and died." he said.
 "How did you die?" the dog asked.
 "Dreaming for freedom." the man answered.
 "Dreams," the dog sigh, "Will never let you out of dreamland. You may remain there. It's better for you. Still so young." The man wanted to walk back from where he had come, but the dog spoke again, " without her" pointing to the woman's illusion.
 Suddenly a bang was heard from some other door, "Let me in, let me in, I have lost myself, let me."
 But the dog didn't let the door open. "Let me in I need myself, give me back my self" she cried.But there was no help.
 "Mother, Mother," Yeta screamed exhilarated looking to find the way from where the voice came, but as she turned all the opened doors closed behind her. And her voice was still silent.
 She looked inside the room again. All her old people had taken their turn to be judged by the dog. She felt some kind of panic in her stomach, as though she was going to lose them again.
 Then she heard her dog say, "welcome dear people to your long waited home."
 They all smiled and held each other.
 "What have you done with your lives?" The dog asked them too.
 "We held one little girl's dream." one of them spoke.
 "How?" the dog asked.
 " We never told her about death." the man spoke again.
 "What death?" The dog asked, "There is no Death."
 "Right, " the man corrected himself, "We actually never told her about life."
 "What life?" The dog continued.
 "Right ," The old man corrected himself again , " We never told her anything about the killings and the slaughter and the exodus, because we didn't know how. It all seemed to be our deception"
 " Right," Said the dog, "this time you understood. But tell me your stories now and I will hold your deception for a bit longer, before you all will vanish in your dream that doesn't exist."
 And then one by one they all lined up telling the same story all in different ways. They tried to prolong the story so they could stay longer there. As though they didn't want to leave.
This is what they told the dog:
 "There was a street in a little town where we lived for years. Our lives were not empty from waiting for days to pass. Then one day a little girl was born, whose father died in a dream, and mother left her for a husband who didn't like children. The child grew up and we gave her a dog to keep her company. The child came back to us telling us about the land that we didn't want to go. We let her believe that we would go. We didn't want to ruin her invention. So we stayed in her dream where we still are now, since we are here before you we know that such a land is only where we are. We ask you let us go back to her. We must keep our chronicle of her life in dream. This is our chronicle, of her dreams. " they said, "From birth to death we waited, and now from death to birth must we still wait?
 "You can't go back, " the dog said, " All the he doors leading to her are closed. I will remember your chronicle and will send you somewhere else until I'll think of something else."
 Then the walls of the room somehow disappeared, Yeta was caught
by surprise standing before her old people who spread their hands with owe to reach and hug her. Their faces were so happy, they cried. "Come to us our child, come to us we're still here"
 But just when she made a step toward them they were swallowed by a mouth that changed into what she saw was her grandparents' garden. The tall daisies she had seen before opened up, and the old people walked inside the garden, the flowers closed again. Then a soft music was heard inside the room without walls while the daises floated all the way up above her head vanishing. The music which she had never heard before made her sleepy, it felt as though warm drops of water were dropping over her body and the sounds rocked her gently.
 "Don't go, don't go from me." she cried to the dog, while he walked away too. "Don't go away, don't go."
 The dog stopped, "Let my go, my dear friend, let me go," he said. " I saved you in your loneliness, and please save me now, don't hold me back. Let me go. I must bring the chronicle of the dead to the ...." the dog stopped before finishing.
 "There are no dead, what dead?" She cried.
 " Then a huge glass bell felt upon her. She saw in distance from inside the bell, a golden land with a tree rising all the way to sky. Around it stayed her red head mother and father, and all her old people. Except for her and grandparents everyone was there. From the tree's body ran milk and all of them drank and washed in it. The leaves of the trees were made of butterflies in so many colors, which when they moved their wings created a soft wind that sounded like music. Her dog was running around the tree without patch on his eye, and his leg was also healed. They all seemed happy waiving to her from distance.
 "I want to go there, let me go there, don' leave me alone, don't don't..." she cried hitting the glass bell from where nothing else could be heard. As everything vanished far far away from her, she opened her eyes.
 She found herself being held by her grandmother who was rocking her gently. "Sh...Sh...Sh.." grandmother said to her, " We wont leave you alone ever, I promise..."
 Yeta then tried to sleep holding unto her grandmother arm, her fever was slowly vanishing.
 "Grandma," she said again in her sleepy voice, " Don't go anywhere until I wake up."
 "No," said grandma, "I won't go anywhere."
 How could she tell Yeta, who just didn't understand yet, that there was no where to go from there, yet they all were pushed to go.
 

Copyright 1999.
(Shqipe Malushi is an Albanian/American poet/writer living in New York.)
(212) 675-4380 ext. 351
E-mail: Malushi@Aol. Com;

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