Sweet Home Albania

It is serious Spring here in Thane. I am sitting on the balcony of the “shtepia”, the home of my host family. There is a “shume e bukur” (very beautiful) view across the valley. The snow is mostly gone from the surrounding mountains. The fruit trees, apples, cherries, pears, peaches, and more, are in bloom. People walk their cows on rope leads to graze along the roadside (mowers here give milk). Chickens and turkeys peck through the yards and gardens. Sheep graze in the far meadows under the eye of older people in black suits and caps or black dresses and white kerchiefs. Donkey carts haul loads back from the fields. There is not too much traffic on the national road that runs through town. Very bucolic.

On Saturday morning the Peace Corps organized a local cultural day at a local (bar) in Thane. Even though I walk by it every day, I was not aware it was a local, because it has no sign and I have never seen any group of people there. I guess if you cater to a small enough clientele, there is no need to waste money on signage. The 6 volunteer trainees living in Thane made a large batch of brownies (it took us a week to scrounge the ingredients in Elbasan) and Thane families brought some traditional food to sample. They also brought some of their crafts, mainly intricate lace work and knitting. Albanian music was played at full volume on an intermittently functioning stereo. Most of the attendees danced the traditional circle dance (something Albanians like to do almost as much as feed people and have coffee). The Peace Corps representative made a speech and passed out certificates of appreciation. Hands were shaken, pictures taken. It was nice.

I am making flash cards to work on my vocabulary. I am frustrated by my lack of memory and I hope this exercise will help. Also, the older teenager in my home wants me to help him with his English, so I thought we could both use the cards, working together on vocabulary and pronunciation.

I found out on Friday that I am assigned to work in the Public Health Directorate of Korca for my two year Peace Corps service. Korca is a city of about 80,000 in a high mountain valley in southern Albania, near the Greek border. It is reputed to be among the most beautiful in Albania and most of the volunteers who serve there like it quite a bit. Since I am not paid, I get quite a bit of flexibility in what I actually do for my service (those of you familiar with my past, paid work may comment that is not much of a change). I am hoping to get to do some work among some of the mining towns which surround Korca and maybe teach a class on statistical analysis or physiology for health students at the local university. I also expect to be asked to teach some English at the secondary or college level (almost all volunteers are asked to do this in Albania). I think I might try to do this through an aviation interest club. It will be interesting to see how this develops since there is no general aviation in Albania and the only airport I know of is the main one near the capital. Maybe, if I can get the materials, we can try building a model glider.

On Sunday, I attended Easter service at the Orthodox church in Elbasan. Easter is the big holiday in the Orthodox church, as compared to Christmas for other sects. I asked the priest I had met a week ago if it was ok to attend and he welcomed me warmly. He gave me a red dyed Easter egg, a tradition, and wished me a “gazuar pashke”. While recorded liturgical music played softly in the background, I sat in a church established almost a thousand years before Christopher Columbus set foot in America (for accuracy, buildings have been destroyed by earthquake and fire. This "new' sanctuary has not yet had its sesquicentennial). People came and went. They lit candles and venerated the icons. Some coins were put in baskets next to the icons. They would sit for awhile. Some would knock on the door in the iconostasis (the panel of icons in front of the chancel) and the priest would come out and administer the Eucharist. One young man came over and gave me another egg.

I thought about the three parts of religion: the message, the example and the promise. For Christianity, it is the message of the messiah (common stems there), the example of an ethical life of charity, service and forgiveness, and the promise of life and eternal reward after death. Other religions may be different, but have the same components. I have often thought that health care was science and apart from religion. Religion is based on the miracle of faith whereas science is based on doubt and methodical inquiry. I have to admit, however, that in my experience, healthcare has much more of the three components of religion than it should as a science and that doubt and inquiry are often dismissed as heresy. Maybe that is why hospitals often are built in the grand style of a cathedral. I wonder how they will be regarded and function in a millennium or two.

Among the Volunteers

Today was the second day in a row and the fourth time in the past five days I have been in Elbasan. Today was “Simulation Station” test with the program staff and “Meet and Greet” with current Peace Corps volunteers.

The “Simulation Station” exercise was actually fun. It was a warm, clear spring day and we walked around the center of town in small groups, each accompanied by one of the teaching staff. We visited a high school, open market, Orthodox Church, a local (coffee bar), then two stations at the Peace Corps office. We had to talk with people at each station and get answers to certain practical questions, all in Albanian, like a verbal scavenger hunt. Our staff escort rated our performance. The high school had a class of seniors who answered our questions about the school but asked as many questions of us. Who were we, where were we from, what were we doing in Albania? “The Peace Corps is a humanitarian, apolitical, American organization that assists foreign countries” is the approved response, in Shqip, of course. The church was the historic church in the center of the castle of Elbasan. It was built under the Byzantines about 15 centuries ago. One of the priests met us there in the beautiful, ancient sanctuary and in front of the incredible iconography, patiently answered our questions. In the market, we had to plan a dinner menu and see if we could buy the ingredients within a set budget of 2000 lek (the Albanian currency, about 20 US dollars). The market people were very obliging of us on a busy market day even though we didn’t actually buy anything. In the local we met an Elbansani man who works for the Peace Corps. We asked and were asked about ourselves and our families. I hadn’t known he was engaged and planned to marry in September. Then we walked to the office where we had to discuss the layout of Elbasan with a staff member, and then, discuss the Peace Corps in general with another (founded in 1961 by President Kennedy, about 8000 volunteers throughout the world, about 70 in Albania, working in community development, health education, English education, etc.). Again, all of this was in Shqip. I think we all did pretty well considering we have been at this for less than a month.

In the afternoon, we met a group of current volunteers from around the country. We had a picnic in the park and played Frisbee and Whiffle-ball. Many of us bought a suvlaq from a nearby stand. This is an Albanian taco, served on flat bread that is sort of between pita bread and a tortilla. There is yogurt sauce, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, some sort of roasted meat (lamb, I think) and, get this Idaho, french fries, in the sandwich! They talked with us casually about their experiences and where they served. One was in his 70’s and is a retired computer systems engineer from Massachusetts who is working in Elbasan, teaching at the university. He is on his second Peace Corps tour, having served previously in Central Asia. Most were in their 20’s or 30’s. Some are finishing this year; others have a year to go. One had a small pet poodle, so I got a bit of contact with a nice dog (most dogs in Albania are used as guards and are not to be casually approached). I didn’t get the bus back to Thane until almost 6.

I am probably an old fogey and I don’t smoke or drink (I admit I quit smoking years ago just so I could give sanctimonious lectures about the harmful effects of tobacco), but I am a bit concerned by how many of the volunteers smoke cigarettes, drink a lot of beer or are overweight. Since France banned smoking in most locations, Albania may be the most welcoming country for the tobacco addict. People light up anywhere they choose here, restaurants, buses, stores, wherever and whenever. Cigarettes are only about a dollar a pack. Alcohol is also a problem here, and, like in the US is a major factor in accidents and assaults, although raki (the local white lightning made from plum or grape brandy) is preferred, and, again, it is inexpensive. Physical fitness is not something of importance to girls or people over the age of 60. These topics are covered by health educators in the schools and communities, but Peace Corps volunteers are supposed to be 24/7 role models. I wonder if such outings, however good for the morale of new volunteers, effects the image of our program.

Maybe I am being overly concerned. The Peace Corps is supposed to represent the diversity of America. There are black, Asian, Hispanic, homosexual, short, tall, etc. Why should Americans who are obese, smokers or drinkers not be represented? Statistically, overweight Americans are a more accurate representation. Smokers and heavy drinkers also make up a significant slice of the population.

However, since I am about the age of the parents of most of the volunteers, I worry about the health styles adopted by some of my Corps-mates. I am supposed to be a health educator and I figure if I can’t educate my cohorts about health, how can I expect to do anything with Albanians. So after a month training in organizing community based health promotion, I decided to approach my Peace Corps “community” as a project. I have talked with some of the others and have started a “Self Help Forum”. Since we don’t have reliable internet access we are doing this by passing around files on flash drives that we all have. It is set up to pass around tips in four areas, “Comfort, Fitness, Health and Morale”. The discussion includes ways to keep poorly insulated homes warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer, exercise regimens used by some of the volunteers, health problems we have had and how we dealt with them, and ideas for staying in contact and supporting our peers. We have lots of expertise among us; engineers, educators, architects, psychologists, ecologists, social workers, physical therapists, nurses, and, even one doctor. I don’t know if it will do any good, but then, with the Peace Corps one never knows in advance the answer to that question. Service is the effort, not the outcome.

Vlora

Here is a picture of me and my Peace Corps-mates cutting a clearing in the jungle with machetes to build a clinic to care for refugees from the insurgent conflict. Well, maybe not. Not every soldier fights in the trenches.

Vlora is a city of between 200,000-300,000. Set on the south shore of Albania, where the Adriatic meets the Ionian Sea, it is a beautiful and historic location. It has been inhabited for more than 4000 years. A strategic location and an excellent harbor, it has changed hands many times, but it is also the place where Albanian independence was declared in 1912, by Ismail Qemali, although Italy then occupied it two years later.

Italy now appears to economically occupy much of Vlora, with a fair number of Italians having second homes there. People on the street would often talk to us in Italian, assuming that if we were foreign, that must be our language. The coast is chock-a-block with high rises of Albanian block and plaster style, most in mid-construction. All that building activity creates a fair amount of dust, but that doesn’t change the natural beauty of the location. Many Albanians have second homes there as well. I stayed with a volunteer who rents a flat in a high rise that is still under construction. It feels like he is squatting as most of the apartments around him that are habitable and perhaps sold are empty in the off season.

My pre-service training group was sent out around Albania the past few days to visit current volunteers at their service sites and get a feeling for what they do and how they live. It was a very useful exercise, although I have to confess that getting sent to Vlora was like winning a vacation by the sea. The weather was sunny, the sea tranquil, and the city was very pleasant without the crush of the summer people.

I went with a nice young couple from Philadelphia to visit the 4 volunteers assigned to the Vlora area. We took buses down and furgons back, changing at Qema, along the coast highway after driving along the Shimbrin River valley from Elbasan. It was about 4 ½ hours each way, on roads that varied from good two lane pavement to rutted dirt, much of it winding through mountainous terrain, kind of like Idaho. Round trip was about $13 dollars, each.

I am very grateful that the Peace Corps has a policy which prohibits volunteers from operating motorized vehicles. Furgon drivers, especially, but most Albanian drivers have a style similar to a prolonged game of chicken. Speed is as fast as possible. Remember, there are trucks, buses, horse carts, bicycles, mopeds, pedestrians, etc. along most roads. Passing can take place at any time with trust and hope that the oncoming driver will give way and pedestrians, carts and cycles get off to the side in time. I cannot imagine how people travel at night and live to tell the tale. We had an assignment to answer a series of questions about our trip. One was about outward signs of religion in the area. There are three mosques and two churches in Vlora, but, based on my experience, most praying occurs on the roads.

I got to follow my volunteer through a day where he went to his office at the Directorate of Health and also watch a class he taught at the university with another volunteer on American Studies. I got to talk with his Albanian counterpart at the Directorate. We talked about educational efforts in areas of drugs, alcohol, sexually transmitted diseases, dental care, breast cancer, diabetes, etc. The only unusual area of concern was thalassemia, a genetic blood disorder seen in some parts of the Mediterranean, apparently including Albania. They have very few resources. Some handouts are donated by various world charity organizations and some are produced locally and photocopied. This conversation occurred in Shqip, so I missed a lot of the nuances. The counterpart really likes Vlora. Apparently it is a plum assignment late in her career. I was also supposed to meet the director of the region, who speaks English very well, but she was away in Tirana, the capital, something I was told was fairly common. I had been looking forward to talking with her.

The class has 160 students registered for it. About half showed up, which I was told was normal. They were noisy, often talking during the class, and cell phones rang frequently. Smaller groups, afterwards, in seminars of about 25 students were more attentive. I was told they rarely read assignments or turn in home work. Classrooms are crowded with students tightly packed on broken benches with scratched-up blackboards in front without other visual aids. I don’t know how they could be accommodated, if everyone showed up. There is also a new building on the campus with new equipment, but our class was in the old building. The usual style of Albanian education is for the teacher to read from a text and the students to take notes. I was told that some teachers supplement their meager incomes by selling grades.

The volunteers’ style, of course, was quite different. They tried to engage the class, and it was clear they succeeded with some. At the seminar, they played a recording of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech which they had downloaded to one of their laptops. I was asked to say a few words about it since I was a teen at the time and remember it well. I was relieved that the students at the seminar have a good command of English and I did not have to make my comments in Shqip.

I talked about how prejudice is something that we all have that we regard as normal at the time. It is only later that most of us see it as wrong, as mores change. It often takes a leader, an orator, like Dr. King to facilitate that change. Albanians, like many economic migrants, face a lot of prejudice. I hope that the students could relate to the speech.

That night we went to the apartment of another counterpart. Being Albanian, after meeting us briefly the previous afternoon as we walked along the esplanade, they insisted the whole group come for a home cooked seafood dinner. They grilled fresh caught fish from the Adriatic on a hibatchi on their balcony and served it with salad, fruit and bread. We brought the wine. After dinner, over tea and cookies, we played a card game, called “Mafia”. This was taught to us by the volunteers, not by our hosts, by the way, if prejudicial stereotyping led you to another conclusion. The sunset lit up the mountains surrounding the Bay of Vlora.

Shqip

Besides being a great Scrabble word (if it were legal), Shqip is the name for the Albanian language in Albanian. It is pronounced, roughly, “ship”. The quote on the cover of the Peace Corps language manual says “it is not difficult to learn…after a few months of diligent study”. I am not sure I agree with this as Shqip giveth and Shqip taketh away.

In Elbasan, there is a statue of Kostandin Kristoforidhi and he is buried in the churchyard within the castle in the center of the city. He was a 19th century scholar whose work was preeminent in the standardization of the Albanian language. Much of this had to be done in secret since it was banned during the centuries of Ottoman rule. I sometimes think I should lay flowers at his tomb because he selected the Roman alphabet rather than the Greek or Russian (other candidates), so it at least looks familiar to an American. Even so, there are 36 letters in it, with 9 combination letters, an extra “c” with a squiggle underneath it and extra “e” with 2 dots over it (like a German umlaut) that make it especially confusing to look up words in Albanian in the dictionary. Many letters are pronounced pretty close to their English equivalent, which helps, but many are different, which confounds. Verbs are pretty straight forward, but nouns have 5 cases with different endings and with two kinds of adjectives which have to agree with case and gender of the nouns they follow.

No one in my host family speaks English, but I speak Spanish pretty well and a niece of my hosts speaks Spanish. I think she learned it mostly from watching a popular tele-novela (a Spanish language soap opera, heavy on the sex and violence) which is produced in Los Angeles and has sub-titles in Albanian. Some in the family also speak a little Italian from working there in the past. Since Italian has a lot of cognates with Spanish, I find my ability in Spanish is very helpful.

I also watch as much of this show as I can stomach and try to improve my Shqip from the sub-titles. Last episode, the main character had a fight with her husband over another woman, left in a fit, was car-jacked at gun point by a Mexican mafia moll in an incredibly skimpy halter top, drove off a cliff, resulting in a fire and explosion, was blown clear of the car, but suffered total body burns. Luckily, a plastic surgeon, who does controversial research in burn treatment using cloning techniques, happened to be driving in the other direction and saw the crash. He and his passenger, another doctor, put her in the back of their car and did emergency surgery at the clandestine OR he has at his home. Meanwhile the police have assumed that the car-jacker was the main character, burned beyond recognition and have declared her dead. The doctor has decided to keep her survival a secret while she recuperates, the girl friend is taking advantage of the situation to make the move on the guilt stricken husband and the wealthy father of the main character suffered a heart attack at the news of the accident. This synopsis has left out important details of various sub-plots, but gives one an idea of a typical day in LA. I am sure I am gaining lots of useful vocabulary from watching this show.

The language classes in the Peace Corps are really terrific and my growing ability has been a great supplement to my limited talent for charades. I do find I am using the phrases “nuk a di” and “nuk kuptoj” (I don’t know and I don’t understand) a bit less. The two language teachers working with my small group in Thane are young, Albanian natives, both born in Elbasan. One has a degree in English and worked for UNICEF taking care of Kosovo refugees before coming to work for the Peace Corps. The other has a degree in teaching Albanian and lives with her husband in Italy where they have a pizzeria. She likes working for the Peace Corps and has returned the past couple of years to help with the 3 month pre-service training program for incoming volunteers. They are both great and their teaching styles complementary. I find my only excuses are my age and my failing memory, eyesight and hearing. I probably need to be more diligent.

Separation and Loss

The gjyshe (grandmother) who lives with my host family went to Tirana last week for thyroid surgery. She has diabetes, hypertension, leg edema and a thyroid problem of some sort. Both parents went along and were gone for a few days. It was just the 3 guys in the house and we fared ok with some help from several female extended family members that live nearby.

I don’t think Albanians like to be alone, at least not this family.
Since so many work abroad, it must be especially difficult. My family has relatives working in Italy and Greece, the most common destinations. There is always a big party when they visit, which they can do freely as there are guest worker programs in most European countries. Most seem to be anxious to return home and use their savings to finance marriage and build a house near their families.

The father in my family is fortunate to have work in Albania, but lately he is working in a town that is commute and he cannot get back home until 10 pm. They feed me earlier, by myself, so I can get enough sleep for my delicate American constitution. The mother apologized profusely that I was eating alone, as the whole family, including the teens, wait for Dad to return for dinner.

Grandma is recuperating in the parent’s downstairs bedroom. They have moved the TV and two couches in there. I think the parents are sleeping on the couches. They bought a gas space heater which I think set them back a bit since the meals lately have been heavy on the starches and fruit and salad have disappeared. I plan to buy some fruit to contribute to the larder the next time I have a chance to visit the market in Elbasan. The mini-mart in Thane doesn’t have much of a selection. I hope the space heater is approved for indoor use.

Since her return, the visitors have been numerous. They are all dressed up and sit for hours. They are served Turkish coffee, cookies and candies as is the custom. One can hardly say hello to someone in Albania without being asked to sit down and offered coffee and something to eat. I assume this is a further strain on the family finances.

I visit as well and sit for a while. That seems to be appreciated. I am not sure if it is appropriate for me to read while I visit, so I just sit quietly. Grandma mostly sleeps and can’t talk very well because of her surgery. My Albanian doesn’t yet provide me much ability for small talk. Visitors don’t seem to talk much, anyway. Yesterday, while I sat, the TV was showing a program on Nelson Mandela. He was being interviewed by dissidents from around the world who asked him for advice from his experience. He told one man from Burma, that the hardest thing about his years in prison was being separated from his family. He missed most the celebrations and missed funerals where he should have been present. The Burmese dissident also said that he longed to return home for his father’s funeral, but would risk certain imprisonment and probable torture. The camera showed him looking longingly at the bridge that led into Burma from his exile in Thailand.

Last night at 4 AM, I had my first phone call from the US. It was not good news. My 15 year old golden retriever, Casey, had blood in his abdomen from a splenic tumor which, according to the vet, was very likely cancer. I knew he had an abdominal mass, but didn’t expect him to succumb so soon. He had to be put down. I know my good friends, Kathy and Doug who took care of him after I left gave him a loving home and the last month of his life was happily spent playing with their Australian shepherd and digging in the field where Doug is building their new home in Emmett, Idaho. Casey would have liked living there, because they keep horses and there is nothing Casey enjoyed more than eating or rolling in manure. A true golden retriever. We will spread his ashes on the pasture at my home in McCall.

Casey was my good buddy and enthusiastic companion on so many outings. He jumped eagerly into the Cessna and slept next to my sleeping bag in the tent, warming me in the cold Idaho nights. He would lie on the bank while I would wade in the trout streams, or swim between by casts when I fished in a mountain lake. He had slowed a lot the past year and could no longer follow my tracks in the snow when I did Nordic skiing and the distance he could walk without tiring had substantially decreased. Even so, his appetite was good and his disposition was always as golden as his coat. Not being there for his end was a big thing for me to give up for Peace Corps service.

I realize that a dog is not a father and that choosing volunteer service is nothing like imprisonment, yet being in the third world, in a country where I do not speak the language or understand the culture very well is isolating, no matter how hard I study or how nice my host family. It is good that during the pre-service training period we are in small groups and being with a “class”- Peace Corps, Albania, Group 12- helps a lot. I hope I get a lot more skillful with my language and culture before I get posted, by myself, to my 2 year service site.

Nevertheless, I do get homesick, even at my age and even though I am pretty independent by nature. As I said before, I am blessed by the fact that, back home, I have many great friends and live in Idaho- people and a place that I love. Being away makes me appreciate them all the more. I think that is a sentiment I share with most Albanians.