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When his mother was pregnant with him, an old traveling dervish from Kosovo had passed through the village, and knowing his head was being sought in a blood feud, he asked for a plot on the family land to be buried in.
Some wasn’t foretold as Haki’s had been, or if male heirs were still alive, there were other reasons why a girl in Albania might want to become a boy, or a woman a man.Albania is located sixty miles across the Adriatic Sea from Italy.It borders Montenegro and Kosovo to the north, Macedonia to the east, and Greece to the south. They speak Albanian, an Indo-European language with traces of Greek and Latin—and the lek is their monetary denomination, which trades at one hundred to one on the dollar.In response to the first gay-pride parade held in Tirana this past spring, Ekrem Spahiu, the deputy minister of defense, was quoted as saying of the celebrants: "What remains to be done is to beat them up with a stick.If you don’t understand this, I can explain it: to beat them with a rubber stick."This, of course, is the sort of machismo that can be sulfurous, and Albania is one of the most macho places I’ve been, rubber stick aside. And in part because of this centuries-old defensive crouch—this constant game of hair-trigger chicken—the northern part of the country is notorious for a plethora of blood feuds.You will stand throughout your wedding, eyes downcast as the humble, heeled animal you’ve just become, and soon you will live with your husband’s family, wherever they may live, in virtual enslavement, taking all of your orders from them. You will make no decision, even when it comes to the children to whom you give birth. From sunup to sundown, your life will be full of hard labor.
According to the Kanun: "A woman is known as a sack made to endure as long as she lives in her husband’s house."Haki sat on a bench beneath a peach tree in his light-filled garden, inhaling cigarette after cigarette in its holder, squinting behind clouds of smoke.
Albanians today adore Frank Sinatra songs, midcentury San Francisco (though not the Sodom they say it’s become), and George W. (They love our former presidents because, as one Albanian told me, they have "big, man-sized balls," and with NATO, they sent the jets that decimated the Serbians during the Balkan conflict.)There are other important facts: Albanians shake their head "no" when they mean "yes," and "yes" for "no," which can really confuse a visitor, especially when drunk or engaged in heated debate.
They tap their heart to show ultimate respect for you, but when driving, they will attempt to crush you.
Today possibly only a few dozen posed and gazed dreamily, disappeared behind clouds of cigarette smoke or sat erect in a chair, surrounded by family, smiling beneficently. And it occurred to me that perhaps I was looking upon the rarest thing of all, complete actualization. He wore a leather jacket, slacks hiked high, and a plaid shirt.
He possessed a gray mop of hair, and his eyes resembled those of Charles Bronson.
The country is riddled with pocked, at times impassable roads, so that one seems to bounce up and down as much as go forward here—which makes the daily Grand Prix all the more stomach-churning.