A Story
In the coastal town of Saranda, the spring morning of March began with a gentle rocking of the waves, like a giant blue notebook with deep blue ruled lines. This town stretches along the Ionian coastline and is protected by the slopes of three hills to the north. The sun often slipped between
them so that the clouds and the wind would not penetrate its intimacy. The quickening of life in this town could be felt in the footsteps of those few people hurrying to their morning work. It seemed as if the white of the dawn melted into the gentle trembling of the watery threads and whispered, “Good morning.” By the coastline, right at Pllakat, stood an old house with doors and windows that creaked with age. There lived mother Tana, a woman in her fifties, with deep folds of wrinkles on her face, snow-white hair, and a slightly hunched body, who walked with slow steps. Hardships and poverty had left their mark within the deep lines of her face, making her look much older than she really was.
Her hands were always raw and rough from working at the mollusc factory in Çukë. Her husband had died years ago from an old chill, a consequence of his work as a fisherman. She lived with her twenty-year-old son, Dritan, energetic and hardworking, with straight black hair, where a tuft at the crown of his head would often stick straight up; mother Tana, smiling, would always smooth it down with water. Dritan, despairing over their poverty and his unstable work in construction, decided to try his luck across the sea. He wanted to tune his life to have a new house, a large family with children chirping around the yard, blending their noises with the ripples of the shore. He was turning these thoughts over in his mind when he approached his mother, who was sitting on the old divan knitting, lost in her memories. He took her hand, kissed it, and said,
“Mother, I’ve been thinking for a long time. Give me your blessing to take the road across the sea. I hope things go well for me, and when I return, we’ll throw a big wedding and I’ll fill the house with children.” Mother Tana grew pale; she knew there was no other way. With tears sliding down her cheeks like autumn leaves when the cold wind blows, heralding winter, she told him,
“May God protect you, my son, and may your path be bright...” A feeling of sorrow seized her chest and gripped her tight. She said nothing else to her son. She began to pack his bag, whispering prayers all the while. Darkness covered every earthly
corner. Dritan took his bag, hugged his mother, and felt the trembling of her tears, which she tried to hide by keeping her head down. The dove she had raised with such hardship was beating his wings against the brows of the darkness, seeking his fortune elsewhere. Hope is like the white clouds that wander the sky, sometimes in the misty
cotton and sometimes melting into the fate of a dreamed-of ray of light. It is woven with divine threads so that the thread of life does not snap from sorrow. In this world covered by poverty, Dritan was trying to cast off his torn garments, hoping for a new sky... across the sea... When the moment of parting came, his mother kissed him on the forehead and
said,
“You have my blessing, my son. My prayer will be with you until you arrive safely over there. Your mother will wait for you to return to me safe and sound. May the sea wind be your wings and your journey be light.”
Dritan hugged his mother, caressed the old threshold like a child, and set off. He cast his eyes toward the rocky slope. How many times had he tried to climb it as a boy, succeeding by scrambling up like a cat. Once,
he had slipped from the rock; as good luck would have it, he had only hurt his left leg, for he could have suffered much worse. His terrified mother had taken him in her arms and they had gone straight to the doctor. He would never forget her eyes that day, like two oil lamps weeping the pain of the whole world... His entire childhood was right there.
The little pebbles smoothed by the kisses of the waves, the trees along the road, the baritone noise of the sea... everything... but today this sky with its half-stars stirred an undefined feeling in him. He was heading down a road full of surprises, full of the unknown. He had to face a hidden fate. Perhaps something was speaking to him in
the language of the waves, which had ruined the collar of the surf and donned a darker colour than usual. He felt a nightmare squeezing him; he had never been afraid of the sea. He loved every current, every colour, every gentle or furious dance of it, yet today he had to walk through the horizon of this nightmare to
catch the dawn of his dream. With these thoughts, he reached the speedboat along with a wretched crowd of people. Among them were three women dressed heavily with hoods on their heads. The man steering the boat, a pot-bellied fellow named Dani, sat everyone down and muttered, “May it go well for us...” The boat set off... The rocking of the waves caused nausea in some, and they stretched their heads toward the saltwater to bring up that undesirable sour mixture of stomach fluids... When they had not even crossed half the sea route, a black cloud covered them. Even those few stars that twinkled their eyes over land and sea slipped into the basket of darkness. The sky turned into a monster of the dark. Fear was etched on everyone’s faces. The wind began with its howling voice, as if it wanted to ignite the sea’s anger. The storm began; the waves rose like high mountains and spawned white snakes of foam, whose little tongues stung with needles of salt. Meanwhile, pain buzzed through their bodies, especially in their backsides, when the boat slammed down with such force it felt as though it would break into pieces. The passengers’ breathing grew very difficult because the wet air was inhaled along with the saltwater. From one moment to the next, it seemed as if everything would be swallowed by the great, furious giant. The angels of death looked as though they were racing to raise up the biggest and fiercest wave... The lightning bolts cracked their red
whips. All the passengers, terrified, soaked, with the cold having seeped into their marrow, felt as if a bayonet of the storm were being driven into them with every crash of the waves. Their tears were lost in the howling of the storm.
“Oh God,” Dritan was thinking, “could this be the end...” His whole body had grown cold, his face had paled; he was still praying and hoping. “If only land were near. Dear land, no one until that moment knew its value. My land,” he fell silent, “your night voices cannot be heard, your wonderful patterns
covered by the shadows of darkness cannot be seen. Instead of the moon’s veil, we have the claws of the waves, seeking to swallow us. Oh God, please, do not make us food for the fishes. Give us the chance to have a grave when our time comes,” prayed
Dritan. “Mother, do not cry if I am lost to the sea...” he continued under his breath. No one was listening. Only sighs and the occasional... oh... “Has the end come... A massive wave is approaching rapidly... Mother, I am sorry I am leaving you alone...” Dritan felt.
..
Mother Tana woke up, startled by the crack of a lightning bolt. She was by the window, keeping watch over the sea. She had suddenly fallen asleep there on the old divan, her eyes facing the sea.
“Oh no,” she muttered in terror, opening the door and heading straight for the foaming shore.
“Oh God,” she cried out, “take my life—protect my son and his friends.” She raised her hand like Christ, and continued,
“Oh infamous storm, stop for the sake of a mother’s heart.
Oh broad-browed sea, gather the arms of your waves and calm your eyes.
“Have mercy on a mother’s heart.” She fell to her knees right there on the shore... her tears turned into transparent stars in the saltwater, and miraculously, the wave shrank. Her voice chilled the great wave, which was escorted by the fiery candle of lightning near the rubber boat. The angels of death froze before her. They scattered the spiders of darkness, and their wings shook off feathers of light that split into tiny particles and penetrated all the dark corners. The universe bowed to the earthly divinity with the permission of the supreme power.
The storm retreated to hide in the greatest depths of the Ionian. The wind hurriedly tied back its hair and climbed beyond the glass of the sky... The white dawn rested its cheek upon land and sea, and the sunbeam was
warming the bodies of the people in the boat. Before a mother’s heart, the universe bows...
Pot-bellied Dani said...
“The biggest storm I’ve ever been through. I didn’t think we’d make it. It’s a miracle we survived; it seems someone here had an angel with them.” Dritan and the others approached the shore and stepped onto land... No one knew that a mother’s heart was watching over them with the eyes of a divinity... Other waves awaited Dritan and his friends... but his mother’s heart would forever be his guardian.
