THE UNEXPECTED GUESTS WHO CAME TO ME IN LONDON
In place of a reportage
BY PILO ZYBA
This morning at my residence in the town of Kingston in London, there was a knock at the door unlike other days… the knocking was sweeter, more precise, and had the rhythm of harmonious music played by highly skilled instrumentalists of the genre.
I went downstairs, as the knock did not sound like the people handing out flyers for shop advertisements or other centres, which make such a big fuss here in London. I went and opened the door, stood there surprised, and voiced my astonishment…
“What are you doing here, where did you suddenly appear from? The wedding guests have brought their drums and you can even hear the clarinet music…”
They all laughed at once, I say all of them, because there was not just one… they were lined up like wedding guests going to fetch the bride. As the head of the party they had chosen Ndue Lazri, my old friend, the well-known journalist who has lived in Italy for more than twenty years. In second place came Roland Lushi, the director of the “ADA” publishing house and printing press in Tirana, tall, serious and composed. The third guest, though in terms of merit he is also first and second and so on, was Demir Gjergji, the well-known poet and employee of Albanian Radio and Television. At the very end, surprisingly, and breaking the rules of etiquette, was a woman, of average height, plump and with a smile that had sprouted like a flower on her lips… it was Mimoza Çekiçi – Rista.
I stood there bewildered, because who would have thought that here, so far away by the Atlantic Ocean, so many wedding guests and well-wishers would come to visit me.
Nduja understood my bewilderment and teased me, just as he always does with his jokes, sprinkling the salt of the joke with great delicacy and care:
“Pilo, you have completely forgotten the traditions. True, we are in London, but they expect an Albanian reception…”
I came to my senses and opened both leaves of the door, which creaked with joy, since large receptions are somewhat rare here, and the doors are gripped by the cramps of pain.
We went up the stairs and into the large living room. Demiri looked around and asked me:
“Who do you live with in this great big house, Pilo, or are you alone as always?”
“No,” I told him, “about two hundred people live here in a small house…”
Rolandi, who knows my jokes well, turned to Demiri:
“Hold on, Demir, why are you teasing him? You know his jokes, but also his sting…” Rolandi said, gesturing with his hands.
Moza stood there looking bewildered and turned to me:
“Who are these two hundred people living in this house, no matter how big it is?”
I turned to Moza:
“Do you want names, because maybe you don’t know them all, whereas Nduja, Demiri and Rolandi know them well?”
“Tell me a few?”
“Here, my friend Moza, live some of the people I am about to name… In this left corner, which is near my study, lives Angjellina Krasniqi… a little further over by the window is Haxhi Dikolli, then come in turn Gjergj Nikolla, Deshire Haxhi, Sherif Bllaca, Besiana Avdyli,” and I was going on, but Moza cut me off:
“Now you are lying, Deshire Haxhi lives in Athens with me!”
“Deshira is right here, along with Sajmir Hida, Enkeleida Kondi, and Anila Dahriu…” and I went over to the bookshelf and picked them up… Nduja was laughing, Demiri was scratching his beard, and Rolandi was rubbing his eyes; he had apparently laughed until he cried, because he had published all the poets I mentioned over the last five years…
“Get moving,” I told Moza, “here are the drinks, so treat our friends, because after all, they are your wedding guests.” That was all it took, and the conversation settled down and became delightful… later, Moza took her book out of her bag and gave it to me with a long and beautiful inscription… after my book, she took out another book for the University of London professor and writer Fatmir Terziu, and then a third dedicated to the Albanian Ambassador in London, my very old and respected friend… Mal Berisha…
The glasses were handed round and toasts were raised to Moza’s success, but also to my friends who live with me and whom I have taken into this house where I live; they are our friends who publish their art every year…
From all this hospitality, I saw that Moza was the one who got the most drunk; apparently, she had rightly drunk deeply of her success in publishing her first book. And she had every right to feel drunk, but my old friends of art had poured their talent, desire and kindness into this publication… into her verse, and into the message that all the poems convey.
Thus, this wedding and the wedding guests I welcomed were truly esteemed both for the bride they brought me, and for the beauty of the verses, the thought and the message they convey to the reader. Moza has adorned them with great care, combed them beautifully, dressed them beautifully, and then sent them out onto the beautiful path of poetic art… cheers, and thank you for the gift you sent from Athens to me, to the professor, and to the Albanian Ambassador in London… I wish you every success!
