Qukës-Pishkash Star

Pishkash Star - Marco Mazzi - Albanian Lapidar Survey

Pishkash Star – Marco Mazzi – Albanian Lapidar Survey

More on Albania …..

Qukës-Pishkash Star

There are some of the lapidars in Albania that can truly be called monumental in all meanings of the word. One of these is the massive and impressive Arch of Drashovice and another is the Qukës-Pishkash Star, to the side of the road from Librazhd to Përrenjas, just opposite one of the impressive viaducts of the, now, sadly neglected Albanian railway system. The sheer scale of the star can be appreciated when you look at the picture above which includes the team who catalogued the Albanian lapidars in the summer of 2014.

It’s constructed of blocks of local limestone and between the summer of 2014 to the spring of 2015 it had undergone a certain level of ‘restoration’, basically it was painted white. In other circumstances I believe this has not changed significantly the aspect of the monuments, as in the Saranda Martyrs’ Cemetery, for example, but here the white-washing has masked the weathering that had given the original scheme a character of its own. In a sense, the painted monument appears somewhat bland.

It has to be remembered that in the vast majority of cases the lapidars were the colour of the materials with which they were constructed. It’s true that concrete and plaster can deteriorate with age, if not given regular tender loving care, as is the case with the statue at the entrance of the Universiteti Bujqësor i Tiranës (Tirana Agricultural University) in Kamez. However, natural stone weathers in a different way and often this would have been taken into account by the sculptor at the time of construction.

Strangely it’s only the part that faces the road that has been painted as the back of the star, which also has been worked, remains as it was originally.

This monument is officially called Përkujtimorja e Brigadë së Parë Sulmuese (Commemoration of the First Assault Brigade) and the star was both the symbol of the Partisans who fought in the National Liberation War as well as that of the Albanian Communist Party – later to be called the Party of Labour of Albania. It’s a symbol that appears on many lapidars.

There’s not a great deal of text on this lapidar but on the right hand side of the star, at the bottom and separate from the star itself, are the words:

Lavdi Brigades Pare Heroike Sulmuese

meaning

Glory to the Heroic First Assault (Guerrilla) Brigade

(The word ‘sulmuese’ might not directly translate into English as ‘guerrilla’ but it seems to me that this term is more understandable to English readers as this is what the Partisan Army was for most of its existence – groups that would hit the enemy hard and then disappear into the mountains. It was only towards the end of the conflict that these various groups would act in concert in a way similar to a conventional army, as they did in Berzhite on 14th November, 1944, only days before the liberation of Tirana.)

The star has its two lowest points resting on the ground and the carved images start, more or less, in the middle, where the figures are life-sized, and spread out to the left and the right, finally soaring to the highest part of the fifth point.

But we will start from the point of the star on the left and here we have a group of nine figures, very small at the extreme left but getting bigger as they get closer to the centre. Here we have Partisans coming to join the battle, or at least getting ready to join the conflict. This change in perspective gives both the impression of distance and the idea there are lots of people prepared to join the fight. The three figures at the extreme left are also running, which provides movement to the scene. The mountains are represented by the steps down which they are running. When considering the National Liberation War against Fascism it’s important to remember that the way the Partisans used the mountains was as important as the organisation of the Albanian forces themselves.

Many of those areas are not easily accessible today, in the 1940s much less so. The Fascists in such circumstances wouldn’t have been able to use the superiority in machinery that made them so successful in the invasions of Belgium, France and Poland. In fact, such superiority becomes a hindrance in such mountainous terrain. So dependent the soldiers would have been on motorised transport and heavy weaponry they would be like fish out of water if they had taken to the hills – I’ve not come across any information that indicated that the Nazis had any troops that were effective in the hills, either in fighting or in intelligence gathering. Any successes they would have had in this sort of terrain would have been as a result of traitors and collaborators of the likes of the Balli Kombëtar. It was due to such betrayal that the Five Heroes of Vig were surrounded and eventually killed.

Although the furthest away from the centre is the smallest due to perspective he also looks like a young boy. (It’s difficult to be certain with some of these figures, even the gender is not always clear, as the repainting on top of any possible damage has resulted in blurred edges.) It’s not unlikely that a young boy would appear on these monuments. There’s clearly a young teenager on the 1943 side of the Drashovice Arch and many of the Partisan volunteers were still in their teens, this can be seen by looking at the ages of those commemorated in the various Martyrs’ Cemeteries throughout the country.

He also seems to be dressed differently from the other two closest to him. They are wearing caps and the full uniform of the Partisan. It looks like he’s carrying a weapon in his hands as he runs but there’s no indication of a uniform. But it’s impossible to tell definitively. To give the impression of him running his left foot is off the ground.

The second one in could well be a female partisan. The face is in profile and you can see she’s wearing a cap, which would have the star at the front. Her right hand is hanging down at her side so she’s not carrying anything but a strap can be seen across her chest so it’s possible her weapon is on her back. There appear to be ammunition pouches on the belt around her waist (it’s very common on lapidars to have this detail on uniformed fighters) and a satchel of some kind is over her left hip.

The next in line is a male and is also in uniform, including the standard cap. He’s not quite facing us but more or less. There’s a large bag over his right hip, but can’t think what it could be carrying, it’s the first time I’ve seen this type of equipment. Strangely, as he’s running in the mountains, he seems to be carrying his rifle, in both hands, behind his neck. This would seem to be OK if stopped and resting but running down a mountain? A bit risky. As we move towards the centre the figures are standing on a lower level, again suggesting coming down the mountains. These last two have their right feet off the ground, as they too are rushing to join the fight.

What’s happening next is a difficult question to answer. There are two figures very close together as if they are working in concert, possibly sharing the weight of some heavy armament. The problem is that with a mixture of erosion (as far as I can see) and the slap dash painting means it’s not very clear. As the lapidar is constructed of limestone there’s always the problem of erosion but serious erosion is only in this particular section there being no real sign anywhere else on the star. I certainly can’t make out any of the features on the faces and heads and little of what they are wearing and/or carrying. The faces are almost skeletal, more from a B-movie horror film than a monument to the fallen in a war.

There’s an added problem when looking at the very large lapidars in that if you are close enough to be able to make out the fine detail you are then so close that you are looking up the noses of the people represented. Unfortunately the pictures I took at the time of my visit don’t help in deciphering the story being told. So the next paragraph or so is more of a guess, based on images seen elsewhere.

There is a shadow of a heavy machine gun hanging down over the right shoulder of the figure in the front. That figure has its right arm bent and the hand close to its shoulder as if holding something heavy in place and helping to take the weight. (I use the term ‘its’ as it is impossible to tell the gender of the figures.) This would make some sort of sense. Because of the way the ground slopes, almost in a series of steps, at their feet we are reminded that they are in the mountains and in such terrain everything had to be manhandled a in such circumstances the carrying of a heavy machine gun, for example, was a more than one person task. The two figures are themselves on a different level to each other as if they are coming downhill, reinforcing the idea they are working together. Not much is seen, other than the head, of the individual at the back, but the partisan in the front is wearing a full uniform, together with webbing of some kind across his chest and ammunition pouches attached to the belt at his waist.

The physical features of the next partisan is a lot more clear but there are still problems. This figure is of a male, who seems to be in uniform but he is not wearing the typical cap and his shirt is open at the neck. Many partisans are shown wearing a knotted scarf but not this one. It’s possible here that the sculptor wanted to make the point that although the majority of the Partisan Army was made of up Communists not everyone was a member of the Party. After the Conference of Peze a National Front was established to encourage all Albanians opposed to foreign occupation to join in the fight. (The Nationalist Balli Kombater refused to do so and later ended up collaborating with the Nazis and were therefore fired upon from the mountains of Sauk when they participated in the Quisling Assembly in Tirana in 1943.)

The face is shown in profile and his right arm is bent and seems to be holding the strap of his rifle, the top of the barrel of which can be seen behind his right shoulder. Not a lot is clear with the rest of his body. He seems to have the ammunition pouches attached to his belt and high on his right hip there’s a circular container of some kind, possibly a water bottle. To go into battle you need weapons but you also need those necessities, like food and water, to sustain yourself in the process. A guerrilla army doesn’t always have the luxury of going back to a base camp after the battle.

The next figure, a male Partisan, is standing facing forward. He is also in uniform (only the young boy on the extreme left seems to be in civilian clothing on this lapidar) and he is wearing a cap, the star being visible if you look really closely. His left arm is bent across his chest, with his hand almost touching his right shoulder. Why? I really can’t tell. Other than the, now ubiquitous, ammunition pouches he doesn’t seemed to be armed in any way.

Thankfully the story becomes less cloudy as we move further to the right. The figures become larger, which helps, and not so crowded as to cause confusion – although towards the end of this story those uncertainties begin to resurface.

The next figure is another male, again looking forward and dressed in full uniform, including a cap where the star is much clearer. His right arm hangs loosely at his side but is left is bent and holds on to the strap of his rifle, the top of the barrel of which we can see behind his left shoulder. Again he has ammunition pouches attached to the belt at his waist.

The next figure is interesting in a number of ways. This is of a female Partisan, which is very common on the sculptural works already documented (and the presence of women being a declared aim of the explosion in monument construction of the 1970s and 80s – see what Ramiz Alia had to say about this in Volume 1 of the Albanian Lapidar Survey) but she is presented in a manner which is relatively rare.

She’s presented as a strong person both in her physique as well as the determination in her features. She’s partially in profile, but we can see both her eyes, and is shown as if she is looking in the direction where the battle is already waging. Her long hair, this time braided, hangs from below her cap. Apart from the facial features (sometimes not 100% certain) it’s very often the hair which reinforces the idea that we are dealing with a female. As the uniforms of the partisans were the same for both genders it’s normally those signs that differentiate the men from the women.

Here that’s not the case. We see her full body from the front and as she is wearing a tight and close-fitting top the shape of her breasts is very pronounced. This is not unique in the images on Albanian lapidars but it’s not common. This tight jerkin is the sort of clothing that the People’s Heroine Shota Galica is virtually always depicted as wearing. This is the case in the statue of her by Kristaq Rama in Kukës. It was also the case with the, now criminally destroyed, monument to the Four Heroines of Mirdita.

Shota Galica

Shota Galica

Now here we come to a possibly controversial matter. Women have breasts but should those breasts be evident in Socialist Realist Art? Not so much of an issue in paintings but the whole issue takes on a different dimension (sic) when we are dealing with sculpture which is in 3D. Is representing women as they are in these monuments a sexualisation of women? Of a concentration on their physical form rather than the acts for which they are being commemorated?

This issue of the different ways women are depicted in Albanian art came up when I compared the statue of the young Heroine of the People, Liri Gero, which is hidden away behind the National Art Gallery in Tirana, to the modern, reactionary statue of her which was erected in the centre of Fier, the town of her birth, in 2010. There’s no shadow of a doubt that the modern version seeks to stress her youth rather than her heroism. But is that the situation when put into the context of a monument such as the Qukës-Pishkash Star where she is only one of many in a war situation? The statue of Liri in Fier stands alone on a plinth, with no context.

To the best of my knowledge there were no problems about these images on the lapidars at the time they were constructed or in subsequent years. This is more important when one of the fundamental issues it was considered had yet to be addressed in Albania in the 1970s and 80s was an adequate depiction of women, both in the National Liberation War and in the Construction of Socialism.

Four Heroines of Mirdita

Four Heroines of Mirdita

And I probably wouldn’t be making these comments now if it wasn’t for a couple of factors. The first was the reaction to the pictures of the Four Heroines of Mirdita that I showed to an Albanian (not a friend of Socialism) a year or so ago when I had found a book which documented some of the principal lapidars. On seeing the photos he said, something of the likes of: ‘The female partisans would not have dressed in a way that emphasised their titties’. As a first comment I thought that interesting. In a sense I have to agree as the pictures I have seen of the partisans during the war such images have not been amongst them.

The second reason revolves around the vandalised murals I saw in the empty and looted museum in Bajram Curri. The breasts of some of the women shown in those murals had been selected for an especial, more destructive, attack.

Bajram Curri - Mural in Looted Museum

Bajram Curri – Mural in Looted Museum

But back to the Star. Although she looks a formidable woman she isn’t shown bearing arms, apart from the ammunition pouches on the belt around her waist, her right arm hanging loosely at her side, the left arm hidden by one of the other characters on the monument.

(When I first started looking closely at this lapidar I thought that this woman had thighs that would put an Olympic speed skater to shame. She wouldn’t need any weapons, she could just crush the enemy between those thighs. Then I realised that she, like most of those in uniform on this monument, was wearing breeches which seem to explode over the thighs. I assume these would have been liberated from the Italian army as there are many pictures of Mussolini wearing such trousers – I’ve also seen photos of Enver Hoxha in such a uniform. As there would have been no structure in the country for the partisans to produce their own uniforms they must have been adapted from those taken from the invading forces. Why they use these, I don’t know, they seem ludicrous in all situations.)

Behind her, over her left shoulder a male partisan is seen looking straight out at the viewer. He’s in a uniform and, again, the star can be seen on his cap, but as we only see a part of him it’s difficult to say how he is equipped. He’s there to make up the numbers in some ways and as his carving is not that pronounced as the other figures nearby you get an impression that he is some distance behind her. Ready for the fight but not in the thick of it yet.

Moving further to the right we have another male partisan who is shown in profile. From his stance we get a sense, again, of movement. He’s obviously running quickly to the centre of the action, his feet are far apart as if he is striding out and his arms are bent and up close to his chest, in exactly the same way as you would see in a competitive runner. The urgency suggested in his stance could mean he is carrying an important message to the Battalion Commander in the centre of the star. This figure is in full partisan uniform and his rifle hangs loosely from a strap over his right shoulder.

The next image is one that is also somewhat unique. Here we have a female partisan leading a pack horse. The terrain in which the Partisan Army operated would have been virtually devoid of anything more substantial than a mountain path so the only way to transport heavy materials, such as dismantled artillery pieces and its related shells, would be by pack horse. I can’t recall seeing a horse being depicted in the paintings in various art galleries and this is certainly the first time on a lapidar, so it’s quite possible here we have a unique idea.

The woman leading the horse is dressed in exactly the same way as the female partisan described before, her hair is braided and as she’s busy with the horse doesn’t carry any weapon, although there are ammunition pouches on her belt. It also appears she’s wearing a heavy woollen jumper. Her left hand is holding on to the bridal of the horse, close to its head, the horse being slightly above her level. Her right arm is stretched out towards the viewer and in her hand she is holding something, but this has broken off so it’s not easy to work out what it is. She’s also wearing a very fierce expression on her face, more anger than determination.

The horse itself is heavily laden. There seems to be a large box and attached to the side is which looks very much like the barrel of a small artillery piece or a heavy machine gun. The impression of movement is provided by the fact that the left fore leg is raised and it’s possible to see the hoof. The right fore leg can be seen between the legs of the woman as she strides out.

The last in this group which is marching to the front is a male Partisan whose face is in profile as he marches forward to battle. This is the standard-bearer. The flag he is holding, in his left hand, flutters slightly from right to left, becoming the backdrop to the horse’s head and ending at its shoulders, before its load. When viewed from the right hand side it’s possible to see that the way the group is posed the flag pole is held in front of him as he marches, the wind then blowing it back and partially wrapping itself around him to then flutter back towards the rear of the column.

This is the flag of the Communist Partisans which became the national flag of the country after true Independence in 1944. Even before the lapidar was white-washed it wasn’t easy to make out the eagle and the star and now you need to know it’s there to be able to see it. Between and above the heads of the double-headed eagle is a star – but it’s very faint (or maybe because I expect it to be there I just imagine it). However much a target these stars have been in certain parts of the country this monument doesn’t appear to have been attacked and if the star is faint it’s more likely due to general weathering over the last 38 years.

I don’t quite understand what he’s doing with his right hand. I would have thought he would have needed both hands on the pole but it’s raised so that it’s close to his shoulder and seems to be holding something. To me it looks like there has been something broken off at some time in the past, but what and why his hand is there I don’t know.

Although he merges with the next group he is, in fact, positioned at the end of one story and the beginning of the next.

We now get to the command group which is located right in the centre of the star and consists of five partisans, as far as I can make out all of them are male. It’s also in this area where the style of the sculpture changes. Not only have the figures become larger, until the commander is, more or less, life-size, the figures have also ‘moved out’ of the star. The carvings at the extreme left of the monument are typical bas-relief but as we move to the centre they start to emerge from the stone. This is the case with the right legs of the running soldier and horse wrangler but becomes more pronounced with the command group. The top half of the foremost officer is completely separate from the rest of the monument so that its possible to look behind him and see a full carving of the other members of the group who revert to being bas-reliefs.

Pishkash Star Command Group

Pishkash Star Command Group

The officer is dressed in what I’ve come to expect for a commander of the Albanian Partisan National Liberation Army. It’s the full uniform, with the cap and the star as well as the bandana around his neck – signs of his Communist affiliation and beliefs. There are two straps across his chest which go under the belt at his waist. On his left hip there’s a holster, the pistol attached to one of these straps. On the other strap is attached what I believe to be a leather dispatch and map case. As he is standing facing us you can also see the breeches he’s wearing. So far this is the first lapidar where this style of uniform seems to be almost universal. I can only assume that early in the struggle the First Brigade broke into an Italian Fascist warehouse where these were the only uniforms in stock, surely no one would use these trousers by choice. His left arm hangs loosely at his side, the hand open whilst his right arm is bent and the clenched fist at the level just above his belt. At first I thought he might at one time been holding something in his hand but that doesn’t seem to make sense. Perhaps it’s another demonstration of determination to defeat the enemy or a representation of his having arrived at an important decision in relation to the battle he is supervising.

(The more I look in detail at these fine works of art I wonder why the Partisan Army followed so closely the conventions of capitalist armies. I accept the principle of an organised leadership structure but did it have to faithfully imitate the actual fashion style and equipment as well? It’s possible that representing the Partisans in this way is due to the fact that the artists, here the sculptors, that were working in the late 1960s and for the next fifteen to sixteen years when lapidars were being created, had not actually experienced war themselves. The photos I’ve seen of the period give me the impression that the Partisan Army was much more egalitarian, much more informal than is sometimes presented in Socialist Realist Art.)

The next figure, this one over the left shoulder of the officer, the highest of the group, is another male. He is looking straight ahead and only the very top part of his body is in sight. He’s wearing a uniform, as are virtually all those figures present on this lapidar. (That’s another difference with some of the other major monuments which include many figures. Normally there’s a mix of dress, as would be expected in a Partisan/Guerrilla Army.)

Next, in front, and slightly to the right, there’s another Partisan but, again, only the head is visible, wearing a cap but no other details are visible. But he presents another conundrum. His left arm is raised so the hand is at the level of the top of his head. His hand is grasping what looks like a tube, probably no longer than half a metre but, for the life of me, I can’t work out what it is. I can’t even come up with a half-educated guess. This is one of the problems when trying to read these major monuments. Once you are close enough to make out detail you are viewing the images at such an acute angle that the perspective is all wrong.

Then on the principal officer’s left is the second most important figure in this group and that’s another soldier in full uniform. He’s in half profile looking towards the battle raging on the right. His uniform is similar to the that of the officer but as well as ammunition pouches around his waist he has a bandolier of pouches across his chest over his left shoulder. A strap which passes over his right shoulder is attached to his rifle. This is a little strange as the strap passes under the bandolier, making it awkward to get his gun in a firing position quickly. All we see of the weapon is the butt which he is holding away from his body with his left hand, the rest hidden behind his back.

The final figure in this group is on its extreme right. This is another male Partisan in uniform. It’s possible to see the left hand side of his body but he doesn’t appear to be armed and I can’t work out his role in the group. He just seems to be standing there, with his arms hanging down by the side of his body. I work on the basis that all the images on these lapidars are there for a purpose but there are a few here whose role is opaque, to say the least.

There’s no doubt of those we come across, now on the ride hand point of the star. These are those who are actively engaged in the fighting. This is a scene that appears on a number of lapidars, most notably the Drashovice Arch in the Shushicë valley, close to Vlora.

The are six Partisans in this group, four male and two female and all of them are actively involved in engaging the enemy. As is often the case we know it’s in the mountains as we have the uneven surface upon which they are standing or kneeling. This impression of the hills is helped by the up-sweep of the bottom of the star point on the right. Another device used to give the sense of fighting in the hills is the fact that the weapons are pointed downwards. What we have here is an ambush where the Partisans have used the terrain to their advantage and have chosen when and where to fight.

Starting from the bottom we have a female fighter. She’s kneeling and has the gun up to her left shoulder, her right hand on the forestock and squeezing the trigger with her left. I would have thought that most people, whether right or left-handed, would have the rifle stock against the right shoulder. So here we have a situation where reality has been changed to suit the artistic situation. Here, to have carved the bas-relief in the way that conformed to reality would have meant obscuring the facial features of the Partisan. She’s in full uniform and is well supplied with bullets, having ammunition pouches around her waist as well as others on a bandolier across her chest. Her long hair streams out underneath her cap, again providing an element of movement and suggesting her movement forward, attacking the enemy with courage and determination, as well as suggesting the wind in the mountains.

Above her and to the right, with the tip of the barrel of his weapon right on the edge of the star, is a male Partisan whose is firing what looks like a medium machine gun. He has both his hands on the trigger and aiming mechanism and we can see the belt after the bullets have been expelled coming out of the right hand side of the weapon. I’m in no way an expert on WWII weapons but the closest I can get to the image on the lapidar is a Spanish made ALFA 44 (Ametralladora ALFA Modelo 44) Medium Machine Gun (1944). If it’s true I have no idea how it got to Albania but no other weapon that looks like that shown on the monument fits. However, again this might be due to a lack of proper research on the part of the sculptor. (Here I don’t want to cast aspersions but I’m not aware of how conscientious the artists who worked on the creation of these monuments were when it came to historical accuracy.) But it’s important to stress that he is firing down hill. This is almost a trope of such lapidars in Albania.

He’s in uniform, has ammunition pouches on his waist belt and wears a cap – but on this monument it’s difficult to make out the stars. As I write more about what’s here I start to think that Çuli has very much followed a formula. He has many individuals but they are more like clones. Although I think this is a fabulous example of Albanian Socialist Realist Art Çuli doesn’t have the same imagination as sculptors such a Mumtaz Dhrami. It’s monumental but on closer inspection it doesn’t have the individuality that intellectuals ‘demand’. When you have the chance, like here, make the most of it.

Behind the Partisan with the machine gun, a little lower, and to the left of the first female fighter, are two males. At first glance this is slightly confusing. The one closest to the centre of the star is obviously in the process in firing his rifle at the enemy. In the same way as the first Partisan in this section of the story, he has his rifle up to his left shoulder. His jacket flies out behind him, he is rushing to the front, his enthusiasm to engage the enemy is unbounded. So this is understandable.

However, there is a face of another person, close to the front and the heat of battle but he seems to be doing nothing. His head is close to the rifle of his comrade but he looks unarmed. But that’s not the case. If you look behind the head of the rushing forward rifleman you will be able to pick out the shape of a hand, the right hand of the mysterious face. And in this is a Mills bomb, a British made grenade. At times there are representations of German made stick grenades but the Albanian Partisans seemed to have preferred the British model, given to the Partisans as the majority of the British Army was safely behind the Channel.

Although there are some individuals in this scenario where I don’t see the reason for their presence I like this idea of ‘hiding’ a fighter but who, under closer inspection, reveals that he is as involved as the more dramatic of his comrades.

Above, and to the left of these two combatants, is another male with his rifle up to his right shoulder this time. Again he fires down, stressing the idea of the mountains. It’s possible to make out his right forefinger on the trigger and he steadies the weapon with his left hand on the forestock.

At the very top of this part of the tableau is a very angry young women. We know she’s female due to her body shape and her long hair flowing back as she charges forward. She’s the only one of this group who’s not using her weapon from a distance. She has her rifle, which is fitted with a bayonet, held high above her head. Her right arm is stretched as far as possible behind her head and her hand grips the weapon just before the firing mechanism. Her left arm is bent back above her head, to increase the force of her thrust forward, and she holds the rifle by the barrel. Some lapidars depict the closeness of the fighting with the addition of the enemy as part of the sculpture. Here there are not Fascists shown but the impression of hand to hand fighting is represented by this woman who is about to use her gun more as a sword than a firearm.

One criticism I have here is that this rifle seems way out of proportion. If to scale it would have been almost as long as she was tall. This is not the first time I’ve seen this exaggerated representation. A similar one can be seen on the sculpture of the female Partisan at the Fier Martyrs’ Cemetery.

This scene is different from the other stories so far interpreted as all these Partisans are carved into the star whilst all the other figures are on the face of the star. I can’t think of any reason for this other than a way to demonstrate that this small group is involved in the actual fighting whereas all the others are yet to fire their weapons in anger.

Moving back into the centre of the star we have the numbers 1944, positioned just above the command group and to the right of the Partisan flag. This is the year when the Partisan army defeated the invading Nazis and November 29th is celebrated as the date of the beginning of true independence for the Albanian people – something which has been given up in recent years.

As the figures started out small and then became larger as we got to the centre of the star so the figures become smaller as we move to the apex. And here it gets very difficult to make out exactly what the story is we’re being told. Not easy before the white-washing, more difficult since.

Peeking over the burden of the pack horse are four figures, all male and all in uniform. We just see a little over the head and shoulders of all of them, the one on the extreme left being slightly lower than the other three. The first on the left has his right hand raised to his shoulder and it looks like his wrist is hanging over the barrel of a gun of some kind. This is the sort of casual way of carrying a weapon that’s common in Hollywood films, with the left hand resting on the butt, but there’s no real sign of the other end of the gun in this image. He’s facing forward, as are the next two to the right of him. There are indications of guns on straps over shoulders but it’s very confusing. The fourth partisan is in half profile and it definitely seems he’s holding the strap for his rifle in his right hand, close to his shoulder, with the top of rifle barrel peeking out. He’s also wearing a bandana around his neck.

The remaining images are now on the part of the star from just above the flag to the apex.

The first, on the left, is a female Partisan, identifiable by her long hair. She’s facing forwards and her right hand is raised in the clenched fist, revolutionary salute. On her right, and slightly higher (her head is at the level of his waist, is another officer in a very similar stance, and dressed in the same manner, as the Commanding officer in the centre of the lapidar. He’s in full uniform, has a holster on his left hip (with the strap coming over his right shoulder to which would be attached the gun itself) and ammunition pouches on his belt. His right arm is bent and his clenched fist rests on his chest. Why? I don’t understand. His left arm hangs at his side and the hand disappears behind the top of the flag.

Above him are a group of three, two males and a female, again all in uniform. The first, on the left, looks forward and there’s no sign of a weapon. The woman next to him is likewise unarmed. The third of the group behaves differently. He’s in half profile, his left arm is bent at a 45 degree angle and his fist is clenched. Is this a demonstration of defiance or anger?

Standing above him, their feet just above his fist, are a male and female partisan. He has a rifle hanging from the strap over his right shoulder and he is looking in the direction to the left of the star. In fact, he’s the only person in the whole tableau who’s looking in that direction. To have at least one person looking in the opposite direction to the action and the majority of the others is quite common. Normally it indicates looking at those who are coming to join the battle and often, though not in this case, making a gesture for others to hurry up and get involved. The woman, on the other hand, is looking to the right, to where the fighting is already taking place. There’s a possibility that she holds a pistol in her left hand.

At the same level as these two, on the left, is a donkey with a rounded pack on its back. This is the first time I’ve seen one on a lapidar. This beast of burden has a difficult task as it is going up hill with its load, its hoofs on different levels of what is obviously implied to be the side of a steep mountain, the bend in the legs indicating that it is working hard. Constantly you get these references to hills in Albanian lapidars.

Just above the shoulder of the donkey is the head of a male soldier. He’s looking towards the front but doesn’t seem to be guiding the animal in any way – at least not in the way the wrangler lower down is doing with her pack horse.

Finally there’s a group of five, four men and one woman. The lowest one, a male, has his left hand on the strap of a bag that rests on his left shoulder. Slightly higher and on his right is a woman, She is in uniform, as are all the rest in this group, and there’s a bag resting on her left hip. Her right hand is holding on to something resting on her right shoulder, in a similar manner to one of the other Partisans lower down. Here it’s possible to see the other end that protrudes over her left shoulder but it doesn’t look like a gun. It’s something circular but what I still don’t know.

Things are increasingly indistinct as we go higher. There’s not much detail in the three men on her right and which concludes this group. I don’t know if it’s the shadows caused by the time of day I took the pictures but the one in the middle looks like he might have a moustache, indicating an older man. So far the majority of the partisans on this monument are young people – representing the make up of the National Liberation Army.

Between that individual and the one on the left there’s a tall circular object, almost phallic, which goes to a higher point than any of the figures. This is another object that, so far, has me stumped.

And that’s what you see when you have the road, and the railway viaduct, at your back. There are more questions about what’s being depicted than I would like but I hope to be able to come up with more accurate descriptions following my next visit.

But this star has two sides, and the back, although much less ornate and with no human or animal figures, is still interesting. It also has remained free of the restoration white washing and therefore gives an idea of what the monument looked like originally.

Back of the star

The image on the back is simple and clear; a flag is attached at the top to the end of the barrel and at the bottom to the firing mechanism of an over-sized bolt-action rifle. The impression of the flag fluttering in the breeze is created by the undulations of the carving. This, in real life would have been a red flag with the Nationalist (the double-headed eagle) and the Communist (golden star) symbols and I’m slightly surprised they are not represented here. Perhaps the idea is that any piece of red cloth can be used in situations such as the entry of the Partisans into a town after liberating the area from the Fascists.

Qukës-Pishkash Star - back

Qukës-Pishkash Star – back

This part of the star also seems to be in a better condition than the front. Perhaps the trees behind and the direction of the weather have provided some sort of protection over the years.

The Sculptors

Although the names of those who worked on many of the Albanian lapidars are ‘lost’ – at least to me – more information is normally forthcoming on major monuments such as the Qukës-Pishkash Star. But, unfortunately, only a little.

It was inaugurated in 1978 and the principal sculptor was Perikli Çuli. So far I haven’t been able to gather any other information about him other than the fact that he was also the sculptor of the monument ‘Toka Jonë – Our Land’ – a celebration of workers and peasants – which is in the centre of Lushnje. This is a much later work having been completed in 1987.

He was ‘assisted’ by a recently graduated artist called Agim Rada. Rada seems to have been a bit of a ‘tortured intellectual’ as he hit the bottle for a number of years and only got out of that rut by finding God. He hadn’t produced much for years but was commissioned to produce a work in Shkoder in readiness for the visit of the Catholic leader, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who visited Albania in 2014.

This work is called ‘Kleriku i Prangosur – The Chained Cleric’ and stands in the grounds of the main Catholic church in the city. I haven’t seen it yet but hope to do so on my next visit to Shkoder.

Condition of the area

There doesn’t seem to be any real structural damage to the Star itself, although erosion and lack of general maintenance has made it difficult to make out some of the images. The painting hasn’t really helped as the original stone had different colours and this assisted in providing a contrast between the background and the carvings of the figures.

The general area, a fairly large paved space close to the main road, suffers from the same neglect that besets virtually all public areas throughout Albania. There’s a derelict drinking fountain to the left of the monument so, presumably, at times in the past there would have been large groups of people in the vicinity.

Some time before the group from the Albanian Lapidar Survey visited the site in the summer of 2014 there must have been a significant anniversary as a sash and wreath made from laurel leaves had been placed across the shoulders of the commanding officer. This might well be an annual celebration. When I visited in the early summer of 2015 the wreath had been thrown on the ground at the back of the star.

A more modest lapidar

Pishkask Lapidar

Pishkask Lapidar

It’s possible to see the variation in the whole scheme of Socialist lapidars just by looking across the road, to the left of the bar/shop. There a couple of joined, concrete columns commemorate, probably, those of the village of Pishkash who died in the National Liberation war. It’s impossible to say exactly as the space where a marble plaque would have been fixed is now empty. Whether vandalised or stolen it’s impossible to say.

Location of the Qukës-Pishkash Star:

GPS:

41.073821

20.49985302

DMS:

41° 4′ 25.7556” N

20° 29′ 59.4709” E

Altitude:

503.1m

How to get there.

All the furgons and buses on the route Librazhd – Përrenjas or Korçë pass the Star. You should be able to get back to your starting point if you don’t leave it too late in the afternoon. There’s a small bar, as well as a shop, just across the road, at the junction of the road leading up to the village of Pishkash.

More on Albania …..

A War (Krigen), 2015, Dir: Tobias Lindholm

Murdered children in Afghanistan

Murdered children in Afghanistan

WARNING: This review contains spoilers.

Even though the invasion and subsequent war in Afghanistan has been a total strategic disaster, now turning into a seemingly never-ending conflict, there hasn’t been a shortage of films, both fictional and documentary, about this foreign involvement. The situation was very different following the US invasion of Vietnam where Hollywood took years to be able to address the shameful defeat of the most powerful nation on Earth. (The trouble is that this preparedness to look at the open wounds doesn’t seem to have led to any significant reluctance to get involved in foreign wars, either on the side of the politicians or the public of the respective countries.) The most recent in this series of films is A War – Krigen, directed by Tobias Lindholm.

One of the possible reasons for this spate of soul-searching is the advance in photographic technology. In the 1970s and 80s it wasn’t easy to make a film without a huge amount of resources. Today films can be, and have been, made on smart phones and light weight, yet high quality digital video cameras. It is from this standpoint that has made ‘A War’, a reasonably low-budget film produced from a relatively small country, possible.

This is a film from the Danish perspective. Previous films have looked at the situation from the viewpoint of the two major players in the debacle, the Americans and the British, so it’s slightly refreshing to see how another, junior partner, in this coalition of hypocrisy and double-talk sees as its role on the world stage.

(Here it should be mentioned that the Afghans themselves are still either the ‘enemy’ or the victims. No one has sought to look at the almost 15-year-old war from the perspective of those who have been on the receiving end of all the billions of pounds worth of bullets, air strikes and missiles. But then we still haven’t seen a film that concentrates on the plight of the Vietnamese in their struggle against American Imperialism.)

Although the invasion of Afghanistan in 2001, under the name of ‘Operation Enduring Freedom’, was supposed to bring a better life to the inhabitants there’s no indication at all that there have been any real positive gains for the local populace. The Taliban haven’t been defeated, far from it. Recent information indicates they seem to be getting more powerful day by day as the ordinary Afghan peasant lives under the oppression and corruption of the ‘democratically elected’ government and its US/UK trained puppet army. So-called ‘collateral damage’ means that innocent people are daily at risk of being killed following their normal routine in order to survive. The cultivation of the heroine poppy has resumed with a vengeance resulting in the reappearance of drug lords, together with the inevitable violence and mayhem following such a trade (which had been virtually eliminated under the Taliban, as recognised by the United Nations only a matter of weeks before the invasion of the country in 2001) and tribal War Lords control huge swathes of the country.

‘A War – Krigen’ takes place in 2003 when it could be argued (at least by the occupying forces, not by me) that there was a chance of changing things for the better, that the armed forces from so many countries, a grand coalition – so as to spread the blame if not the glory – could still say, without a hint of irony, that they were there for the people of Afghanistan. But they were only there if it meant that casualties on the invading forces’ side were at an absolute minimum.

These Danish soldiers whoop and holler at the death of a ‘terrorist’ but go into mental melt down when one of their own is injured – similar scenarios having also been depicted in previous fictional or documentary films about the war. Behind this is the mindset and thinking of the invading powers that because they have ‘right’ on their side they are, or, at least, should be, invincible. They have the technology, the weapons, the protection, the back up (both in terms of military intelligence and medical resources), that they are the ‘good guys’ – so how can they lose?

This has been the thinking of the imperialist countries in all the wars, ‘insurgencies’, ’emergencies’ and uprisings they have been involved in since the end of the Second World War. They have the God-given right to do what they so chose in whatever part of the world they chose to do it and if anyone in those countries opposes their invasion they are immediately branded as being insurgents and terrorists (and other descriptions with negative and racist connotations) so therefore their lives are of no value and expendable. This way of looking at the local population resulted in the countless massacres committed by these forces of ‘democracy and freedom’ that was epitomised by the murderous attack on the Vietnamese villages around My Lai in March 1967.

My Lai Massacre

My Lai Massacre

Although, I suppose, ever since warfare (even before anyone could enunciate the term, in whatever language) began the aim was to inflict the heaviest casualties on the enemy with the least to yourselves. However, in any conflict it would be ludicrous to expect that you can go up against an enemy and not sustain casualties. Granted the British have not been that good at the useless throwing away of young lives, witness the infamous ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ in October 1854 during the Crimean War and the countless examples of huge casualties, with little or no territorial gain, on the Western Front in the War of 1914-19.

But following on from the imperialist arrogance is an idea that war is in some manner ‘safe’. If we are fighting ‘evil’ when right is on our side, together with God, less body bags will be needed. Politicians who start these wars want to perpetuate such a fallacy as it allows them to convince the majority of unthinking people that the costs of war are not that great, that the days of high casualties are a thing of the past.

This led to the crazy and bizarre situation that developed around the returning bodies from recent wars in the Middle East which arrived at the Royal Air Force base at Lyneham in Wiltshire in the South West of the UK. The parading of the coffins through the near-by town of Wootton Bassett, which at first was seen as a ‘proud’ nation honouring those who had died ‘to keep us safe’ became a political and military embarrassment. Making a big show on a few occasions was politically advantageous to the State but when it was a regular event it only went to show that the war wasn’t going the way the aggressors thought it would. One senior military officer even stated that such public displays of ‘grief’ were counter-productive as war will invariably mean death and it was dangerous to the State if death was fetishised.

It is by putting this idea of the welfare of the injured to the fore that leads the Danish officer (who, in normal circumstances, shouldn’t have been on the front line at all anyway) to call in air support to attack and destroy a compound from where he ‘thinks’ the Taliban might be firing. The consequence of this is that a number of civilians, including children, end up being killed or wounded. For this he is recalled to Denmark to face a legal inquiry.

This might be considered a genuine approach to dealing with the reasons for civilian casualties, especially when the issue is seen through the ‘liberal’ eyes of a Scandinavian country – although that liberalism is becoming somewhat tarnished with some of the more draconian laws that have been passed as a response to the increase in the number of migrants arriving in Europe in the last year or so. But by placing the incident in ‘the heat of war’ the commander has a get out, whether he is telling the truth or not.

In the fifteen years of the foreign occupation the majority of the casualties have been civilians and most of them were killed by the occupying forces. The obscene term ‘collateral damage’ (coined by the Americans around 1968, in relation to possible outcomes of a nuclear conflict but then used in their war of aggression against the Vietnamese people) is now so commonly used that people in general don’t seem to baulk at the seriousness of the consequences of military action on the local populace. We can also see the hypocrisy of the US and other ‘western’ countries when a similar situation is indeed a crime when committed by others, e.g., the Russians in Syria in 2016, but is OK if committed by them in any theatre of war. We should also remember that the US refuses to allow any of their personnel to be committed for any sort of war crimes, even when one of their soldiers leaves a base, at night, twice, and goes on a killing spree, randomly murdering people in their beds.

Cinema has rarely dealt with the issue of civilian deaths in the many wars since 1945, after which year civilians were no longer the ‘rear’ but the forefront of any conflict. This was even more so in those situations where the fighters were guerillas who lived amongst and came from the people. Taking Chairman Mao’s dictum that the guerillas should be ‘like fish swimming in water’ of the populace the reactionary forces sought to drain the rivers and lakes. Whereas ‘A War’ fudges this issue of civilian deaths (and gets publicity owing to it being nominated for an Academy Award) a film that addressed the use of drones in Afghanistan and Pakistan, ‘Good Kill’ (2014), was almost totally ignored.

Being a ‘liberal’ country the case of the civilian deaths is investigated by the Danish military authorities and the commander called back home to face a court of inquiry. An interesting aspect of this inquiry was the depiction of the Danish court process itself, not just for this fictional case but for anyone who has to face ‘justice’ in that country. The informality makes the process much less intimidating than it is in a British or American setting and gives the impression, at least, that the person on trial is innocent until proven guilty. This was even down to using the given name rather than the surname of the accused.

Although the viewer knows that the commander is guilty we have to wait to see if this guilt will be proven in an ‘impartial’ inquiry. Witness after witness gives evidence that seems to place another nail in the commander’s coffin until one witness states, categorically, that he ‘knew’ there was concrete evidence for the commander to call in the air strike, the consequences of which were the civilian deaths. This evidence gets the officer off.

Now this particular development introduces interesting aspects of the military of capitalist and imperialist countries. If we can imagine that this situation is real and were to go into the future following this trial and ask ourselves who would be more trusted by his comrades, those who told the truth or the liar, we would have to say the liar. That’s because the very structure of capitalist armed forces is based upon a small group of people having absolute faith in the idea that those around each individual will be supported, in many ways unquestioningly, by the others in his group.

In the situation presented to us in this film how could anyone have such trust in a person who was prepared to see the conviction of one of their own, albeit a senior officer? The countless cases of those soldiers accused of crimes in the invasions of Middle Eastern countries in the 21st century, with none of them ending up being ‘proven’, is testimony to the closed nature of such groups of killers. It’s exactly the same situation amongst the police where there’s an unwritten code of practice in which the truth is just far too inconvenient.

There is another consequence of these constant invasions and wars and this is the effect that the killing process has on those very well supported, very well supplied and very well armed soldiers. This is demonstrated in a scene early in the film.

A situation arises where one of the members of the patrol is so traumatised by one of his comrades stepping on an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) that he virtually breaks down and refuses to go on patrol. Being a ‘liberal’ country the Danish commander (who establishes his credentials as caring and concerned about those under his command) allows him to be reassigned to base duties until he can get his act together. Here we are presented with the issue of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

Now in 2003 it could have been possible to say that those who were in the armies of the imperialist invaders weren’t aware of the consequences of what they were doing. I say ‘could’ rather than ‘would’ as I would have thought that anyone who is prepared to be taught how to use instruments whose only purpose is to kill should understand that death was going to be the consequence of those instruments being used. The hope is that the deaths would be ‘theirs’ but, from time to time, it could be ‘ours’. So why the surprise? Despite how they might be presented at times in the past armies are killing machines, they are not an arm of the social services.

It’s also important to remember that all the armies from all the countries that have been part of a US led ‘coalition’ are composed of volunteers. They are not conscripts as they were in the wars in Korea or Vietnam. These men and women had, and still do, make a conscious decision to enlist. I don’t know why they are surprised when they are confronted with the realities of war. Are they so stupid that they think the real thing is like the computer games that might have convinced them to join up in the first place? That once someone is killed all they have to do is reboot and they will come alive again?

If that’s valid for 2003 how much more valid is it for 2016? Those who are joining these armies now were only toddlers when these 21st century wars of aggression started and since the ‘war of terrorism without end’ began. If they watch the news and think they want to be like John Wayne (who never fired a bullet against a real enemy and, therefore, never had to face danger himself, unlike many in Hollywood, either the actors or scriptwriters he was party to ostracising at the time of (HUAC) the House Un-American Activities Committee – see the film ‘Trumbo’ for a good take on Wayne’s ‘patriotism’) don’t they also know that PTSD is a part of these wars? So now that issue is becoming a drain of health services, a problem to the societies to which they return yet still not an issue that makes people address the validity of such wars in the first place. And, most importantly of all in this, the mental welfare of the men, women and children who are on the receiving end of all these billions of pounds worth of munitions is not considered at all. The wars nominally being fought for their well-being and future don’t take their well-being and future into account.

Finally, other films addressing the war in Afghanistan have almost exclusively concentrated on the soldiers in the country itself, their home lives only considered as an aside, being part of banter amongst the soldiers, referenced by telephone/Skype conversations with family members or by images of the ‘life they left behind’ on the walls of their barracks. In ‘A War’ not only do we get the court room scenes back in Denmark we also get an indication of the problems that can occur within the family as a consequence of the father being away for such a long time.

But here we have another contradiction. We are talking about 2003, a couple of years after the ‘war on terror’ began. Presumably the wife of the commander married, and had children, with a man who was in the military but then he was only playing at being a soldier, not killing other people and not being put in danger. Things start to fall apart when he is doing the job he signed up for many years before and for which he is being paid. So why this shock when matters develop so that he actually does what he was trained to do? Why are so many parents and families proud of their sons and daughters dressed in their smart uniforms at their coming out parades not aware what they could face in the future? Why is it always someone else’s fault if they should get killed or injured in a foreign country? Why do so many people want to claim victim status? If you make a conscious decision to go to another country and kill its people live (or die) with the consequences.

If Denmark is not exactly an imperialist nation at present it is certainly there to support the interests of the most aggressive and powerful imperialist nation at the moment, that is the USA. NATO (the North Atlantic Treaty Alliance) exists to dance to the tune that the US decides to play. Huge resources, from all the countries in the organisation, are directed towards this end. As the grip of capitalism and imperialism weakens the necessity for these national forces to get involved in international conflicts has increased – and this will be even more so in the foreseeable future.

Imperialism appears to be strong because it seems to have the ability to respond in any part of the world with massive amounts of force. But can this really be seen as a success for imperialism? In Afghanistan the US has been involved in the longest war in the country’s history – and it’s not fully disengaged yet. In 2001 GW Bush declared the ‘war on terror’ would go on as long as it takes and in the middle of February 2016 the French Prime Minister said that ‘hyper-terrorism (whatever that might be) is here to stay’. So the imperialist powers have already admitted that all the invasions of the 21st century have not achieved, in any sense whatsoever, the goals they set themselves 15 years ago.

So, as far as imperialism is concerned, we are in a more dangerous situation than the world was at even the height of the ‘Cold War’. The threat of nuclear extinction from the Soviet Union has been replaced by an enemy that hates what the west represents in a way never seen before. In the past those people who had suffered at the hands of rapacious and murderous imperialism, from the Americas through to Africa and on to Asia have, in some ways, ‘forgiven’ the oppressors or, at least, pushed the events of the past to the back of their minds. Not now. Those groups whose foundation goes back to the times of anti-Communism in Afghanistan are not thanking their progenitor. Just the opposite. The child hates the father in a way not before seen in modern times. The chickens have truly come home to roost.

The so-called ‘Arab Spring’ of 2010/11 has changed the situation in the countries were it took place not one iota. Whatever the optimism and enthusiasm that existed over that period of time some of the faces at the top might have changed but substantially the situation for the vast majority of the population remains the same. Worse than that, some of those countries which underwent a popular uprising are even more aggressive, both nationally and internationally, as they were prior to 2010, Turkey being a case in point.

It’s true that imperialism has succeeded in destroying those functioning societies that were a potential threat to its interests in the region, in the case of Iraq, Libya and Syria, but at what cost to the people? Those once strong militarily countries whose leaders were from time to time courted by the ‘west’ when it suited, are now in chaos with the consequences beginning to have an effect on Europe as more and more refugees seek sanctuary in a part of the world that caused the problem in the first place.

But the populations of the countries who have gave birth to, then incubated this hatred so that it has grown into a myriad of western value hating groups in an increasing number of countries throughout the world, don’t seem to realise that they are part of the problem themselves. Their acquiescence in the face of the jingoism and sabre rattling of their ‘democratically’ elected governments is forgotten. The ones who are fundamentally the cause of the problem claim victim status. Those killed in acts by these ‘fundamentalist’ groups are described as ‘innocents’ yet those civilians killed in drone attacks, air raids or just because they were in the wrong place at the time of a military operation are dismissed as being merely ‘collateral damage’ and all the resources of the invading forces is put into sanitising and excusing those responsible. The lives of an Afghani or an Iraqi is considered of lower value to that of a European. Is it any wonder that people are angry?

‘A War’ is not, by any means, the best film about the invasion of Afghanistan or any other wars that are taking place at the moment (or even of those to come) but it does offer the opportunity for people to look at their own complicity and hypocrisy if they care to do so. I fear, as has been the case in all the other imperialist attempts to maintain or increase their influence in the past, most people will just hope that the problem will go away. It might have quietened down in the past but the result is unlikely to be the same in the present or the future. One day people are going to have to make a decision to challenge the status quo otherwise this war really will go on forever.

Krrabë Miners Panel

Krrabë Miners Panel

Krrabë Miners Panel

More on Albania …..

Krrabë Miners Panel

There are more than six hundred lapidars so far listed by the Albanian Lapidar Survey but they are not the only examples of Socialist Realist Art that tell the story of the country, especially after Independence in 1944. Although a considerable number of lapidars are in a sorry state, whether due to neglect or outright political vandalism, there seems to be a move, at present, to ‘preserve’ those which are still in existence. However, I’m not aware of a similar programme (whether nationally or locally organised) that pays attention to the many statues, mosaics and panels that celebrate the achievements of the people. The panel to the miners in the small village of Krrabë is one such example.

The Coal Miners Panel

The area around Krrabë, during the Socialist period, was a centre of coal mining. When that changed I don’t know but on my visit there was absolutely no indication that mining had ever taken place nearby – except for the panel to the right of the entrance door to what looks like a community centre.

The panel is made from plaster and is about three by two metres in size, the figures depicted being roughly life-size. It’s not fixed to the wall as such but rests on two large iron supports. The image is of a small group of miners coming out of the mine at the end of the shift.

We can make out the curved entrance to the tunnel at the very top of the panel and the group of seven miners is closely bunched up. They are looking in different directions as if they were talking to their comrades as they leave work. At their feet there’s an intersection of three railway lines, used to take the coal from the mine. On each head can be seen a hard hat with a circular miners lamp attached at the front.

The features of the first three are the most distinct. The one on the left is facing forward and his left hand is bent over his chest, holding the end of what looks like an iron bar. His right arm is hanging down at his side. He’s wearing a jacket and trousers and has heavy boots on his feet. I assume that his dress indicates that he isn’t a coal face worker but has other tasks down the mine.

The miner on the right is dressed in a one piece overall and in his left hand he holds the handle of a round point shovel, close to the metal blade, which is at the height of his left knee. The handle angles up to the right of the panel, finishing just short of the edge. There’s a strap coming down from his left shoulder to his right hip, probably for some sort of satchel. He is looking over to his comrade on his right as if talking to him (so we only see his face in profile) and his right arm is outstretched as if he is making a point, or slapping him on the back.

The body of the miner in the middle is slightly obscured by the first two. He is also looking forward but doesn’t seem to be part of the discussion, perhaps a bit further back. He also seems to be wearing overalls.

The others in the tableau we only see partially.

To the left of the head of the first miner described is the head only, in profile of another male. To the right of his head, and slightly above, is the partial face of another miner. Only the nose and right eye is visible, underneath the hard hat. This one is different from all the rest as the face has the characteristics of a female, being more rounded than all the men’s images. My ignorance comes to the fore here as I’m not sure if women did work underground in the mines. There’s no real reason why they shouldn’t have done so as they were in all other occupations in the country but I haven’t seen anything, so far, to confirm this.

Krrabe Miners

Krrabe Miners

To the right of the individual in the centre of the panel we can make out a face and helmet but there’s more of an impression than a sculptured face. All the faces are very angular, this one being especially so. Finally we see nothing of the person but just under the roof of the tunnel is a partial depiction of a hard hat with the round miners lamp at the front.

The panel seems to be in a reasonable condition. The only damage I could make out was the broken nose of the miner who’s carrying the iron rod. There doesn’t seem to be any weather damage, it receives some protection from the eaves of the roof, and looks as if it had been relatively recently re/painted – most original monuments being the bare plaster or concrete.

In one sense these examples of art from the period of 1944 to 1991 are more at risk than some of the lapidars. This is mainly because they are attached to buildings and some of those can be in very attractive locations and risk being demolished and the decoration being lost forever – land and property speculation is as rife in Albania as in any other country. This was the fate of the bas-relief to the Tobacco Workers Strike in Durres. On the other hand such a monument with a very local connection might well be protected by those who live there. Time will tell.

Location:

GPS:

41.217697

19.971003

DMS:

41° 13′ 3.7092” N

19° 58′ 15.6108” E

Red Star with the Hammer and Sickle

Red Star - Krrabë

Red Star – Krrabë

As you come up hill into the village, passing the lower buildings, there’s an interesting reminder of the past on the wall of a one story building on the right. In a ridged roundel is a red star on a green background. This is a fairly major piece of art work and I would assume that this location would have been the building of the local Party of Labour Branch.

The star in itself is interesting but this particular one is accompanied by other tantalising snippets of information. Similar stars would have been common during the Socialist period but I haven’t seen many.

The roundel is well made and inside, through the use of different coloured stones, there’s a simple mosaic of the star. Five pieces of isosceles triangular red stones, their apex touching the inside edge of the roundel, each meet, at the base, a narrow, rectangular piece of red stone which creates a regular pentagon. These border pieces are offset from the plane of the star points and creates a clearly defined ridge. Inside the border a stone, in the shape of a pentagon, finishes the star.

As I’ve stated in all the posts about the lapidars the red star is the symbol of Communism and the Communist Party. I would interpret the green as representing the countryside.

However, this red star has something quite unique in the centre. If you look carefully you’ll see that a small Hammer and Sickle has been carved into the stone. This is the symbol adopted by what became the Communist Party of the Soviet Union during the Russian Revolution of 1917, symbolising the unity of the industrial workers with the peasants of the countryside. It was also later adopted as one of the symbols – in gold – of the national flag (together with a golden star on a red background). The pairing was also adopted by other Communist movements in subsequent years but very soon after Liberation the Party of Labour adopted their own, national, symbol to represent their struggle and that was of the Pickaxe and Rifle, symbolising the need to build and protect Socialism with the preparedness to fight for, and to defend, it.

Around the central motif are other interesting carvings.

Immediately above the topmost point of the red star is a rough image of a dove (symbolising Peace) carved into a piece of white, smooth plaster. On the left of the dove is the number 19, on the right the number 54, so something happened here in 1954. To the right of the dove, now being carved into the plaster rendering of the wall, is the name Enver. This would be Enver Hoxha, the leader of the Party of Labour of Albania. Further still to the right, and finishing at the corner of the building, are other carvings. I think I can make out the Roman numerals VII and the numbers 1954, so my assumption is that this indicates July 1954. Perhaps the indistinct letters/numerals tell which day in July. This could well be a local way of celebrating a visit to the community by Enver Hoxha in that year. I’ll try to get a closer view of these images during my next visit.

The star hasn’t been treated with loving care over the years but then neither has it been seriously vandalised. When the wall has been white-washed not a great deal of care has been taken to avoid paint splashing over the roundel. However, this doesn’t mean that a re-writing of history has not been attempted. At the very bottom of star a section of the roundel has been cut away and a rectangular, inscribed stone inserted. For whatever reason this has been plastered over but time and the weather have broken away some of this new covering and letters can be see underneath. What they are will have to await another visit to Krrabë.

Location:

GPS:

41.217858

19.969538

DMS:

41° 13′ 4.2888” N

19° 58′ 10.3368” E

Getting to Krrabë from Tirana:

The bus leaves from the bottom of Rruga e Elbasanit in Tirana, close to the junction with Bulevardi Bajram Curri . They leave every half hour, on the 15 and 45 minutes, although departures get more erratic at midday. Return journey is based on the arrivals from Tirana (and the time of day) but if you miss a bus there’s a couple of small bars close to the bus stop. The journey takes about an hour and the cost is 120 lek. (If you go by car the road is very rough after it leaves the main Tirana-Elbasan road by the lapidar at Mushqeta.)

GPS:

41.323358

19.824719

DMS:

41° 19′ 24.0888” N

19° 49′ 28.9884” E

More on Albania …..