Art/Proze

Albanian Self-Parody

Excerpts from an American traveler's notebook:

.... On the following day we went to see the Prefect and the Mayor, to whom we explained the object of our journey. Every visit was, of course, celebrated with coffee and spoonfuls of jam. Each time that we spoke of painting Albania, or of writing about Albania, the Mayor, a very fat man, struggled to his feet, made each one of us a low bow, and said, "Thank you, thank you." There seemed to be a general idea that we were writing a book of propaganda in favor of Albania. "The Greeks, Serbs, and Italians have poured contumely upon this innocent little land," they said. We tried hard to explain the sort of book we really wanted to write, but of course they have never seen, heard, imagined, or could perceive the use of a mere travel book. We said that we would tell the truth as we saw it. "Precisely, " they replied, "Thank you. That is what is needed -
propaganda for Albania."

"The truth," we repeated.

"It is the same thing," they answered.

We admired their optimism. Within three days each one whom we had interviewed or spoken with told us in confidence that Albania was a wretched country, containing chiefly despicable citizens. Each hinted he had a soul above the conditions of his land, and that we, denizens from the higher sphere, must not judge him by the paltriness of his surroundings, "You and I, "he seemed to suggest, " brothers in Enlightenment - all these others are poor, low trash," And the grimacing muscle which was splendidly developed in at least three-fourths of the country's faces would lend emphasis to the speaker's contempt of his own country. This almost invariable self-deprecation became so universal throughout the country that we felt inclined to begin all conversations with a newly introduced Albanian by saying:

" Yes, we know that you wish to tell us Albania is despicable, second-rate, ill-governed country, full of uneducated, selfish, contemptible fellows except yourself. We have heard several times already. We know that any attempt by our part to make you believe that this is not our own opinion will convince you that we are polite liars. You won't understand head to tail of the virtues we perceive in the Albanian character, so we shall waste our breath in telling you. Now, please imagine that we have condensed the first hour and a half's conversation into one minute, and let us go on from that."

But we never tried the experiment. The citizen would have merely opened his mouth and would have said:

"But this place is a despicable, second-rate..." and the hour and a half's useless talk would have had to pursue its natural course.

Such was the conversation that we held for instance with the cafe-keeper's son, a tall young lad with the grimacing muscle positively on the edge of elephantiasis. But he had expressed his contempt practically, he had become an American citizen. He had now come home for a short holiday and he had recently married.

"And you will take your wife to America?" we asked.

"Gee! You fellers," he replied. Why, I'm just waiting for the papers. Why, she said she wouldn't marry any feller unless he'd consent first to take her out of this dog-gone, measly, hell-hole of place."

And it is remarkable that the Albanian emigrant, who under the Turk showed a passionate attachment to his own country so that very few then would accept American citizenship, now that the country has been freed.

- Tar-ra-ra boom de aya, wave the flag, an all that - this same emigrant is flocking to American citizenship as fast as the papers can be made out.

So much for telling the truth as one sees it.