The Forgiveness of Blood

Modern world clashes with ancient law in Albania in the dark 'The Forgiveness of Blood'

By BETSY SHARKEY (Los Angeles Times)

LOS ANGELES -- "The Forgiveness of Blood," a dark saga about the clash of modern times and ancient traditions in rural Albania, is more a story of whispers when cries are what's called for with lives, livelihoods and family honor on the line.

The eye-for-an-eye price of settling such disputes, and the hope of a new generation to escape the sins of their fathers, drives cowriter-director Joshua Marston's fitful new film.

Though Marston is once again rooting around in the harsh realities of cultural mores, particularly for the young, the movie lacks the emotional jolt of his splendid "Maria Full of Grace" in 2004. For the pregnant Columbian teen in "Maria," it was both the escape promised and the toll exacted of being a drug mule. For Nik (Tristan Halilaj), the young Albanian in the middle of "Forgiveness," it is the repercussions of his father's fight, one that leaves the teenager a virtual prisoner in his own home.The film opens with the contrasting realities of Nik's life. He's a typical teenager, finishing up high school, obsessing over his looks, flirting with a classmate. He's also the oldest son, helping his father, Mark (Refet Abazi), hitch an ox to the wagon, which is both the family's main source of income and its only transportation. His father's days are spent delivering fresh-baked bread around the village, while Nik spends his texting friends, retooling computers and dreaming of opening an Internet cafe.

Natura Morta or Still Life

How is life? Is it a canvas? Do we just slosh the sunset on a piece of plaster? Yes, it is. We can change what we want to, erase that black smudge, but we cannot change what we have done in the past. With focus and determination, your painting can be as well-known as DaVinci's greatest masterpiece. There is no limit. I created both paintings with a bit of assistance and patience, which is hard to seek in a character like I. Your canvas lies in your artistic hands. You make the most out of it.

Ide Kayla

Rags or Riches....which is better?

Two girls. What stands between them are riches, piled to the brim. Lovely gold coins spill on oak floors covered with elegant carpets. Velvet seats, smooth are scattered. What is another life? How is it like, to step into a different world. Friends, let us find out. Picture sitting on a coal box, the harsh, bitter wind beating your face. Feet bare, resting on ice, causing to create black and blue gashes.

There is a girl, spoiled rotten, tresses expensively curled and bursting with ribbons. Never exposed to the world of hard work, leave out that she worked at all. Treated as well as a king, this girl hides within the lavish furnishing and never has met a peasant.  There is a girl, clothed in rags and a slick of mud. Once being handsome, life treated this girl despite her gentle nature, as a torrent. Stomach growling loudly, the child bypasses through the bust streets of yesterday's London, scavenging for something to engulf.

Now, the story I tell you, you would think how a wealthy girl can meet such a poor child. "Why, your dressings are absolutely filthy!" she gawks. Having nothing to defend herself, the scrawny girl shrugs, in attempt to drive the other child away. What's she lollygagging in a place like this, anyways?

The otherwise rich girl shook her head, muttering: "Oh, lord, what sorts of family do you own anyways?" Repeating her gesture, the other child mumbles, "Got no family..." Scowling, the wealthy heiress says, "Impossible, you damned, wretched thing. There has to be some family of yours." The poor "thing" glared at her.

"I'm sooo unhappy! My lame father treats me like a dog," whined the spoiled one. "I suppose you feel the same," she continues, unsure of her footing. Sticking her snout in the air, the poor one uttered a whisper "Then I am much happier than you." Surprisingly, the whiner's face crumbled as she burst into tears. The day faded long ago, foreign to history.

What is better readers, you tell me. Why did the wealthy one cry? Which side would you choose? Question at your own limit.

Ide Kayla

The universe in a couple of words.......

Sometimes I wonder what the universe is exactly, just a silky back drop over a variety of marbles? Life has taught me well that everything is not what it seems to appear. For example, that nice boy over the street murdered 3 others. No, it appears more practical. "Does god exist?" Young readers would ask me. My message to you, The universe has no limit. As I have watched on the television, you need three ingredients to create a universe. One- SPACE. You need SOMEWHERE to put this universe. What else? Two- Matter.  What are you going to make it out of? Three- Time. Ah, yes, the dreaded time is needed. Go ask Father Time to get you an hourglass. Not easy, right? Are you going to pull space out of your pocket? Take my advice, young-ins. Just leave a piece of fruit in the sun and very soon you will have your own colony of ants. Trust my expertise, you would be way better off.

No one knows where the universe came from. Scientists believe what they call "The Big Bang" theory. This says that the universe just came out of......nowhere?? I was stupefied at first....all this pulled out of nothing, out of a murky pit? It is told god existed BEFORE time, which was during this period. One thing....that could not happen. Nothing existed before there was the universe, leave out god. This is caused for there being no time. A confusing puzzle, is it not?

All before time. This is just a measly theory, so don't go beating down doors for it. I always wonder if there is anything beyond space. Is there? Choose your own path. Choose wisely.

Writer, Smart-Aleck and yours truly,
Ide Kayla

A New Poem

Dead Land

By Ide Kayla

Gloomy Dead Trees stand,

Jade vines crawling over damp bark.

There used to be a time when the wind blew,

Scattering lush petals of olive, gold and lavender over

Emerald pasture.

There used to be a time when magpies tittered, hopping branch to branch

On glorious willow trees,

Limp branches waved in the breeze.

There used to be a time that was serene,

Never overtaken by glass buildings or

Silly cars running on black gravel roads.

No rubbish spilling on the street.

Until now.

No life surrounds but

A dead paradise.

Dead land.

Two Poems

Imperfect

By Ide Kayla (my 10 year old daughter)

For years I have been hiding in the shadows,

In my own shell of a life.

Tears splattering the blood-covered ground.

Knees wobbling,

Chest tightened,

I shuffle downwards to what seemed like death.

Her beady snake eyes scanned me,

Holding its icy blue stare.

Snarl that can curdle milk,

Was carved by angels to perfection.

Girls and boys gawk,

Making me sag to the ground.

For my pathetic imperfection,

Stank the school yard,

Causing the Magpies to flitter away,

In  a frenzy full of feathers.

A tear, this time,

Red with blood,

Rolled down my flushed cheeks.

It seems like the girl had damaged me with words,

Leaving the crowd to point and laugh.

I squint and almost die this time.

Familiar faces grin like demon's

In front of mine, which was pale and bitter, with frost.

Same hair, same eyes, same faces.....

I gasp with horror.

The tear of blood has repeated, leaving a mark on my other cheek.

Then, almost rapidly, a third rolled down, then a fourth,

And so on, the blood flowed at an amazing speed.

I became paler, which only added to my despicable face,

Which, now was the color of a sheet.

I took a deep breath, then accepted my tragic death.

I waited.

And waited

And waited.

I was no longer in this world anymore.

I vanished.

11/12/2011

Standing in the Rain

By Ide Kayla

O, god what have we done, to make sinners,

To change? The world is thy golden,

We are trinkets, spreading

A wildfire. Burning.

Keep Burning. The skies stained with blood of fallen

Warriors. The rain pelts like an inferno,

Stinging ‘round my neck.

Midnight looms over the silky dark sky,

Tracing bright stars.

I grip a palm. Shivering,

Dripping down my back,

Tears flow. I grip the smooth hand

Tighter, feeling a familiar warmth. My veins run ice cold.

My hard plunged in my throat.

Stubbornly, I crane my neck, seeing a man.

He, not solid, transparent with a sickly

Blue tinge. My grey eyes look in to

His warm, silver ones.

A peculiar feeling shoots through me.

No, it couldn't be...............

“F-father,”

I squeak, my voice reaching a peak.

The man does not answer,

Thy just stares at me solemnly,

As if we shared a secret.

And we did.

“Father....”

I repeat, a little most courageous.

“Is that you?”

No answer.

The man is gone.

02/04/2012

Rite de Passage

Nga Gonxhe në Nënë Tereza

Nga Altin Topi 
Shekulli

Me një këndvështrim të freskët sapo është hedhur në treg nga enti botues amerikan Time Inc, një numër special rreth Nënë Terezën në përvjetorin një shekullor të lindjes te saj. Midis dyjëzimeve historike në rrjedhat e turbullta që përjetonte Ballkani i një shekulli më parë, fëmijëria dhe rinia e herëshme e Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiut, nuk mbeten më në terrin e tymnajes të një “vajze prej Ballkani”.

Duke u marrë si shkas një fotografi e Terezës së ardhëshme dalë ne 1928, në moshe 18 vjecare, Time shkruan ajo çka e përcakton fotografinë, janë sytë e Gonxhes, plot ngrohtësi, e që kallzojnë shumë. Vështrimi i saj është i kthjellët, e megjithatë i vendosur, shënjon një lloj padurimi. Fotoja nuk është një çast, një kapje fotografike e një provinciale naïve. Vajza në foto “ di diçka rreth rrugës ku po futet”, çfare drejtimi ështe duke marrë jeta e saj. Prej këtij moment na hapet një domethënie, interpretim i ri në shkrimin e revistës amerikane e prejardhjes etnike e familjare të Gonxhes të re për të shpjeguar Nëne Terezën.

Literature/Gjuhesi

Bisede postmortem
(pjesa e shtate)
nga Altin Topi 

A.T. Zanafillën e elegjisë e kemi gjurmuar tek grekerit e vjetër, e romaket e adaptuan prej tyre. Cili ka qëne roli i Katulit në këtë përvetësim të kësaj forme kaq të herëshme poetike?

P.G. Elegjija Rromake, që kishte xânafillë me Katulin, e pat përdor ket poet si urën lidhse tepër të çmueshme midis shkollës Aleksandrine dhe elegjivet të Tibullit e Propertusit, që u shfaqen një gjeneracion mâ vonë. Elegjija Rromake vijon me zhvillimin e vet gjithnje e mâ teper, sá që një kritik i lashte, Kuintiliani, guxon me e krahasue me mâ të mirat elegji Helenike. Katuli në koleksionin e vet, ka punue si me stilin aleksandrin të epigramit t'kursyem, âshtu edhe me figurat e moralin e mitologjisë. Mundet me u argumentue se kupleti elegjjak mâ i famshëm latin âsht i tij tek Odi et Amo:

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?

nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

Literature/Gjuhesi

Bisede postmortem 

(pjesa e shtate)

   nga Altin Topi

A.T. Zanafillën e elegjisë e kemi gjurmuar tek grekerit e vjetër, e romaket e adaptuan prej tyre. Cili ka qëne roli i Katulit në këtë përvetësim të kësaj forme kaq të herëshme poetike?

P.G. Elegjija Rromake, që kishte xânafillë me Katulin, e pat përdor ket poet si urën lidhse tepër të çmueshme midis shkollës Aleksandrine dhe elegjivet të Tibullit e Propertusit, që u shfaqen një gjeneracion mâ vonë. Elegjija Rromake vijon me zhvillimin e vet gjithnje e mâ teper, sá që një kritik i lashte, Kuintiliani, guxon me e krahasue me mâ të mirat elegji Helenike. Katuli në koleksionin e vet, ka punue si me stilin aleksandrin të epigramit ters, âshtu edhe me figurat e moralin e mitologjisë. Mundet me u argumentue se kupleti elegjjak mâ i famshëm latin âsht i tij tek Odi et Amo:

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

Art/Poezi

Ëndrra dhe Poezia

        Dikur poeti francez Paul Eluard shkruante: - “Rrëfimi i një ëndrre nuk mund të merret si recitim poeme. Te dyja jane realitete te jetuara; por e para është një kujtim, i konsumuar njëherazi, një aventurë; kurse prej te dytes asgjë s’humbet, asgje s’ndryshon. Poezia e naltëson universin për të përfituar vetëm qënia njerëzore me aftësite e veta, i krijon hapsira njeriut të shoh llojshmërinë e gjërave në mënyra të ndryshme.” Ne vazhdim i kemi te dyja, endrren e poezine te shkrira ne nje.

Opinion/Kritike

Where a writer is from is neither here nor there


Posted by Stuart Evers Books Blog http://www.guardian.co.uk/

We should beware of paying more attention to a writer's nationality than their fiction.

       In the literary world, there is perhaps nothing more insulting than being labelled "insular". Any accusation – such as Nobel prize permanent secretary Horace Engdahl's 2008 comments about the parochialism of American letters – is damaging, hurtful and also guilt-inducing. Insularity, after all, is inimical to literature, the opposite of fiction's artistic goal of understanding others. And it's not just writers who are shamed by the allegation. Publishers and, by implication, readers are often indicted on similar charges, their rigid tastes blamed for the shockingly low availability of fiction in translation.

Art/Poezi

Albanian poet shares latest collection

January 25, 2010 by Amy Woodward

Black Mountain Institute welcomes Luljeta Lleshanaku


“There’s so much hugging in here!” laughed Carol Harter, executive director of the Black Mountain Institute, during her introduction for Albanian poet Luljeta Lleshanaku.

Lleshanaku, surrounded by friends and colleagues, was welcomed to Las Vegas for the reading of her most recent collection of poems, “Child of Nature.”

“I feel very emotional, very touched being back in Las Vegas… It’s my favorite city,” Lleshanaku said.

The poet, International Women’s Forum Fellow and winner of the prestigious Kristal Vilenice Prize, had previously received a nine-month residency from BMI.

During those nine months, she was able to focus on her work and thanked both BMI and UNLV for the opportunity.

Opinion/Kritike

Bretkoca dhe Akrepi
nga Altin Topi
Gazeta Shekulli 16/02/2010

Fabulën e bretkocës me akrepit nuk jemi të sigurtë se nga cila kulturë e kemi trashëguar, por është shume e vjetër, shpesh i atribohet edhe Ezopit. Sic janë të shkurtra edhe fabulat e Ezopit, unë po e ritregoj në stilin e tij.

Një ditë prej ditësh, një bretkocë dhe një akrep u takuan në buzën e një përroi. Akrepi iu lut bretkocës ta hidhte në krahun tjetër të përroit. Bretkoca dyshuese e pyet: - “A mund të besoj unë që ti nuk do të më ngulësh thumbin tënd vdekjeprurës?” Akrepi e kishte pergjigjen në majë të gjuhës: - “Si mundem ta bëj dicka të tillë? Po të qe kështu, do të mbyteshim të dy në ujë.” E kandisi bretkocen, e cila më në fund u bind ta mbante në kurriz. Ne mes të përroit, bretkoca ndjeu një pickim të fortë dhe nisi fill t’i paralizoheshin gjymtyret. Duke u fundosur me akrepin në kurriz e pyeti: - “Perse valle?” Akrepi iu pergjigj me skermitjen e tij cinike edhe në vdekje: - “Është vet natyra ime…” .

Literature/Gjuhesi

Bisede postmortem (pjesa e gjashte)
nga Altin Topi


A.T. E tash i ka ardhur radha periudhes disi më me shkelqim, kur duket se Roma ka forcuar e shtrire kufijte e vet me shume, dhe eshte e njohur si periudha augustiane. Sebashku me fuqine e Romes, a u rrit edhe fuqia e krijimtarise artistike njelloj?

P.G. Figura mâ e shqueme ne ket periudhe ásht Virgjili, aq i permendur per kryevepren e tij te pávdekshme epike, qe âsht Enejda.


Virgjili nuk permendet vetem per Enejden,

Art/Perkthime

Shoku Laski
nga Joan Didion*

Mikel Laski, i njohur edhe si M.I. Laski, është një i ri për të cilin nuk dihet shumë, me sy të gjallë, mjekër të vogël, fytyra verdhacuke e tij bie në sy në një vënd si Kalifornia jugore. Me pamjen e tij të dallueshme dhe bisedat ideologjike që s’rreshtin, i përngjason saktësisht një revolucionari të përkushtuar, e në fakt, ai është një i tillë. Ai ka lindur njëzet e dy vite më parë në Bruklin, si fëmijë u rrit në Los Anxhelos, braktisi universitetin në vitin e parë për të organizuar punën për sindikatat e shitësve, kurse sot, ai është Sekretari i Përgjithshëm i Komitetit Qëndror të Partise Komuniste të SHBA(Marksiste-Leniniste), një grup i shkëputur me vehte Stalinist-Maoist; si i tillë, i është përkushtuar me fanatizëm një doktrine komplekse e të pandryshueshme, me bindjet se, Partia Komuniste Amerikane është një “klikë borgjeze-revizioniste”, Partia Progresiste e Punës, trockistët, dhe “klika revizioniste e Gas Hallit”, e kanë demaskuar veten si lakej oportunistë të borgjezisë, duke propoganduar paqen, të papranueshme për “punëtoret”, por të pëlqyeshme prej imperialistëve liberalë; e H. Rap Braun është një vegël, në se nuk është një agjent i ndërgjegjëshëm i klasës sunduese kapitaliste.

Art/Perkthime

Te kesh qënë
nga Claudio Magris*

kushtuar Luka Doninelit

E pra Xheri vdiq. Harroje, nuk është ky halli, as për atë, e as për kërkënd. Biles as për mua, megjithëse e doja fort, e akoma e kam brënda vetes, sepse dashuria nuk njeh kohë. O perëndi, e parë kështu, sigurisht që po, është tamam ajo për ç’ka kemi nevojë. Por dashuria ka gramatiken e vet, megjithëse nuk njeh kohët, por veç mënyrat, biles vetëm njërën prej tyre, pikërisht paskajoren në të tashmen. Kur dashuron, është e përherëshme, për të tjerat s’ka rëndësi. Mund të jetë çfarëdo lloji dashurie e vjetër. Nuk është e vërtetë që e ke hedhur mbrapa, - asgjë nuk lihet pas, në të shumtën mbetesh sadopak peng i së kaluarës; kështu është, e mbart me vete siç edhe jeten, e cila s’ka asgjë për t’u çjerrë nga zëri, me ndryshimin se shpëton më kollaj nga jeta, se sa të hedhësh pas dashurinë. Është njëlloj si ndriçimi i yllit. Kujt i plas në se
yjet janë akoma aktive apo pajetë, të shuar?

Art/Movie and Theater

Stevens to play Albanian hero at 100th celebration
By Lisa Millegan

http://www.modbee.com/

Modesto tenor honored by role
Roy Stevens is not Albanian and has no ancestors who are. Yet the Modesto tenor will play the Eastern European country's national hero in an opera for the country's 100th anniversary celebration.

He will portray the title role in "Skanderbeg" in the capital city of Tirana in 2012.

Stevens said he was as surprised as anyone to be offered the part.

"Can you imagine the U.S. choosing a foreigner to play George Washington or Abe Lincoln in a national celebration?" he said.

Literature/Gjuhesi

Uncovering feminist views in 19th century Albanian's works
From Little About http://www.littleabout.com/

Washington, Dec 20 - An American academic has discovered some radical ideas on women's equality in the works of a Muslim author penned during 1872 to 1900.
The expert has written an article about his findings that will appear in the January 2010 issue of Middle Eastern Studies, a British academic journal published in London.
Dr. George Gawrych, a professor of history professor at Baylor University, reviewed the works of Albanian novelist and playwright Semseddin Sami Frasheri and found that he saw women as "equal but different."
This was a revolutionary point of view in the patriarchal society of the time.
Gawrych, who received a Fulbright Senior Researcher Scholar grant for 2008-2009, was in Turkey to study about Ataturk and the War of Independence waged from 1919 to 1923.
While studying about Albanians under Ottoman rule, Gawrych came across Semseddin Sami's ideas in an 1879 published book titled Women.

Literature/Gjuhesi

Bisede postmortem (pjesa e peste)
nga Altin Topi

A.T. Profesor ngjan se kemi arritur ne ate kufirin kohor qe ndan dy epoka te medha: fundin e lirikes greke e fillimin e lirikes romake. Megjithe shembujt qe u sollen nga e kaluara e periudhes te lulezimit e te perendimit te lirikes greke, ata mbeten te larget, teper fragmentare per te kapur domethenien e vertete te tyre.

P.G. Vertet, shka po m’kujton me te citue ktu disa sentenca te Goethes, i cilli na ka lan nje amanet per me bâ kujdes t’gjithvet ne studentet e t’kaluemes: “Literatura âsht vetem nji fragmenta e fragmentavet; prej gjithshkaje qe âsht thane e âsht bâ ne t’kaluemen, vetem nji grimc fare e vocerr ka mujt me u shkrue; prej asaj shka âsht shkrue, vetem nje gjâ e vocerr ka mujt me mbrrite ne ditet e sodit”.

Art/Movie and Theater

Albania pairs up for film biz

Tiny nation leans on co-prod'ns to boost profile

By NICK HOLDSWORTH Variety Magazine

TIRANA, Albania -- The tiny Balkans country -- where thousands of egg-shaped concrete gun emplacements and bunkers still disfigure the land, a reminder of the paranoia of the past -- is pushing hard for European Union membership, with some 90% of the population behind it.

That may be a long way off -- even with support from southerly neighbor and EU member Greece.

But filmmakers in a country where cinema all but collapsed in the last 20 years have a secret weapon: Eurimages.