Facts, comments, people who do not want to reveal their identity. Events experienced firsthand. On the scene: The businessmen of pornography and prostitution. • Facts, comments, people who do not want to reveal their identity. • Events experienced firsthand. • On the scene: The businessmen of pornography and prostitution. 20 December 1991. As I read the newspaper to see whether some technical error has put us in today’s issue, my eyes fall on a deck of playing cards bought at the Tirana market. These cards differ from ordinary ones only in that they show naked figures representing the corresponding number. I see: naked queens, naked men, clocks with female and male sexual organs. 29 April 1983. Spring in Tirana. With my classmates (we are in secondary school), we stroll around the grounds by the lake. With an adolescent’s curiosity, we watch couples making love. Under the teacher’s supervision, we continue our walk. We count ourselves and pretend that one of the girls in our class is missing. To our amazement, we find her at the train station with two grown-up boys who were presenting the ideas of her aunt. We were sure she did not have an aunt. She was very tired, so we did not question her further. 1 May 1986. After the workers’ parade, I go to meet a friend in the Student City. At the entrance to the city, a man in his forties stops me: «Come on, boy!» He tells Rrafael 150 lek. A kof- … Lepa Brene 140 lek! A… However, this was not the first offer of this kind. I walked away. 27 March 1987. Dajti Camp. After drinking and dancing in the camp’s indoor and outdoor spaces, a real encounter and orgy. Unlike the orgies organized in films and so on, here everything took place with the lights off. With the exception of the leadership’s villas, where everything went on under a faint light and the long shadows of the soldiers’ rifles. P.B (served in the Guard in 1988–89) says: I guarded the villas. I usually served at the villas of R. Marko and F. Çami. Young girls often came, accompanied by civilians from the Second Directorate. They left after two or three days, apparently having been taken by the feet. Unaccompanied. I never saw them again. 1 March 1988. Durrës. I met her at the tower opposite the «Iliria» hotel. I am the third daughter in the family. We have no other way to make a living. We are waiting for our third sister to grow up too, so she can support us. Gjirokastër, June 1989. Dusk. Together with B.M., we visit the ancient castle. The large tunnel without a single light, the Turkish baths where the soldiers bathed, the tower to the northeast, every now and then bring forth groans like evil spirits. Somewhere, a girl ambushes us; she looks very much like the girl from Durrës. A little farther on, the guards wait for their share to arrive. XH.R. says: We got into a car with a soldier from Kukës. On the road, the driver stopped and picked up a woman he seemed to know. We came to Milot. To our surprise, the driver headed toward the river. He put the soldier and me outside to stand guard. After a while, he switched places with me. Much later, the soldier took my place. Sunday, 30 September 1990. On an evening stroll with two friends, I go to the drama theatre. A blonde catches my eye; for half an hour, she passes in front of us four times along the same stretch. I ask what she is looking for. She answers: Her trade. But look closely—there aren’t only blondes! That night, with a careful look … (continued on page 4)

In these cold days of December, long-awaited news captured the attention of many. At last… At last, one of the worms gnawing at the trunk of the Albanian soul, one of the comic actors in the Albanian tragedy, was arrested. «The simple one, among the simple», Mrs. Nexhmije Hoxha is now in prison, in the very place where, directly or indirectly, most of our nation suffered for years. The news announced after midnight was twofold. It mentioned not one name, but two. The first declared arrested, Mr. Rita Marko, who had held high positions as vice-president and member of the Political Bureau, was easily overshadowed by the mention of the second name—Mrs. Nexhmije Hoxha, the close collaborator and wife of the demonic dictator Enver Hoxha. The words uttered by Mr. Rita Marko at the moment of his arrest were: «It hurts me inside, that my comrades betrayed me.» Who were these comrades of his? The person or persons who left this «statesman» in the lurch immediately come to mind, but we cannot name them because he himself did not identify them, and we might later have to engage in a heated exchange, just as his far-sighted commander Enver Hoxha taught him, telling us that those we name were not the ones, but others. The first arrest was carried out, while the people who were to carry out the second one were taken by surprise. The order given by the superior was: Now we are going to arrest Nexhmije Hoxha. One member of the group recounted: — I was stunned. A jumble of thoughts rushed into my head all at once, among them a strong instinct for self-preservation. The arrest warrant also prompted reactions from Mrs. Nexhmie. Being grabbed by the arms by the competent authorities for security reasons caused harsh words to come from her «sweet» mouth: «You beasts…, animals…, I am a woman…». The truth, which we in no way wish to contradict, is that Nexhmije Hoxha is a woman. But has this viper ever thought about other Albanian women? What were those women brutally beaten in interrogation rooms? And what were the others she left without husbands, children and homes? What shall we call those women who were imprisoned in the same cell as men? It was you two, you and your husband, who were the beasts of the Albanian night, sowing calamity and mourning in the honest and patriotic homes of our Homeland. During the arrest, these words also came from Nexhmije Hoxha’s mouth: «You betrayed my trust. A true Albanian does not do this.» Besa—this jewel of the Albanian word—must never be sullied or stained by such low creatures, who did everything they could to erase it from the spiritual culture of our people. Were it not her school and wartime companions who ended up in prisons and internment camps, just as her husband treated his comrades? The killings, political prisons and profound division of the people are living proof of Hoxha’s treachery. Treachery and slander were among the basic leitmotifs of the Enverian dictatorship. So what does this «lady» want? Economic crime is being made into a façade for a terrible crime inflicted on our nation by the Hoxha dictatorship—and that is political crime. If anything should ring through their courtroom first of all, it is the cries and groans of Spaç and Burrel.

• Greece’s possible ambassador in Tirana for the «minority» zone, Mr. Napoleon Roshi! Every day we quarrel and bicker with one another. Meanwhile, in general, there are those ready to sow even more division. On both sides of the border, little by little, day after day, with flattery and with knives in the back, using even the «Trojan Horse». In Gjirokastër, you long to see an Albanian word in the shops. Only in Greek! I say Gjirokastër, because in Sarandë they have been treating Greek as if they were at home for some time now. In Korçë, too, the Vorio-Epiriote advance is beginning to get under way. Mile by mile. Little by little, day after day. The Homeland is being exposed, its rabid dogs laying bare a defenceless animal without a shepherd. Painful, shameful. It could hardly get worse. We swear by nation and Homeland, kiss the flag and praise Noli and Migjeni, Fishta and Kadare, yet we do not feel the Vorio-Epiriote knife. A sin, brothers, a sin— In parliament, a certain half-man, half-snake Greek takes an oath. I say «a certain one», because people like him are notorious, bearing a devil’s name while dressed as human beings. From now on, the devil should not be called the devil, but Napoleon. To make this Devil-Napoleon sound even worse, another name must be added: Roshi. Remember this, good people! In a year, perhaps two, you will have to ask for a Greek visa to go to Gjirokastër, Sarandë and Korçë. Make sure you keep this in mind now: the Greek Ambassador for the «minority» zone, Napoleon Roshi. Roshi’s son, Politicians, leaders, ministers, President! Beware of the serpent that has entered our ranks and is pecking even at souls revered as sacred. This kind of Devil is the most … Devil. NIKOLLE LESI

• CONTRARY TO THE RUMOURS GOING AROUND THAT SHE EARNS 400 DOLLARS A MONTH. It was generally thought that the wife of Deputy Minister Dr. Gramoz Pashko had a secure job with a generous salary. The truth is that she has been unemployed for more than six months, waiting for a decision from the district education authorities to appoint her as a teacher, since she graduated in philosophy. A fact that would have caused a sensation in the era of one-party rule, whereas in a pluralist system it is something ordinary. Doctor Pashko himself was the first to set an example of unemployment.

3,5L CARICATURE BY IGLLI SULIOTI

On 25 December, the whole free world celebrates Christmas. For the first time after years of religious oppression, we too are celebrating. In our hearts, we rejoice freely. MERRY CHRISTMAS! Because it is the feast of humanity’s liberation. Its hope of meeting GOD. To everyone: MERRY CHRISTMAS! The editorial staff of the newspaper «KOHA JONË».