Prison
Shukrije Gashi: I was arrested in the 1983… at the same time, there were arrests in Gjilan, in the city of Gjilan. At the time, Nuhi Berisha, who apart from being a member of the Movement and my fellow activist back then, was also my boyfriend, had informed me that arrests have started in Gjilan, and there is the possibility… there is the possibility that we might get arrested too. And I begged him… since Nuhi was also one of the founders of the Kosovo Liberation Army and he, you know, his main goal was to establish the Army, I begged him, and we talked about him leaving Kosovo, because in this regard he was more prepared than others. And then it was decided that he leaves.
One early morning, an April morning, I went to the house where he lived to talk to him about what should I do then, as a member of the Movement. Before I left, the phone rang in my house and I spoke to the father of Ahmet Isufi, and he told me that Ahmet had been arrested. Naturally, back then we referred to each other with pseudonyms, because phone tapping, you know, was happening a great deal. I got the information early, and I went to share this information with Nuhi, because I knew that he was already in danger. We talked to him, which materials should be totally destroyed, and which ones possibly preserved, and whom to send it to. I had a wide circle of friends… including those ones with whom I was studying. I decided to share some of the materials with a friend of mine, so she could find ways to save them, to hide them somewhere, since the regime suspected my family more than hers. And that’s how it was decided.
Once we talked about the tasks, I knew that Nuhi leaving could mean the last time we saw each other, because my fate was uncertain, and his too. I was very certain that the police and the UDBa were watching our every step. And that it will happen that I get arrested for sure! And after I took those materials for distribution… they had to be hidden, I went out in the street. I said farewell to Nuhi, and while I continued walking, I stopped for a while, I turned around once again. And that was the last time I saw him, so, in April of the year 1983. At the beginning of the neighborhood, actually at the end, I saw two agents waiting. And then I had to divert from my path, enter a new street, so that through small doors, from house to house, I came to the street where I lived, in order to avoid the danger.
I remained with a great worry, because now I wasn’t sure whether the same agents managed to track whether Nuhi was still there or not. When I arrived at the bridge of the river Prishtevka, which no longer exist because it has been covered, I saw there another agent who was looking for, and waiting for someone. And he was certainly waiting for me, because there was no one else to wait for! And instead of going back to the street heading home, I entered the market without having to, only so I could avoid the probability of getting arrested or being seen by him. And I observed him from afar. I waited there, I waited for a long time until dawn, I didn’t go home. When I arrived home, I spoke to my paternal uncle’s daughter, who was also active, Emine Gashi, now Rexha, who is married in Dibër. We were of the same generation. And I told her, I said, “I have to…I have to do something by any means, because UDBa is after us. I saw the agents today, Ahmet has been arrested, it means all signs point out that we are in danger, so I have to do something to… either leave for some time, or leave the country, so I don’t fall in the hands of the police.”
The next day, early in the morning, we went to buy shoes. I made sure they were comfortable shoes, so I could run easily (laughs) to avoid the danger. While… back then it was called Boro Ramiz, Sports Center today, it was called Boro Ramiz at the time… as I was going through different shops to find comfortable shoes, my uncle’s daughter had spotted, had noticed an agent who was following us. Besides, not only my uncle’s daughter, but also the shop assistant at the shop had noticed this movement and he asked me to get in the dressing room… inside, where… in one quarter of the shop, and stay there until the agent leaves. I was positively impressed, and at the same time it was surprising, how come the shop assistant knew whom was the agent following? But the shop assistant knew that he was one of the notorious agents of, you know, UDBa, and he went to the front of the shop himself to make sure that he was leaving. The moment he saw he had left, he called me and told me, “Fast please, get out through the upper part of the building!” Out of the upper entrance, and that’s what we did. Then from there, we started running and again from afar, my uncle’s daughter saw some other agents who were on the move. And so this way we managed to get home through side streets. At that point we agreed that the danger was now imminent and we should do something to avoid arrest (sighs).
While we were talking to each other, all worried, my mother had noticed that something was wrong. And she asked us, “What is going on with you two? Why are you distressed?” She addressed me, “Why there was a phone call this early? Where have you been? What is happening? Why are you keeping secrets from us? What is going on?” I replied, “Nothing! This is normal, times are bad, there are arrests everywhere…” I told her that Ahmet had been arrested, and then she said, “This is not a good thing at all! So, soon it will be you!” “Yes…” I said, “it is not unexpected, it can happen that… don’t be surprised by this, it’s better to know.”
Naturally, there were numerous [political] materials at home, those we had drafted to distribute, but at the same time the influence, the inspiration from these materials had gone so far that even my brothers, who were much younger than I was, had written in their school notebooks, written, you know… you could find scribbling such as, “Kosovo Republic,” “Kosovo…” “Unification of Kosovo and Albania,” etc. a,
“Kosovo is ours,” and so on, “Trepça is ours,” so, slogans that were shouted and spoken of even during the demonstrations of ‘81. Then, [you could find] some drawings with national content, drawings and mocking of politicians of the time, also Albanian ones, with sketches where they were presented according to their characteristics, portraying them as various animals, and so on. And for the others, you know, for those that… the mocking of politicians, I was not much aware of it, because it didn’t occur to me that they were dealing with these issues (laughs).
However, I decided to go to my uncle’s, at Emine’s father and my cousin’s house. I point this out intentionally, because in the year ‘81, Njazi Gashi was sentenced to nine years in prison. I went to their family, so I could escape from home. That evening, I cannot exactly remember, but someone was getting engaged, whether at my uncle’s, where I was staying, or at another uncle’s, who lived in the house attached to the house of Emine’s father, I don’t know, but I know that such event was taking place. While they were singing there, because of the engagement, the police had already surrounded my house and had gone to my house, and the house of my other uncle, where my grandmother was living. At that moment, I don’t know why, perhaps an intuition, it seemed as if I heard from the outside the trunk of the police cars, and all of a sudden I jumped on my feet, like this {jumps off her seat}, distressed. I said, “Oh God! Probably the police!” I said to my uncle’s daughter, “I…” I said, “should get away from here.”
And it turned out to be like that. Then, those heavy knocks started on the door of the house, knocks by the police and UDBa agents. I ran to the attic, the roof of the house, I ran out of there, jumped over the wall, and went to my uncle’s neighbors. The police turned up. They arrested my uncle’s daughter there, the one who was the same age as I was, Emine. At the same time, they arrested my youngest sister, Hilmije [Higi]. My father was arrested too, and the son of my eldest uncle… all of them were taken to the police station and were held there. The daughter… my uncle’s wife, who was also my aunt, was very distressed and so in the early morning, you know, I went back, I left the neighbor’s house, and returned to my uncle’s, and we decided to leave Pristina.
And we headed for my aunt’s village, to go to my maternal uncle’s place. We walked eight hours. My uncle’s wife advised me to put on a raincoat, you know, a women’s coat, and a pair of… back then we called them dimija, kule, where kule were smaller than dimija. She said, “Because you camouflage like this and don’t get noticed.” Although I didn’t feel comfortable at all, first of all, especially because it was against my nature and I didn’t want to identify myself with such outfit, however, I agreed to it. When we got to the village, and we had to walk through the hills and so it was very difficult, I had to take the kule off, because I couldn’t take it anymore (laughs). Looking at the sky, I saw that the police was coming with a helicopter {nods her head}. And then, together with uncle Fehmi, we went in the direction of the forest, no hills anymore, but the forest, in order to avoid the chase. And we got deep into a thick forest. You know, we stayed there till dark and we couldn’t see.
When it got dark, we arrived at my uncle’s and because of… a great pressure, and due to the fact that they were… simply targeted by the regime, we discussed the possibility to stay or not. I always… my uncle and I, we always insisted that in case they don’t feel comfortable with my presence there, I shouldn’t stay there. Because I was aware that wherever I went, each family would be jeopardized by my presence.
Some of them were of the opinion that I should stay, naturally not all of them, because not all people share the same opinion, and I was, I understood this. I decided, together with two of my uncles, uncle Fazli and uncle Dalip, who were also members of the Kosovo Liberation Army, while uncle Dalip was killed during the last war in Kosovo, he was also a participant in all the demonstrations that occurred in Kosovo, we decided to take the mountains again. So I was… staying there, but had to stay in the forest, near where the old cemetery was, because we thought that the police would not come to the cemetery.
I remember a case… so, in every circumstance there are moments of humor. And I didn’t know, as it was dark, and in the moonlight I couldn’t notice that it was a cemetery, I didn’t know where we were and I sat on a grave, without knowing where I was (laughs). And looking around {looks around}, I saw some sparks going on in the moonlight. They both knew, but they thought that if they told me I would be frightened. And so I asked, “What, more, what is happening? I don’t understand! What are these candles, sparks that are being spread in the air?” They looked at each other, and started to laugh. And they told me, “Hmm, very good! You, who aspire to fight for human rights, you are violating the rights of someone who is right now lying underneath you.” And I looked around, still not understanding the point of this sentence. And then they started laughing. I said, “More men, tell me what are you talking about because I don’t understand what is happening here, with these candles.” I said, “Because I don’t care! Whoever it is, speak up! What is this thing?” Then, uncle Dalip said, “Look…” he said, “we are at the cemetery.” He said, “Because you can’t be safer anywhere but here” (laughs). I understood then that I was sitting on top of a grave (laughs). So, like this! {Shakes her head.}
However we then knew that the police, the agents… we got the information that they continued to be interested, they interrogated even my father, my sister, and others, and we decided that I should leave somewhere much farther than my uncle’s’ place. The organization started. I managed that, through the help of uncle Dalip, my uncle, now both deceased, Fehmi, and a friend of my uncle’s wife’s brother whose name was Rama. He was a man from Majanc, Majanc, the village of Majanc, which is in Llap. When he found out the reason why I want to go underground, to leave, he then took his truck, and with his truck, together with his friend Jahir, who was the brother of my uncle’s wife, and with my uncle Dalip, he took me to Ferizaj, to get shelter at another family’s.
I stayed for week with that family. It was the Lekiqi family, and the head of the house’s wife was a cousin of mine, but we did not know each other. From there, we decided that I move on, so I change my location, and move to Prizren, to another family’s, in order to avoid the possibility of being caught by the police. Then I stayed in Prizren for three weeks, or less. I am not certain about the time. And to avoid the danger, I spent the nights at the town’s old cemetery. So, I spent almost every evening there, until the early morning hours. The head of the house was a brave man, who had lost one eye in the war, as a member of Balli Kombëtar, a passionate patriot, who used to tell me, “Feel comfortable! Only because you insist on going to the cemetery, whereas for my family and me, you could freely stay here. Do you see this gun hanging? I will protect you till the last bullet!” However, despite all his commitment, I didn’t want to endanger the family, hence I decided, so in the evenings I go to the old cemetery of the town of Prizren.
After some time, I received the information that I should meet with some of Nuhi’s friends, and from there cross [the border] together with my uncle’s son, who was also being persecuted at the same time, Muhamet… by the police, so we do pass through Slovenia, and then continue for Switzerland, to meet up with Nuhi and others. Unfortunately, the group that… that was supposed to meet us, to organize our journey to Slovenia, had been found by the police. And, when my uncle’s son arrived at the place where they should have met, he didn’t see anyone. Later, it was known that some of them had been arrested and this was the reason for not holding the meeting.
Afterwards, the oldest brother of my uncle’s son, and the uncle, and all of us decided to… it was decided, though against my will, simply put, that we had to… we had to go back home, and for me it was very difficult to surrender. And so, when I got back home, I always thought that we should find another solution, not surrender. We spoke to my uncle’s son, and a friend of theirs had told them that, “Escaping from such a lawsuit, such accusation, will make it much more difficult, because once the authorities are informed about your escape, and catch you afterwards, if they catch you, the punishment will be much greater. Whereas, if the escape doesn’t happen, it will be easier.” And it was decided so. After all that time in the underground, I returned home. During the whole time I was supposed to stay in the attic of my uncle’s house, an old house.
My father, as I said earlier, was a very open minded, very liberal man, he had his viewpoints… liberal views, and he knew I was in a relationship with Nuhi. One day he came to me in the attic where I was, and told me, “Shuki, you are my daughter, please let’s speak openly! Feel free to tell me whether you have slept with Nuhi. Because I am a parent myself, and you know very well that it might happen that you get arrested. And eventually any… if a pregnancy happens, it will be very difficult for you in prison.” I told him not to worry, not to get concerned because this hasn’t happened. And he asked me a few more times, “Please, feel free! You know very well that we spoke openly about everything even in the past. You remember that since you were 18 years old… and when you got your first period, so just before turning 13, we talked. It was you and I when we talked about it. These are normal things. Feel free to talk to me about all of this!” I reassured him that it didn’t happen and it won’t happen, the pregnancy, and then he felt at ease about this issue. “I…” he said, “my daughter, I never interfered in your life. Do as you think is best for you. Let it be your decision whether you want to stay, or leave, and you want to continue or not in your path. It is difficult, but if you think of falling into the hands of the police, think it well, do not take others with you.” Then I swore to him that even if it cost me my life, I would not spit a word from my mouth. I would speak for myself, but not about others.
And one day, obviously early in the morning, we heard a heavy knocking on the door. I was…not sleeping, but staying idle in bed, because I could not sleep. When you know that any moment you wait for something to happen, such as getting arrested, you cannot even sleep. Some days had passed from when I left, you know, my shelter, which was in my uncle’s attic, because the decision has been taken that I should surrender. And when… knocks on the door and the bell were heard, my mother came to the door and said, “Shuki, come out…” she said, “because they have arrived!” Because it was hard for her to say, the police, UBDA, and she said it like that, “Get out because they have arrived!” And while I was getting prepared to go out, they were climbing up the stairs. And they did! There were three of them. Lutfi Ajazi was the main one. Then there was Zoran, a Serb, and someone else whose name I can’t recall at the moment. He was a Berisha. He is from the city of Peja. He is, even to this day… currently employed. All of them came, they bid farewell to me and my mother. My mother offered them some coffee. They sat to drink the coffee and told me, “Get ready! Because, you should come with us!” I went directly to the bathroom to freshen up and one of them told me, “Don’t be late! Because we don’t have time!” I said, “Without washing my face and brushing my teeth, I won’t come!”
As soon as I got ready, I prepared to go out… I did not take my jacket with me. One of them told my mother, “Fetch…” he said, “bring her the jacket, because you never know.” Mother turned towards him and said, “My daughter…” she said, “did nothing wrong!” He said, “I am telling you loke, better speak with a softer tone, than the way you are behaving,” he said, “Because I am telling you now, your daughter’s head is under the scissors.” “My daughter…” she said, “there is no reason to be upset. Whatever she did, she fought for the rights that belong to her.” And nothing… mother was very burrëneshë. “Hold on! Do not let go! Be strong! They cannot do anything to us.” “You don’t…” she said, “have to have your head under the scissors. You have committed no crime! It is not a crime to ask for your rights.” “Come on…” she said, “for mother’s sake, they cannot do anything to you.” And to tell you the truth, then I found some sort of motivation and energy, I acquired confidence through my mother’s support. And I wanted to turn around and hug her, “Hajt…” she said, “because this is short term! Phiii! If nothing else, you will be here in the evening!” {punches the table }. “Hajt…” she said, “because… poor Albanians! And you call yourselves Albanians!” My mother! She said this to them.
I took off down the stairs… naturally my sister and brothers, some of them were there, some weren’t because it was a school time. And going down the stairs, I turned back once more. She did not come downstairs, because she didn’t want to make me feel weak, but from the above… I lifted my head and saw her {lifts her head up} She looked at me and smiled with… it was a bitter smile. “I told you…” she said, “once. Hold on! Because you haven’t done anything! You have no reason to be upset about anything!” And I went out. When I got out, so, in front of the entrance door, the neighbors had gathered on both sides of the vehicle. I felt saddened, not for the fact that the police had come, but for the fact that among the neighbors there were those who collaborated with the police.
This is how the arrest happened, and from there I was sent to the Secretariat of the Interior in Pristina. And there, I was harassed by the same inspectors for hours and hours. A female inspector too… she was also a guard. Zyra, Zyra, Zyra… I cannot remember the surname. She was from the region of Deçan. From that region somewhere, Zyra. Then there was Bashkim Kursani. He was one of the main inspectors in my case and the other members’. Then there was Lutfi Ajazi, whom I mentioned, and this inspector who was from Peja, Berisha, and other inspectors who came in and out, and who behaved in strange ways, different ways. So it was a coordinated behavior. While one of them acted supposedly in a civilized manner, as soon as the other came in, he acted differently. He acted brutally, in a very brutal manner.
While I was being interrogated by Bashkim Kursani, inspector Zyra acted and made a gesture, a strange gesture, even offensive! Not for me, but for her. She lifted her skirt, the skirt she was wearing and she sat on the lap of Bashkim Kursani. And then she threw her arm around his neck. And she told me, “You moj fool!” Like that. “Who do you think you are? Instead of enjoying life, you decided to waste it away and end up in prison.” She didn’t know that more than my imprisonment and perhaps my wasting away in prison, in those moments, I was touched and greatly hurt by her offensive behavior. Because I wanted to believe throughout all those years… though I was quite young, I was only 21, of my [political] involvement and conviction, that women, when educated, because she was employed, would behave differently. I saw that she wasn’t at all aware and didn’t even fall into that category. On the contrary, she created the impression for the rest, that girls and women don’t know better than what she was doing. And I only looked at her with pain. I felt sorry. I didn’t say anything more than, “I feel sorry that you are like this” (hushes).
And then, there, with various provocations of course, “Why did you undertake your activity? Who are the other members you are in contact with? Who are the main organizers? Where have you stayed? Why did you undertake this activity? Why didn’t you want to become a member of the Yugoslav Youth Party?” the youth organization that existed back then. “What do you need Albania for? Why should Kosovo be a Republic when it already is? This is a Republic! What do you want more, you have your own Republic, Serbia. Only with your body you are in Kosovo but with your head [you are] in Albania! We will send you to the border of Kosovo and Albania, chop your head off and leave you there, and the head over here…” and similar threats to incite, to drive me to speak. And I had decided to remain silent.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: Were the tortures only verbal, or was there also physical torture?
Shukrije Gashi: There were beatings, normally the physical ones were part of their game {drops her head}. I never mentioned this while my parents were alive. I didn’t want to hurt them (sighs). Then Zoran stepped in. From what I heard, I am not sure if it is true, he got killed during the war. He was smoking a cigarette and since I didn’t speak, he took the cigarette and stubbed it {touches the forehead}… he stubbed it on the eyebrow, on the forehead, so I would speak. And then I fainted from the pain. But as I said, I decided not to talk, because we had pledged an oath as women, that we would rather die than talk. Because there was also another side [to our movement], which was to make them understand that we were as strong as the men. And then, after I came to my senses, they started to… with questions again. Fortunately, I have low blood pressure, and this helped me to get weak quickly, so they couldn’t… I [did] not get the chance to continue. To extract words from me about the organization, about friends, those who were members, the purpose of our activities, the network of people, and everything, they even used a stimulating injection.
And later I spoke to…I researched together with other people, that this stimulating injection had a weakening effect on people with low blood pressure. And as soon as I got the injection, I totally collapsed. Due to that, I wasn’t able to continue the conversation further. From there, I was taken to the prison of Mitrovica. I had no clue about myself, because I was without consciousness. I didn’t know what had happened until I got… they got me to a big room, the room number three. I saw, I understood then that I am in prison, based on… you know, the sight, beds and blankets, I realized I was in prison. Out of weakness, you know, faintness, and because I was without food, and maltreated, I couldn’t stand on my feet. I fell down.
Then, a few women who happened to be there, they happened to be there, approached me. I didn’t know who they were, and they poured water on my face. After a while I regained my consciousness and they asked, “Do you know where you are?” I said, “No, I don’t know. I don’t know whether it is a prison, a hospital!” “No, not a hospital!” said one of them, “It is a prison!” “Okay.” “What is it…” They continued, “with you? Why?” I said, “I don’t know what is happening, but I am continuously attacked by animals.” Because it was the effect of the injection. Not a tiger, not a lion, wild animals. That was my impression. It induced hallucinations and I was in a very bad state. And they took me, put me in… in a bed on the first floor, as they called them, because it was a bunk bed, the beds. However, I couldn’t regain strength. I fell again under the same effect, at some point I started to see other sights that were very terrifying. And it started… just like a thinking disorder, because those… that injection’s effect was very heavy (sighs).
Kaltrina Krasniqi: What kind of disorder?
Shukrije Gashi: Snakes… as I said. Attacked by snakes… by animals. Then these too… what can I say, characters from horror movies, things like that. And they called the doctor. I don’t know what kind of tranquilizer they gave me, I just know that my head got very heavy, and I fell asleep. Certainly it was… according to those women… sometime around four o’clock in the morning I fell asleep.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: How many people were in the room? Shukrije Gashi: At the time they were…five, including myself. Kaltrina Krasniqi: Were they political activists too?
Shukrije Gashi: Initially not. They were in for murder. There were maniacs and other types but… later on also political [prisoners]. Actually no, one of them was [charged] on political grounds! Now, from a village in Suhareka.
Even the next day, I had problems for the whole day. I started to get cramps in my hands and legs. I had so much pain as a reaction, that if somebody hadn’t helped me {touches elbows and arms with her hands} I was ready to break my fingers, hands. The reaction of the injection was very severe. A guard who was not Albanian, I don’t know her nationality, because she spoke both Albanian and other, I saw that her eyes were full of tears. And she asked me, “Why?” She said, “Is it an illness?” I said, “No, this is not an illness of mine!” I said, “I got this here!” Then they called in the doctor. They started with therapy. I don’t know, they probably spoke with those interrogators. But I was in that kind of state for a long time.
And so like this, those tortures started. A terrible life in the prison of Mitrovica, where every day, besides the tension, fear and terror of waiting for the interrogation, which happened every second or third day, the day was heavy also for the fact that men were getting severely beaten. They got beaten up terribly, in a terrible way! Their screaming was heard the entire day, dreadfully. And, day after day, we decided to protest. The pavilion of… the women’s, the girl’s floor. One day it was awful! Awful! {Shakes the head.} The house rule was that every morning we go out for five minutes, the whole room, for a walk that resembled a well, a fountain, with high walls. God knows, certainly… I will try to describe how high it was approximately. It was certainly around four to five meters high, the wall. And at the top, so, by the end of the wall, there was a barrack, like a hen house, with a policeman standing, a guard who oversaw the walk.
While we were walking through the promenade, I saw a light up in a prison cell, out of a very small window, which I reckoned was no more than the size of a lighter, so, that light. And I was dressed in red. Not intentionally! Because I never had that kind of wish to… and I still don’t have it up to this day, to present myself in those national colors, but for me, the national is the inner you, the action, not the colors and the image, and so forth. He put… someone put his hand out of that small window and shouted loudly, “Oo, bless you red!” And the guard, who was also the watch guard you know, turned his head in the direction from which the voice was coming, and swore at him between his teeth, I don’t know what. While we were walking, the intervention already started there, and we could hear the screaming because of the violence they exercised on him. And for a moment, someone threw… I don’t know a piece of paper, at the promenade. I pretended I am tying laces of my sneakers and picked up the paper. I put it in the sneakers. Fortunately, I got away with it because he didn’t see me. And the female guard approached me, even though I was under pressure because there, you know, you were never sure what is going to happen next, something unexpected. They could strip search you. And she asked, “What is with you? Why are you so pale?” I said, “Nothing! I am tired. The breakfast was not that good. This is the reason. I don’t have…” “Why…” she said, “aren’t you taking care of yourself? Do you see how much weight you’ve lost?” I said, “What can I do! No big deal!” I said, “It’s alright.”
I couldn’t wait to enter the room and see what is it about. When we entered the room, there was an old lady there who was working for the UDBa service, and she was there supposedly for some crime, however the purpose was to spy on us. And eventually I read the letter. It was saying that… it wrote, “On this date, this person shall be executed,” had the whole name in it, “and be informed that the execution will happen at the prison’s promenade.” It was about an Albanian guy called Tafili, I can’t recall his full name as it was a long time ago. And the sign of execution was the siren, the bell that woke us up. However, its duration was short, whereas on the day of the execution it lasted longer. And it happened sometime late in the evening. It rang a long time. We were told that the siren broke down, and that is when Tafil got executed.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: Was it legal to have a death sentence in Yugoslavia at the time?
Shukrije Gashi: No, no.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: How did they justify the cases when people were executed?
Shukrije Gashi: Yes, they constructed it as an accident. Eh! They did not take us for a walk that day. After… very interesting! And two days later, you know, there were blood stains on the wall. Also the others spotted it. While I was waiting in the queue behind the bars to meet my family, the handover of Tafil’s clothes took place. And to me, this was a great shock, because probably as it was communicated before to the family, it was said to them again, that he died of illness, that the coffin should not be opened because the illness was contagious.
The visits happened on a monthly basis and they lasted only five minutes. The visits happened behind bars. You couldn’t touch your family either… not even touch hands, let alone something else. The visits happened under a strict watch by the police, such as, you know, two prison guards and an interrogator, in order to make it impossible even with body language, gestures, to exchange messages that would have been useful to us.
Naturally, I was considerably underweight. Back then, I was only 44 kilograms, exactly. Even my hair had grown enormously, because the hygiene was poor. There were a lot of lice and insects in the rooms. I didn’t know, they called them stenica [bedbugs] back then. Probably it was from the wall, as I presumed that stena, stenica, derived from the Serbian language. And we went on, with candles in our hands, chasing these stenica, insects, almost the entire evening.
Then the food was very poor. Often, the meat in the food they brought us had worms. And of course we wouldn’t eat that, and if you don’t eat you lose weight. The amount of the food that was allowed to be brought in monthly was limited. You were allowed only four kilograms per month. Four kilograms… some of us with a better living standard always shared it with others. All of those who were inside, with the exception of those whom the regime put in to eavesdrop on us, had very difficult economic conditions. Therefore we shared with them, with each other, all the food we had.
Besides economic conditions, you know, sleeping conditions, an accommodation that was very inhuman, the most difficult thing for us was the presence of persons who worked for the UDBa service. Because the whole time you were under pressure. During the entire time, you had to overthink every word you uttered. To say it, or not to say it? And what should you say? However, for the sake of our ideals… certainly it was the ideal that kept us going and one of the motives for being there. We continued the resistance even in prison. One day, when they had severely beaten up the boys, we decided to protest, we started to hit, you know, to bang very hard on the doors in all rooms, the prison doors, in order for them to stop their act, their action upon men. And that happened. They stopped. Naturally those were screaming out of the great pain that they may have gone through, their screaming went on.
And, when they went in… the guards entered the floor where we were… you know, as I began, it was a heavy day for women and girls who were in that pavilion, because even that day, the guards undertook the action of beating men from the very morning. We didn’t know the reason why. And we were going mad! They continued nonstop during the whole time. We decided to protest. And we did that. We protested. We started with the banging on the doors. Our doors were made of steel. And the knocking sounded loud, was heard… it was a huge noise. The reason was the following, to make a huge noise in order to attract the attention of the guards and so the beating of men and boys would stop. They rushed furiously to the floor where women and girls were, and what a sight. It was a dreadful sight. All across the face and hands of… with rolled-up sleeves… all in blood, because of the violence they exercised on Albanian men and boys. To our surprise, the majority of them [the guards] were Albanians.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: The ones who practiced torture?
Shukrije Gashi: Those who tortured. At the time I wasn’t, you know, in the room number three, which was the first room I stayed in once in prison, but it was the room at the beginning of the hall. And as far as I can remember, it was number four, because the numbering was intentionally random. They opened the door using very untypical expressions and swearing at us, calling us, “Bitches and whores, what is wrong with you that you make this noise? Who are you?” And so on… “Get out, whores!” and then, I decided that another girl and I, who were in for political reasons, don’t go out of the room. Because according to the regulation, guards had no right to enter the room and stay there, but if they had the strength to drag you out, then they could do everything to you in the hall. Even though I was quite weak, weak health-wise due to the conditions that… the poor [conditions] we used to have in prison, I strongly held to the bed which was of steel, and despite great efforts by two guards to drag me out, they couldn’t make it (smiles.) I managed to resist! The other one, they dragged her out and beat her. They didn’t manage to drag out Shyqerije Bytyqi and me.
They started to open the doors one by one and thus maltreat, beat those whom they managed to drag out of the room. So this was the worse day I had experienced since I got in prison. Besides the violence being exercised on women and men, the fact that they were Albanians and that they still weren’t aware of whom they were serving, hurt me more. And naturally, we didn’t spare them. We called them with different names, as they deserved it, criminals and satrap and, UDBash and all kinds of name, without any fear. Now, we decided that if needed, we would die, because if they killed those boys, why not kill us too? We entered there for the same cause, for the same ideals, and the sacrifice should be equal. And for another reason that I mentioned a few times, for we took an oath because… we should stand strong because the other party should be convinced that we are capable to carry out all actions, despite being women. And this motive, and the solidarity for the sake of the cause, continued during the whole day. At some point, the guards stopped, because they saw that they couldn’t win over women who were determined to resist till death. They gave up and left.
Later on a female guard came, an Albanian, who was a bright lady, polite and patriotic, Emine Osaj. She was very distressed. Moreover, I can say she almost cried, as her eyes were full of tears. And as soon as she opened the door of the room and saw us, she expressed that. She couldn’t refrain from it. “Eh!” She acted like this, she said, “How did it come to this, Albanians fighting against each other?” She wanted to continue, but as I said earlier, there was fear from people in the room, those UDBashs. And then she changed topic, “How are you doing, any concern? Take care of yourself! You know what the house rules are. And, how was the food today? Be careful!” and so on. I don’t know, probably she reacted concerning the boys, because in the meantime a supervisor came and he behaved very badly with them, which made us think that she has certainly reacted during the time the men got severely beaten. She was even threatened, and few days later she left the job for good. How… as much as I felt bad that she left, because she gave moral support to us prisoners, at the same time I felt good and proud of her dignified stand, particularly because she was a woman. At a certain moment, I remembered her, her dignified stand, and then Zyra, the inspector. What a difference between the two! Still, I thought that there was a reason for more hope, because even in institutions such as prisons, there are people, there are especially women, who are able to tell the truth, who can be dignified and protect human rights.
It wasn’t easy, absolutely. You were in prison together with criminals, together with criminals, together with prostitutes. And such mixing was done intentionally, so that politically imprisoned girls and women would not communicate freely. I remember a woman who was there in the room with us for a criminal offence, a murder, from the village Kranidell of Kamenica, during the whole time she asked for the reasons… why, what are the reasons for being in prison, for what offence. And often various inspectors came and visited her. She had a marvelous life. Even her food differed from our food. And in the meantime, day after day, since I noticed that she was like that, I decided not to speak ever, about the deeds… about why I was in prison. She strongly insisted. She called me with the pseudonym I had during the time in prison, Beteja [Battle].
And at some point I asked her, “What deed are you here for? Why are you in prison?” She said, “I am here unjustly. Because my daughter in law has accused me of a deed I haven’t committed.” In fact she had… together with her son they had killed the daughter in law. They killed her because she didn’t allow the Serbian police and UDBa agents to step over the eagle she had embroidered herself. The husband and the mother in law, both were in the service of UDBa. UDBa used to organize parties at her family’s, at her house. And she came from a poor family, without support, but she never accepted to succumb to such family regime. Hence she was killed and hanged. She was hanged. After they killed her, they also hang her. Both of them.
Shamelessly, she told us how he, the husband, tied her up by the hair with a rope, and kept her hanging, she said, “Because she was stubborn,” said the old lady. She wouldn’t tell the reason why, but would only utter, “She was stubborn.” And supposedly one day, since they had plenty of lambs, sheep, the husband, wanting to pull out the Manzera [Mauser] from his shoulder, by accident, he touched… how do they call it, the part where you shoot, and killed the woman. Whereas, other girls who were from that region told me that she was killed in a gruesome manner, very peculiar, torture-like. After they tortured her well, they tied her up by the hair, and hung the rope to the ceiling. Then she stood like that until she died… they put her there, and she was hanging like that until she died. And you can imagine, being in the same room with such a criminal!
Another one who was also [in prison] for an offence I am not certain what, was mentally disturbed. And another named Lutfije and who was… if I remember well from Bujanovc or Presevo, from that part of Kosovo, yet I don’t know the offence she was in for… she was also mentally ill. However UDBa used her as well. So, I say it intentionally, for people to understand what kind of severe violations were committed by the Yugoslav regime, which used even mentally ill people to elicit or disclose information about… as they called them, dangerous [people] for the social order. Luftija’s actions immediately made you assume that you were dealing with a person with mental disorders. When she had her periods… she used the press, newspapers, for her period’s needs, and then threw those pieces of newspapers around the room. She scattered them around the room. Or without it and without underwear, blood would then spill around the room. And she said that she was in prison on political grounds.
Her speaking was incoherent. But she was also taken out of the room time after time and tortured. Once, I remember, she was terribly tortured, she was beaten until she was bleeding, because she resisted cleaning up the hall. She complained of headache, and despite all our insistence, you know, mine and some other girl’s, that we clean up the hall, the guards did not allow it. They took her by force and beat her up to death. Then they called us in, and despite being in poor health, we managed to get her inside and cure her with onions ƒor months in a row.
She and others who were getting beaten for various acts, were also used for… were misused for other purposes. This speaks a lot about the lack of socialization and education found in the social system established in Yugoslav prisons, especially in Kosovo. I mean, it couldn’t have been a rehabilitating system, when even mentally ill people were used for surveillance purposes and other services. Not to speak of political prisoners, prisoners of conscience as they were called, on whom they exercised nonstop violence.
The press, the daily press came regularly. It was free of charge. And it was carefully selected. The tortures continued every day. I remember another case. While I was being taken to continue the interrogation procedure, so, the interrogation phase, I saw many drops of blood, on the floor, going through the hall. And when I lifted my head up, I saw a man, a young guy, who was bleeding and standing behind the bars in his room. And he was shouting… I don’t know…He uttered some inarticulate sentences. And the female guard who was escorting me drew my attention, “Mind your own business, and look down at the floor as you walk! Don’t look around!” And of course the hands… it was a rule that you kept them tied like this, behind. {Puts her hands behind the back.} I don’t know how long it lasted… so our walk lasted pretty long until we arrived to an office where the interrogation session was held. But while going there, I came across two more cases (sighs). I saw tortured men who could hardly stand on their feet, who were being held by the guards. Probably it was those who had finished the investigatory inquiries, the so-called informative talks. One of them was tortured so severely, that it seemed that his eye had moved out of place, it was hanging down. And his whole body was covered in blood. And while I was getting ready to enter…to pass the doorsill, to enter inside, next to that room, in the other room, another man was screaming horribly, due to the violence.
And I walked in. Normally, naturally… it is humanly to be disturbed, greatly disturbed. I couldn’t concentrate on anything anymore. The inspector, at the time chief of UDBa, Mehmet Lumi, said, “Well Shukrije, what were you thinking? You thought that prison is like going to a wedding? If you were smart, you would have helped yourself and us. Isn’t it a pity that instead of continuing your studies you…because I have a daughter your age… waste your life away in dark prison cells and are terrified because of another’s deeds?” Because he naturally wouldn’t tell what has happened to the man over there, who was getting beaten on the other side. And I said this to him, “I am very aware that I haven’t done anything to anyone. I haven’t committed any criminal offence. I have committed no crime. All I have done is to ask that Kosovo is made equal to other Republics.” He said, “You think we haven’t asked for the Republic before you did?” “I don’t know,” I said, “it could be!” “I am telling you to give up your silence and start collaborating with us. And to tell us who got you into a road with no return, to be cooperative, because we want you to understand that you have all fallen into a trap, and that all this is organized by Serbia. Everything you say to us, shall remain here and no one will find out.” And I found his attempt to break me so low and offensive, that I reacted as he deserved it. I said, “C’mon more mister! Do what you intend to do, because I have no intention to say anything! Because I have nothing to say!” (silence).
Then his attempt started again in some other form as in, “I have no intention to do anything else to you, but persuade you that you are wrong. We are a state with educational, rehabilitative measures. Nobody dares to lay hands on you! We don’t do things that happen elsewhere, to insert a stick into a vagina…so, such behaviors…of women and girls, because I have a daughter myself. My goal is for you to repent, to return to school, to your studies. You are young! You don’t need this. It only takes this much, only tell us who got you into this path, into this blind alley? Do tell us who are those people, who do you cooperate with? I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to you, to them either!”
I already had decided to not talk. Whatever he said, I continued to keep silent. “Do you know…” he said, “what lies ahead for you? Since you don’t want to cooperate!” “No …” I said, “I don’t know! I know nothing, because I have done nothing! Even what you’re saying now is a threat. It’s not cooperation. I can only speak for myself and nobody else.” “Why…” he said, “are you with Nuhi Berisha? Why did you collaborate with him?” “Nuhi Berisha?” I said, “Everybody has a right to have… every girl a boy, a boyfriend. Why,” I said, “is it a crime to love someone?” He said, “Don’t avoid my questions! Respond to my question!” “I gave my answer.” “You helped Nuhi Berisha! How did you help him?” I asked, “How did I help him? I prepared food for him. What else is there to be done?” He said, “No, you have done something else!” “I have done nothing else!”
He then started to read the Criminal Code of Yugoslavia and the other Kosovo law on criminal procedures, Article 136 and so forth, to frighten me. He said, “What do you think as a future lawyer? You know, more than you, nobody else in your room should worry more than you.” “But look…” I said, “I will repeat it once more. Whatever you intend to do, do it! Because I am not bothered by that. Whatever punishment there might be, I have nothing to say.” “But what do you have to say about this evidence? “ {Takes the letter in her hand and points it toward the camera} “Do you want me to read the testimony?” I said, “No!” “Why not?” “No…” I said, “I don’t need to read the testimony because I have already revealed what I had to reveal about myself. I haven’t done anything else, besides asking for equal rights.” “I am asking you about the actions, the organization. I didn’t ask what you demanded, but the action.” “There is no…” I said, “action. This is the action.” “Take it…” he said, “read it!” He took it and scarcely covered the upper part where the name of the testimony was. Those were provocations, they always did them. I said, “No!” “Then…” he said, “I will read it to you, since you don’t want to.” And he started reading. I don’t know who had talked. “We were in place X, in pijetore [bar]…” they called them back then, not coffee bars and so on, they started calling them coffee bars later on. He said, “You drank Jupi,” that used to be a refreshment drink, “someone else and so forth…” Those details were on purpose, to persuade me that this person really knows about the case. And he did have information, it was very true! He said, “Here! Oh Gosh! Your mind and your head are like a qyski!” I don’t know how much you know, it is… it is used in colloquial speech. He said, “See, you don’t talk, but this guy, this guy X has talked.” He said, “You only have to quietly admit that you have collaborated with this guy, and then state it, you don’t have to… and you will be going home.” I grabbed that statement and tore it in shreds and threw it {imitates the tearing of the letter}. And of course, mistreatment followed.
And so like this you know… because it is a long story. It was continuously like this, but some of us who were a bit more mature in a way… because there were younger ones who were 14 and 16 years old. When we got back in our room, we didn’t speak about what we had experienced, never, because we didn’t want to frighten the others. And, I decided to… to insist, you know, on the issue that I only sent food to Nuhi.
And this was it! There was no other explanation. Even though I had elements that… normally… and I don’t judge those who, when tortured extremely, might have talked, because the beating does its thing. And even if for example, I said anything, I talked on my behalf, for nobody else’s! I thought to myself, “Let it end with me, there is no further.” The aim was to break the chain, so it cannot continue bringing other people to prison.
Humiliations, let’s not speak about it! The language used [swearing]… that was a standard treatment. Absolutely, they didn’t spare you from the lowest forms of swearing. I had often confronted them as much as I had strength, especially when they used swearing addressed at my mother. And then, when it came to my mother, they were careful not to… I had told them, “I’ll do everything, but I won’t allow swearing at my mother!” And they called me with different names, “mischief,” and all kinds of ways, “Why are you resisting so persistently?” using insulting names, and so forth.
It is interesting that women’s solidarity in prison, even among those who were in for criminal offence… a few of them showed solidarity with political prisoners, on healthcare, and food sharing, and in addition when the protests happened. Solidarity for strikes! But this came also as a result of our behavior towards them. We never, never, not only I, but also the other girls who were political prisoners, it never happened that we insulted or underestimated women who committed other crimes. Because we always said that, “We should have reservations. We don’t know the truth! But even if we know the truth, we have no right to humiliate others.” And the purpose was once again to make it possible to expand our influence, and educate them. So, that the cause for which we are staying here is just and the purpose of it is not to hate and incite hate towards the others, but its only goal is to become equal with others in Kosovo, and in Yugoslavia. And believe it, even the Serbs, gradually, even the Serbs started to comprehend, those who were… what can I say more… more schooled, more educated, emancipated…[started] to understand!
I know a case, I remember… while I was in room number three. There was Feride Zeneli, who came from a village in Suhareka. I cannot remember the name of the village right now. And another one named Mahije Zeka, who was also from Istog, from a village in Istog perhaps, I’m not certain. They were very young, and they, although I attempted few times to persuade them not to sing loudly, because it is a prison here, it obstructs the house order, and they are watched by the guards, surveillance, anyhow, because they were young, they didn’t refrain [from singing]. They climbed up the window, climbed to the top of the door, and started to sing. A few times I warned them that I seemed to notice the guard’s shadow… although the door was… it reflected underneath the door. I told them, “Get down because someone is at the door!” And eventually… abruptly you know, a female guard loudly opened the door. And they jumped from where they were, stepped down. Then… It was also Florije Hajrullahu, I almost forgot her! who was… Florija was very stubborn. They beat her. She was badly beaten. They asked who did… we… I didn’t admit it either, to give others away. Nobody talked about who started what and why. At some point, a former prisoner, a Serbian woman who was there, on charges of economic misuse, debt, loss, did tell on them. And then these girls were beaten up. Badly!
However, it was I who started to talk to her [the Serbian prisoner] again. And she cried because she could not anticipate, she could not believe that although being so young, they would be beaten up so badly by the guards. And then she swore on her children that, “I could never believe it. I thought that they only wanted to rebuke them! Nothing else!” And from that moment on, every day, we opened-up to each other gradually, and like this, she began to understand, she even said to me, “I sincerely feel sorry that I looked differently at Albanian girls and men and everyone, who is involved in these actions. I never anticipated that an Albanian girl… these girls are so polite, and have taken so much care of me, and have washed my laundry and everything and, and behaved…” Furthermore, when she got out of the prison, she went to meet with my family and she told them that I am fine, and so on… She told me, “I will accomplish an obligation. On the other hand, I can never forgive myself for doing that.”
What I want to say with this is that women show more solidarity, though the opposite is always told in public. Women always make attempts and take actions for the universal wellbeing. They are not individualistic, while with men it is the opposite. They do it more for their career and power. They have no compassion for the collective compared to women. Perhaps it was because of social, economic reasons, besides the motherly [feeling], that women are driven to act and feel this way. So, they are more empathetic to others.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: When were you tried? When did you appear before the court?
Shukrije Gashi: We appeared before the court in Pristina. I was at the District Court in Pristina, to say the least, after a long period of investigation. If I remember correctly, that was… April…December, and so on. We were taken to court. Even in court there was a discriminatory approach, because they didn’t allow us to say hello to our family. My lawyer at the court was Avni Gjakova, who had a very constructive approach towards the prisoners, and he defended us as well as he could. It was exactly, you know, his argued defense, well-argued [defense], that influenced that on the second instance, due to the lack of evidence, a two years sentence was decreased by few months and in total I served over 16 months.
Then, the other part. I served in the prison of Lipjan, where conditions were much better, because it was a semi-open treatment, whereas in Mitrovica it was a closed treatment. Nevertheless, I say it again, political prisoners used to have a different treatment everywhere. Anyhow, the woman director of the prison of Lipjan used to be very supportive of the girls who were political prisoners, and she was very careful that they don’t get abused. Still, the system was such that it was pretty difficult to even act that way. This director was Shpresa Kuçi. Regarding her, I speak for myself, I have consideration, because she made attempts that the service gets sophisticated, gets improved, that you have access to the library, have more spare time, and you had the freedom of communicating with her differently. Naturally, as in every system where prisons are under strict surveillance, there were limitations.
There were difficulties too, absolutely, because I remember it was terrible and absurd for me to sew, because it is not in my nature and I had nothing to do with this type of trade, to sew with a machine. What’s worse, we had to deal with machines dedicated for specific parts only. That was yet… very difficult, because you had to use the machinery which you never used before. For example, there was one more condition for me, the first day I was brought to the workshop from morning till one o’clock, you had to sew 13 collars, they were collars for army shirts. And for me it was absurd, because I didn’t even have basic skills in sewing, let alone those complicated machines for specific parts. And I then asked the boss, “Excuse me, but I don’t know how to sew!” “Well, well,” he said, “you don’t know how to sew, shut up! Sit there and start sewing!” How to start sewing if you don’t know how? He said, “If you don’t finish 13 collars by one o’clock, you will go to solitary [confinement].” I started looking around, I didn’t have the slightest clue about what to do. What to do with that machine? And so I tried a little bit to… sort of spying around, to see how those machines are used. A woman in there, who was there for a long time, sewed and moved the arm intentionally so I could see her… so I could see her sewing. And I did try, like that. I started to sew, but it didn’t work because I didn’t know. And he came, “You know what? I am telling you to concentrate here! On your machine! Because if you don’t finish those 13, you will go to solitary.” I tried, I tried, I started to get around it, even though it was very difficult. And I pierced my finger badly, because of lack of experience. Instead of feeling sorry that I got hurt, he repeated the same thing again, that I will go to solitary.
Fortunately, before the working hours ended, the director came. She walked in, greeted us, like that. She asked, “How are you doing? How are you girls?” I don’t know why I felt free, perhaps it was an impression, and I told her, “Unfortunately, I don’t understand entirely, why should someone behave so badly with us!” She said, “Why…” she said, “what happened?” And I showed her the finger pierced by the needle. Then, like that… how to say, disturbed, “Why…” she said, “why did this have to happen? What happened here?” “I don’t know!” I said. “I explained a few times that I cannot sew. And these are not the type of machines as the ones at home for example, my sister’s. I didn’t use that either, but this one even less.” “What have you done more, man? What is the matter with you? Why does she have to get hurt?” He said, “Because she is stubborn, and breaks the rules. She didn’t want to sit and sew.” And… that was a lie. “And I told her that she will get 13 days in solitary!” She took him with her… I don’t know what did they talk about after that. And after a while, he returned. I saw that he was… he was nervous. He didn’t say anything else. I didn’t go to solitary. I survived! (Laughs.)
But often, when I stop and think, why should you go to solitary just because you couldn’t use a machine you have no experience of? So, the prison system was not rehabilitative. Not in practice. On paper, in writing, Yugoslavia perhaps did have the best laws, compared to the countries that were part of the Socialist Bloc, as they were called back then. However, the practice was very rigorous, and greatly misused, especially when it came to Albanians.
So, you know. It… it was torturing. Initially staying in quarantine, which left deep wounds of a bad experience for me, which I will never forget. An entire month, in a dark room, with another girl, a Serb, where the doors got closed from the outside, and opened from the outside. You couldn’t open the door, nor close it, nor turn on the light whenever you wanted to, because it was on the outside. And the food was brought in there.
One evening I had a dream that… very bizarre. I dreamt that together with my paternal uncle’s daughter, with Emine, we were protesting in town. And there was a large mass of protesters and of demonstrators who were trying to find a way, one part trying to join the group, the other party looking for a street to escape, because there were shotguns, tear-gas, and these rubber, rubber bullets, so the police was continuously shooting. As we were trying to find a way to avoid this, I slipped and fell on the ground. At that moment, my purse opened up, and things that were inside the purse fell out, including those… so make up, the make up bag. It fell out in the streets.
For a moment, as I was looking around, I saw Nuhi appear, Nuhi Berisha, my boyfriend and member of the Movement for Republic of Kosovo, at the same time the founder of the Kosovo Liberation Army. My first reaction was feeling disturbed, because I saw he was holding crutches and the legs… both legs were limping. And I screamed, even though I was like… I screamed, “Oh God! What happened to you?” Then my uncle’s daughter, she turned her head too and saw it was Nuhi. We ran to help him, so he could get on his feet, though he was insisting that we leave. At a certain moment, he sat down, he looked at the things that fell from the purse, from my purse.
I don’t know if I emphasized that earlier, you know the heavy atmosphere in the prison, the conditions, the pressure from the investigators and random inspectors, afterwards the burden of what could happen to the family, what is happening with my brothers and sisters, with my father, with others, with Nuhi, who was abroad at the time. It happened that one night I had a very unusual dream, which for me carried a very important message and it was spot on. I dreamt that I was in… I was in town together with my uncle’s daughter, Emine, who is my age and we were, you know… we studied in the same building, although she studied Economics and I studied Law. But we both knew Nuhi and Emine was a fellow activist, together with Nuhi and me, and Ahmet Isufi. While we were trying to find a way out… and as I was talking to my uncle’s daughter, to find a way out, to move away from the mass because there, people at the time pushed each other due to the fear of bullets and teargas that was shot by the police. For a moment, while walking, my foot slipped and I fell down. I dreamt that as I was falling, everything that was inside the purse fell out, including the make up.
And, while I was trying to see what to take and how to collect them, I saw Nuhi coming. His arrival was unusual because I knew that Nuhi was in good health, whereas in this apparition his legs were limping and he was walking with crutches. And I said, “Oh God, what did happen to Nuhi?” This shouting of mine drew the attention of my uncle’s daughter, and she turned her head and saw Nuhi walking on crutches.
We both ran to help him join us, although he couldn’t even stand on crutches and fell down. He sat on the ground. With difficulty he approached the things that fell out of the purse and to our wonder, he took the kuq të buzëve [lipstick] first, as we called it at the time. They call it karmin now. And he said, “This one, Emine, you take it!” He addressed Emine. “Take this, because you will become a bride.” Meanwhile, among many things that got dispersed there, he took a pen, and he pointed the pen to me {takes a pen in her hand}. He said, “You, Shukrije, you take the pen, because you have to continue your road with a pen also, to continue writing about everything that happened! And now, run! Run, leave me because this is how things are. It makes no sense for the police to come and take you too. Leave me because there is no…no problem! I will find my way!” We knew that this… was impossible, because he couldn’t even move. And I was holding him by the hand like this {stretches her hand}. I didn’t let go! And in the meantime, the police was continuously gathering and shooting in the air, with guns. And all of a sudden, you know, I woke up, and I realized I was in prison.
It was difficult because in those circumstances, you weren’t safe to share this information with anyone. I did share it with two friends in my room, especially Shyqerije Bytyçi. I said, “Oh god, I hope that dream doesn’t come true.” And she asked, “Why?” I told her the dream, I shared it with her and I told her that, “The message of this dream is not good. Something will happen to Nuhi most certainly.” “No, moj…” she said, “You just have created this impression since you live with these problems and dreams are nothing but a reflection of what we talk of during the day.” I said, “But no, we haven’t talked at all about this issue during the day.” And while we were talking, two guards came. They appeared at the door, and as it was in their habit, not calling you with, let’s say, a normal voice but, {raises her voice} “Gashi, Shukrije, c’mon! Poseta [Visit]!” And I stepped out. I thought to myself, “What kind of visit?” [The guard] said, “No, no. It’s not a family visit, but the investigators are here. And, put some clothes on! Take a sweater with you.” When they said that to me, one of them, I could only imagine that they were probably talking about an extraordinary session. I took a black color sweater, which was only a coincidence, and after taking a long road along the prison alleys, which lasted forever, we arrived at some corridor, and meanwhile I saw two persons passing by. Beaten to death. Also, while I was passing the doorsill, I happened to hear some terrible screams again, from the room next to the room where the session was going on. This happened almost in every session I was. Experiences like that!
And when I went in, I saw seven people there, seven inspectors. “Hëë…” then they started to get ironic with expressions, approaches such as, “Ëë, how… so you did find out. You do know what happened. Condolences!” And some others, some this, some that. For example another said, “We are sorry, he killed himself. God killed him, because he killed himself!” And so on. And I, normally I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, so I told them, “He wasn’t someone that would kill himself. So probably it was you who killed him! May God kill you!” Afterwards the reaction was fierce. One of them even punched me. He threw me against the wall and I started bleeding, I fell on the ground. While I was staying there, my mind was on the dream. I realized that the message from a dream became a reality. They continued with their tune, such as, “You surely knew! Who told you that Nuhi died? Who told you that Nuhi committed suicide?” I told them that, “I absolutely have no idea what is going on, because I am confined inside four walls, and no bird flew in, let alone people. But don’t play with me, tell me, what happened? Whatever might have happened, I don’t intend to be weak, and I am very certain that Nuhi did not kill himself, but in case he died, you have killed him!” Then, as always they started with tactics. One of them attacked you in harsh language, the other teased, using a softer language, “Don’t listen to what he says, because he is a creep,” and other such words. Like, “What to do now, it happened. There are other boys. Be smart, find a way how to get out of here. But you cannot get out of here if you don’t cooperate with us!” And to tell you the truth, whatever might have happened, it was the same for me. My mind was with Nuhi. I didn’t care anymore! Whether they beat me up, or whatever they did, because during the whole time the dream was spinning around my head.
One of the UDBa agents was there too, the one who had a daughter that was, as I said before, my age, Mehmet Lumi. The same words again, like in other sessions. In fact, he told me, “I feel sorry! Condolences! Nuhi killed himself. But you, stay strong, try to concentrate on cooperating with us, on our cooperation, and on getting out of here as soon as possible to continue your studies. Live your life! Life is long. You are young. Why spend years and years in prison in vain, when you can enjoy life like all your peers.” I decided not to respond. And so did I. I didn’t answer to any word, to any question of theirs, nor to those provocations about statements supposedly by someone from the group, nor to insults, because it was useless. Even if you answered, or made attempts to communicate normally with them, their attitude was very harsh, and very offensive.
I returned to the room, and I tried to understand why was the road from the investigatory office to my room so long. And this happened because the prison building, the basement was connected to the court building. And it was… they were detached. Over ground, they didn’t connect, but indoors yes. Then I tried to understand… I asked one of the guards, I told her, “I don’t understand what this is. Why so far? Is this prison that big?” She carefully told me that they were separate buildings over ground, but underground, they were attached. According to what I learnt and heard while I was in prison, this prison, and this model, this construction, was done by an Austrian.
When I went back to the room, I told friends what happened. During the session, the investigatory session, they already got the news that Nuhi had been killed. But they contacted all the girls so that I didn’t believe the information was genuine. The way to communicate from room to room back then, was through yogurt cups, like this one. Fetch it, if you want me to demonstrate it, yes… {takes the cup and puts it on the wall}. A cup like this, is placed on the wall, you open the hole here, and this is how it was distributed. And that’s how they made a deal, so I didn’t receive the information about what happened to Nuhi, about Nuhi and Rexhep Mala being killed.
By the way, the girl that behaved… the friend from my room, the roommate… although my heart didn’t accept it, didn’t agree, I had a hunch that whatever happened was true. What I saw in my dream, but also from the reaction of inspectors, should be true! And I asked her, I said, “Shyqyrije, did you get the papers today? Did you hear any news or did you read it?” She said, “No! Interesting, they didn’t bring the papers today…” that’s how she, “Why?” “Well, I don’t know!” I said, “Strange…” I said, “at the session, they even expressed condolences to me, and the reactions were very strange, ‘Aha! She already knows that Nuhi is dead! Nuhi killed himself. She is dressed in black’.” She had the same reaction, she said, “Damn them, because we know that Nuhi is not a type of guy who would kill himself. Yes certainly, and even if it happened, they are capable of killing our boys.” And I was looking around, in case I would find any reaction, get it from the others, from those in the room. But no, none! Or they avoided looking at you straight in the eyes… I said, “Please, if you heard something, do tell! I can’t do anything now. I am in prison. I cannot get out of here. And the killing of our boys and girls is expected.” And then there was silence. Nobody, nothing. I knew that now, the lunchtime was over and… although it wasn’t in my habit I started to call in the girls by name to ask whether they had any information. They were organized so well, that none of them spoke, “No, no! I don’t know! No, moj! What are you talking about, dreams are just dreams, they don’t mean anything.” My aim was to protect myself from such a stress, at least during the time I stayed in Mitrovica, in order not to face another heavy blow, in addition to the blows I had to go through almost every day, almost every day at the investigatory sessions. Yet, the whole time I had the feeling that it had happened.
Furthermore, when after his death I met my family for the first time, I tried to find out something. And I looked at my father in the eye, my uncle, my mother, so I could find out something. However, they had surely made a deal with each other not to speak about it. And father said… when I asked him, because at the time we spoke with pseudonyms, I said, “How is Beqa?” “Well Shuki…” he said, “what can I say? For God’s sake, take care of your own health! Boys, when you get out, there are plenty of boys. He minded his own businesses. There is nothing there! You deal with yourself, take care of your health.” He said, “Look, you have become all skin and bones. Nothing is left of you. Let go of that! Hajt, because you can deal with these things when you are released. First take care of your health.” And then I looked at my mother in the eye, I tried to inspect, to get information out of them, but… nothing. Since they didn’t show any sign, neither did I… I couldn’t do anything!
Kaltrina Krasniqi: What happened in court then?
Shukrije Gashi: In fact, I apologize, because the court hearing was before that (sighs). At the court hearing, as I said earlier, normally back then, they sent us to the court with those special vehicles made for prisoners, with handcuffs. And before we left, before the court hearing… I will say this too… Considering that the visits happened very rarely, and I didn’t have new clothes, you know, to appear in court, I asked the guard to help me, at least call my family on the phone and ask for new clothes. Even though she was very strict, concerning a few things she was very correct. “You are…” she said, “very mature,” because I tried not to act in a childish manner, or be lame, aha! what do I know, to climb up the door, to make noise, and get in a mess with the guards without reason, without any particular cause. She said, “I promise you that I will call your family and they will bring those, clothes.” And so it happened. And she brought the clothes. And I didn’t wish that my parents see me in that awful state, because I had lost weight and I was very weak health-wise. I got dressed and left. I saw them from a distance (smiles), because you were not given the opportunity to say hello to them, to the family. Back then, I was sentenced, on the allegation of having provided assistance to the perpetrator of a criminal act… offering assistance after the criminal act, it was called something like this, Article 137, in conjunction to Article 136. My lawyer was a former law professor, Avni Gjakova, who had extraordinary communication and professional skills. And he stated, so at… in front of the court that, “These children have committed that much wrong, deserving only a spank, and go home. Because they haven’t done anything!” But nothing like that happened, you know. Regardless, I was sentenced to two years in prison and naturally I continued for some time the sentence in Mitrovica prison. Then from there, the other half sentence in the prison of Lipjan, which was a prison with a semi-open treatment.
And when… the day I left the prison of Mitrovica, I experienced my release with a very heavy [heart], because I left behind many friends, who were living in very heavy conditions. In particular, for the fact that on the floors where men lived, stayed, they got maltreated every day. And that was like a broken record, which stands still and doesn’t move on to the next track. Carrying this heavy feeling, I left. Furthermore, it might sound unbelievable to you, but for me it was like that, where I insisted further to remain in the prison of Mitrovica for the sake of my friends. However, it was a final order and procedure.
Kaltrina Krasniqi: When did you get out of prison afterwards? When were you set free? What time period, what year?
Shukrije Gashi: When I got out of prison it was July of the year 1984, or ‘85, I forgot (smiles). Yes, we were just finishing the work shift and returning to the building where we lived at the time, as prisoners, when one of the guards told me that I have to stop, not to go in my room, and have a word with her. So I thought they will for certain transfer me to Pozharevc, or to some other place, where they would usually transfer you. And she told me, “I have to tell you something, but you have to keep it to yourself.” I said, “What do I have to keep it to myself? Tell me what it is! If they transfer me, they will transfer me. Now, I have nothing to hide here.” She said, “Shuki, do return to your room, get your belongings, you are going home!” “No…” I said, “I won’t go home!” “What are you talking about?” I said, “What am I hearing! Never…” I said, “I will not go home! What do you think? Me, going home, and leaving my friends here?” She said, “But you, cannot stay here any longer. This is the decision brought by the second instance, and there is no alternative,” she said.
And at a distance, let’s say of something like two meters perhaps… my friends stood. Because we always had empathy for each other, but also readiness to defend each other. And then, out of fear that there was some threat, they wouldn’t go to their rooms. And one of them told me, from a distance, “Shukrije what is happening with you, sister?” “Nothing…” I said, “unusual, but nothing good either.” She said, “Why?” I said, “Because they think that I will agree to go home, and leave you here.” Out of joy they started to cry (smiles) and to congratulate me, “Wow how nice! Very nice! C’mon, hey God, how nice!” When they acted like that… and really, instead of being happy, I started to cry, because it seemed very heavy. And again, the guard, Ms. Nexhmije, she was a good woman, she said, “Shukrije, for the others too… don’t be sad, the day will come when they will get released. These things are not decided by you and me, but by the state, by politics. I am quite certain that you will never forget them.” I looked around once, and I stoppe next to the young girls. They were… especially the one in my room, she was very attached to me. Perhaps I was more like a sister to her, a mother. I said, “How moj guard, how to leave Shahadije?” “Yes Shuki…” she said, “Shahadije… Why do you say how to leave Shahadije? There are others here. All of them are nice. The day will come and Shahadije gets released, and she goes home just like you! It’s good…” she said, “that you are getting out, and then…” she couldn’t say it and so continues… she said, “you continue your studies” (sighs).
I went to collect the clothes… all the girls came to the room. And they helped me to quickly pack, but I left almost all the items, I left them. I scattered them among friends. And I left… it was a rule not to give back the shoelaces. And it was pretty difficult to walk without laces… another thing that left an impression on me was that I didn’t know how… they didn’t provide information on how to commute from prison to the city, for example. And at the exit, I bid farewell to the girls. I didn’t turn around to look at them again, because it was very heavy. I don’t know why I felt guilty! Because I am getting out, and they are staying behind. I went out to the main street in front of the prison doors, and I was now thinking out loud, “How will I go? Which way to go?” Because even when I was free, in the past I hadnot visited that part of the country. Perhaps I passed by, but I didn’t know where the prison is, and where… And I was stuck like… I looked around, I tried to understand where I am. Puzzled, I thought of continuing in the direction of the center of town, somewhere about, because I didn’t know well that region of Lipjan, because it wasn’t in the city, but in the suburbs.
So I began to walk slowly, dragging my legs, because I was without laces. And I was looking at the vehicles, the cars that were passing by… let’s say after… I am not very sure… perhaps after two, three hundred meters, a car stopped by. And he told me, “Get in fast! Fast, fast, fast!” I thought it is the Secretariat, the Security. When I got inside, it was the prison doctor. He was a very nice man (smiles). And I made attempts, back then, to find him once again, to find out that man’s whereabouts, Abdullah Hoti. I got inside the car, and he suggested me to lie down, because he wasn’t allowed to even offer this service. I had my release document. I lied down you know at the back seat, and we continued like that, all the way to Pristina. I wanted to see along, but knowing the danger, I decided to do as I was told.
When we arrived at the entrance of Pristina, at Veternik, he said, “I am sorry, it is better for you and for me that from here onwards you continue on foot.” Because he was afraid, I am more than certain, that someone is following him and there could be consequences. Perhaps it might sound a bit unusual, but when I got out of the car, I started to cry out loud to myself. My mind was with the girls in the prison. And I imagined them, inside, surrounded by a very high wall and the tortures they experienced, be they psychological, by the chief of the sewing workshop, every day, every morning, or the surveillance by the guards, because there were guards who were very strict, and the hard labor they did every day. Then, the evenings in that building were very grim, because the rumor was that the prison was built on a cemetery. I had a very gruesome experience while I was in quarantine. Someone might have seen only in horror movies what we experienced during a month in quarantine. All of this kept going through my mind, and I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was out and they were not.
And so I continued the road. Sometimes, I would look at my shoes. I thought, “I will never manage to get home!” When I arrived in front of the District Court, I don’t know why, but I stopped instinctively. For a moment, I recalled the whole court trial and the sight of the police who were outside the building. It seemed as if I was going around for the second time to the trial. I stopped, I looked around, and I was trying to find the road home. It wasn’t very far from there, but still, you know, the court thing came up and I couldn’t remember where my house is. Then, a man who passed by shook me by the arm {touches her shoulder} and told me, “Please, who… I think you are looking for something, you cannot find… which way, where do you want to go?” It seemed unusual to ask him about my house. If I tell him the truth, I thought, I will certainly waste time, and it will cause concern to the old man. I didn’t say anything, apart from asking him, “Where is Bihaqi street?” He said, “It is nearby. Here, this way!” He directed me with his hand.
I continued then, I entered the neighborhood. I don’t know why, I didn’t want to look around, or perhaps it was the experience forcefully induced in prison, where we weren’t allowed to look aside. And when I approached the house, I didn’t notice that many neighbors looked surprised, “Why doesn’t she speak to us?” I entered, I rang the bell, and I went inside the hallway. When I entered, I saw a small child, with blue eyes, who was Granit, my nephew, who was sucking his thumb. And he was looking at me that way. Perhaps he was two, three years old, he wasn’t older than that. He looked at me surprised, “Who is this?!” I picked him up, I hugged him. He was very small when I left him and I wasn’t sure if he was Granit. Then my third sister, Granit’s mother, on the stairs…She probably came for her son. It took her by surprise, it was unexpected to her. She screamed, terrified, “Ooo, Shuki is here!” And she fainted. Then my mother came, my father, and my paternal aunt’s daughter or… I don’t remember who, and the others. And as usual, my mother was very strong, because it was life that shaped her through much suffering. And she didn’t cry, oddly! She swallowed her tears. “I told you…” she said, “that you will come back. You see, you did come back?” Whereas my father couldn’t hold back the tears. He was always more sensitive. And he showed it. “Ee…” he said, “do you see? Every downfall has its up fall!”
Kaltrina Krasniqi: What was it like in those years afterwards?
Shukrije Gashi: (Sighs).
Kaltrina Krasniqi: [inc.]
Shukrije Gashi: It was very difficult for me to continue with life, and especially my studies, because the manner how the Serbian regime acted was very peculiar – to commit acts, but to not leave traces. The first thing I needed to do is to turn up at the Secretariat of Internal Affairs, to request for the index and other things from them. Because everything was confiscated, you know. And I went. I met with the same inspectors again, whom I had dealings with often in the past. And their attitude had not changed, [they asked] again that I get involved in collaboration, offering me jobs and concessions, supposedly concessions to finish my studies. Once and for all, I made it clear that, “I have no intention to cooperate with you! I have come to request the index and other documents, the photographs you have taken and everything else. And there is no collaboration with you! Forget it!” And I received the threatening answer that, “You will never finish university! Forget it! You will get the documents, but you will never finish your studies.” I took them and went out. And it did turn out like that! I applied many times for a passport, and a passport was never given to me. I started my studies again, I attended the lectures, because when I went to prison, I was an undergraduate, but I gained nothing from attending the lectures. There were a number of professors, who allowed me to enter the room where the exams were held, but not to respond to exam questions.
And seeing this trend, I decided to talk again to the lawyer, and to explain the situation as it is. He showed great care towards me. He was there few times and talked to the professors. The commissions were established, so I could pass the exams. Still two of the exams got prolonged, way too long. They made me lose nearly five years in vain, not accepting me to answer [questions], as I said, at the exams. I completed the whole procedure, the submission of the exam, but when the time came to answer, it didn’t happen. And at some point, I requested the help of one of the professors. I am talking about Fatmir Sejdiu. I explained the situation to him, and indeed, at that time, Fatmir helped me a lot. He suggested me to not turn up at the exam in the presence of the professor, but of the assistant, so I could avoid the possibility of missing another deadline, and many more deadlines. And so it happened. After many attempts, with great efforts, I finished university.
