My Grandfather's Emigration | Teen Ink

My Grandfather's Emigration

November 13, 2018
By BoidN04 GOLD, Charlotte, North Carolina
BoidN04 GOLD, Charlotte, North Carolina
16 articles 0 photos 7 comments

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The 1930’s began with the Fascist Regime of King Zog and the Italians in Albania. Yet the lack of funds and the budget deficits sunk the country in huge poverty. Unable to provide for themselves and their families many men emigrated towards several European countries; the most popular choices being France and Italy...


As I left my family in the year 1937, with horses headed to the port of Durres, I could not stop but think if they would be fine and how they would do without the man of the house there to care for them. I had heard all kinds of stories about fellow villagers who left their families and were not able to provide. The trip would take two days to the port of Durres. We reach the Port of Durres and men from all over the country get on the boat, a long two week journey awaits us. And as the Durres landform fades away My family is the only thing on my mind, and how I would provide for them.


I arrive in Paris two weeks later after a tiring journey on more than 5 boats, 10 different trucks, and about a day of walking. Paris was magnificent, it was like nothing I had seen before. It was full of opportunities and I had this feeling I would make it, I would make a lot of money and bring Drita and Qemal here. We are going to live right across the tour Eiffel, I thought.  Some days pass as I am lost in the beauty of Paris and I find my first job as a dishwasher for a small restaurant just outside the city center. It wasn’t a huge pay but good to get by for the first few weeks.


Hysen’s first months were tough as a foreigner in Paris, but as a year passed Hysen had been making connections and had started working as a chauffeur for the Peninsula Hotel in Paris.
My pay has grown and I have been getting about 1000 Francs each month. I send 500 home and keep 500 for myself. Working for the Peninsula has really changed my life as it is one of the most prestigious hotels in Paris. I have been planning to get back by the start of next year, my family wants to see me and I want to. I really miss Drita and Qemal and can’t wait to see how much they have grown. They are my strength here as a lonely foreigner in Paris and they motivate me to work harder and harder each day, so in the end they can come here and we can all live together. There is no future for any of us in Albania
It was January of the year 1939 Hysen returns to Cepan for the first time after his immigration to France. The house in Cepan had been built and his family was doing well with the money Hysen had been sending monthly.


I had missed the fragrance of the Skrapar countryside. The nature surrounding me from all sides. As I walk up the hills to my village, all my childhood memories start to play in my mind. I had missed my home so much. As I approach my house I hear my wife and my kids playing. They did not know I was coming so this was a surprise. As I approach them they do not recognize me at once. Once they get more familiar and stare at me for a moment they come rushing at me. I had missed their smell and their look. They had grown so much. I couldn’t get enough of them, they were my life. Although we spent a long time with each other my journey was only 3 days and time passed by quickly. I had to get back to Paris.


April of 1939 marks  the Italian invasion in Albania, isolating Albania and causing a chain of conflicts such as the Albanian communist resistance. Also Shkelqim Hysen’s 3rd son was born in September of 39’.


A year had passed and I had no news of anything. I have asked multiple people who have come from Albania but they know nothing about my family and their well being. The news is disturbing; the Italians have taken over and our country has gone into resistance. The country is isolated with Italian guard all over. The European situation is concerning, the World war makes even less safer.  Will I ever see them again? Was it a mistake coming back to Paris?


The war lasts longer than expected and after 5 years of resistance from Albania they have won the war and the country is liberated from German and Italian forces. The new Communist of Republic of Albania has been established.
I have to get back. This is the time, I will take my family to France. I can support them economically and I do not want to waste anymore time. Tomorrow I will write a letter to the newly formed Communist Republic of Albania to get my family back and confirm me their well being. I hope to get them here by next month.


Hysen gets his reply and The Communist Republic of Albania requests his return to Albania as a non-negotiable requirement for him to reunite with his family, which was a trap for all Albanians coming back from emigration.

As I read the letter my world falls apart in front of my eyes.. This is a trap, I think. Do they want to punish me and my family? My friend Naim got exiled as soon as he got back, his family was sent to a concentration camp as well and were separated from him. I can’t go back. It will be so much better for my family if I don’t go back. I do not want to be the cause of a terrible life. If I go back we are all doomed. But yet would I ever see my family again. The risk of their well being did not match my selfishness of seeing them one more time.


As years pass and the regime in Albania is becoming more harsh, Hysen’s hope of joining his family are gone. He has failed several times to reunite with them, as the party requests continually his return to Albania. After 1960 his letters to the Albanian government stop and he lives in blind hope of ever seeing his family again.


Years pass and I have no news of my family. So many scenarios go through my mind if they are alright or maybe something happened to them. Everyday I have been checking the mail for any letters or news from my family but I have not received anything. I pray everyday for their well being. As each day passes by more empty I feel. Anyways I will always be looking for any letters they sent, any news, or any other opportunity to at least see them one more time before I die. They will forever be a part of me until my very last breath.


The author's comments:

This is the story of my great-grandfather's emigration towards France for a better life, as Albania in the 30's was not the richest place to live. 


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