FLASH
Shkruar nga Pamfleti
Renowned journalist Hamdi Jupe has recounted a moment from his life when he served as chief of staff to the Speaker of the Parliament, Server Pëllumbi.
He remembers the time when he was Pëllumbi's chief of staff and the latter asked him to prepare a visit to Kadri Roshi in the hospital.
According to Jupe, when they went to the great artist's room, the latter asked him to spend a few moments alone with the head of the Assembly.
"The most beautiful reward of my life (instead of a New Year's card) This morning, the Speaker of the Albanian Parliament, Servet Pëllumbi, called me to his office. I worked as his chief of staff.
– We will go to visit the Military Hospital. People's Artist Kadri Roshi is hospitalized there. He was a great actor, so he deserves respect – he said.
I left before him to meet the hospital director in order to be there when the President arrived. The escort with the Dove arrived at the appointed time.
We entered the room where the artist was. With us, the escort officer. The actor had settled alone in the room to be quiet from the other patients. A few words of greeting with him and suddenly he addressed us:
– Please, step out of the room for a moment, because I have a conversation with Servet alone. – He was speaking as if the Speaker of the Assembly was his brother. We were surprised by the actor's words and looked at the Speaker. Okay, the rest of us, but the hospital director - doctor - should also leave the patient's room!?
– Come out, come out – said the Chairman. – We are old men and we have our secrets too. – This request of the actor was unexpected even for him, but he could not object.
We left the room and waited in the hallway, stunned, until the door opened and the Speaker invited us back in. We stayed there for a while, while the Speaker talked to the actor and director about his health situation. Then we returned to the Assembly.
I had just entered the office when the Chairman called me to his office. I was surprised by this, because a few minutes ago we were together at the hospital. Had something unpleasant happened during our visit there (a matter of protocol) and now he was calling me to warn me about “negligence in duty”? We both sat down on the long armchair in his office. The Chairman was silent for a few moments, then opened his mouth.
– Did you find out why the artist kicked you out of the room?
– No, how would I know? – I replied. – You saw what happened yourself, we went outside.
– Yes – said the professor, always with a heavy shadow of sadness on his face – He took you out and then, when we were left alone, he made an unnatural request to me. – The chairman took a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something serious. – He said to me: “Please, help me find some money, because my wife is broke at home. I am not asking for myself, because I know I will die, but I am worried about her”.
I was surprised by his request – continued the Chairman. – It felt like the ceiling had fallen on my head, but I quickly gathered myself. I thought that a man in distress, over eighty years old, hospitalized on the verge of death, could make such requests.
That's why I've urged you - he continued. - To see what we as the Assembly can do to raise something, some small fund, to help the actor. Talk to the Assembly's finance people and bring me an answer.
He deserves a special pension as a great artist, damn it, and I will take this issue up with the government until it is resolved. There is a lot of injustice in this world, and one such injustice is the one with the artist Kadri Roshi.
But he's broke today and this job is now on my shoulders. With my salary, we're paying off a loan we took out for our new house and there's nothing left over.
This request from the Speaker came as a surprise to me, so I immediately called the Assembly's finance director, Dafina, to the office to see what we could do to help the artist. She was an old financier, having worked with the state's finances for almost forty years, so only she could find a solution to the problem.
– Money for the actor!? – she asked as soon as I opened my mouth to talk about it. – Don't discuss it! We have no legal space to do such a thing. It's a job that can't be done.
Yes, it would be different if the artist were a famous painter and we could buy some of his works of art to decorate the premises of the Parliament, because we consider them to be masterpieces, without a single work of art in them. But the actor... what can we buy him? Nothing.
– Wait a minute – I told him. – Don't say the last word at the beginning. This is the Chairman's order, not mine – I asked him to look at the request carefully once more, because I had no answer to give to the boss who was waiting for me in the office for the order he had given me.
But she wasn't playing her game. She got up and left the office, leaving me with my finger in my mouth, without any hope of what I was looking for.
I was left alone and disarmed in the office. What was I to do now? If Dafina can't solve this problem, no one else can. I had no money myself, and my two children were students in Italy.
Now I would have to go and give the Speaker the bad news, that the Assembly has no legal opportunity to issue anything for the great actor on the verge of death. But I couldn't go to him empty-handed, I couldn't.
I remembered the dried cironka in the pocket of the Arbëresh poet Derada, on the day of his departure for heaven. The office phone rang.
– Dafina jam – u dëgjua zëri i saj në anën tjetër të tij. – Në zyrë je? Dua të vij edhe një herë atje. – Çfarë lajmi tjetër të zi donte të më jepte tani femra me shpirtin prej akulli, me detyrën “gardiane” e financave publike të Kuvendit?
– Po hajde pra, në zyrë jam siç e sheh. Ti këtu ishe tani. – Ajo erdhi me një frymë. Pasi u mendua pak, hapi gojën:
– Shiko, ka vetëm një rrugë për të nxjerrë ca para nga arka e Kuvendit për artistin, por kjo bëhet vetëm me urdhër të Kryetarit.
– Natyrisht që me urdhër të Kryetarit do të bëhet, nuk do bëhet me urdhrin tim. Po cila është rruga? – e pyeta.
– Po ja, Kryetari ka të drejtë të të japë ty si shef i kabinetit dy rroga mujore shpërblim për punë “shumë të mirë” që ke bërë në shërbim të institucionit. Futja kot domethënë.
Ti pastaj i merr ato para dhe ia çon artistit. Vetëm kjo është rruga ligjore. Duket si diçka që nuk shkon, e kuptoj, por bëj be që nuk ka asnjë rrugë tjetër të mundshme, asnjë rrugë tjetër.
– Ajo sikur u çlirua më në fund nga tensioni që e kishte pushtuar, pas asaj që tha. I kërkova të ma shpjegonte edhe një herë “zgjidhjen” e saj ligjore që ta kuptoja më mirë dhe ajo ma shpjegoi.
Nuk kisha bërë ndonjë punë “të shquar” për institucionin për të marrë shpërblim të veçantë, kisha bërë punën e zakonshme për të cilën merrja rrogën por…
Shkova te Kryetari dhe ia thashë “zgjidhjen”.
– Bëhet kjo punë? – pyeti.
– Bëhet. Kështu thotë Dafina. – iu përgjigja.
– Epo mirë pra, ma sillni urdhrin ta firmos.
Bashkë me Dafinën formuluam urdhrin: “Në bazë të nenit kaq e aq … shpërblehet shefi i kabinetit (emri im) me dy rroga mujore për punë shumë të mirë në shërbim të Kuvendit të Shqipërisë. Ky urdhër hyn në fuqi menjëherë. Kryetari: Servet Pëllumbi.”
Ia çova urdhrin për firmë. E vulosa në protokoll dhe çdo gjë ishte gati. Mora paratë në llogari dhe ia çova artistit në spital. Kishte kaluar mesdita dhe ai ishte vetëm në dhomën e tij.
I dorëzova zarfin me “porosinë e Servetit” në dorë. Ai më falenderoi me lot në sy. Ishte një sasi parash sa për një “ngushullim” të çastit, të cilat nuk mund të zgjidhnin problemin e tij për gjatë.
Nuk dihej nëse artisti do të dilte më i gjallë prej andej. Drejtori i spitalit e kishte thenë ketë kur dolëm nga dhoma e të sëmurit. Merreni atë shtatore dhe kushtojani ndonjë ministri a deputeti që ka më shumë “merita”, duke e lënë Artistin e Popullit pa bukën e gojës në ditët e fundit të jetës së tij, në nisje të shekullit të njëzetenjëzetë.
Kisha frikë se mos në dhomën e tij hynte ndonjë nga ata që bëjnë “kontrolle të paautorizuara”, kur pacienti ishte në gjumë dhe atëherë na shkonte “shpërblimi” për dhjamë qeni. Ai tha se pasdite atje do të shkonte gruaja e tij dhe do t’ia jepte asaj zarfin.
U ktheva në institucion dhe i raportova Kryetarit për detyrën e kryer.
– Oh, ç’më ke shpëtuar nga një siklet shumë i madh! – tha i lehtësuar. Kryetari ishte te të shtatëdhjetat.
The order for my reward for "very good" work has been in the archives of the Assembly for more than twenty years. It is the most beautiful "reward" of my life.
"With my signature on the payroll, it was possible for two prominent people of this nation to feel good for a few moments. Witness Dafina, the "spirit" director of finance ," his full post reads.
Ky shembull qe ti vlej kesaj klase politike qe nuk ka me zemer per njerezit.
O ç'më bëri ky shkrim Jam në autobus për Shkodër dhe nuk më teren sytë o Hamdi Jupe. I vetmi çast që ndikoj ndryshe përshkrimi i gardianes financave Dafina...e më sjell në mendje këto të sotmit që i kanë shklyer financat krejt.
Po mire artisti qe kish mik seferin, po sa pleq ka neper shqiperi qe kane punuar nje jete, ne pune shume me te renda e qe sot nuk kane buke???
Hajde perralle, me Servet dhe me Fatos Nano hajdute me gjithe fis e familje, gjoja nuk gjenin ca para ti jepnin Kadri Roshit. Por per miliardat e fajdeve qe u vrane ne 1997, nuk i kishin vjedhur te dy partite?
A doni me per Belulin? me mire te mos kishe folur a shkruar Hamdi
Turpërohuni pra!!!
Kaq e rende, o zot. Cfare do te kishte ndjer zemra e Kadri RRoshit ne ato momente kur e dinte sa ka lën gruan pa bukë ne shtëpi, ..dhe te detyrohej te kërkonte para per kete?! O zot, mos sprovo njeri keshtu!