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albania | 37 Maks Velo (b. 1935 ) Born in Paris into an Albanian family, Velo was taken by his parents to live in Albania, in the city of Korça, while still a child. After attending local schools, he went on to study construction at the Tirana Polytechnic in 1957. Although he became an accomplished architect, Velo also began attracting attention for his artwork, exhibiting in a number of venues in and beyond Albania. He also began publishing articles on art and architecture in various Albanian journals and magazines. His career began to unravel in 1972 when a planned one-man show of a large number of his works was halted two days before the scheduled opening. The following year at a plenum meeting of the Albanian Union of Writers and Artists he was taken to task for deviating from socialist realism. As a form of punishment he was prohibited from exhibiting his works and was “exiled” to a village near Tirana. Then in October 1978 he was taken into custody by the Sigurimi. Following an investigation that lasted six months, he was sentenced to ten years imprisonment in the Spaç labor camp. Many of his paintings and sculptures were confiscated, and a number of his notebooks were destroyed. He was finally set free by the terms of the amnesty of 1986 but had to work as an unskilled laborer for five years before being able to resume his career as an architect and writer. In 1995 Velo published a small collection of sketches about prison life, Palltoja e burgut (The Prison Coat), its title derived from one of the sketches. This was followed a year later by Thesi i burgut (The Prison Sack), a collection of short prison poems and sketches, copiously illustrated by blackand -white drawings by Velo himself. A French translation of several of his stories culled from both collections was published in 1998 as Le Commerce des jours. More recently, in 2010, Velo published two novels dealing with his prison experiences , Hetimi (The Inquest) and Spaçi (Spaç). Velo’s international visibility has also been enhanced by exhibitions of his visual work in Europe as well as in the United States. The following excerpts are from Palltoja e burgut (Tirana: Letrat, 1995), 14, 73, 131, and 140–47, and have been translated from Albanian by Harold B. Segel. from Palltoja e burgut Autoburgu ose kali i ballades (The Prison Van or the Balladeer’s Steed) The door of the cell opened and the cop called out my name. “Take your things and get ready. Fast.” I gathered up whatever I had, bid farewell to my friends, and went outside. 38 | albania I understood that I was heading for a camp. I had sought out the investigator, but he had no possibility of sending me to Ballsh,13 yet he gave me hope. But they were always leading me on without ever offering any explanation. They let me out into the courtyard. I was alone. The prison van was waiting in front. Silence. They tied my hands. They opened the door and put me inside. At first I couldn’t see a thing since I was coming from sunlight. The van was full. Stuffy. I had no idea where they were coming from since they weren’t carrying anyone from the political lockup. I took a seat and looked closely at everyone, recognizing Robert. Then I understood. They were the group from Spaç, arrested, resentenced. They were from the trials that took place at the beginning of May. Three people were shot. Fadil, Vangjel, and Xhelal were executed at the end of May, on the twenty-ninth. The trial began right after the first of May holiday. On the night of the holiday we listened to the bursts of fireworks and were looking from the windows at the reflections in the sky every time they fired off one of the cheerful projectiles . Firearms were also used for the celebration. There was something diabolical about launching the trial immediately following the festivities. It was as if they wanted to kill them with fireworks. The van was full of spies and denouncers from Spaç, some thirty people. They had been brought to trial. Among them were also two from Spaç and another from Ballsh who had come for my own trial. From the preparations the trial seemed to have some importance. Fadil, a journalist whom I got to know during concerts at the Opera, was aware of my arrest and...

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