LJI Ed. Note: If you’re a generational member of a long-time SoCal family fortunate to be Scripps Hospital-born and then raised in La Jolla, you probably appreciate the blessings of chance–the luck of the genetic draw. Other coastal arrivals may be financially nascent re-locators purposely drawn to the Jewel because of its unique residential investment opportunities, or, simply because of its beauty. Then there are those newcomers who are propelled and redirected by fate. Such is this tale as told by émigré Vera Pali.
Article written by Vera Pali
My name is Vera Pali, born and raised in Albania, presently living in the USA. I would like to share this story of my husband and me with anyone who might be interested in reading it. I’m not trying to convince anybody that we are heroes, but I’m to inform the Americans how most of the Albanians came to this country, the risk they took during this escape journey. This refers only to the lucky Albanians who made it here. There are many who never made it, either they were killed in the Greek mountains or disappeared in the Adriatic Sea. There is not much information about how many Albanians died trying to escape the country but there is some information about the number of Albanians who died trying to cross the border. A rough estimate from Albanian authorities is that from 1944 to 1991, six thousand Albanians died from torture, extrajudicial execution, or while trying to cross the border. According to a Ministry of Interior document, 988 people died out of 13,692 who escaped from Albania during that time. I added these statistics just to understand what kind of path we were about to take.
It was April 13, 1991. I was only 19 years old when my fiance (husband today) and I decided to escape our country, Albania. There were political and economic reasons that strained us to make that decision. Like every young couple we were planning and discussing the future, our life together but different from what it was offered at that time in our own country, which was a life without a vision, a life lived in fear and scared of our own dreams. There was no opportunity to progress or think about building a future we wanted. We were living in a country that was the most isolated and repressive place in the world and emigration in Albania was officially prohibited. Anyone caught trying to leave the country could be persecuted, killed or punished with prison terms of anything from ten to twenty five years. We were living in a brutal regime where freedom of speech and other basic rights were completely denied and there was no other way of living there but to agree with that injustice, with those physical, moral and psychological abuses as our ancestors suffered. Growing up listening to many stories of cruelties and violation of human rights, we thought that the only way to survive and seek freedom from the dictatorship and political persecution that oppressed 45 years was to escape Albania.
So, we decided to leave the country and go as far as we can. Although it was very dangerous, our goal was to cross the border between Albania and Greece. The plan was to leave early in the morning and catch the train from the North of Albania and go south to Korca, a city on the border with Greece. We left my parents house at five o’clock in the morning . My parents escorted us to the door, hugged us and wished us a safe journey with a trembling voice. I knew they were trying not to cry but it was not difficult to figure that out. I was their only daughter, just got engaged and leaving like that was not easy for them to swallow and accept, but they gave us the blessing and the only thing left for them was to pray for us considering the risk we were about to take.
We left, took the train to the south and made it by the border in the evening. The place was kind of unknown, although we were in our own country, it was our first time there. There were guards everywhere on the Albanian border, not knowing what to do or how to cross the border, felt completely lost. While we were waiting and just observing, a shepherd walked toward us. He started having a conversation with us and asked where we were going and we told him that we wanted to cross the border but we didn’t know how. He said that he will help us, mentioned that he knows the area and had helped others escape before us. We felt like God was talking to us. He said that we have to wait until late at night to start walking and remain unobserved by the Albanian Soldiers. He mentioned that he knew a way over the mountains that if we get lucky will avoid being caught. He warned us that it will be a long walk and we have to be alert. We waited until midnight and started walking through the mountains. The “journey” was extremely challenging. Despite the fear of being caught, ascending the mountains was difficult because of the rainy condition. We walked for two days and nights, crossed many mountains, and there were times when we climbed to the top of the mountain and slid back down and had to start over again. Albania’s borders have been surrounded by barbed wires and other barriers throughout history. The shepherd removed his jacket and put it between the barbedwires, holded and we got through. The shepherd walked with us in the Greek land showing us routes that directed to the main road praying and hoping not to get caught by Greek Guards. They were everywhere and if we were caught a lot of cruelties might have been happening to us. We were praying that we would not be caught but on the other hand if we were caught praying that they would kill us right away or hoping to be near a cliff and jump. That was the easiest way to die. Otherwise we were abutting the tortures and brutalities that happened to many Albanians crossing that border. The risk for us was even greater because I was a 19-year-old girl and it was very uncommon for girls to escape. Most of the Albanians who were escaping the country at that time were young men and soldiers who had deserted the army. I’m stating this fact because later on we heard stories that girls that were caught by the soldiers were separated from their relatives, tortured raped and disappeared. Our prayers were answered; we escaped and reached the main road without being caught. So, on the morning of April 15th, there we were, in the Greek soil, walking toward the unknown. We felt a little relieved from the fear of being caught or killed, but at the same time we were thinking about where we were going, walking in that unknown place, seeing strange faces and hearing a strange language.
So everything was unknown to us in that foreign country. We were frightened, tired and completely lost. So, for the moment we felt little joy because our goal to cross the border was reached but we still had to figure out what to do and where to go. It started to seem like a journey without a destination and ending. Although we were very tired we continued walking without stopping, passing streets and houses basically going nowhere. A woman that saw us from her backyard waved and invited us to her home. We stopped, looked at her, and did as she directed us as far as we understood from her hand movements. She gave us food that we really needed after two days of suffering walking day and night without water and food. This woman, I would like to say, was sent by God, because at that moment our only power was praying. We didn’t ask for help, and if we wanted to ask, we didn’t know how to ask. It was the tiredness on our faces, our wetness, torn and dirty clothes that called for that woman’s help. The woman whose name we never learned had compassion for us, seeing us wet, torn and exhausted. She gave us some clothes to change and gave me boots seeing that my sneakers were ripped. At first we felt very embarrassed, we felt like beggars but after a while we felt like we survived. We will never forget that woman’s face, kindness and generosity. She called a taxi and advised the taxi driver to drive us to the Albanian Refugee Camp in Kastoria, a city in northern Greece. We felt very bad when we parted from her house because we didn’t know how to thank her due to language barrier. The taxi driver took us near the refugee camp in Kastoria, left us in a nearby village called Manjaki, and with his gestures he tried to show us how to get to the camp. And we understood those movements because it was the only language we were “speaking” in that country and we had no other option except to understand it. This reminds me of a popular Albanian expression that says “When necessity calls, you learn”.
The road to the camp was very beautiful because you had to climb a steep mountain slope. I am noting that it was a beautiful mountain because comparing it to our mountains in Albania that were completely devoid of natural beauty, that mountain was very green and flowery. After walking a mile or so, we met an Albanian young guy who happened to be a refugee, residing in the camp. We asked him about our relatives who had escaped before us and we knew he was there too. Fortunately, he knew him and told us to wait where we were until he informed him. We did as he told us. While we were waiting on the hill near camp, we were extremely tired and fell asleep. My husband slept for a few minutes and a scary dream disturbed his sleep. And I did not know this until recently. It came up in a conversation while I was discussing with him about this writing. In my dream, he said it seemed as if someone was taking you away from me. He had woken up in shock and fear and had not been able to sleep again. This was the fear that accompanied us throughout this journey because like i mentioned earlier, we had heard all kinds of stories or better to say tragedies about the Albanian refugees.
We went to the refugee camp where we stayed for five months. We were allowed to stay there as long as we wanted but conditions were extremely difficult. Greek guards and police were not treating us well. We never had enough food. We had to stay in line for a while and if we were lucky we got food. Many times, Albanian soldiers ended up without food. In that camp there was never enough food for the refugees. We were isolated and not allowed to work even though there was a possibility to work. Sometimes we left and went to work without their permission. The money we made we bought bread and butter.
After spending 5 months in Kastoria camp, we left for Athens, the Capital of Greece. We spent 13 months there and during that time was little better because we worked and afforded to have food on the table at the end of the day.
During that time we went to the American Embassy and seeked political asylum. The process took more than a year but we waited patiently and Thanks to God, our request was accepted.
On September 14, 1992 we took a flight from Athens to NY. We were thrilled that finally we were in the USA, because there was no way back. This experience of walking toward the unknown was a challenge, lesson and motivation and the expression stating that, “There is a light at the end of the tunnel” was well proved to us. However, even here it was not an easy start. We started our life here with seventy five dollars in our pocket and without knowing a word in English, but everything that we had heard about this country as the state of the opportunities became true. We realized that just a dream in our country, here was a reality. Simple example; continuing education was just a dream for anyone who didn’t reconcile with communist ideas. Only in this country has it become reality for me. I’m writing this after many years here in the states, and the date of April 13th, 1991 stays in our memories like it happened yesterday. This experience has affected us a lot, I can say in a positive way.
We have always helped refugees coming from our country. For many years we have helped many Albanian emigrants with shelter, food and support in every way they needed. Usually they lived with us for years until they were able to afford housing and a job.
This is a short story of our journey, a lot of details are left out but I just want to assure the reader that this is not a mythical story or history of someone I know. This is part of my life experience. This is a story of my life that I will never forget. We lived in NY for a long time until an opportunity came to visit San Diego, California. New York educated us; I attended Queens College, CUNY, started as an ESL student without knowing a word in English. But I graduated in six years, earned a BA degree, majoring in Sociology. This was completed while I had a family and raised two children.
On the other hand, my husband started as a Handyman in NY and worked for a company for a couple years. He learned all the trades in a short period of time and after three years he opened his own business in construction where he worked for thirty years until we left NY. Like I mentioned earlier, the opportunity of visiting San Diego later on launched us to the most beautiful place in San Diego, La Jolla where again we started a Business in the same industry as NY, Lisus Handyman & Home Renovations LLC. It has been only a year but we are doing very well. We have clients that treat us very well and they love us but we love them more and we are here to serve, to build and maintain the beauty of La Jolla. Our clients make us feel like we have been here forever. So, our journey started from one continent to another but continues in the states from East to West and we feel like La Jolla will be a long term home or final destination for us. We like everything about it. What is not to like in La Jolla anyway. Thank you La Jolla!
