This morning I was greeted by more hungry cries from two affectionate little ones.
I was on my way to the bus, and so I stopped to say hello, but I did not take these little guys home. I know what you are thinking: “But there such a little fuzzer fuzzer yes they are, a wuzzer wuz. Yes a little persum snicker love, yes they do.” I was thinking those very words, and it is a compelling argument, but I have learned to let the fuzzy farm friends remain as they are. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Max for a few days. I haven’t seen two of his close pack companions either. This makes me think that they are either together somewhere safe, or together somewhere lifeless. Of course I am hoping for the former. The lives of animals are not considered as valuable here as they are in Seattle, so who knows?
I arrived in Fushekruje early enough this morning to have a coffee at Buyar’s Cafe. It isn’t really named that and there is not any signage to speak of, but I like to think of it that way. I was thinking of asking Brad or Greg to design a sign that read “Buyar’s International Coffee House.” When I am there he alerts everyone to my nationality with pride. People from the United States are treated like dignitaries here. Almost no one can figure the angle on leaving the States to volunteer at a church here. It doesn’t pencil out, especially given the fact that in the minds of most of the Albanian men I’ve spoken with, moving to America would be akin to finding out that you are actually the lost prince of a very opulent kingdom somewhere.
The two exceptions to this have been Fatjon and his father Saimir. Fatjon wants to be a doctor and he wants to stay in Albania. He aspires to live in Fushekruje. This contentment is one of the attributes which makes Fatjon the strong person for God he is and is becoming. Fatjon’s father has traveled extensively in search for work. He has relayed some stories to me which are both endearing and heartbreaking. Through all of that, and all of the uncertainty of being without a job in the second to the most poor nation in Europe, Saimir has maintained his dignity through strict regard for his principles.
An interesting cultural fact is that many of the puntors (laborers) will arrive to work in work clothes; but before leaving the jobsite for the day they will change into a nice shirt and slacks. This tradition is popular with the men who are in their 40s. After work today I was invited back to Saimir’s for refreshments. We deployed a Chess board and Saimir taught me how to lose. He is the kind of person who becomes more interesting with each conversation. I am looking forward to a long relationship with him.
albaniacalling 