Even in the mountains, the heat was intense during the day. After doing some garden work, and eating the required hot milk with pieces of bread breakfast, and listening to the cranky old men, and washing some dishes, we holed up in our quarters (the family room that Hysni kept locked when he wasn't there. All rugs, blankets and a fireplace.) We listened to the BBC worldservice somewhat relentlessly. Clarence and Orgys were bored by this, so they disapeared to swim or fish, or ride the donkey down at the farm.
One morning, an old man from the farm below, also a down and out pensioner who Hysni had taken in, came into the garden where we were working. He said a lot of things in Albanian, and then took the garden hoe from me, to show me how to do it. There was only one hoe, so I began pulling weeds with my hands. "He says don't pull them with your hands, only with the tool," translated Orgys. The old man kept on with the hoe, and the rest of us stood around, watching him. Very efficient, very Albanian.
When the old man finally left, Orgys was mad. "He said Clarence and I stole his mobile," Orgys said. "He saw us at the farm, and he thinks we took his mobile." Orgys kicked the dirt. "He's a stupid man," he said, bitterly. I didn't disagree.
There was a spring from the earth ten minutes down the hill, and since the old men regulated their water pump with a Fascist spirit, we started collecting water there quite often. (Indeed, why didn't they tell us about it sooner? We were strong and capable, and very willing to please, we would have hauled water all day if they wanted). It was Monday, and it was reported that Hysni was coming to fetch us, and so both sides were happy. Michal and I went down to the spring to get water, and wash, and pick plums. The path there was steep and shady. Water poured from a fixed spigot, and the air was fresh and cool. Plum trees were everywhere, and yellow and purple fruit spilled onto the ground. We were filling our bottles when suddenly, out of no where, the tall, skinny frame of the mute man Boujar appeared, carrying an empty jug to fill.
"Hysni!" he gasped, though it sounded more like "Hoos!" He pointed at his wrist to indicate time, and then waved his arm wildly towards the house. "Hoos!"
"Hysni is coming? Now?" Michal and I looked at each other. Boujar repeated his message, stamping his feet impatiently.
"Ok, we get it." We nodded vigorously, and this satisfied Boujar for a minute. We stood surveying the cool scene. Then "Birra!" Boujar mouthed, making the motion of drinking from a can. He pointed to us, to him, to the can. "Birra!" He made a gesture that looked like money.
"Ah, he wants us to buy him beer," said Michal. Boujar nodded vigorously, and then said "Shhh!" and put a finger to his lips, his face utter seriousness. "Shhh!" and a slapping motion on his face.
"Don't tell anyone," we translated. He waved his finger in the air to say "no no no."
"Ok," we nodded. Boujar looked happy.
Michal took his jug to fill, and as he bent down to the water, Boujar put his arm around me. He made grunting sounds as he was wont to do, and then, as I didn't know what to do, he got closer. I felt his unshaved, concave cheek next to mine, and I smelled cigarettes. He gave me a passionate kiss on the cheek, which was enough for me. I moved away.
For a 50 year old man, Boujar was very weak. He couldn't carry the jug up the hill and neither could he walk 20 steps without a break. He slapped his legs and shrugged to show that they were weak. We waited for him under the fig trees as he caught his breath, and then he pointed at me, Michal, him and made the motion of an airplane. "Take me with you," he was saying. He looked defeated and repeated the motion. "Take me away with you."
When we returned, Michal bribed the men with money and beer. Boujar always waving his finger and saying "shhh!" The men looked happier for a while, but even this gift couldn't shift their position of being poor, family-less men in a rich family man's world. We learned after we left that they had all been transferred to the village from the city because they were capable of working, and because perhaps they didn't fit in in the house in Tirana. The crabbiest old man, it turned out, was an alcoholic who had mistakenly set his room on fire.
Hysni arrived with his brother, Clarence and Orgys's father. Their father was short and smiling, with a limp because of a bad hip. He spoke a bit of German, and was excited to show off his gun, talk about life, and his sons. We were sitting out in the yard as the sun was setting over the mountains, and Orgys's dad said to us " You did some good work here, the men are lazy, so you showed them how the house can look." We smiled uncertainly and then he turned to Boujar. He loudly mimicked his grunting sounds,and rolled his eyes. "You're lazy," he said to Boujar. "You're lazy and stupid." Boujar grunted and then nodded, and then sat down. This was all through Orgys's translation, so Michal and I sat politely, in disbelief. Orgys started talking about something else, and Clarence munched peanut snacks from a plastic bag that later he threw on the ground. Boujar looked blue.
"Hey," said Michal, putting a hand on Boujar's shoulder. "Ok?"
Boujar grunted, and nodded his head.
The twilight turned into dark.
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