Berisha could no longer be trusted, and his power was surely at an end. While he tried to preserve what little remained intact, the Forum hoped for the fall of the last and biggest pyramid, VEFA Holdings, whose collapse must finally drive Berisha out of politics.
Chapter XIX
VEFA HOLDINGS
Western journalists, thronging to Albania as never before in that calamitous winter, described Tirana as the ‘least European’ capital they had ever seen. One compared the Martyrs of the Nation Boulevard, the pride of the city, to a street in Kathmandu. The giant electronic advertisement for ‘VEFA HOLDINGS’ stuck to the façade of the Palace of Culture was particularly striking. ‘Tourism --Supermarkets --Resorts --Exclusive Events --Storage --Refrigeration --Transport --Investment’ flickered in turn with continually shifting colours and images. By February, it was the only pyramid advertisement that remained.
VEFA Holdings had the reputation of a company of ‘European standing’. Its headquarters were on the square named after Avni Rustemi, whose grimy bust stood in the garbage-strewn central flowerbed, surrounded by dust and rubbish. Nobody paid attention any more to this national hero. People looked at the gates of VEFA behind him, gathering in larger numbers every day and waiting to withdraw their money. Men in leather jackets, clearly secret police agents, were there to ensure the crowd did not try to storm the gates. Western journalists and cameramen also hung around the VEFA railings, filming and interviewing.
Waiting for the counters to open, people talked about the sums they had poured into VEFA and the profits they were forgoing. They also talked to the leather jackets about their misfortunes and flocked round Western journalists to tell them their woes. Speakers of foreign languages first described their own troubles and then interpreted the tragedies of others. But usually at this point they came up against the leather jackets, whose job was, as far as possible, to prevent this kind of contact.
A notice had been fixed to the railings surrounding the Firm’s headquarters: ‘The President can only be contacted at his own invitation.’
President Vehbi Alimuçaj’s glory days were over. At one time he had lived like an Arab sheikh in the most expensive hotels of Europe, escorted by an entourage who shared his pleasures, and spending his nights with the most beautiful prostitutes. But now the crowds monitored his every movement, and kept tabs day and night on his white helicopter with the blue VEFA logo that still stood in a clearing in the park of Tirana. The presence of this helicopter was a sign that its owner had not vanished as others had. In fact, Alimuçaj had tried to flee to the United States but the Americans had denied him a visa. He had retreated for twenty-four hours to his native mountains of Kukës and then found the courage to return to Tirana to pose again as a man of power behind his desk at his fine headquarters on Avni Rustemi Square. A journalist friend of Qorri’s who had penetrated his citadel had found him in a huge drawing room, with, amazingly, a piano in the corner. ‘Do you fancy some music?’ Vehbi had said to him. ‘Sure,’ he had replied, humouring him. Vehbi had rung a bell and immediately a young woman appeared. ‘What piece shall she play?’ Vehbi asked. The journalist shook his head indecisively. ‘Play that thing of Louise’s,’ Vehbi decided for him, and she had played Beethoven’s ‘Für Elise.’
With his pot belly, bulging eyes, and fat man’s waddle, Vehbi Alimuçaj was the laughing stock of half the nation. How had this military storekeeper turned out cleverer than all the trained officers of the Albanian Army, and become the richest man in the country? How could he have deceived everyone? Some people offered the simple explanation that capitalism had produced a new kind of individual with different characteristics from the socialist personality. Hadn’t these former drivers and bodyguards shown certain talents that their communist bosses had never displayed? New capitalist man, the model businessman, had a different mentality, and so should look different. This theory had plenty of adherents, but not among intelligent people. Others claimed that behind the drivers and bodyguards stood their patrons, either those from the past or newly acquired ones. Otherwise, how could these people have gained credibility? How many of the distinctly racist Albanians, would have trusted Sudja, the Roma ‘boss’, if they had not believed that a ‘person in charge,’ alias Prime Minister Meksi, stood behind her? Even when Sudja was arrested, it was rumoured that she was detained in order to prevent his name being revealed. Most people believed that these characters were fronts who shielded the much more capable ruffians who led the State. So they had trusted them, and now they turned against them in fury.
‘I’m a language teacher. I put in $500. That’s a large sum for me. Now I need that money because my granddaughter’s getting married,’ said a white-haired man, speaking French to a foreign journalist. ‘All right, all right,’ the leather-jacketed SHIK agent interrupted, shoving him out of the queue with the aid of his belly. ‘Five hundred dollars,’ the teacher shouted again, trying to make clear to the journalist the extent of his catastrophe.
‘What will you do if VEFA goes bankrupt?’ the journalist asked the first person in front of him. The Albanian interpreter clinging to him translated.
‘If VEFA goes bankrupt, it’s the end of everything.’
‘If VEFA collapses, all Tirana will take to the streets, SHIK or no SHIK,’ people round about chorused, speaking for the leather jackets too.
***
Berisha’s political future was tied to the fate of these hundreds and thousands of people who crowded round VEFA’s railings. Vehbi called them ‘creditors’ because, according to him, their money had been taken in the form of credit to a company that was making investments. Some people still hoped that this former storekeeper could do something. A new rumour had spread that the bosses of Sacra Corona Unita, with whom he had done business, had come to his aid, and one billion dollars in cash had been brought in suitcases loaded onto the ferries between Brindisi and Vlora and Durrës, which Alimuçaj himself owned. The government, people said, had given carte blanche to some Vlora traffickers linked to VEFA, to find whatever money they could to cover its losses.
From the State Bank on Martyrs of the Nation Boulevard came news that seemed indirectly to confirm the reported billion-dollar lifebelt thrown by the Apulian mafia to the Albanian billionaire. ‘It is hard to assess,’ a senior bank official declared, ‘how much money Alimuçaj has here in Albania. He has accounts and deposits in all the banks in this country, national and foreign. There may be tens of billions. If he’s starting to pay back the money, this money clearly has come from somewhere, but it’s not money that has moved through normal banking channels.’ The source of this money was the last thing on people’s minds. The most important question was whether it would be enough to calm the streets and avert bloodshed.
The evening news reported that VEFA had begun to pay out money again, and had closed its counters only at times when the situation had become strained. The company had decided to return the small sums that were most important for ordinary people. Then it would refund investors of $5,000 to $10,000 and then $10,000 to $20,000. The entire procedure would take three weeks.
Clearly this tactic was designed to gain three weeks’ breathing space, with the knowledge that anything could happen in that time. Nobody knew if money was really being paid out or not. The next day, Albania ran the headline: ‘VEFA Paying Back Capital Too’,’ but soon it was being claimed that the rumour of the opening of the counters had been spread because a group of about fifty government grandees had got back their money from VEFA, with interest. The opposition press ran contradictory reports: ‘VEFA Suspends Payments,’ ‘VEFA Fails to Repay as Promised,’ ‘VEFA Faces Bankruptcy.’ The confusion was growing.
A statement by the Greek interior minister poured cold water on all these conflicting reports. He declared that a large-scale drugs laboratory somewhere between Vlora and Fier was supplying Greece, Italy, and the markets of the East, and that this laboratory belonged to Rrapush Xhaferri, the chief of the pyramid that bore his name.
>
Xhaferri was another fraudster who had amazed his fellow- citizens of Lushnja not only by becoming extremely rich, but also acquiring fame in the realm of football. With the money he collected, he had revived the town’s football team and even bought some Latin American stars who were on the verge of retirement. But this glory was short-lived. Most of these star players left because the massive salaries they were promised dried up after the first few months.
The statement by the Greek interior minister also hastened the collapse of VEFA and Alimuçaj.
Western journalists, after talking to the people gathered outside VEFA’s office, returned to the Rogner to meet politicians and diplomats.
‘What do you think will happen with VEFA?’ they asked.
‘Who knows?’ came the usual reply.
Chapter XX
Rain
From Fatos Qorri’s Diary
We had no permit from the police, but again we called on people to rally today in the square opposite the Dinamo Stadium.
I left home an hour and a half beforehand, hoping to drink coffee on the way. Before I reached the boulevard, I was caught in a torrential downpour. I opened my umbrella and broke into a run, jumping over the puddles, and made for the Rogner Hotel, which was not far from the stadium. Other people had the same idea. I had never seen the lobby so full of people I knew, but also many unfamiliar faces.
Despite the continuing downpour, I stood up to leave with several others shortly before twelve o’clock. As we headed for the main door of the hotel, I saw a group of policemen in front of me. Obviously they were there to prevent us leaving. Some of the unfamiliar faces in the lobby drew nearer --clearly SHIK men. ‘Orders from above,’ said the officer in charge with an expression that seemed to say, ‘What can I do?’
The procedure was the same as at the Association’s headquarters, except that the hotel entrance was still open for anyone entering. We began arguing with the police. Some journalists arrived and told us that the police had surrounded the stadium square, and groups of plain-clothes men, from what we now called ‘the Democratic Party’s Black Hundreds’, had combed the nearby cafés and bars, making threats, beating people, and ejecting them from the premises. Other leaders of the Forum had been stopped just before twelve o’clock, wherever they happened to be, and had not been allowed to move.
The torrential rain continued -a consolation for this further fiasco.
The evening news carried a report in the familiar style of the Albanian Telegraphic Agency, ATA. It stated that an illegal rally of the Forum had been planned to take place on Selman Stërmasi Square, but nobody had turned up, just some children playing football in the rain and a few sodden journalists. ‘At least the organizers should have come to get wet too,’ the announcer read, and added, ‘The Democratic Party salutes the people of Tirana. They have understood that the Forum leaders are manipulating the situation and have ceased to support them.’
The Voice of America reported not that we’d been stopped by the police, but that at the time of the rally we’d been drinking coffee in the bars of Tirana.
So the disinformation game continues.
The attacks on foreign newspapers have been stepped up. Today Albania accuses foreign journalists of inventing incidents. ‘Even on days when nothing happens, events are dreamed up in Vlora.’ Two Italian reporters supposedly went to the seashore with a boat owner, who simulated the departure of a motorboat for them. But most of the attacks are aimed at the Greek press. According to Albania, one Greek reporter went to an ordinary funeral, took photographs, and published them with the claim that the police had killed the dead man. Another gathered together a group of boys to shout, ‘Down with the government!’ in Greek, and presented this on the evening news in Greece as a spontaneous demonstration.
The leaders of the faith groups also support the government, and have appealed for a day of prayer some time in February.
***
Kurt made a second attempt to enter the Association’s headquarters after its occupation, but he found the gates guarded by former prisoners opposed to him and by police who told him they had orders not to let him in. Gjinushi suggested that the Forum should move to his Social Democratic Party headquarters. We have made this move, but without much enthusiasm. It’s the only party headquarters with room for us, except the Socialists, and going to the Socialists would compromise us.
The central offices of the parties that were formed in the nineties all have significant histories. The Social Democratic Party’s building is a three-storey villa at the entrance to Fortuz Street built during the Italian occupation, and has a front garden with tall pine trees. The communists expropriated this villa and for some time it was an art gallery. Early in 1991, as soon as political parties were allowed, the regime gave it to Gjinushi’s party. He was obviously favoured by the former communists, because this is the most lavish central office.
Seen from above, the building resembles a bird with wings outstretched and head held high. The wings have two floors and the head has three. The right wing has a large meeting room and the other consists of storerooms. On the upper floor of the right wing is Gjinushi’s office with large armchairs in a corner and a desk to the side, and secretaries’ offices to the left. Only the body of the building where the two wings join has a third floor, and this is where we have moved to. A spiral staircase rises from the main entrance. So we are in the bird’s head. We have a small room with a desk and a phone, an upright chair, a computer where I work, and a fax machine that Gonxhja will use to distribute communiqués. Dash Peza has promised to come now and then to help us. We have the use of a larger room opposite for small meetings, and we will hold large meetings in the hall below.
The most interesting feature of our small office is that it looks out over the terrace that forms the roof of the left-hand wing. The surrounding pine trees rise above the building like a green hedge and protect it from the street and from all onlookers.
So we have more roof terrace than office. In fact we no longer need an office. In two weeks the Forum has become a myth that unites opponents of Berisha wherever they are. Not a day passes without ATA reporting some event: ‘The Forum for Democracy in Vlora delivers a petition to the Vlora police station.’ ‘Gathering in Durrës following call by the Forum for Democracy.’ ‘In Cërrik at noon, several hundred people gathered in a demonstration following an appeal by the Forum.’ ‘In the square in front of the stadium in Elbasan, several hundred people gathered following a summons by the Forum.’
In fact it is the people who are assembling the Forum, not the Forum the people.
In the opposite camp, Berisha is trying to hang on to the small parties that are showing a desire to run away. At a meeting he held with them today there was a proposal for the resignation of the government and the formation of a new one, with some of the parties proposing a government of professionals or a coalition that includes the opposition. But there were no details of this on the news, which broadcast a statement condemning terrorism, acts of vandalism, and political manipulation. The party chairman Tritan Shehu stated that the suggestion of a coalition or a government of professionals supported by the opposition was unacceptable.
Rilindja Demokratike’s headlines ran ‘No Coalition with the Socialists’; ‘Technocratic Administration Rejected --Support for Democratic Government’. There was also an article about me, accusing me of saying that we are on the brink of a violent confrontation: ‘At a news conference on Friday, Fatos Qorri, one of the leaders of the so-called Forum for Democracy, predicted civil war.’
In fact, I was not predicting the country’s imminent collapse but warning of the danger of such a thing. Berisha’s men are cooking up violence because they feel strong as long as they have the army and the police. Today they drove Rexhep Meidani’s car into a ravine somewhere near Puka in the north, where he was going to meet supporters.
The second half of February has begun with tensions rising and falling. It seems that Berisha is playi
ng this game on purpose, alternating pressure and concessions. On the one hand he holds meetings and makes propaganda statements for the benefit of foreigners, and on the other he is whetting his sword. Each day one report contradicts another. People are told that the football championship, suspended on 25th January, will resume, and at the same time that a ruling on this is expected from the Interior Ministry.
Rumour has it that Berisha’s allies met a second time and demanded ‘Meksi’s head.’ The Vlora Municipal Council, dominated by the Democratic Party, has drawn up a petition for the removal of the prime minister and the creation of a new government. On the other hand ATA increasingly reports that crime has flourished in Vlora since the police retreated on 11th February, and claims that traffickers have repossessed 135 boats confiscated by the police and have resumed the trade of prostitutes and drugs to Italy. Each boat reportedly makes three journeys each day. Five people were wounded, one seriously, in a fight with knives and guns among rival traffickers.
Clearly the purpose of these reports is to show foreigners, especially the Italian and Greek Governments, what might happen if they fail to intervene to stabilize the situation. The Greek border guards are said to be in a state of alert. Even Foresti is in feverish activity. Italy’s concern over human trafficking might be much more decisive for our fate than the economic and social crisis that has us in its grip.
In Lushnja, furious crowds seized the Democratic Party chairman Tritan Shehu and held him hostage for several hours. The protesters had turned out not with flowers, as we had suggested, but with leeks, a symbol of poverty. The television showed only a few pictures of the incident but everyone says that they stuffed a leek into Shehu’s mouth or even his anus. Berisha immediately set off for Lushnja in order to recover his lost dignity, and according to ATA’s positive spin on the visit, told the people of Lushnja that he had not lost faith in dialogue with them. He called what was done to Shehu an act of terrorism that had nothing to do with the people of the town, because the young men of Lushnja and nearby Karbunara had done their honourable best to protect him. He said he would decorate the people who had defended Shehu and that he had come to Lushnja to ask for help and cooperation in overcoming the crisis created by the money lending. But other reports arriving through different channels tell a different story -that he was welcomed with stone throwing, whistling and an attempt to overturn his vehicle. The Voice of America’s chief correspondent indirectly confirmed this by reporting that when Berisha left Lushnja he was shouted at and insulted, and a rock was thrown at his car.
The False Apocalypse Page 11
