Nanna, this year in Kosova

Could you sing whistles, nana, this year in Kosova? Did the flag rise on November 28th?” It's a boy's letter from prison writing to his mother to encourage him to grow strong. Among other things, the imprisoned boy asks his mother that through his letter she conveys the atmosphere of November 28, which he cannot enjoy because the bars and bars separate her from her. “A is wearing youth, naen, red and black,” asks his subheading.

This is just a song, but the characters and the story of this song: The imprisoned son and lowly mother are the history of thousands of political prisoners and their mothers in Kosovo.

Shit.

On every November 28th, the reverential and humble reflection in memory of all those brave and heroes who fell and survived in generations of history filled with pain and glory.

28 November is each Albanian's holiday. However, a special burden came upon the millions of Albanians who remained under Yugoslavia and were denied national identity. They were imprisoned and killed only because they heard “Radio Tirana” or dressed red and black.

Shit.

“My name is Asim Qerim” The story of a Kosovar who grew up orphan because in his childhood, he had his father killed “nacallics, podporucnics and glavnics”, by order of the “vojvoda and his Krauts because former Kosovo”. They took her land. They took it away from the courtyard and built houses for themselves in its courtyard. They tried to buy and urge him to kill his brothers. They just left for Anadol. I'm out of the field, but my father's blood is gone. And I stayed here, stranger, like a dog, in my country, in my father's...”

Asim Qerim is the character this poem “I am Kosovo Albanian” written by a moss poet, Mitrush Kuttel, the great Mitrush. Asim decided to preserve father-in-law denbabaden “as the mountain becomes ash and mountain ash again”. Asim Qerim is the prototype of the oppressed, humiliated, murdered and injured Kosovar.

Shit.

A song and a poem cannot even repeat the suffering of an orphan adult who was denied even mentioning his mother. But both songs and poems are examples reflecting the history of the Albanians of Yugoslavia.

He can't come a 28th. November and don't think of that other world generation as Kadare would call them who were able to sacrifice everything for their freedom. To that generation that was born, he grew up and died with tears in his eyes and with his eyes wide open, without fulfilling his dream of seeing the forbidden apple, Albania, once again. And above all, to that generation that gave their lives so that today in Pristina it will freely wave the flag and today we have our country with many problems and problems, but it's still ours, and where no one puts you in the space for 15 years anymore just because you set it up.

Shit.

Congratulations on November 28th. Bow down to the seed that sowed seed, and rejoice over the generation that tasted the fruit. Until the mountain becomes mountain ash and ash again. ”

#RP