Before my father died, he was “cured” in the prison hospital in Tirana. At the age of 70, he carried in his body a whole collection of diseases.

Beyond this iron door my mother met him for the last time. Two nurses carried his light stretcher and threw him down. They had brought him there poorly dressed, without shoes or socks, even though it was cold. When he began to say something to the nurses they started laughing. He was shivering from the cold. The prosthesis from his lower teeth was missing; because of his aggravated health, it would not stay in his mouth.

The Prison Hospital, Tirana

The Prison Hospital, Tirana

When brutality is met by someone with nobility, one can only feel thankful that such people exist. The efforts of the physician Mary Gjinushi, the daughter of my father’s friend Lefter Kryqi, are recalled with gratitude.

On my father’s last night, Mary was able to trade shifts with a colleague, so as to be near Dino during the last moments of his life. That night in Vlora, my mother, who never suffered from high blood pressure, felt a sudden rise, the reason for which we would know only two days later. A telegram from Peço Rako, a fellow inmate at Zejman Prison in Lezhe, informed us of the death of Dino.