2025 08 Albania, Shkodra
Every day, Hendrik Darragjati takes his place at a reserved spot in the heart of Shkodra, at one of the cafés. He arrives precisely at 12:00 and again at 20:00. Now 91 years old, he has witnessed the devastation of World War II, endured the oppression of communism, and, since the 1990s, found peace in the quiet charm of his favorite terrace on Rruga Kolë Idromeno — the street named after the Albanian painter, sculptor, architect, photographer, composer, and engineer of the nineteenth century, who helped shape much of Shkodra during the Albanian Renaissance.
Rosa, the waitress, looks after him, though he asks for little. In return, he shares some of his artwork and manuscripts of Ngarje të vërteta — true stories he has written from memory. Beyond his writing, Hendrik is also a painter, a gifted violinist, and a teacher. But most of his former orchestra now plays among the angels.
The City in His Lifetime
Hendrik has lived through all that came after the fall of the Ottoman Empire — the quiet dignity of the royal years under King Zog, the unease of Italian and Nazi occupation during World War II, and the long shadow cast by nearly half a century of communist rule. As a deeply Catholic and intellectual city, Shkodra was hit hard. Churches and mosques were closed, religious figures persecuted, and artists like Hendrik were forced to work in silence or express only what was allowed.
Yet even under pressure, the city’s soul remained intact. For centuries, Shkodra has been known for its rare harmony — a place where Muslims, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians lived side by side in mutual respect. That spirit of coexistence, remarkable in any era, quietly endured behind shuttered windows and closed places of worship, as if waiting for the day it could reemerge.
After the fall of the regime in the early 1990s, the city slowly woke up. The chaos of 1997 tested its resilience, but life returned. Terraces filled, books resurfaced, mosques and churches reopened, and the cobbled Rruga Kolë Idromeno once again became a place for conversation, art, and music.
Now, at 91, Hendrik sits at the edge of that long story — a witness, a storyteller, and a quiet reminder of all that was lived and survived.
The New World
Rosa, on the other hand, is just beginning her life in full. She comes from a small farm in the hills, but unlike her brothers — who take on any job and believe working in Germany will secure their future — she chose to study Law. She earns money part-time as a waitress, but her true ambition is to one day become a public prosecutor, determined to make a meaningful contribution to her newly awakened homeland.
She is one of many young, entrepreneurial Albanians who see possibility in the future. With the door to the European Union potentially opening, Rosa and her generation are preparing — not to leave, but to build something better here.
