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A toast, an iso, a story: August when Labëria remembers its sons

2026-08-17 20:19:57Pikëpamje SHKRUAR NGA ANILA HOXHA
Anila Hoxha

How beautiful the month of August is in Labëri.

When I enter my hometown of Gjorm i Labërisa, I read "Generations Meeting" and my lips and soul smile. And I begin to think about how great a day like this has, turned into a holiday where, whether we have traveled the world or not, we return home.

And our history, our truth, awaits us. In every village of Labëria, returning home in August is a celebration that mixes with tradition, which becomes evident in the summer. Folklore in these parts resists with the contribution especially of local associations and their members who are mainly immigrants or lovers of their roots and who with sacrifice keep the folk song groups afloat.

It must be said that the local government does very little for the popular groups of each village, which have been formed and consolidated by the passion and desire to preserve the heritage of Labe isopolyphony.

And on a day like this, through the most anticipated and anticipated songs, with the costumes that vary from village to village, you understand how much you belong to your hometown. Add to this the typical introduction, I am the daughter of so-and-so, and they start asking where you live, whose great-great-granddaughter you are.

Typical Labe folklore, of questioning and preserving heritage. There begins and history takes on another form, the form of the people before us, extraordinary sons and daughters of this area, whose lives are passed down orally from village to village. As a bequest not to forget, to remember who we belong to.

And you realize that life is full of veins of inheritance, when as you arrive in the village of Velce they tell you that here is an aunt of your mother who did such and such in the year x during communism. And she made this sacrifice - the interlocutor continues, telling me - to save the husband that the party was looking for.

On Girls' Day, I find another piece of myself, especially from my grandparents.

In Lepenica, my grandfather tells me, "Don't forget that your mother is Ahmet Lepenica's granddaughter." 

Here in the written Cave, my father explains to me, my father and your grandfather, who you didn't know, was the last to agree with Mato, he was the last to hand over the land to the cooperative. They exiled him along with Mato Isai - says the father, because he refused to hand over the land, we were left alone until they returned it!

There they killed Neki, ..and here they call it the Bridge of Our Lady because so long ago..

And when I hear every year pieces of life about everyone who lived before me, from my mother and father, and for anyone else who acted this way and solved "x" situation this way - oh God, I say oh God, what a difficult life but how much dignity and greatness Labëria and Gjormi have.

Although empty, with elderly people holding on to history very tightly, hoping that through a toast, polyphony, and stories that begin so humanly and so lovingly, just so that the sons and daughters of this area will not forget where home is!


Në përputhje me standarded JTI

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