Albania is a southeast European country located in the Balkans. It neighbors Montenegro, Kosovo, North Macedonia and Greece, with the Ionian and Adriatic Sea to its west. As of January 2020, Albania has a population of approximately 2.8 million, with a vast majority speaking the Albanian language. In 1967, it was the first and only ‘atheist state’, as declared by the Communist government.
“The Testament of Gjon Muzaka”, as seen through the eyes of nobleman Gjon Muzaka, is, to me, reminiscent and forlorn. The descriptions of his former life, of Arbëria, of the ‘family crests symbolically loaded with two-headed eagles’, which constitute the Albanian flag, flash across my mind as I envision what a magnificent life Muzaka had lived. His residency in Italy, a land foreign to Muzaka, reminds him that he is only a ‘stage prince’, an ‘exotic, insignificant ghost’, bringing him into a depression. But I get a sense of hope in him, as he realizes he can record the legacy of his life, of the ancient land of Arbëria. His doubtful realization that millions of past and future people that have written/would write recollections of their pasts, and the repetition of the word ‘palimpsest’, which dogmatically rings in my mind as a lack of originality, that this record that he writes is a waste of time and energy, is funny to me, that such a significant, legendary figure could have the same doubts that I have.
The short story is set in the period of 16th century Albania, which was under conflict with the Ottoman Empire. Gjon Muzaka is described as an ‘Arbërian prince’, which makes reference to the Principality of Arbanon, which was the first Albanian state to emerge in history. The Muzaka family were also one of the most important families of Albanian history. His significance is notable from the mention of the bible at the beginning, of how ‘[his] body will burn and will never go out’, and also the fact that the original text that the story is based on is considered the oldest text written by an Albanian. None of this is explicitly show in the story, but after further research, I’ve discovered such an ancient piece of Albania that I would never expect to find on my own.
Armenia is a west Asian country found in the Caucasus. It is a country landlocked by Turkey, Azerbaijan, Iran and Georgia. As of 2018, it has an estimated population of 2.9 million and the Armenian language as the official language. The Armenian Apostolic Church is one of the world’s oldest Christian institutions, as Armenia is also claimed to be one of the first Christian states at around 300 AD.
“Before Sunrise” depicts many Armenians’ different walks of life, of different hierarchical orders, that go through their days in bustling streets filled with religious sites and ongoing construction. The story flicks between images of crowds, churches, women and children, rumbling trains, scenes of abuse and blood, and the domineering, tyrannical government that rules over the country. The narrator is very observant of it all, but still is struck by fear at times: telling of the stalker that watches them from an opposing apartment, and begging to be able to tell someone of the bombings, of impending earthquakes; running away from Kars, ‘to bathe in the baths, to be cursed again, to live in the city.’
At least, that’s what I make of the story. It was really difficult for me to read and I saw mostly a scattering of scenes that cut so often, so quickly to the other. Although, the story holds a lot of emotion and an anger towards how the country in which the narrator lives in is so violent and chaotic. I get a feeling that Armenia is country of detached people; of a corrupt authoritarian government that abuses and manipulates its citizens; and horror and fear.
The score: 3–1, Armenia’s way. “The Testament of Gjon Muzaka” was interesting and I enjoyed learning of the legend of Muzaka, holding a notable position in Albanian history, although the description in which “Before Sunrise” went in was very intriguing and I very much enjoyed that type of writing, being vague but yet very descriptive; it being not explicit allows you to form the world in your own mind, in your own order.
