Shaking Hands Cross-Culturally: The Albanian Diaspora of Michigan

By Ashley Elizabeth Wood/

 When I arrived at the St.   Paul’s Albanian Catholic Church for the first time, I was in awe. Entering the property was more like entering another country than a church. The driveway was long and wound me around the grounds past huge statute of Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu on his horse. “Oh wow, it’s just like in Tirana!” I said out loud to myself, laughing at how touristy that sounded. I saw the priest’s house also on my left, and farther down the driveway, a beautiful statue of Mother Teresa. To my right was a group of flags waving high in the air: Albanian, American and Vatican City. It was in this moment that I realized I was standing in front of the first Albanian flag I had ever seen in person. The magnificence of it all was intimidating, inspiring and made me a little nervous. People were counting on me to represent the voices of these courageous people of whom I knew very little. I took a deep breath and tiled my chin up to raise my head high. “You can do this,” I said to myself.

I found a small motel a few miles from the church and checked in. I had just enough time to prepare for the festival, so I called Kola Gjokaj, Chairman of the board of the church and my main contact in Michigan. I told him I planned on going to mass that evening and meeting people later at the festival. He reassured me kindly that everything was going to be fine and told me to call him should I need any more help. He would be waiting for me at the church later that evening. I arrived early for mass to see what the church looked like inside and right away, I noticed the artistic map of ethnic Albania on the wall near the restaurant. It made me smile. The church is an architectural wonder and the stained glass images of Jesus Christ and his followers are breathtaking. I walked around noticing that each pane of glass had been donated by a family; in fact, not just the glass, but many things had a small plaque on them, showing who had donated the object. There was evidence of a strong sense of community everywhere and it was apparent that this church had been built thanks to the hard work and donations of its own parishioners. It was symbol of religious and community pride and I was standing in the center of it. Their energy was all around me.

Mass took place in the small chapel to the side of the main sanctuary and it was the first time I had ever heard mass in Albanian. I had no idea what to say, but since I’m catholic, mass was easy to follow. When they prayed in Albanian, I prayed silently in English. When it came time to give the peace to everyone, I just smiled and mumbled my best guess at what they were saying to me. I felt completely out of place, but the people still welcomed me warmly with their gestures and expressions.

After mass, I went outside to the festival to find Kola. Everyone was incredibly nice to me; curious and excited when they found out why I was there. I loved it because most people greeted me in Albanian and I did my best to respond in kind. Within a matter of minutes, Kola was located for me. He is a jolly person who radiates honestly, generosity and love. For the days that I was at the festival, he and his staff were my protectors, my helpers and my friends, making sure I was always well fed and had everything I needed. That first day, I met a group of American-born girls of Albanian descent. Getting their perspective on things was very helpful because I had only ever spoken to Albanians born in Albania and surrounding regions. The girls spoke Albanian with varying degrees of fluency and liked the idea of my book because they were comforted to know that the stories their parents told them about Albania (that they had trouble relating to) were shared by so many others. They knew that they were lucky to have been born in the U.S., but admitted they did not appreciate it as often as they should. The girls filled me in on many of the social dos and don’ts of the culture (of which there are many). I was taught how to dance the vallaj and other Albanian dances.

It was a bit difficult to mingle with people at first because mingling as an American concept is not normal in Albanian culture. It immediately got the sense that I was being rude by approaching people I had never met. To compensate, I made my introductions as fast as possible and explained to people that I knew this was inappropriate but I was American writing a book about Albania. It was not easy, but I made friends little by little. Most people were unsure as to what my motives were as I approached their tables or families. Nevertheless, one by one, I got to know people and their families. Those people introduced me to other people and those people to more people. I met a woman who has a husband and four children and lives near the church. She invited me to her home to see how Albanian food was cooked and to tell me more about the clothing that is used in the traditional dances. Her children would be dancing that next evening at the festival and could explain everything to me. I was honored by this invitation and immediately accepted.

The following day at Lule’s house, I learned about food, clothing, dances and family. My new friend was welcoming beyond anything I could ever have expected from a proper southern lady. I was there in the afternoon, but she offered me an entire day’s worth of food to eat. There was gullash (beef stew), mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, watermelon, peaches, feta cheese, bread, coffee and an array of other drink options. I was beginning to realize that if I kept spending time with Albanians, I would never go hungry. Of all the cultures I have studied, Albanians are the most observant of others’ physical needs: hunger, thirst, heat and cold, changes in mood, emotion or attitude. They are keenly aware of how you feel sometimes even before you are. It is a type of observance that seems to come completely naturally to them and I wonder if it is a survival technique. It is certainly something that Americans and Western Europeans seem to lack. It makes you feel incredibly loved and protected.

As the days went on, I felt more and more comfortable at the church. I saw people I had met previously and was greeted by them warmly like an old friend. I was introduced to more influential people each day and was allowed to speak on stage to hundreds of people about my project during the final evening of the festival. My list of contacts and support was growing every day and I was encouraged by people’s responsiveness to my project. I began to realize that writing this book was not just my dream anymore; it was starting to belong to everyone. People spoke to me in Albanian and I understood most of it. They discussed history, politics, religion and education with me to test my knowledge and determination. I welcomed their tough questions as new perspectives on the project and with those conversations I was able to determine the most efficient way of explaining the goals of the project to others. On the evening of the 4^th of July, I had the privilege of being introduced by the Albanians to the mayor of Sterling Heights, Richard Notte, and to the mayor of Rochester Hills, Bryan Barnett. I was also invited to eat with them and their family at their dinner table as well. The presence of both mayors at the festival was a testament to the strong relationship that the Albanian community has built with its political representatives. Mayor Barnett and his wife told me about their trip to Albania and Montenegro and how much it meant to them. She and I bonded over being American and loving the Albanian community while dancing the vallaj with hundreds of other people in long lines under the tent. I was grateful and humbled to have been so well received at the festival. The success was overwhelming and had achieved more than I ever imagined I could. I had new stories, contacts, friends and knowledge and I was more in love with the Albanian people, culture and language than ever before.

Sunday’s mass was absolutely breathtaking. Hundreds were in attendance and by that point I was feeling pretty comfortable with my Albanian. I could greet people; understand the basic points of the homily, some of the prayers, the announcements and especially the part where the priest, Don Franë Kolaj, spoke about me and Project Albanian Voices. The eloquence with which Don Franë delivered his message brought tears to my eyes. His abilities as an orator are unparalleled and I felt as though when he was speaking, he was breathing new life into my project. After mass, I had coffee and more delicious Albanian food in the restaurant at the church. I met clergymen, businessmen, writers, scholars and political advocates from all over the greater-Detroit area who were interested in my project. Among them were Kanto Dushaj, who hosts an Albanian-language radio program and is director of religious education at St.   Paul’s as well as Pashko Gjokaj, Chairman of the Albanian-American Association “Malesia e Madhe”. Other members that were there included Malote Ivezaj, Zef Gjonaj, Mr. Gjokaj, Mr.Lulgjuraj, Mr.Gjonaj and Mr.Sinishtaj.

On Sunday night, I met with members of Vatra, the Pan-Albanian Federation of America to explain my project in more detail. At the table were Alfons Grishaj, the President and Mondi Rakaj, the Secretary as well as Kujtim Qafa, member of Vatra Michigan and board member of Vatra Pan Federation of New   York. They asked me difficult questions and I was glad to answer them. They brought up information I had not considered, such as less well known ancient and modern historical events that have shaped Albania and the Albanian diaspora over the past 500 years. They even lent me a number of books to take back to Atlanta for my research. As the dinner went on, I managed to convince them of my seriousness and strong-headed determination to complete this project no matter the obstacles. I explained that I had already failed once at a fundraising attempt for the project and that only made me more determined to move forward and try again. They were pleased and it seemed I had passed their preliminary test. We went to a coffee shop to meet Pjeter Jaku, Deputy President and publisher of Kuvendi Magazine where he gave me another few books for my research. There they announced that the next morning, I would meet Ekrem Bardha, one of the most influential and wealthy Albanians in the United   States.

The following morning, over Turkish coffee and piles of history volumes, I met with a man I had only read about in books. Ekrem Bardha is currently the Honorary Consul in Michigan and has met with ten U.S. presidents. The leader of the Albanian National Front in Michigan (Balli Kombëtar), co-founder of the National Albanian-American Council (NAAC), and the former owner of Illyria Newspaper, he is a distinguished and kind man with a warm heart and an admirable love for Albanian people. His daughter was there as well, Donika Bardha who has diplomatic grace in every word she utters and every movement she makes. Also at this morning meeting were Agim Bardha, Alma Rexha and Valentin Lumaj, all of whom expressed interest and excitement about my project. I had the privilege of meeting the priest from Our Lady of Albanians Catholic Church, Don Ndue Gjergji, who expressed his support and even gave me another book to use for my research. Switching between Albanian and English, we spoke as a large group, everyone translating for the ones who needed it (mostly me). The men agreed to help me with fundraising and contacts so that my project could become a reality.

I was elated and in such shock as to my good fortune that the 12 hour drive back to Atlanta seemed to last only 2 hours. As I drove home decked out in gifted Albanian memorabilia, I got text after text from the people I had met in Michigan, all wishing me a safe trip home. I smiled and turned up the Albanian music coming from my stereo, knowing that the project and my dream were now a reality. I knew then that after my experience with this book, my life would never be the same again.