By Aurora Azzolina, Fier.
Albania is beautiful. From the people who live in this land, I have captured their pride in their flag, their hope for a better future, and their welcoming spirit. The likelihood of coming across an Albanian flag or slogans such as “Rroftë Shqipëria!” (Long live Albania!) is extremely high.
As I write this account, I am in Fier. It is October, and I have been here for almost three months. Fier is a very quiet city, where life moves at a different pace. You do not see many young people on the streets. There are no major gathering places, cinemas, or bookstores; public transportation is almost nonexistent. Environmental issues are easy to notice, from the sharp odor that occasionally fills the air to litter scattered around. The migratory phenomenon affecting the young segment of the Albanian population is a long-standing problem.
Albania is also rich in opportunities: I mean the possibility to create, to do, and to renew. In Albanian citizens I see great pride, a desire for redemption, and a strong work ethic: their working hours defy any concept of work–life balance.
My role here as a civil service volunteer is to support the activities of the Murialdo Social Center in the social inclusion of children from the Roma community. Among my various tasks, I help support them during school hours at the Zhupan school. The aim is to contribute to the fight against illiteracy, to overcome their social marginalization, and to organize recreational activities. The distinction between “Albanian children” and “Roma children” is clearly felt. The Roma population here is organized into villages near Fier. In July, I visited the village of Drizë for the first time: I immediately felt the energy that characterizes these children and their enthusiasm for the Murialdo activities. It was electrifying. In the village there are no spaces for young children: the Drizë social center represents a fundamental point of reference for children from the Roma community, but its opening is not always guaranteed. The lack of stable funding and staff makes the service uncertain, meaning that educational and recreational activities risk being interrupted precisely when the children need them most. Seeing their anticipation sometimes turn into disappointment is difficult: “Aurora, Drizë?” “Jo” (No).
They insistently ask to be able to return to the center, a sign of how important it is for them to have a place where they feel welcomed and supported. Despite these difficulties, the children constantly ask to go back there: this shows just how important the center is for their growth and socialization. The impact of Murialdo on the local area and Engim’s activities is essential. I notice this in the great respect the children have for these organizations. This demonstrates the strength and value of the project. The joy with which they take part in the activities and the small daily progress they make are concrete proof of the positive impact the project is able to generate, even in the most fragile conditions. If at first I thought that Albania did not meet my desire to confront a geographically distant reality, convinced that perhaps in such a context I would find greater challenges in which to grow both humanly and professionally, today I have changed my mind. Hearing about twelve-year-old girls who are already wives or a seventeen-year-old married man who dreams of an easier life leaves me with a strange feeling. I understand the privilege of being able to choose.