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"Help me with some money, my wife is broke at home," Kadri Roshi's request from his hospital bed for Servet Pëllumbi!

2025-12-27 21:03:39Aktualitet SHKRUAR NGA REDAKSIA VOX
"Help me with some money, my wife is broke at home," Kadri
Servet Pëllumbi/ Kadri Roshi

Renowned journalist Hamdi Jupe has recounted a rare story from his life when he served as chief of staff to the Speaker of the Parliament, Servet Pëllumbi .

He remembers the time when he was Pëllumbi's chief of staff and the latter asked him to prepare a visit to Kadri Roshi in the hospital.

According to Jupe, when they went to the great artist's room, the latter asked him to spend a few moments alone with the head of the Assembly.

Hamdi Jupe's post:

The most beautiful reward of my life (instead of a New Year's card) This morning, the Speaker of the Albanian Parliament, Servet Pëllumbi, called me into his office. I worked as his chief of staff.

– We will go to visit the Military Hospital. People's Artist Kadri Roshi is hospitalized there. He was a great actor, so he deserves respect – he said.

I left before him to meet the hospital director in order to be there when the President arrived. The escort with the Dove arrived at the appointed time.

We entered the room where the artist was. With us, the escort officer. The actor had settled alone in the room to be quiet from the other patients. A few words of greeting with him and suddenly he addressed us:

– Please, step out of the room for a moment, because I have a conversation with Servet alone. – He was speaking as if the Speaker of the Assembly was his brother. We were surprised by the actor's words and looked at the Speaker. Okay, the rest of us, but the hospital director - doctor - should also leave the patient's room!?

– – Come out, come out – said the Chairman. – We are old men and we have our secrets too. – This request of the actor was unexpected even for him, but he could not object.

We left the room and waited in the hallway, stunned, until the door opened and the Speaker invited us back in. We stayed there for a while, while the Speaker talked to the actor and director about his health situation. Then we returned to the Assembly.

I had just entered the office when the Chairman called me to his office. I was surprised by this, because a few minutes ago we were together at the hospital. Had something unpleasant happened during our visit there (a matter of protocol) and now he was calling me to warn me about “negligence in duty”? We both sat down on the long armchair in his office. The Chairman was silent for a few moments, then opened his mouth.

– Did you find out why the artist kicked you out of the room?

– No, how would I know? – I replied. – You saw what happened yourself, we went outside.

– Yes – said the professor, always with a heavy shadow of sadness on his face – He took you out and then, when we were left alone, he made an unnatural request to me. – The chairman took a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something serious. – He said to me: “Please, help me find some money, because my wife is broke at home. I am not asking for myself, because I know I will die, but I am worried about her”.

I was surprised by his request – continued the Chairman. – It felt like the ceiling had fallen on my head, but I quickly gathered myself. I thought that a man in distress, over eighty years old, hospitalized on the verge of death, could make such requests.

That's why I've urged you - he continued. - To see what we as the Assembly can do to raise something, some small fund, to help the actor. Talk to the Assembly's finance people and bring me an answer.

He deserves a special pension as a great artist, damn it, and I will take up this issue with the government until it is resolved. There is a lot of injustice in this world, and one such injustice is the one with the artist Kadri Roshi.

But he's broke today and this job is now on my shoulders. With my salary, we're paying off a loan we took out for our new house and there's nothing left over.

This request from the Speaker came as a surprise to me, so I immediately called the Assembly's finance director, Dafina, to the office to see what we could do to help the artist. She was an old financier, beaten with oil and vinegar for almost forty years with state finances, so only she could find a solution to the problem.

– Money for the actor!? – she asked as soon as I opened my mouth to talk about it. – Don't discuss it! We have no legal space to do such a thing. It's a job that can't be done.

Yes, it would be different if the artist were a famous painter and we could buy some of his works of art to decorate the premises of the Parliament, because we consider them to be masterpieces, without a single work of art in them. But the actor... what can we buy him? Nothing.

– Wait a minute – I told him. – Don't say the last word at the beginning. This is the Chairman's order, not mine – I asked him to look at the request carefully once more, because I had no answer to give to the boss who was waiting for me in the office for the order he had given me.

But she wasn't playing her game. She got up and left the office, leaving me with my finger in my mouth, without any hope of what I was looking for.

I was left alone and disarmed in the office. What was I to do now? If Dafina can't solve this problem, no one else can. I had no money myself, and my two children were students in Italy.

Now I would have to go and give the Speaker the bad news, that the Assembly has no legal opportunity to issue anything for the great actor on the verge of death. But I couldn't go to him empty-handed, I couldn't.

I remembered the dried cironka in the pocket of the Arbëresh poet Derada, on the day of his departure for heaven. The office phone rang.

– I'm Dafina – her voice was heard on the other end of it. – Are you in the office? I want to come there again. – What other bad news did the woman with the soul of ice, with the duty of "guardian" of the public finances of the Assembly, want to give me now?

– Come on, I'm in the office as you can see. You were here just now. – She came with a sigh. After thinking a bit, she opened her mouth:

– Look, there is only one way to get some money out of the Parliament's coffers for the artist, but this is only done by order of the President.

– Of course, it will be done by order of the President, it will not be done by my order. But what is the way? – I asked him.

– Yes, the President has the right to give you, as chief of staff, two monthly salaries as a reward for the “very good” work you have done in the service of the institution. In vain, that is.

You then take that money and give it to the artist. That's the only legal way. It seems like something is wrong, I understand, but I swear there is no other possible way, no other way.

– She seemed to finally be free from the tension that had gripped her, after what she said. I asked her to explain her legal “solution” to me once again so I could understand it better, and she did.

I hadn't done any "outstanding" work for the institution to receive special rewards, I had done the usual work for which I received a salary but...

I went to the Mayor and told him the "solution".

– Is this work being done? – he asked.

– It's done. That's what Dafina says. – I replied.

– Well then, bring me the order to sign.

Together with Dafina, we formulated the order: “Based on the article so-and-so… the chief of staff (my name) is rewarded with two monthly salaries for very good work in the service of the Albanian Parliament. This order enters into force immediately. Chairman: Servet Pëllumbi.”

I took the order to him for signature. I stamped it in the protocol and everything was ready. I took the money into the account and took it to the artist at the hospital. It was past noon and he was alone in his room.

I handed him the envelope with “Servett’s message” in my hand. He thanked me with tears in his eyes. It was a sum of money for a momentary “consolation,” which could not solve his problem in the long run.

It was not known whether the artist would come out of there alive. The hospital director had said this when we left the patient's room. Take that statue and dedicate it to some minister or deputy who has more "merits", leaving the People's Artist without a living in the last days of his life, at the beginning of the twentieth century.

I was afraid that one of those who do “unauthorized checks” would enter his room while the patient was asleep and that would be when the “reward” for dog fat would go to us. He said that his wife would go there in the afternoon and give her the envelope.

I returned to the institution and reported to the Chairman about the task completed.

– Oh, you've saved me from a great deal of embarrassment! – he said with relief. The chairman was in his seventies.

The order for my reward for "very good" work has been in the archives of the Assembly for more than twenty years. It is the most beautiful "reward" of my life.

With my signature on the payroll, it was possible for two prominent people of this nation to feel good for a few moments. Witness Dafina, the "spirit" director of finance.


Në përputhje me standarded JTI

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