On the last day, like almost every other day, girls were selected for the theatrical performance, among the most unique and the most restrictive of FemArt, because everything that was happening there had to remain there.
The performance “Daughters” by Jillian Greenhalgh is part of the Magdalena project.
The women selected to tell their stories were: Melihate Qena, Valdete Idrizi, Aurita Agushi, Mina Nikolic, Shqipe Gashi, Genta Ramadani Reneta Duda and Qëndresa Loki.
Each desk had two seats, and on the square table covered in black with object as artifacts stood on top of it with stories behind them.
Photographs, clothes, boxes, towels, were just some of these objects.
A chair was set for the participants, where each participant sat down across from the performer and picked up an object and learned a story about it.
Some of them had such painful stories, that the listener started crying and people gathered to hear what they were talking about.
One of the narrators told the story that as a child her mother braided her hair, but suddenly, her mother suffered a stroke and was no longer consious.
One day she asked her mother to braid her hair to convince her mother that she is alright, but she was trying in vain, for her left hand was not working.
Somewhere in the middle you could could hear another story of a girl who had written many letters and left the impression of the strong daughter before her mother, but one day she realized that the girl needed a therapy / psychologist.
Despite the guessing, she tried to show that it is alright for you to need a psychologist once in your life, until the day comes you have to show your thoughts and feelings just as they come.
The story showed to me was that of a human artist who had experienced relocating her friends to Turkey in the years 1956-1958.
They woke up in the morning and suddenly saw that their companions weren’t there anymore, the streets were silent, without saying farewell the people left.
They went to Anatolia and the friend of the artist I was told about had communicated with her with letters and had died without being seen again.
The lady sang her brother’s song, as she says, was blissful, but not insensitive, so her heart had been torn from the untimely leave of the companion she never saw again.
Për shkak të kërkesës së regjisores për të mos vazhduar me intervista, nuk do zbuloj emra mbiemra, kush çka tha, mirëpo me sa u tregua, është fare e lehtë për të qëlluar këtë të fundit.
Because of the director’s request not to continue with interviews, I will not reveal names or who said what, but as it turned out, it’s easy to figure out this last story.
Translated by Vesa Prapashtica