Pie, sleep and ingratitude

By Luciano Boçi

Every time I hear the verses of the popular song "byrek, byrek o usta Murat....", in addition to the popular enthusiasm of the song, I get a cynical and bitter smile!

First, I have the cynical part with me.

Once upon a time, when I heard it, I thought what poetry or meaning could these words have?!

But I was wrong!

Usta Murati and the author were popular philosophers of life. The pie used to be a commodity with value and meaning. Bread and a dish that rivaled even Hoxha's potato.

And singing to the pie is not a lack of art.

And this is because the years have passed, but the pie has lost its value and its poetic-political effect.

I have the bitter part with reality because it hurts.

It often strikes me when I drive to see the groups of children and happy students who, during their long break, line up in front of the shops in front of their schools, to buy a pie for 50 lek to quench their hunger. The luckiest get two.

This is the maximum opportunity of the parents of many Albanian families, who in the morning, when they can provide their children with 100 lek for the day, are at least calm.

And in my city and not only, everywhere in Albania, after the cafes, the birektors hold a record and supply people with enough dough, fat, cottage cheese and salt to quench the hunger held during the satiety.

A sign of total poverty carefully planted!

The hard-working sellers get that satisfaction of that minimal profit, to have the possibility of life and nutrition, although under the strict and undivided pressure of the state taxi drivers who want to "extract fat from the pie", than with the big ones. it's worth it.

Not just children!

Many others forced food solution have the pie. Cheap and effective.

The tourism government of Rama has brought them to this point.

They sit like that with their bag of pies and breakfast coffee before chewing their thoughts to find a solution for tomorrow, because the state has left them at the mercy of pies.

At most, a panini with meatballs comes to the table from lunch, with who knows what kind of meat to fill your stomach and fill you up for the day.

After that, pie and paninja with their "magical" effect will lead you to sleep in the corner, accompanied by some political debate or football match that never ends. Not even on New Year's Eve.

The humdrum of life without an outlet under state supervision repeats itself every day.

Tamam according to the Roman expression, that to keep the crowd under control, you need "Panem et circenses", Bread and circuses.

While I have cynicism and bitterness together for the politics of the pie.

The policy that when he eats pie for fun, to change his mood from seafood or exotic foods, he runs to Lushnje, or runs away with a film crew to the neighborhood pie shop to look popular.

And then he sells the fight to tear the next pie as a fight with the government, an unrelenting fight with Rama.

This is especially done by those who "die" for a few fb likes and don't let the opportunity pass them by.

They die, because they say that the pie has the effect of giving you deep sleep. And they even say that it gives you sleep with dreams. The dream, no doubt. But dream as if you have power, as if you are a "Lion" with a mane eating pie, as if you are a "meteor" that illuminates.

Biles, biles show that politicians after pie sleep, make big political statements.

In short, they produce "big" politics. And they don't ask about anyone under the effect of sleeping pie.

And their basic product is human ingratitude, political arrivism and the self-indulgence of rubbing one's own insults (like rubbing one's belly behind a pie) without limit in "official" statements greased with pie fat, sleep drool, and dreams in the drawer.

Pie, pie o usta Murat!!!!