This blog post was written by Smoki Musaraj, Associate Professor of Anthropology at Ohio University, who was an NYPL Short-Term Fellow during Summer 2021. She has published Tales from Albarado: Ponzi Logics of Accumulation in Postsocialist Albania (Cornell 2020) and co-edited Money at the Margins: Global Perspectives on Technology, Inclusion and Design (with Bill Maurer and Ivan Small) (Berghahn 2018). At the NYPL she took a closer look at the Library's Albanian collection.

First Albanian Migrants to the United States in the 1900s

Among the many Lewis Hine’s headshots of migrants coming to Ellis Island in the early 20th century, one photograph is captioned: “Albanian Woman from Italy.” The longer caption describes her as “wearing a traditional costume from her native country.” The woman seems tired but also determined. Her dress is distinct and modest, indicating her humble socio-economic background. The picture, taken in 1905, is evidence of the first wave of Albanian migration to the United States in the early 20th century. Albanians were in much lower number, of course,  than other Southern and Eastern Europeans coming to the United States at this time in search for a better life. Yet, in Albanian history, this migration to the United States holds a special significance. Many of the émigré lobbied the United States government and President Wilson to support the plight of Albania’s independence as a nation-state. They also played a crucial role in the national awakening in Albanian literature and historical writing. In American imagination and the scant travel writing accounts, however, Albania remained a mysterious land, a war-ridden territory of the disintegrating Ottoman world.

During my research at the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building of the New York Public Library in summer 2021, I explored these uneven early twentieth-century Albanian-American encounters among émigré intellectuals and travel writers.

Stella Marek Cushing: An Ethnographic Eye with an Orientalist Bend

Among other sources, the NYPL’s Archives and Manuscripts Division holds a little-known dossier with notes by Stella Marek Cushing, an American woman, daughter of Czech parents growing up in New York and Massachusetts and who, during the 1920s and 1930s, traveled to Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Albania, and Russia. These were countries that were sending immigrants to the United States at the time but they were little known to American publics. Cushing wanted to learn about the cultures of these different countries and to bring that knowledge back to the United States. During her travels, she took copious notes, wrote long letters to her family in the United States, and learned folk dances and songs that she performed and demonstrated to social clubs in New York and New Jersey. Speaking to the Universalist General Assembly while wearing a traditional Albanian costume, Cushing challenged some representations of Albania and Albanians in popular imagination:

I feel as though I had just come out of a Harem. I always come to you, and to other audiences, with a peasant’s costume, but today I am wearing the costume of the aristocrats of Albania. You know, we had such a little idea of that country. For instance, I had the idea that was just mountains, trees, crude peasants who know very little about the rest of the world. —from the Stella Marek Cushing papers, Manuscripts and Archives Division, The New York Public Library

In her handwritten and typed notes taken during her trips to Albania, Cushing repeatedly described a newfound love and deep connection to the country and the people:

Albania, land of the mountain Eagle […] you have charmed and fascinated me, so that I live over again and again the days I spent with you. In waking hours—in dreams, I see your mountains, valleys – towns, villages—I see your richness and want to see your faces – but it is the eyes that tell me your story. No complaints, no excuses for your condition and your want. But your eyes – deepest, far-seeing, all-knowing; patient, resigned, inscrutable, measuring, searching, unflinching. —from the Stella Marek Cushing papers, Manuscripts and Archives Division, The New York Public Library

Cushing’s observations confirm some of the representations of Albania, namely its poverty and the influence of Ottoman culture in everyday life; but she also finds social and cultural values that she holds in high esteem and that she uses as a mirror to her own culture, like a conscientious ethnographer would. Nevertheless, this deep emotional outpour at times betrays notes of Orientalism (Said 1979; Todorova 2009), that is, a patronizing attitude towards cultures of the East, depicted as backward and underdeveloped, even when charming.  On Tirana, Albania’s capital, she writes:

Tirana—how shall I describe it! Beautifully situated with lovely mountains surrounding it—with few new, simple buildings, many old dilapidated Turkish houses—mostly fenced in tiny stores bazaar fashion mules veiled barefooted women—turbaned men—gypsies—dirt, fleas water running in the gutters, children playing in it, women washing clothes in it, refuse sailing along with the water, romantic cypress trees that make full moon more beautiful, soft air-weird music the oriental influence, none of the rush of the West, lazy slow natives, dark skinned. —from the Stella Marek Cushing papers, Manuscripts and Archives Division, The New York Public Library

Depictions of the city echo representations of the Orient—the unhygienic bazaars, the romantic exotic panoramas, the Ottoman dress, and the lazy locals. Albanian sociologist Enis Sulstarova (2012) traces similar Orientalist depictions of laziness in representations of Ottoman subjects (including Albanians) by westerners and locals alike. These depictions circulated among foreign diplomats and travelers (such as Cushing), as well as among Albanian émigrés intellectuals.

Intertextuality in Diaspora and Travel Writers’ Accounts

NYPL’s resources provide great insights into the circulation of representations of Albania among Anglo-American travel writers and Albanian diaspora intellectuals. Thus, Cushing’s notes include several references to a “Mr. Konitza,” whom she thanks for providing much guidance on Albanian history and for writing letters of support on her behalf. This reference is to Faik Konitza (1875-1942), a leading Albanian diplomat, writer, and publicist, who had immigrated to the United States but remained active in Albanian politics and international diplomacy. Throughout his life, Konitza constantly promoted Albanian culture in the west, often citing other travel writers, such as Mary Edith Durham (1863-1944), author of The Burden of the Balkans (1905) and High Albania (1909). Konitza’s views on Albania’s history and culture are reflected in Cushing’s notes about Albania’s ancient and recent history. Thus, she highlights the main themes of the nationalist narrative that Konitza advocated: the Pelasgian and Illyrian origins of Albanians; the constant struggle against invading enemies, such as the Slavs and the Greeks; the unique cultural value of traditional dress (such as fustanella); and the cultural norms of hospitality and besa (oath). Reading through Cushing’s papers alongside other travel writers and Albanian diaspora intellectuals one can trace the intertextuality of representations and discourse of Albanian history and culture at a time of increased migration and rising ethnic conflicts in the Balkans and Europe.

These conversations and representations had multiple uses and effects. The Albanian diaspora used travel writers as alibis in their efforts to present a particular historical narrative—namely, the Christian and European orientation of Albanians in recent and ancient history—to advocate for the national cause of independence. Christian missionaries, such as Cushing, used these same representations to fuel missionary work back in the United States. Thus, in the address to the General Assembly of the Universalist church, Cushing proclaimed: “I give you Albania!,” as she sought to persuade the church to send its youth to a boys and girls school in the city of Kavaja, Albania, which was funded by the Near East Foundation. In her notes, she describes the school: “They, in the school in Tirana as well as in Kavaja, are developing a new type of Albanian youth and it is good. They are teaching the youth to work—and this will do much to make Albania better—because the signs of laziness here are terrifying to me.” Thus, the orientalist discourse of “the lazy oriental” is used to justify the proselytizing missionary work. These orientalist representations had significant political and cultural implications.

Nexhmie Zaimi: Cultural Critique and Emic Perspective

Coincidentally, reading about the school in Kavaja in Cushing’s notes led to yet another fortuitous surprise in my research at NYPL. Judging from the details of location and funder, this school features in the autobiographical novel by Nexhmie Zaimi (1917-2003), a young Albanian woman who migrated by herself to New York City in the 1930s. Zaimi was a true pathbreaker—a courageous young woman who defied her family’s traditional norms to pursue her education in the United States. Zaimi’s trajectory—from Vlora to Tirana to Kavaja to New York—passed through that same school funded by the Near East Foundation that Cushing praises in her notes. As we learn from the novel, at the Kavaja school, Zaimi makes connections with American pen pals who help her go to the United States, defying her father’s efforts at marrying her to an older man, according to tradition.

In the United States, Zaimi became a journalist and remained active in the Albanian diaspora, and continued to contribute to the Near East Foundation. She, like Cushing, is reported to be wearing her traditional dress and serve Turkish coffee in fundraising events where she represented Albanian culture. ("Exhibition to Help Near East Women...,") The cover of Daughter of the Eagle features her in a traditional Albanian dress. By contrast to the simple dress of the nameless Albanian Woman in Hine’s photograph, Zaimi’s is lavish, heavy with ornaments, and indicating her belonging to a well-to-do family.

A lover of education and individual freedom, Zaimi reads like a Balkan Malala, writing about the struggle with her family to gain the right to pursue her high school studies. Zaimi is a staunch critic of the traditional and patriarchal norms of her cultural milieu. She brings what anthropologists describe as an “emic perspective” of what it was like for a young girl to grow up in that cultural milieu in the interwar period. Yet, at the same time, the book is also a love poem to the culture that Zaimi left behind when migrating to the United States. She describes with love, tenderness, and humor the rituals, idioms, intimacies, and, most importantly, the food that make up the stuff of everyday life in a culture very different from that of her audience. The opening pages of the book throw the reader into the wedding proceedings for Nexhmije’s sister. The author is attentive to every detail. She has a natural ethnographic sensibility. This description of the famous desert, kabuni, captures the culinary traditions of Albanian weddings at the time:

There cannot be a wedding without a bride, but in my country not even a bride (who is left standing in her place while the feast goes on) is more important than the roasted lamb and kabuni. To prepare it, rice is cooked in lamb broth, and to it is added a great deal of cut-up fried meat, sugar, raisins, fried almonds, spices, and much steaming butter that has been browned in the frying pan. Then another coat of powdered sugar over it completed the luxurious dish, kabuni. [p. 29]

In one single paragraph, Naimi seamlessly points out what she sees as demeaning gender practices—leaving the bride standing throughout the ceremony—while also describing the mouthwatering food of Albanian Muslim celebrations, the warmth of her family, the joys of the week-long wedding feast. Naimi brings more nuance and cultural complexity to her observations, often explaining the rationale of cultural norms that may seem objectional to a western reader:

In my country the sexes are never brought together at the same party. That may seem strange, especially for a wedding, but the custom has good reasons. In one place the young brides can forget themselves for a change and laugh all they want. They are free of the seriousness and formality, so necessary when they are in the presence of men; weddings are for joy and frolic. [p. 3]

These observations are reminiscent of anthropologist Lila Abu Lughod’s Writing Women’s World (1993). Writing about Bedouin women’s everyday life, Lughod challenges entrenched western ideas about honor and shame, patriarchy, and gender norms in the Mediterranean/North Africa. Even as she defies her father’s wish to marry her and leaves the country to pursue her education in the United States, Zaimi writes about the strong bonds with her mother and brothers, her sister, even when their views and morals do not align. In addition to being a deep, honest, and complex account of a Muslim family in inter-war Albania, Daughter of the Eagle is also a record of cultural practices that underwent deep change with the advent of the communist regime established after WWII. In Daughters of the Eagle, religion is a big part of everyday life, a guide of every thought and emotion. Yet, this would no longer be the case after the 1950s and 1960s, when religion was banned. Growing up in a secularized Muslim family with ties to similar communities described by Naimi, I found the rituals and practices described in this book familiar and strange. Zaimi’s fight to pursue her education as a young woman seemed distant to me, given that the education of girls became mandatory under the communist regime. At the same time, I drooled when reading about kabuni and other wedding foods that were not served in the weddings that I attended in late 1980s Albania. This impoverishment of the wedding menu was a direct result of the centralization, rationing, and food scarcity in communist Albania. Thus, the book constitutes an invaluable ethnographic record of interwar Albania (without claiming to do so).

Otherness: To Fetishize, To Conquer, or to Understand?

Did Nexhmije Zaimi ever meet Stella Marek Cushing? Could their paths have crossed in Kavaja? Or at the Near East Foundation’s fundraising events in New York? While I do not know the answer to these questions, I was struck by the interesting parallels as well as contrasts between these travel- and adventure-loving women of the early 20th century. They both loved Albania (especially the human connections and the food). They also both loved to wear and display the Albanian traditional dress to advocate acceptance, understanding, and curiosity about the rich cultures of various immigrant groups coming to the United States in the inter-war period.

Reading these sources and others held at the NYPL, I began to imagine an intertextual space that cuts across journal notes, periodicals, autobiographical novels by Balkan migrants and American travelers seeking to bridge the cultural and political gaps between these very distant places. This was a time of increased migration from Southern and Eastern Europe, and the emergence of categories of ethnicity that informed United States immigration policies. It was also a time of the rise of prejudice and discrimination against southern and eastern Europeans. One can see in the writings that there were genuine efforts by immigrants and travel writers to combat these prejudices by relaying accounts of everyday life in places that seemed unknown. Yet one can also note the slippery slope between presenting an otherness that needs to be fetishized or conquered versus one that needs to be understood. While Cushing ultimately channels her knowledge of Albania to (orientalizing) missionary work, Zaimi succeeds in retaining the dignity of alterity, even when critical of several aspects of the Albanian cultural norms at the time. Ultimately, Zaimi’s approach to otherness stands out for its deep empathy, understanding, and honest critique and thus also informs contemporary representation of migrants in media, public debate, and scholarship.

References Cited

• Abu-Lughod, L., 1993. Writing Women's Worlds. Berkley, CA: University of California Press.
• "Exhibition to Help Near East Women: Bronxville Residents Will Hold Sale of Handicraft of Refugees on Friday. At Mrs. Erskine's Home Nexhmie Zaimi to Appear in the Costume of Her Native Albania," New York Times (1923-Current file); Oct 20, 1935, p. N5. ProQuest. Web. 30 Aug. 2021.
• Konitza, Faik. 1957. Albania: The Rock Garden of Southeastern Europe. Boston: Vatra.
• Said, Edward W. 1978. Orientalism. Pantheon Books.
• Sulstarova, Enis, 2012. Jam Evropë! Intelektualet dhe ideja e Evropës në Vitet 1918-1939 dhe 1989-2006. Shkup, Prishtine, Tirane: Logos.
• Todorova, Maria, 2009. Imagining the Balkans. Oxford University Press.
• Zaimi, Nexhmije, 1936. Daughter of the Eagle. New York: Ives Washburn.