THE "WIZARD" OF RADIO

2026-06-19 15:39:00, Opinione Agim Xhafka

I still can't believe that Agron Çobani is no more. He had so much vitality, humor, and energy that I thought this man would live to be 150 years old. But as the saying goes, the good die first.

Perhaps most of my friends on fb may not know who Agron Çobani is, because they are young and because for many, many years this personality exercised leadership functions, up to the general director of RTSH. But my age knows that Agron was the magician of Radio Tirana, perhaps the only one who ranked so far ahead of others as I often told him, you are like the English language. You have six empty steps and then French is ranked. In these ranks, I want to be like Beluli of Pëllumb Kulla. Because I want to be proud that I was friends with Agron and because he helped me, oh so much, in those difficult days.

It was the writer, journalist, noble man Nasi Lera who offered me a job at Radio Tirana when I was still a student. He asked me to do some tests with a radio dramatization and after a good result that I achieved, he also charged me with writing a few cycles. He felt somewhat comfortable because fortunately I not only wrote well, but also read well. I had a radio voice, they told me. One day when I was editing something in the sound studios, Agron Çobani suddenly entered. He arrogantly avoided me, he was the news director and while I adored him with every word I heard, he threw me out. I waited in a rage and as soon as he came out, he called me to his office himself.

-I've been following your shows. Are you a student? Do you have a girlfriend? Are you on a scholarship?

I told him that I was engaged and not only was I not receiving a scholarship, but my brother was also a student without a scholarship.

-Are you going to stay with Nas, or will you be locked up?! (He laughed at me.) Come with me and do reportage in the cities of Albania. Get to know the place, get a per diem, and I'll give you a fee.

That was the first meeting and by the time I graduated from university, Agron became my patron. He taught me how to write, how to read, how to raise money. In the Student City, I was among the wealthiest. I started going to restaurants, I bought dresses and shoes for my bride, I went to the beach in the summer and I took my fiancée with me to many services. Agron Çobani became my shepherd. He treated me with so much respect and love that my heart was full of gratitude for him.

Then fate brought me to start working at a newspaper in Tirana and Agron was interned in Burrel, a teacher in the chrome mining schools. We didn't see each other for several years until, when the revolts were starting, I received a positive response from my bosses that Agron could come to work at my newspaper, in Tirana. I happily set off for Burrel, got on the chrome Skoda, met Agron, a teacher there, and when I suggested that he could start working at a newspaper in Tirana, he burst into tears.

-Thank you for thinking of me. We'll talk in a week.

Later I learned that everyone was looking for him, but he went to his love, to Radio Tirana and then to the General Director. The years of democracy connected us more in coffee than at work. He was the appetizer and the brandy of every table. He spoke correctly not as articulation, but as thought. His sentences were crystal clear. Even when he used figures of speech, they were very, very striking. Everyone loved him and everyone respected him. I don't believe there is any Albanian who has spoken with this talent. One day I learned that he had cancer. He used to go to the lake every morning and when I saw him there one day I was confused, my tongue was twitching. I didn't know what to say.

"You learned it too!" he said, and we talked about every field except health.

After a few days, I was told that he had gone to Saranda. It's for the marshal, I heard. I was happy, but apparently death makes arrangements before it takes you. And Agron left us without returning. I went to the funeral ceremony. Full of friends, comrades and relatives. Everyone had abundant sorrow, everyone remembered episodes from his life. Filled with values, with art, with technology, with magic. The last bird is gone, it was whispered. Exactly.

Today, sometimes I turn on the radio Tirana and no one comes to my heels. I listen until Vora, then Tirana disappears. And the expression sprouts on the tip of my tongue, along with the oak tree, the shadow falls.

Agron often comes to my mind. So charming, sociable, so lively, and so well-mannered. Above all, as my benefactor, as my professor, as my friend.

Agron, don't worry, that's where we're all headed, your team of conversations and humor will be completed. Don't push us or wait for us too soon because we still have some work to do here. We're not idle, you know.

Goodbye icon, have a great time!