Mule had recently joined civil society. She topped up her meagre school salary by helping out a couple of foreign NGOs that had opened branches in our town, often enlisting her pupils to help with event organization. The transition from when she’d organized evenings for the communist youth groups and put on shows to celebrate the birthday of Enver Hoxha had been seamless. My father joked that some skills were eminently transferable. ‘Why does the Mule want you to translate
