Having a mutual friend who is Albanian with immigrant parents was very useful in our compilation of information and background history of Albanian New Yorkers.
In the 1980s, Jasmina’s parents migrated from Albania (now Montenegro) to Brooklyn, and eventually settled in Staten Island’s Sunnyside community. There, she is surrounded by most of her family and their Albanian friends. She also told us of large Albanian populations in the South Beach and Arrochar areas near the Staten Island boardwalk, and off of Hylan Boulevard near St. Joseph Hill Academy. Her parents immigrated in search of a better life, hoping to fulfill the “American Dream” and to take advantage of new opportunities that would be afforded to them. They wanted to raise a family, and for their children to have a strong educational foundation, which would allow them to lead successful lives. This was almost impossible in their home country, whose economy was plummeting and schools were unaccredited.
During the first week of April, we accompanied Jasmina to pray at her Mosque, the Albanian Islamic Cultural Center. We figured it would be a similar experience to going to Church on Sundays, but it was far from that. When Muslims pray, they are required to dress appropriately with loose, conservative clothing, and the women must wear a shawl to cover their heads.
When we arrived, we were surprised that we had to take off our shoes and leave them in the largest shoe rack we have ever seen. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have been as surprised as we were because when we visit our friend at her house, we have to take our shoes off before entering as well. This way, we do not contaminate the house with dirt from outside. Another interesting cultural norm concerning purity that Jasmina pointed out to us was that any women who were menstruating were not allowed to interact, or even greet their relatives or friends. They sat in the back of the prayer room, near the elderly.
Both the interior and exterior of the mosque resembles a castle. The prayer room is very large and empty with the exception of a large green carpet, a single small podium with a microphone and a few windows. There are no pews or benches, but there are chairs for the elderly who cannot constantly sit and raise themselves from the floor.
The prayers are lead by the Hoxh (pronounced Hodge), or imam, in Arabic, to promote understanding of the Quran. Throughout the session though, he translated verses into Albanian to affirm that the audience understands completely. The only interactions in the audience are repeated cues from the Hoxh. Other than that, they do not speak with one another, only pray.
Albanian Islamic Cultural Center
The first Islamic center in Staten Island was established in 1973 under the name “Islamic Mesjid (or Mosque) of Staten Island.” In September of 1990, it relocated and was renamed to “AICC”, standing for “Albanian Islamic Cultural Center, and currently stands as the largest Albanian-Islamic mosque in North America. This remarkable achievement was given national recognition by Islamics.
At AICC, the imam’s highest priority is education. In September of 1999, they opened an Islamic school with concentrations in Science and Islam Manner. Currently, both full time and weekend schools are available in compliance with the New York State Curriculum.
After praying at the AICC, Jasmina showed us one of the most prominent Albanian restaurants on Staten Island. Alba, labeled as a “fast food cuisine” is on Hylan Boulevard in Dongan Hills, surprisingly a long distance from the mosque. It features a small dining area, with a deli and grocery next door. They serve very famous Albanian dishes for reasonable prices. We ordered Burek– a flaky dough filled with cheeses and spinach, and Qevapa, a sausage-like meat, and thoroughly enjoyed both. The rest of the menu features standard Mediteranean items such as Hummus, Baba Ghanoush, and Shepherd Salad.
Jasmina, who visits family in Montenegro annually, says the food at Alba is similar to what is cooked back home, but is not the same. This is understandable, as Alba is a fast food restaurant, and Jasmina’s relatives usually make everything that they cook from scratch. The next time we meet her for lunch, we have to try Sanrasa, a more formal Albanian restaurant on Cebra Avenue, closer to the mosque than Alba is.
