In a special ceremony held at the “Eden” Park at the Prime Minister’s Office, the virtuoso musician and instrumentalist Tedi Papavrami was awarded the “Officer of the Supreme Order of the Eagle” on behalf of the President of the Republic.

In the presence of friends, family members, and admirers of his art throughout the years, Prime Minister Edi Rama presented Tedi Papavrami with a high decoration.

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Prime Minister Edi Rama:

Dear Tedi,

Dear friends of Tedi,

It is a particular pleasure for me as well to be part of this circle of affection and friendship surrounding Tedi on a day unlike any other, and it must be said that, in direct proportion to his wonderful modesty and beyond his extraordinary talent, Tedi is also fortunate, and I will explain why by starting from the end.

I am especially happy that this decoration with the Republic’s highest Order, although it was granted back in December, happens to materialise today, on May 11, and that this ceremony thus joins, almost by coincidence, the series of cultural events celebrating Europe Week. A week which, for us Albanians, carries ever greater significance because Europe is no longer a dreamed horizon, but a summit now visible.

Although more familiar in scale and much more intimate in form due to the very nature of this event, thanks to Tedi, today we have here, and indeed in Tirana itself, the very essence of Europe as we have always dreamed and desired it: a great civilisation, ancient wisdom, and a remarkable genius. Therefore, I want to say to Tedi: thank you for going to Europe as a beautiful Albanian at a time when Albanians, in the eyes of Europe, were people with tails. And of course, thank you also to Europe, and now, I suppose, Japan must be added as well, for bringing Tedi back to Albania during this week.

This day shall remain un beau souvenir d’Européen, a beautiful European memory of a European, as the patron saint of translators, the Knight of the Legion of Honour, the unforgettable Jusuf Vrioni, would have said with his unmatched elegance and undoubtedly with a much finer accent than mine. And had either he or Ismail Kadare been among us today, I am convinced that both would have enjoyed this tribute paid to you by your country as if it were their own.

You are at once the guardian of heritage and the wind of contemporaneity in everything you touch. And when I spoke of fortune, I also wished to add that this takes place on the eve of your birthday, at a moment when you have come to offer Albania and your people one of the most impressive efforts ever made to transform into an unforgettable performance the complete interpretation of Paganini’s “Caprices” at the National Theatre of Opera and Ballet, while at the same time being honored by them as a contemporary whose presence is a privilege for all of us.

In this country, for over thirty years, decorations and titles have been granted for birthdays, funerals, posthumously, weddings, concerts, and sometimes for reasons that even reason itself has lost along the way. Rest assured that yours is not such a story.

You, who have lived in France for many years, a second homeland that adopted you, know what it means to become part of an Order and to be invested with the knighthood of the Republic. And this knighthood, you who shine in grace, in art, in conduct, and in speech, have profoundly deserved. Yet it was Albania that, until very recently, lacked this order of chivalry, which we “revived” as a century-old Supreme Order of the Eagle. It was my wish and my duty, together with that of the President of the Republic, that you should rank among the very first knights of this Order.

For your virtuosity, nearly everyone would say so, but I would also add for the fertile breadth of your intellectual, human, and social engagement, conducted with the utmost dignity.

When the Republic’s three new Orders were activated on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Order of Skanderbeg in December of last year, you too were included after a very serious process of deliberation and awareness that someone like you could not be honored otherwise than with the highest Order. Not merely as the laureate of dozens of international prizes, nor simply as a virtuoso not only of the violin but also of letters, but even more than that, as a generous presence and, above all, as an exemplary human being. Something that would undoubtedly touch anyone who dreams of greatness on the stage or on any stage, and through that touch they would learn that greatness does not exclude but elevates even higher precisely what characterizes you: humanity and rare modesty.

I take this opportunity to thank the President of the Republic, Grand Master of the Orders, who kindly delegated to me the honor of presiding over this ceremony and granted me the privilege of placing upon Tedi’s chest the star of this Supreme Order, whose motivation was read by the Chancellor of the Orders of the Republic. He made sure to inform me beforehand that this ceremony and the people present should be determined solely by the “Knight” himself, not imposed by protocol. Therefore, we should all regard this intimate gathering as the very essence that Tedi himself chose to have as few unwanted spectators as possible.

And beyond the official motivation, I wish to add that this Order is for Tedi the translator, Tedi the creator, Tedi the actor, Tedi the seeker, Tedi the Albanian of Europe and of the world. It is for the man moved by the contrasts of his country of origin and enchanted by the calligraphy of Kansho Miyashita at the Taima-Dera temple, while embodying the characters of Choderlos de Laclos in Dangerous Liaisons.

In short, this Order is for Tedi the phenomenon, for Tedi forever journeying and forever among us. And naturally, I do not wish to be misunderstood throughout this enumeration, I certainly did not exclude, but rather embraced, the great musician. Tedi is a musician-human being; he is not merely a man with an instrument. He reminds me entirely of what Bahu says: “Greatness lies not in the object, but in the spirit. There is nothing remarkable about a musical instrument. One need only play the right note at the right moment, and the instrument plays itself.”

And indeed, when Tedi has the instrument upon his shoulder, the instrument plays itself.

But there is another dimension which perhaps does not fit within the solemn and dignified framework of the “Knightly Order,” yet I cannot refrain from adding it to my account, because otherwise I would do an injustice to the Tedi I know. Beyond everything that has made him who he is, as an individual, Tedi is above all an unwavering and rare lover. So rare, that he is at once both a great loser and an eternal victor. Without this aspect, his art would be far too little to portray and honor him fully.

And if once more I were to borrow words, I would choose those of Saint Paul, who says: “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.” It is precisely the abundance of love that Tedi possesses, a love so overwhelming that it often leaves him breathless, which then allows his violin to play by itself, which makes the words he chooses when he writes flow by themselves, and which preserves the relationships people have with him naturally and effortlessly.

Dear Tedi, I could speak for a very long time about you, not because speaking at length is not one of my characteristics, but I must conclude by saying that I consider myself fortunate to know you, and fortunate as well to have known you since childhood and to have watched you grow stubborn, determined, and relentless.

I tried to find the Albanian word that could summarize everything that makes you who you are, but the closest I found was an Italian word: ostinato. Ostinato in your ideal of love, ostinato to the very end, ostinato through defeat.

Your life, from the days when you came in winter as the only student wearing shorts, your pale legs marked by the cane of another ostinato, your father, from the gloomy Tirana of those years to the great stages of Europe, is not merely an artistic career. It is an obstinate escape for love, as Lasgush would have said, a terrifying love, a perfect love like madness itself.

And as you yourself wrote in Fugue for Violin, the escape of the musical fugue is so logical, lawful, structured, and beautiful. In contrast, the escape from the former Albanian system was ugly, absurd, blind, and unjust in its consequences.

And herein lies your greatness, not merely in achievement, but in transformation. In growing without changing. In turning wounds into sound, poison into remedy, and vinegar into wine, so that love may remain and joy may endure for as long as possible, generally for those who love you and follow you, though not always for yourself, because precisely for being “ostinato,” you do not allow joy to last.

Thank you very much, dear Tedi. And let me conclude by saying that the Star you receive today is a star, for example, more than for your career. It is a star for proving that one may leave the country, but the country never leaves them. One may become a colossus for the world without uprooting oneself from one’s grandfather’s garden. One may narrate one’s wounds by transforming them into love rather than resentment.

And the Star you receive today is also a star that shines for those whom history leaves backstage: for Robert, for Jolanda, for the family, for all the silent self-sacrifices. And naturally, it is also a star that shines for Maki.

So, allow me, in the name of the President of the Republic, to decorate you as Officer of the Supreme Order of the Eagle.