In this Russian travelogue from 1884, we can find interesting documentation on the Albanians inhabiting the villages of Zatrebeč, Kochi, Orahovo, Podgrad, Berovo, Kuty Lazorci, and Dinosh, as well as Priorina, Leovka and Selishtë, Fundina and Nik Marash. The author writes:

“At the time, this region — stretching from Gusinje and Zatrebča to Kuč and Orahovo — lay between the Ottoman Empire and the newly expanding Montenegrin principality. It was a landscape of allegiance and resistance, of tribal independence maintained through a delicate balance of negotiation, faith, and arms. The author’s itinerary — from Studenica to Lake Rikavac, Kostica, and finally Mount Kom — offers a geographical and ethnographic portrait of a frontier world in flux.

Katuns

The katuns, or mountain pastures, were seasonal settlements where shepherd families drove their flocks each summer. Life there depended on water, weather, and the unspoken codes of tribal honor. The author remarks on the abundance of meadows and springs but also the solitude — “no settlements nearby… people don’t stay on the katuns for long.”

These upland communities were ethnically and religiously mixed. Albanians from Zatrebča identified themselves as Kucha, belonging to a Montenegrin-Albanian tribe, even while retaining their Catholic or Muslim faiths. This dual identity illustrates the intricate mosaic of the region: kinship often mattered more than confession or nationality.

Blood and honor

The author recounts a violent confrontation between two Albanians over the watering of sheep — a dispute that ended in death and triggered a cycle of blood revenge (gjakmarrja). The killer fled to Albania with his relatives, fearing retaliation from the victim’s clan. The event encapsulates the enduring power of the Kanun, the Albanian code of customary law that governed justice long after Ottoman or Montenegrin statutes had faded from reach.

Faith and festivity in Kuči

Amid the tensions, moments of joy and unity appear. The feast of St. Stephen, the patron of the Kuča tribe, brings together Orthodox Montenegrins, Catholic Albanians, and Muslim neighbors. Rams are roasted on spits; guests travel from across the frontier. The author marvels at this shared celebration, which defies rigid boundaries and speaks to the underlying solidarity of mountain life.

Captain Marash the Albanian

Among the figures the traveler meets is Captain Marash, an Albanian whose reputation bridges tribal divides. His presence underscores the personal nature of authority in the highlands — a man’s worth measured by his courage and fairness rather than imperial decree.

To the north of Zatrebchi, three versts away, lies Kochi, another Albanian village. Eastward, near Orahovo, rises a mountain “859 sazhens high,” whose fertile slopes once served as contested pasture. The village of Orahovo itself consists of four hamlets — Podgrad, Berovo, Kuty, and Lazorci — inhabited by Kuchi Montenegrins who are nearly all bilingual in Albanian. During Ottoman rule, they used this linguistic skill to bargain for access to grazing lands and water, demonstrating the pragmatic diplomacy that defined life along this shifting frontier.

Through the Skrobotusha forest toward Mount Kom

From Orahovo, the author sets out for the katuns of Mount Kom, traveling through the Skrobotusha Forest. Aware of the danger posed by Albanian couples (armed bandit pairs or fugitives), he requests an escort. An officer volunteers to accompany him with three soldiers and a few local boys, declaring confidently that their small party “would be enough to repel the Chetniks if attacked.”

They enter the forest around ten in the morning — eleven men in total, including the officer’s Albanian guest — “all in cheerful clothes.” The march through the wooded ridges captures the fragile alliance between Montenegrin soldiers and Albanian guides: tension and cooperation intertwined.

The frontier at Potok Vuchi

At a stream known as Potok Vuchi, the group halts to rest. They are ready, the author writes, “to take up arms at the first alarm.” In the morning, he sends word to nearby katuns seeking additional escort, but the soldiers stationed there have already departed. Undeterred, the party continues its ascent.

Along the way, they encounter a priest roasting meat, a rare indulgence during Lent, symbolizing both spiritual defiance and the blending of sacred and profane that characterized frontier life. The author observes that across these ridges — “as far as Kalashin” — the heights were once held by Turkish commanders, notably Mehmed Tili, who organized Albanian levies under the Ottoman flag and paid them with salaries from Ali Pasha’s treasury. Roads were carved through the forests for imperial patrols, “for the Sultan’s guard,” but local resistance simmered.

One episode reveals the political mood of the time. The author’s workers refuse Ottoman demands to present themselves at a nearby Porte fortress, declaring instead that they “will defend themselves with arms in hand.” A certain Ali Bek is mentioned as a local Ottoman representative trying to enforce these orders. The traveler’s account suggests that the Montenegrin tribesmen, though outwardly calm, were prepared for revolt.

Courage and survival

Despite the tension, daily life continued. A young Montenegrin girl is sent through the forest alone to deliver provisions — “two poods of flour” — from the market in Podgorica. She successfully reaches the katuns, evading Albanian raiders. Such moments of quiet heroism reveal the resilience of ordinary people who navigated danger with unshakable pragmatism.

From his vantage point, the author describes Mount Kom not as a single peak but “a semicircle of rocky summits, up to 1,165 sazhens above sea level,” marking the natural border between Montenegro and Turkish Albania. The mountain dominates the skyline, its bare ridges contrasting with the surrounding meadows and forests.

The party later learns of new raids: an Albanian pair steals five horses from Rikavac’s katuns, prompting the Montenegrins to retaliate by stealing thirteen oxen from Albania — after which, remarkably, “they peacefully exchanged the captured goods.” Such pragmatic retaliation shows how even acts of banditry were governed by an unspoken balance of reciprocity.

Intrigue

The account concludes with insight into the geopolitical games unfolding around the border. According to the author, Albanian leaders received orders from the Ottoman authorities in Istanbul that their people should pay six years of back taxes and prepare routes “convenient for the passage of troops.” To the east, the lands of the Vasojevići Montenegrins had been plundered, leaving the outer katuns nearly deserted — “only four families remained, mostly old men and women.”

The Albanians themselves were uneasy. The author notes that “someone was inciting Turkey to make such arrangements,” suggesting that external powers — perhaps Austria-Hungary or local Ottoman factions — sought to destabilize the frontier. The Albanians, meeting at Gusinje under Ali Bek Gusinsky, reluctantly agreed to the Porte’s demands, knowing that resistance might invite destruction.

Amid these uncertainties, life continued in small, steadfast acts: a worker named Mileta buying flour in the moonlight; guards keeping watch through sleepless nights at White Water spring; mountain men and women ready to defend their katuns at dawn.

Montenegro and daily life

The Albanian women’s costume consisted of a dark short skirt slightly below the knees, a dark jacket, and a headdress with a dark scarf, with opanki on their feet. This was the costume of Catholic Albanians; Muslim Albanians wore a different style.

The author describes the natural beauty and danger of the mountains: climbing sharp rocks risked life or injury. Montenegrins and Albanians guided travelers safely, providing support where needed. Horses and packs had to be carefully managed along steep, treacherous paths.

A notable figure, Radovan Montenegrin, over sixty, demonstrated great vitality, hunting in the mountains and commanding respect for his skill and bravery. The first village reached was Nik Marash, led by Captain Marash, a former Albanian voivode who had surrendered to Montenegro and became their captain. Marash’s authority was respected; his attire was deliberately simple for political reasons despite his means.

Zatrebcha

Zatrebcha was populated by Catholic Albanians. The houses were fortified, with small windows and half of the single-story houses dedicated to residents and half to livestock. The inhabitants attended church diligently but also used it as a place for social conversation. Food was modest: corn bread, onions, cheese, potatoes, and meat on holidays.

Albanian men and women were described as tall and beautiful, with strong, hospitable communities. Marriages between Albanians and Montenegrins were rare, reflecting ongoing tensions and the uncertain political future. Wealthy households had hewn-stone houses with tiled roofs, and some two-story homes existed.

Reference

Peterburgskago slavianskago blagotvoritel nago obshchestva. YURIEVSKIY SCIENTIST LITERATURE SOCIETY MZ No 1. WITH PETERSBURG Type Pazan Brothers No. 33 1884.