Sometimes fortune favors not the brave but the bedraggled.
I was on my way home to Canada but through a series of unfortunate incidents, got stranded for a few days in Paris, at CDG - Charles DeGaulle airport.
Back then, in pre-internet days, you had to pass the time with magazines, books, newspapers. I soon ran out of them, so went to spend my last few precious pennies on a book. I chanced upon this gem, I’ve carried it around the world ever since. I have it here in Nicaragua with me. Bury Me Standing
It’s National Romani Holocaust Day and so I took it out to the hammock for another peruse. One of those books, you can read over and over again, sucking on every word, every thought, like a soothing cough drop.
It reviews much about the Gypsy (Romani) history and in particular, details their deplorable state in E.Europe at the time, the early 1990s. I lived then in the Czech Republic and can attest to what she writes about (mostly based on her similar experiences among the Romani in Poland).
Most people have a very surface and discriminatory knowledge of the proud Romani people. They’ve suffered in Europe alongside the Jews. But with even worse marginalization and social conditions.
No possible integration into society. No means of gainful employment. Despised by the local population. The brunt of misunderstanding, superstition and racism.
“Whether or not Gypsies spoke of national or ethnic identity in E. Europe, they were surrounded by people who seemed to talk of nothing else. And this not-knowing distinguished them, even if they were hardly conscious of it. It was, I came to believe, a defining attribute of Gypsy identity. If you couldn’t say where you came from, you were nobody, and anyone could say anything about you.” Isabel Fonseca, pg. 85
My travels through E. Europe and especially Romania and Bulgaria (largest populations of Roma) even made this abundantly clearer to me. There has been very few successful social programs addressing the terrible poverty, violence, and estrangement facing Romani. Despite pronouncements and intentions. They remained “nobody”, a leaf losts in a stream of time, placeless, rootless. The only conclusion as to why is institutional racism despite many countries of Europe professing universal rights and anti-discrimination policies.
I lived and spent time in the Romani communities surrounding Karlovy Vary, Sokolov, and Ostov in Bohemia. It was an amazing time in my life. Full of wonder, activating the Anthropologist in me, much like Isabel Fonseca. Also, I think outsiders will seek out outsiders - so I sought out the Gysies. I might well have befriended the Vietnamese, believe it or not, they dominated the cheap markets on the edge of towns in Eastern Europe back then.
When I’d tell my Czech friends about drinking with Gypsies or visiting their bars, dancing and marveling at their great musicians - they’d look at me as if I’d just been hanging out with the devil. Palpable disgust. You couldn’t be seen on the street with a Roma person, you’d be labeled and face consequences. It still hasn’t changed much.
“An authentically chosen people, the Gypsies bear the responsibility for no event, for no institution. They have triumphed over the earth by their desire to found nothing upon it.”― Emil M. Cioran
I have stories. That is what matters. And the human encounter of the other, the attempt to understand. And it is complex. It’s difficult to figure out the culture as an outsider. I’ll give one example.
Many consider Romani as very dirty. Unkept. And they seem so, on first look. However, even given their poverty, lack of running water in many cases, they take hygiene and cleanliness to a level well beyond ourselves. The Roma “code”, the set or principles governing their behaviors and culture is filled with an impure/pure divide.
I could go on and on about many unique, so fascinating aspects of the Romani people. Their origins. The astrology. Their kinship. The language and its etymology. Their sense of humor, so rye, makes the British seem Charlie Chaplinish. Their rites. Their musical genius and acumen. On and on and on …
Home could be anywhere, and everywhere was home.
The Romani suffered horribly at the hands of Nazism. They went to the ovens in scores too. Most before the Jews, as if used as a pilot project. Something we often forget and must remember. I do this day, each year.
I highly recommend Black Cat, White Cat - Emir Kusturica’s Balkan masterpiece. It’s up there in my movie pantheon. A caricature for sure, but an entry point into Gypsy culture. Also, see A Ciambra - a gem of a film about a young Romani adolescent in Italy. This old doc, for a historical overview. Finally, a modern look at dating and marriage in the Romani world. But get Isabel’s book!