By Eion Gibbs
Walking through Holland, Belgium, France, Italy and Slovenia the word gypsy didn’t enter my thoughts once. This doesn’t mean Traveller communities don’t exist there, it’s just that they’re so far removed from everyone’s daily lives that there was no cause to call them to mind.
I reached Budapest where I got a job working in a hostel for a few months to wait out the worst of winter and to replenish my rapidly depleting funds. Whilst there I paid a fleeting visit to a Countess, an old friend of my great-aunt. On hearing that after traversing the Great Hungarian Plain I would reach Romania she took a sharp intake of breath. “Eion, you must be extremely careful. The gypsies there are very dangerous, only last week I was hearing about an old woman who was killed in her home by one who had broken in to rob her.”
How true that is I don’t know, but immediately the dual sensation of intrigue and fear was awakened. I was 7 years old again, wary of the phantom Travellers but drawn to them out of sheer curiosity. Like fairies at the bottom of the garden, they seemed to only exist as long as you didn’t go looking for them.
As I only had a handful of experiences with the Romany Gypsies my assessment is perhaps romanticised. I was able to view the community from a perspective of novelty and fascination. I haven’t the knowledge, experience or right to preach on the Roma, but I can offer up my involvements for the sake of a complete interloper’s take on them.
It was somewhere between Sibiu and Câinenii Mari that I was beckoned across the road by one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She was unmistakably Roma, wearing the clothes that has been their fashion for centuries: A colourful long homemade pleated skirt, a blouse and an abundance of heavy looking necklaces and rings. It was as if she’d walked from the pages of all the accounts I’d read of the Roma. Sadly, my knee-jerk reaction was wariness.
She spoke decent English and claimed that her companions and her needed help. I peered over her shoulder to see a few similarly dressed old women sitting around in various stages of despondency and wondered what I could possibly do to help.
Something told me that, one way or another, it would end with my wallet getting lighter. I was caught between wanting to see what came of it and, on the other hand, detach myself quickly and tactfully before I was sucked into giving away a portion of what little I had. I regret now that I mumbled excuses and pressed on without finding out much. The scepticism I had thought was suppressed rose up and I fled the situation in rather a cowardly manner. Not even the beautiful woman’s promise of a “gypsy ring” convinced me to hang about. It would have made a wonderful memento but when the cost is ambiguous my desire to avoid a scam takes over.
My next Roma encounter was with a more modernised contingent. I was in the hills, near Sălătrucu, having a cigarette break by the side of the road. A beaten up old Dacia filled with 6 or 7 people but somehow still roadworthy spluttered past. I was spotted and the car reversed my way as a passenger in a leather jacket leant out of the window waving a smashed smartphone at me before accidentally dropping it in a puddle.
He retrieved it and continued to waggle it at me. After some brief confusion I realised he was trying to sell it and it took quite some time to convince him that I really wasn’t interested. I admired the audacity of trying to flog a broken thing with such vigour so gave him a cigarette when he pointed at my packet. That was a mistake; suddenly he wanted two each for every passenger in the car.
I looked at them all squashed together. The men were stony faced but the women were smiling and laughing, I couldn’t help thinking it was at my expense. I refused them more cigarettes as they were my last and after a short standoff he clambered back into the car, leaned out of the window and shouted to all the houses as they sped through the village.
My first two encounters, however fleeting and perhaps uninteresting, really meant something to me. It was like in a film where the imagined villain is always so much worse than the reality. I had a sense of relief more than anything, as if I had been a slave to anxiety but it had lifted now. The Roma were just an eccentric strain of grafters similar to those I had met in market places all over the world. After reflection I decided I could enjoy my run-ins with them in the future.
The next Roma man I came across was driving a horse and cart and, using hand signals, asked me for food. I had none on me at the time but that didn’t matter as he’d spotted the bottle of whisky attached to the side of my rucksack. I shared a little with him in pleasant silence and enjoyed myself immensely.
It wasn’t so much an experience of conquering fears, more the sensation that this was a very unique moment in my life. While the rest of my friends were finishing university or getting jobs in The City back in the UK, here I was in the middle of Romania sharing a dram with a Roma Gypsy and suddenly feeling very much within my comfort zone. I’m aware that in some respect I was doing all the giving but that didn’t bother me in the slightest, for I was taking far more than mere whisky via my pleasure of the moment.
From then on I’d run into Roma a few times every week until I reached the Turkish border. The most common were groups of young women and girls who would crowd around and ask for money. Sometimes they’d follow me for small distances plucking at the straps on my rucksack and making jokes in their own language. It didn’t annoy me and I found myself laughing along, caught up in their enthusiasm and slightly sad when they eventually realised they’d get nothing from me and moved away. They were the best and at times most exciting distractions that the monotony a long walk inevitably brings.
In Bulgaria a recurring and morbidly beautiful sight were the Roma Gypsy prostitutes. They’d stand alone along the road amongst the rolling green hills, usually in the immediate proximity of a decrepit concrete building. Occasionally a car would slow down and after a brief interchange through the window it would pull off the road and park behind the building with the woman tottering after it in high heels over the uneven ground.
I only found out they were gypsies after meeting a man in a bar who admitted to being a regular customer. At first he seemed to be boasting about his late night excursions but then lowered his voice and hung his head in a shameful manner before saying, “they are gypsies though”, as if that were the seediest part of the whole ordeal.
In Bulgaria I met many a concerned citizen. They didn’t like the idea of me walking through their country, as they were sure I would be set upon by a gang of gypsies: “You must accept a lift with me,” they would say, „Bulgaria is very dangerous! It is gypsy country you know.” Some would get quite exasperated when I insisted I couldn’t take any form of transport. The police too were full of warnings, even though they refused to let me sleep in a cell for the night.
I may have stumbled through this age-old rift in rather an Inspector Clouseau like manner, unaware of the danger that waited around every corner and blissfully missing it by a hair’s breadth. But the same case could be made all over the world for all sorts of different reasons.
I don’t count myself lucky that nothing terrible happened; I’d only count myself unlucky if it did. I look at the Roma as one of the defining features of my walk in Romania and Bulgaria. They were always there in one form or other, whether in thought, speech or body and I was grateful for that exciting layer to the experience.
You can see Eion’s first article about the Roma here.
Eion Gibbs graduated in English from Exeter University in 2014. He then walked from the Hook of Holland to Istanbul, in the footsteps of Patrick Leigh Fermor. He is currently based in the Highlands of Scotland and training to be a journalist.
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Im Welsh Romany gypsy and Im puzzled as to why and how Roma gypsies are allowed to be prostitutes. Because I know their families are strict like ours, the girls have arranged marriages and have to be ‘good girls’. Astonished they are prostitutes…. do they still get married then? Romany and Roma are v different it seems.
People camping out in the wrong place again!!! The author of this article should tell the would be revisionists to bugger off and write their own blogs instead of hijacking somebody else’s adventures. They are his memories, his tale to tell and I enjoyed reading them.
I kind of agree with the writer, roma people live like pigs and act like pigs all over Europe. However “A Roma guy” above differs from the rest. He seems to be normal and really know how to write. He should work for a newspaper, but they are all jewish these days.
Most gypsies are nasty. Most encounters with them are bad. But im sure there is good people within that group as well.
I don’t agree with you. How can you make such a sweeping generalisation about how ALL the Roma behave? Is this based on what you observed? Or heard? I lived in Romania for over 15 years and had many encounters with Roma — 99% of which were fine (and many were fun).
All we can say is what happened to us. What happened to you? And what’s your evidence for the slur against the Jews?
Wow, what a contrast between these critical commentators (Bulgarian Gypsies ?) and the two Britons here !!
The guests appear so authentic, so well articulated and consistent, while both the author and the host seem so artificial and stereotypical, so simple and schematic, poor children of their own preconceptions
What a lesson ! A pity there nobody at the receiving end of it
Dear Rupert,
I was hesitating to give any kind of answer because already after I read the first few sentences, I wasn’t motivated to continue. I understand why you think it’s not nice to “attack” people, but I wish you have more understanding for us. Firstly, I believe when many Roma read these kinds of articles, we really don’t feel it’s even written about us, but it’s more of a “oh, again someone to tell me how cool and amusing we are”. The article is a typical mislead. And for us, it’s said. I would like to tell you to understand and accept our negative emotions and angry reactions, but then again, who am I to tell you what to write about.
I don’t think we are not doing anything to show who we are, we are doing a lot, we are writing, talking, striving to change the discourses, to change policies… and I don’t even think we should be doing these to show to someone “us” who are “non-exceptions” in contrast to “exceptions” (as a reaction to your fb friend comment).
The themes found in the article are all around the world for too long and I am surprised Roma have patience even to react. Honestly, I’m personally tired of this and I don’t see the point. I completely agree both with Ivanov’s comments and with Shaun’s fb comment. I wouldn’t have anything to add. Maybe, it could be also telling if I say I asked many of my Roma friends to react, but none has done it. And I asked about 150 Roma people for their opinion.
I do understand your good intentions, I am 100 % sure that you strongly believe that this article challenges stereotypes, but it actually only reproduces them.
I would be glad to meet you if you are around sometimes in Budapest. Please, do not take what I said as an “attack”, I am only honest and I talk from my position, heart, experience, knowledge.
Kindest regards,
Jelena
I can agree that, this article may have no intention to harm, but the opposite. However, did you realize how stigmatizing this article is?Did you realize how all the Roma are being defined as the very few negatives personages? This is so not how to portray people, you simply cannot extend few images to all Roma and claim” Oh, this is how Roma are, they simply are this way”. One shall not create a Global image of any people based of few encounters with their representative, otherwise you simply create/reinforse stereotypes and you harm that community (intentionaly or not).
C’mon, when you write you should be responsable of what you write and how you do it.
We all know that what I have claimed is true. Nonetheless, I understand why you are not eager to admit that in public.
One more thing about prospectives: I agree that everyone has the right to have their own prospective, and be open to share it with others. However, you shouls also take into account the place you are sitting in and how much you see from there, because sometime your position may show you as little as nothing…so you may need to start looking around and try to find better place to sit observe and than talk…
with my kindest regands,
A Roma guy
Dear Mr Ivanov (I presume you are a “Mister”), I really appreciate the fact that you took the time to make these comments and I respect your perspective — but profoundly disagree with you. You raise lots of interesting issues and I would like to reply in more detail in a full article, so watch this space.
In my view Mr Gibbs, the author of the article you criticise, shows some rare traits towards the Roma population: openness and sympathy. He is also courageous enough to share his preconceptions and explain how he overcame them. If everyone could do that there would be no problems with racism and prejudice.
Finally, perhaps you would like to critique this review I wrote about a Roma book: https://wolfemurray.com/yaron-matras-book-romani-gypsies/
Very strange that you say that Romanian gypsies are dangerous people. I have been to Romania about 20 times and live like a local when there. I have met many gypsies and don’t find them dangerous. Some do ask for money and a firm no sends them away.
I find Romanian very friendly and helpful. I have walked on the streets of Bucharest day and night and actually feel safer than a night walk in Oslo. I had my car parked in Bucharest for a month without driving and nothing happened. I would not do that in Oslo.
Did I say they were dangerous?
After being angry at your little work, now I’d like to give you some more constructive critics:
1) STOP reading some stupid novels about Roma: all of them rather suggest the image you are portaying: romantisized image of poor, indigenous people, prone to criminality; this is what indeed stems from your little article and your non-sense argument
2)if you really want to undertand the Roma who they are, how do they live: READ propers, scientific books, spent some time (at least 1 month reading so you may get to understanding a hint of the rootcause of why Roma/Travellers live in such a way (at least those you met)
3) when you meet Roma you berely see anything, you simply reflect upon your own prejudices : this may make you readable, because apparently this is what non-Roma think is interesting to read about Roma; A HINT: If you continue writing in this please, include some whichcraft, some fairytales about Roma etc.- this will equaly make sense
4) Many of your personages are exeptionals NOT the rule: real Roma people aare not hanging on the streets, do not sell their bodies, to not steal. The one you see are EXEPTIONS , but you make them sound like the RULE. Real roma people (the RULE ) you cannot find them hanging on the street asking for money , selling themselves as prostitutes etc. they WORK, they are pretty busy looking for jobs, but often cannot find such (not because they are uneducated), because some people were pretty busy writing FAIRYTALES, NON-SENSE, EVIL PORTAITES of them.(I HOPE you understand what I MEAN)
5) If you really want to make sense when writing about Roma, find non-stereotypical one, and make some friends among Roma( You definetely need to know some average educated Roma to tell you some truth about the Roma). What you wrote, is not even interesting any more: EVERYONE write such little stories, just check the media.
If you want to be sound in your writing about the Roma, man you need some research before writing, the time when writers-travellers were simply describing what they see is already in the past (40/50/60 years); Simply writing what you see, you risk to became ridiculous to your audience (Yeah, you did sound to me ridiculous and uneducated (I will not use a stronger word))
6) Do not be and be afraid from Roma: we bite, only when somebody steps on our fingers (got it?), or steals our music, otherwise we are pretty friendly, and EVEN we do not steals from guys like you ;
7) Let me explain why you got robbed : you just asked for it with your attitude; this is exactly how you should not acting with strangers (you never know with any stranger, in particular those who are in particular desadvantaged position – it could happens with Americn, English, Iraqi etc.)
8) If you somehow want to be a writer, just try to look and dig into the complexity of the problem: you stay on the very surface
9) think about yourself and your readers – what kind of writer you wanna be, and what kind of audience you want. If I have to conclude based on your article, seems you are not aiming high (in other words, you are aiming too long, you seems intriguing: you may have talent, but you are waisting it writing non-sense).If you want to be recognized as an author, this will not happen with putting on paper the first word that came into your mind…
with my best wishes,
A. Roma guy
Another stereotypical image of the Roma! Could you please, stop with this! This is harmful for the community! If you y any chance care, and you are not just trying to get more attention to yourself , stop it! You are caught in the “gadje discourse” about Roma! How you describe the BG Roma is simply shamefull! Sorry, but before writing further on Roma, just make sure you understand the situation , because from what I see here, you have no idea who the Roma are, how do they live, what do they want in life, what inspires them etc.! Just an advice: revise your article beacuase is absolute non-sense!!