May 00 - A gypsy and co., Shumen, Bulgaria
www.youtube.com/watch?v=w67lwex7Cas
There's no excuse for the treatment and quality of life of this bear, but as one person put it when he saw this photo, after I'd told him some of the information that follows, "I guess the bear's not the only one on a chain." I don't think I've witnessed more blatant, thoughtless, and ridiculous racism anywhere else than that which I witnessed against the Gypsies or Roma in Eastern Europe in 2000. I write about the best examples that come to mind below. I've also seen good evidence of blatant racism in South Africa in '92, against Palestinians in Jerusalem in '91, and in Northern Manitoba in 2008, but the treatment of the Roma in Eastern Europe stands out.
- In February, 2000, in Levoca (Leh-voh-cha), Slovakia, I'd heard that there was a gypsy or Roma neighborhood across the valley from the old town and planned to go visit it. At a restaurant in town the night before, having supper with a local woman and her friend who I'd just met (Eastern Europeans like to 'practice their English'), I mentioned this and the woman was amazed "Why? Why would you go there?" "I've never met Roma before." "But why go?" "It could be interesting." "??? ...", etc. No answer I gave made any sense to her. The next morning, on a very cold, winter's day with snow on the ground, I headed over there across the valley. Many of the houses resembled what we used to refer to as 'portables' in high school. (I took math classes over 2 yr.s in 'portables', which were extra or overflow classrooms erected beside the high school bldg.). You could refer to them as 'pre-fab' housing. I walked along with my camera in hand, looking over towards the view of old Levoca back across the valley, as if I'd come for the view. My presence didn't go unnoticed. One woman emerged onto her porch shouting "Neetch! Neetch!" (?), waving her hand in a gesture that seemed to say 'there's nothing here, go away.' An older man approached me wearing only a sweater above the waist, no coat (again, it was cold!), and looked up at me with a strange expression of gratitude and emotion when I said hello. (I'd seen something similar in South Africa with the blacks at the firm in '92 who, although they were twice my age, would nod and genuflect and repeat what I'd say, and at Norway House and points further north in Manitoba to my surprise years later [which I'll write about in another photo description sometime]; people had internalized their racist treatment there on some level. You could sense it in their apparent fear or undue deference, again whether or not they might be much older.) I spoke with a young woman I met outside her home who invited me in to meet her mother and brother, and her mother soon served me a big, delicious bowl of soup! The brother was friendly and very likable, and later in our discussion told me in his limited English about how he'd been treated as a Roma, that the police and some locals had attacked him and roughed him up. At one point I said that I'd show them some postcards from Canada that I had with me (which I'd show people on occasion in my travels, often I'd give Canadian coins too), but in fact they were in my backpack at my hostel or homestay, and as I continued to look for them in my daypack, my hosts seemed to be a bit uncomfortable. It occurred to me that they might've been a bit apprehensive that I might imply that they took them or make some such accusation. I felt a bit guilty at that point. They were just some old postcards. Here they were being so very nice and welcoming to me, but of course I was a complete stranger and they didn't know who I was or what to expect, and they must have known their reputation, too well. I'd heard so many negative things about the Roma on that trip, not only from the locals, but from foreign tourists too (who would generally just repeat what they'd heard directly or indirectly from the locals), and so I assume visits from foreign tourists to Roma neighborhoods and settlements were rare in Eastern Europe in 2000. But I had a great visit in this Roma community in the home of people who were as inviting, warm, and as kind as any I've met anywhere. What does it say about people who have suffered such cruel discrimination that that would still be so warm, friendly, and generous to a complete stranger?
- Months later, in Bulgaria, the bias held by some locals against the local Roma that was expressed on occasion in discussions, seemed to be a bit edgier. One weekend in Sofia, at a vast, out-door, 2nd-hand book market or 'flea market', the topic of the Roma came up or was mentioned in passing in a discussion with a local vendor. I said "well, they're human beings" (I forget what he'd said that I was responding to). He said "No, actually they're not. They're not human beings! ..." etc. How do you respond to something so ridiculous? The discussion ended soon after that.
- One day in a public square in Sofia, a little Roma girl (or I assume she was Roma) was begging for money. She couldn't have been older than 8 yr.s old. I didn't understand what she was saying of course, but a local Bulgarian woman walked up beside me and asked the girl a question. The little girl answered her (in a normal tone, or in a somewhat defensive tone), and the adult woman mimicked her, repeating what the girl had just said in a mewling tone, like a bullying kid would do in grade school. This adult woman was mocking a little girl who was begging for $$.
- The most memorable and instructive moment involving the treatment of the Roma that I recall took place in early May at a gas station on rte. 67, @ 4 km.s south of the Horezu monastery, in Wallachia, Romania. In Slovakia and Bulgaria and elsewhere, the Roma are blamed and stigmatized for their relative poverty, standard of living, higher rate of unemployment, etc. In Romania, they're blamed for having too much (you can't win); they're accused of obtaining ill-gotten gain, of involvement with organized crime, etc. I can't speak to that or comment on such perceptions, but I can relate this account.:
As I was hitching east along rte. 67 from Târgu Jiu, or somewhere not far east of that city, I was given a lift by a well-dressed older man in his car in which a young couple of newlyweds, who were very well-dressed (in fact I'd say they were glamourous), were passengers. She was wearing much jewelery, incl. a nose-ring or a nose-stud with a chain that led from it. 'Gypsy' or Roma music was playing on the car stereo and I commented that 'that's tsigan [Roma] music, I like it' (also spelled tzigane), to which the driver responded "Yes! I am Tsigan!" We then had a nice discussion, naturally limited to his English and that of his passengers, and there was more music. I was en route to the Horezu monastery, and when we arrived at the turn-off to it (likely the 144), we pulled up at a gas station on the south side of the road, the driver and I both got out, and as he opened the trunk and I took out my pack, I asked him how much should I pay? (Hitch-hikers were expected to tip lifts in Romania.) He said "No! I am Tsigan! [patting his chest] I am good. It's okay!", and refused to take a tip. There were a few young guys @ my age close to the gas pump, a couple of car lengths away, and when one of them heard the driver proudly proclaim that he 'is Tsigan', he walked over and hissed something very rude (I assume) and very hostile and menacing at the driver and into the front passenger window. He was furious. I confronted him and said something like "Hey! These are my friends! Wtf are you saying?!" and he straightened up and looked at me as if I had 2 heads, or as if to say "wtf?" (I don't know how well he understood my English.) But it didn't look like he'd backed down from a fight, while his 2 friends walked over. The older man, my lift, quickly took me aside and said to me quietly, "Shh! It's okay, I'm a 'Polish tourist', okay?, a 'Polish tourist'. Got it?" He then turned around and loudly announced to everyone there in English: "It's okay, I am a Polish tourist, from Poland, and this man is from Canada. He is heading to the Horezu monastery. Could anyone here take him to the Horezu monastery? Would you?" he said pointing to one of the men who'd walked over. "You'll take him there? You will? Okay, good. Thank you," and then got back into the driver's seat and drove away. The subject had been effectively and permanently changed, those 3 still looked to be a bit stunned, maybe pensive, and the big guy the driver had gestured to gave me a ride in his vehicle @ 4 clicks up to the monastery. Not a word was said between us about what had just transpired. Well, of course I was very impressed. My lift, this man who was openly proud to be 'Tsigan', as he should be, had endured this kind of stupid b.s. all his life, and had learned well how to deal with it. Distract, change the subject, confuse, "Did I say I'm Tsigan? Look over there! etc., etc." He defused that situation instantly and instinctively. You learn what you need to know.
- So notwithstanding all the negative things that I'd heard about the Roma in many discussions that I had in Eastern Europe, my experiences with them were nothing but good, in fact they were impressive. And I've had only a good impression of any Roma I've met since. (Of course if I meet enough, I'll meet some I don't like. They're human. But if and when that happens, I won't bother to update and edit this on that point.) I hope that they're all as proud to be Roma as my driver was that day on rte. 67.
- I met some members of a Roma community in SultanAhmet, Istanbul, who were squatting and living in tents /b/ the Byzantine fortified walls of Constantinople. But they didn't seem to be as stressed or as put upon as the Roma in slavic Eastern Europe. I could be wrong.
May 00 - A gypsy and co., Shumen, Bulgaria
www.youtube.com/watch?v=w67lwex7Cas
There's no excuse for the treatment and quality of life of this bear, but as one person put it when he saw this photo, after I'd told him some of the information that follows, "I guess the bear's not the only one on a chain." I don't think I've witnessed more blatant, thoughtless, and ridiculous racism anywhere else than that which I witnessed against the Gypsies or Roma in Eastern Europe in 2000. I write about the best examples that come to mind below. I've also seen good evidence of blatant racism in South Africa in '92, against Palestinians in Jerusalem in '91, and in Northern Manitoba in 2008, but the treatment of the Roma in Eastern Europe stands out.
- In February, 2000, in Levoca (Leh-voh-cha), Slovakia, I'd heard that there was a gypsy or Roma neighborhood across the valley from the old town and planned to go visit it. At a restaurant in town the night before, having supper with a local woman and her friend who I'd just met (Eastern Europeans like to 'practice their English'), I mentioned this and the woman was amazed "Why? Why would you go there?" "I've never met Roma before." "But why go?" "It could be interesting." "??? ...", etc. No answer I gave made any sense to her. The next morning, on a very cold, winter's day with snow on the ground, I headed over there across the valley. Many of the houses resembled what we used to refer to as 'portables' in high school. (I took math classes over 2 yr.s in 'portables', which were extra or overflow classrooms erected beside the high school bldg.). You could refer to them as 'pre-fab' housing. I walked along with my camera in hand, looking over towards the view of old Levoca back across the valley, as if I'd come for the view. My presence didn't go unnoticed. One woman emerged onto her porch shouting "Neetch! Neetch!" (?), waving her hand in a gesture that seemed to say 'there's nothing here, go away.' An older man approached me wearing only a sweater above the waist, no coat (again, it was cold!), and looked up at me with a strange expression of gratitude and emotion when I said hello. (I'd seen something similar in South Africa with the blacks at the firm in '92 who, although they were twice my age, would nod and genuflect and repeat what I'd say, and at Norway House and points further north in Manitoba to my surprise years later [which I'll write about in another photo description sometime]; people had internalized their racist treatment there on some level. You could sense it in their apparent fear or undue deference, again whether or not they might be much older.) I spoke with a young woman I met outside her home who invited me in to meet her mother and brother, and her mother soon served me a big, delicious bowl of soup! The brother was friendly and very likable, and later in our discussion told me in his limited English about how he'd been treated as a Roma, that the police and some locals had attacked him and roughed him up. At one point I said that I'd show them some postcards from Canada that I had with me (which I'd show people on occasion in my travels, often I'd give Canadian coins too), but in fact they were in my backpack at my hostel or homestay, and as I continued to look for them in my daypack, my hosts seemed to be a bit uncomfortable. It occurred to me that they might've been a bit apprehensive that I might imply that they took them or make some such accusation. I felt a bit guilty at that point. They were just some old postcards. Here they were being so very nice and welcoming to me, but of course I was a complete stranger and they didn't know who I was or what to expect, and they must have known their reputation, too well. I'd heard so many negative things about the Roma on that trip, not only from the locals, but from foreign tourists too (who would generally just repeat what they'd heard directly or indirectly from the locals), and so I assume visits from foreign tourists to Roma neighborhoods and settlements were rare in Eastern Europe in 2000. But I had a great visit in this Roma community in the home of people who were as inviting, warm, and as kind as any I've met anywhere. What does it say about people who have suffered such cruel discrimination that that would still be so warm, friendly, and generous to a complete stranger?
- Months later, in Bulgaria, the bias held by some locals against the local Roma that was expressed on occasion in discussions, seemed to be a bit edgier. One weekend in Sofia, at a vast, out-door, 2nd-hand book market or 'flea market', the topic of the Roma came up or was mentioned in passing in a discussion with a local vendor. I said "well, they're human beings" (I forget what he'd said that I was responding to). He said "No, actually they're not. They're not human beings! ..." etc. How do you respond to something so ridiculous? The discussion ended soon after that.
- One day in a public square in Sofia, a little Roma girl (or I assume she was Roma) was begging for money. She couldn't have been older than 8 yr.s old. I didn't understand what she was saying of course, but a local Bulgarian woman walked up beside me and asked the girl a question. The little girl answered her (in a normal tone, or in a somewhat defensive tone), and the adult woman mimicked her, repeating what the girl had just said in a mewling tone, like a bullying kid would do in grade school. This adult woman was mocking a little girl who was begging for $$.
- The most memorable and instructive moment involving the treatment of the Roma that I recall took place in early May at a gas station on rte. 67, @ 4 km.s south of the Horezu monastery, in Wallachia, Romania. In Slovakia and Bulgaria and elsewhere, the Roma are blamed and stigmatized for their relative poverty, standard of living, higher rate of unemployment, etc. In Romania, they're blamed for having too much (you can't win); they're accused of obtaining ill-gotten gain, of involvement with organized crime, etc. I can't speak to that or comment on such perceptions, but I can relate this account.:
As I was hitching east along rte. 67 from Târgu Jiu, or somewhere not far east of that city, I was given a lift by a well-dressed older man in his car in which a young couple of newlyweds, who were very well-dressed (in fact I'd say they were glamourous), were passengers. She was wearing much jewelery, incl. a nose-ring or a nose-stud with a chain that led from it. 'Gypsy' or Roma music was playing on the car stereo and I commented that 'that's tsigan [Roma] music, I like it' (also spelled tzigane), to which the driver responded "Yes! I am Tsigan!" We then had a nice discussion, naturally limited to his English and that of his passengers, and there was more music. I was en route to the Horezu monastery, and when we arrived at the turn-off to it (likely the 144), we pulled up at a gas station on the south side of the road, the driver and I both got out, and as he opened the trunk and I took out my pack, I asked him how much should I pay? (Hitch-hikers were expected to tip lifts in Romania.) He said "No! I am Tsigan! [patting his chest] I am good. It's okay!", and refused to take a tip. There were a few young guys @ my age close to the gas pump, a couple of car lengths away, and when one of them heard the driver proudly proclaim that he 'is Tsigan', he walked over and hissed something very rude (I assume) and very hostile and menacing at the driver and into the front passenger window. He was furious. I confronted him and said something like "Hey! These are my friends! Wtf are you saying?!" and he straightened up and looked at me as if I had 2 heads, or as if to say "wtf?" (I don't know how well he understood my English.) But it didn't look like he'd backed down from a fight, while his 2 friends walked over. The older man, my lift, quickly took me aside and said to me quietly, "Shh! It's okay, I'm a 'Polish tourist', okay?, a 'Polish tourist'. Got it?" He then turned around and loudly announced to everyone there in English: "It's okay, I am a Polish tourist, from Poland, and this man is from Canada. He is heading to the Horezu monastery. Could anyone here take him to the Horezu monastery? Would you?" he said pointing to one of the men who'd walked over. "You'll take him there? You will? Okay, good. Thank you," and then got back into the driver's seat and drove away. The subject had been effectively and permanently changed, those 3 still looked to be a bit stunned, maybe pensive, and the big guy the driver had gestured to gave me a ride in his vehicle @ 4 clicks up to the monastery. Not a word was said between us about what had just transpired. Well, of course I was very impressed. My lift, this man who was openly proud to be 'Tsigan', as he should be, had endured this kind of stupid b.s. all his life, and had learned well how to deal with it. Distract, change the subject, confuse, "Did I say I'm Tsigan? Look over there! etc., etc." He defused that situation instantly and instinctively. You learn what you need to know.
- So notwithstanding all the negative things that I'd heard about the Roma in many discussions that I had in Eastern Europe, my experiences with them were nothing but good, in fact they were impressive. And I've had only a good impression of any Roma I've met since. (Of course if I meet enough, I'll meet some I don't like. They're human. But if and when that happens, I won't bother to update and edit this on that point.) I hope that they're all as proud to be Roma as my driver was that day on rte. 67.
- I met some members of a Roma community in SultanAhmet, Istanbul, who were squatting and living in tents /b/ the Byzantine fortified walls of Constantinople. But they didn't seem to be as stressed or as put upon as the Roma in slavic Eastern Europe. I could be wrong.