After my ex-partner made me homeless I chose to return to my ancestral Romani roots and hit the road for a while. After all, I had always wanted to leave my home town and I had friends throughout the British Isles who were willing to give me a spare bed or a sofa for a while. My autistic son was already being looked after by a family better equipped to cope with his violent outbursts than I could ever be and he was thriving; all I had to do was quit my job and I could be on my way.
Of course, it was never going to be plain sailing – I knew that – but still I was excited. No restrictions, no set four walls, I could go anywhere and stay only as long as I wanted to. Returning to my Romany roots had always been a dream of mine and I revelled in all of the imagined possibilities.
My first stop was to stay with a friend in a village not far from Llandudno, North Wales. I got a job as a waitress and paid rent, but after a few weeks I knew it wasn’t working for me. I was lonely and desperately unhappy, and eventually I was sacked from my job for complaining that I wasn’t being given the hours that I had been promised. My grandmother, bless her soul, paid for someone to collect me and take me back to Cheltenham, where I stayed with my Mum for a while, until she asked my Dad to put me up.
Eventually, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I began dating a man in Hull. We were dating for maybe a couple of months and I’d found a job looking after a seriously disabled friend of mine.
An altercation with my father had the boyfriend telling me to get the next possible coach to Hull to live with him. I stayed with my Mum while I saved up money for the coach trip.
The Humber Bridge. The only thing I still like about Hull
I made terrible choices with men back in those days, and soon found myself back in Cheltenham, weeping all over the table in my Grandmother’s sun lounge. I realise now, of course, that I just wasn’t ready to settle down and be all domesticated with somebody again after what my ex had put me through. To put it bluntly, I was an emotional mess – and even if that boyfriend had been a decent type it probably wouldn’t have lasted.
When I eventually found a nasty little flat to rent (because it was all I could find) I had been homeless for six months. I found a job and eventually I married.
My attempt at the Romany life had, at this time, failed. What I didn’t know was that an entirely different – and positive – wander down that path was only a few years away… and that it would change my life forever.
Many of us have similar stories… all with realization of “who we are” and most certainly, “who we are not”. It is wonderful at this point in life to have understanding about these life experiences and to know ourselves so much better!
It was a definite learning curve! not a very pleasant one, but it got me where I am today.
My grandmother always said everything happened for a reason, and she was spot on with that
I’m glad you found your knight in shining armor!
It’s amazing the things we do in our youth. Looking back now, I am sure it must feel like it was a different person altogether. All those kinds of things are character building and all those experiences, good or bad, make you the person you are today. Wouldn’t it have been boring staying at home all the time? What would you talk about?
Well, since I didn’t have anywhere to actually call home, I thought I’d make the most of it. My journey didn’t stop there either, but it led me to where I am today and so all the trauma was worth it.
My Nan said I’d have a lot to tell my great niece and great nephew when I reached her age – possibly their children too
Do you have ‘views’ about Romany people, being connected in that way? In Oz it’s a non-issue, as I don’t think we have any ‘gypsies’ as such, but I read such a lot of negative commentary. What do you think about the culture? I’ve always liked the idea of gypsies, somehow, and felt rather positive about them than otherwise.
What an interesting question!
Personally I am fiercely proud of my Romani heritage – by and large the Romani are a proud people who earn their living, don’t camp anywhere without permission and respect the land. What I despise is when Irish travellers and others who weren’t born into the lifestyle and sold everything to hit the road to avoid tax and live on benefits are referred to as “Gypsies” – because they’re not. You are born into that culture; you don’t just up sticks and become a Gypsy.
The Gypsy lifestyle is heavily romanticised in films and books; it’s a hard way to live, unless your clan has decided to settle somewhere permanently so that the adults can work and the kids can go to school. Even then, it’s difficult for the Romani to be accepted into the “Gorgio” society and they are often persecuted and bullied.