On the road (with Gypsies)

My favourite book is On the Road, by Jack Kerouac. I first read it when I was a teenager and have since reread it too many times to count. It struck a chord so deep in me that I had the last line, "I think of Dean Moriarty," tattooed on my forearm.

The book speaks to me for many reasons, too many to count, but I think what first attracted me to it way back when was the overall feeling of freedom I got from reading it.  

Segway to Gypsies.

Alternately (and incorrectly) referred to as Romani, Travellers and even Tinkers (look it up), what my father calls Tsigani most probably originate from a single ethnic group that left northwestern India about 1500 years ago. (Travellers and Tinkers are actually mainly of Irish origin.)

During World War II, Gypsies, along with Jews, Poles, Soviets, Jehovah's Witnesses, gays, the mentally ill and the physically disabled were all targeted by the Nazis as inferior, undesirable and even dangerous. 

While six million Jews were killed during the Holocaust, the mass slaughter also saw the death of 2.5 million Polish people and up to 1 million Gypsies (plus all previously mentioned targets) bringing the total number of innocents lost during the Holocaust closer to 17 million people.

Segway to my grandfather.

Growing up, my grandfather used to sing a song called Ochi Chernye, which means dark eyes. The tune always left me with a mournful, nostalgic, feeling that I couldn't explain.

Segway to last week.

While visiting my mother last week, we watched a movie one night called The Man who Cried. Directed by Sally Potter and set during the time when the Nazis marched into Paris, the movie stars Johnny Depp who portrays a Gypsy and Christina Ricci a Russian Jew.

While the movie left me thinking about many things, including intolerance, ignorance and xenophobia (fear and hatred of the unknown and/or foreign), it also left me thinking about what a beautiful lifestyle the Gypsies have.

With their nomadic existence and focus on family instead of consumerism, the Gypsies have, in my opinion, zeroed in on the meaning of life.

Experience. Or knowledge though experience. Another one of my tattoos.

My dad may not have a caravan but he does a shopping cart. And I can pack a suitcase (or apartment) like nobody's business. 

I'm not saying being a nomad is for everyone, but it's not surprising that I ended up with someone - the infamous beau - who lives out of a valise. 

Roma flag