Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (9 page)

Keeping her at arms leng
th,
Nicolae
began to move elegantly
around the fires.  His free arm f
loated through the air,
rising
above his head.  His one foot sl
owly kicked forward, gracefully
followed by his other foot.  The
entire time, he stared down at
Sahara, enticing her with hi
s passionate eyes to follow his
example.  Slowly, she began t
o let her intoxication take her
actions as she
demurely
looked
away then brashly looked back. 
Lifting her scarf over her head,
she waved it back and forth in
time to the music. 

The fiddlers took this as a
cue to quicken their pace. 
Nicolae
let go of Sahara's hand as he began to dance wildly around the
fire.  Leaping into the air,
Nicolae
spun, landed on his knees,
rolled forward, and sprang upri
ght then repeated his actions. 
Stunned, Sahara watched him with
large, dark eyes.  His precise
movements in time to the flamin
g gypsy music aroused something
inside of her she had never felt
before.  When he leapt into the
air for the third time, he lande
d in position to roll forward. 
The music came crashing to a halt
as
Nicolae
's roll found him
lying
at Sahara's feet.  Dumbfounded, Sahara stared down at
him where he laid
panting, trying to catch his bre
ath.  He was covered in a layer
of dust from rolling on the dry g
round.  His black hair was damp
with sweat, a few pieces stuck t
o his forehead.  But as he
lay
at her feet, his eyes meeti
ng hers, Sahara warmed inside. 
Burning with
fervor
of exc
itement, she fell to her knees,
looking at him on his own leve
l.  The gypsies around the fire
began to shout, trill, and cheer
as they looked on. 
Nicolae
smiled
at her between gulping for air.
  Whatever she had done, Sahara
realized she had pleased
Nicolae
. 

“
Nicolae
, you like?
”

Tossing his head back, he lau
ghed.  His laughter rang brassy
in her ears. 
It was a handsome sound and it made a blush cross her cheeks. 
When he sobered,
he reache
d out for her hand
. 
“
S'hara, I like.
”

Crowds of gypsies sur
rounded the fires, laughing and
trilling as they tilted their bot
tles of rakiya. 
Nicolae
got to his
feet, helping Sahara up once a
gain.  He took her scarf, dirty
from dancing, and replaced it over
her head.  He sighed softly as
he glanced at the people milling a
round the burning flames.  When
Nicolae
looked back at Sahara, he
lifted her chin up to meet his
eyes. 
“
You are tired, yes?
”
  Wh
en she nodded,
Nicolae
glanced over
the heads of the gypsies.
Sahara couldn't see to whom he
gestured, but shortly after, two older women clucked the
ir
tongues at her, grabbing her arm
s as they dragged her away from
Nicolae
.  He nodded, letting her know he approved. 

The old women took her to a wagon.  No herbs hung from the ceiling or pots from pegs in the wall.  A dusty chair rested against one wall with a grey dress tossed over the back of it.  A heavy wooden crate was turned upside down next to the chair.  A brass candlestick holder with a
half
burnt white candle sat on the center of the crate.  One o
f the
women
quickly lit it.  In the flickering orange glow, the on
ly thing Sahara
noticed was the feather mattress on the floor against the far wall.  She let the old women undress her for she was too intoxicated to care.
Stretching across the pillows, she shut her eyes and fell asleep before they could cover her with a thick, wool blanket.

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It wasn’t until at least a month after their arrival that they met up with the other family.  The girl with the infant held her head high as she was presented to the people.  They looked at her, the women with frowns on their faces and the men with curiosity.  She was joining their family but not through marriage.  It was unusual but they all knew the reason why.  It was the baby in her arms, small and meek.  A child
born
out of wedlock and one th
at , in the future, would
marry into the family.  In the meantime, the mother would be the caretaker, a burden to them as they must care for her with no man to help shoulder the task.

The girl did not meet their gazes.  She stared ahead
, unwavering in her composure.  She didn’t show any emotion as her father let her toward the people. 
Her father had not spoken to her again since that night on the ship. He did not speak to her now.  Instead, he spoke to the man who would become her new “father”.  He was younger than her own father and his two sons stood behind him, their expressions strong and stoic.  The smaller of the two boys looked at her, curiosity getting the best of him.  The larger of the boys looked bored. She didn’t try to listen to the words.  She was too focused on masking her own feelings as she was given away, no longer
welcome in her father’s family and not certain how welcome she was in by the new family standing before her.

The old women grabbed at Sa
hara's arms, then desp
e
ra
tely at
her hair.  Sahara
escaped out the wagon
door, ignoring their screeching
voices as she bounded down the
wooden steps.  Raising a trembli
ng hand to her head, she felt a
throbbing headache developing. 
Momentarily, she shut her eyes,
wondering how much she had
drunk
the night before.
She remembered the music, the dancing,
and the
reaction from the people.  She felt her cheeks grow flush and she quickened her steps, as if the speed of her walk could
suppress
the feelings of embarrassment.

She noticed the empty
bottles scattered near the b
lack, smoldering circles in the
grass.  Around the
blackened but still
smoldering
fires,
dirt showed through the beaten
down grass.
Several small boys were a
lready up, taking the horses to
pasture.
One of them notic
ed her and smiled.  For a brief
second, Sahara almost smiled back.
  Instead, she waved for him to
come to her.  Cautiously, the boy
walked over Sahara.  Behind his
dirty face and greasy hair, Sah
ara recognized the unmistakable
resemblance the boy had to t
he other gypsies.  A faded blue
kerchief was tied around his nec
k.  His bare young chest showed
through the button
-
less, dirty white blouse he wore.  As he spoke, his dark eyes glowed. 
“
You wish to speak to me, bori?
”
 

Sahara frowned at the foreig
n word he called her.  Ignoring
her ignorance of the gypsy languag
e, Sahara asked,
“
Where are the
men, boy?
”
  She guessed him to be no mo
re than nine or ten and
already he was doing men's work.

He shuffled his bare feet
in the dust, glancing over his
shoulder at the other boys, by
now a good distance away.  His
black eyes looked around, hopin
g no one was coming.  If one of
the adults saw him speaking with
the woman, he would get scolded
for certain.  Quickly, he pointed
in the direction the horses had
come from. 
“
Some men are there, b
ori.
”
  Quickly, he darted away,
racing toward th
e other boys herding the horses away from the
camp. 

Sahara watched the boy run un
til he caught up with the other
s
.  A taller boy slapped the si
de of the boy's head, shaking a
finger at him.  They were too f
ar away for Sahara to hear what
was being said but she could ima
gined the boy was being berated
for abandoning his chores
to talk to her.  Shrugging her
shoulders, Sahara started walki
ng toward the place the boy had
pointed.  As she neared, she could hear deep voices talking
quietly.  She wondered if the
Rom Baro
was there.  She walked
around the wagon, the small grou
p of men looked up, startled by
Sahara's unexpected presence.
 

Silencing the others, one man
stared at Sahara with his mou
th gaping.  His dark, wide lips
moved silently.  Motioning tow
ard Sahara's uncovered head, he whispered,
“
Mahrime.
”
 

“
Wh
ere is the
Rom Baro
?  Wh
ere is
Nicolae
?  I want to see them
immediately!
”
  Her clenched fist r
ested on her hips as she stared
at the shocked men.  Silently,
they nodded their heads to one
another as if confirming what
they already thought about the
gadjo girl.  The men turne
d their backs, whispering among
themselves about
“
mahrime
”
.
  An older man glanced over his
shoulder at Sahara before spittin
g on the ground. 

Sahara caught
her breath. 
“
How dare you
!
”
  When she realized
the men were ignoring her, refu
sing to divulge the
Rom Baro
or
Nicolae
's whereabouts, Sahara whirl
ed around furiously and stormed
away. 

The sun shone from high in
the sky.  Lord, she thought, as
she sought comfort in the shade of
a wagon.  It must be afternoon
already.  She leaned her back
against the wagon, hugging her
knees against her body as she s
hut her eyes and remembered the
music beating into her soul.  Nev
er in her life had she imagined
that she could dance with such
ferocity
.  A blush rose to her
cheeks as she visualized her da
nce with
Nicolae
.  The gypsy music,
along with the liquor, had raped
her of any sense.  Surely, she
thought,
Nicolae
will think I like h
im now.  That will be corrected
at once, she assured herself. 

Sahara ran her fingers through her hair before lean
ing her
head on her knees.  Her silky h
air fanned over her arm and she
eyed the white streak she had al
ways thought so unnatural.  Her
father had mumbled once about her
mother having the same streak. 
But Sahara didn't remember her mother or her white streak.  Her father had rarely spoken of his de
ceased wife but Sahara sensed a
part of her father had died along
with her mother.  Certainly he
had loved his young, wild Europ
ean wife.  But, Sahara realized
sadly, he had never mentioned any of Amaya's history.
  Now,
Sahara feared, it was lost forever.

Breathing deeply, Sahar
a began to drift into an uneasy
sleep.  Her head still ached b
ut in the back of her mind, she
could hear the gypsy music tak
e possession of her again.  The
wind blew through her as she ima
gined she was dancing in the
middle of an open field.  She was
alone, dancing wildly like the
other gypsy women.  Her body sway
ed with each movement, her hair
caressing the earth.  The musi
c slowly faded away.  She could
hear a commotion from the edge of t
he field.  But as she looked
in the direction of the noise, sh
e could see nothing through the
mist.  Frightened, she collapse
d against the ground, trying to
hide from the unseen.  The noise
grew louder but Sahara kept her
eyes shut, her cheek pressed again
st the earth.  Suddenly, as if
several feet from her ear, she
could hear sharp thunder.  The
thunder st
opped for a split second before it crashed right by her
head.

“
S'hara!
”

Sahara raised her head, sta
rtled out of her light sleep by
Nicolae
's voice calling her name
.  He stood on the steps of the
wagon, staring into it.  Sahara
frowned, trying to separate the
fantasy of her dream from the re
ality of the fury in
Nicolae
's eyes
when he slammed the door shut and caught sight of her crouched in the shadow.  Quickly,
he jumped down the steps and towered over
her, his black hair
tousled
and
his hands curled into fists on
his hips.  His eyes wrinkled in t
he corners as he glared down at
her.   Sahara looked up at h
im, her black eyes frightened.  Through his
legs, she could see
the anxious faces of the other
gypsies, silently waiting for
Nicolae
'
s confrontation.  Sahara looked
back at
Nicolae
, frightened by his anger. 

Nicolae
bent down, grabbed Sahar
a's arm, and dragged her to her
feet.  She could feel his free hand tangle into her
hair. 
Roughly, he pulled it by the roo
ts until she cried out.  But he
did not loosen his hold.  Instea
d, he shoved her into the crowd
that was forming near the wagon. 
The crowd opened up, staring at
the furious man and
feisty
woman with a gleam of satisf
action in
their eyes.  
“
This, my bori...
”
  He shoved her roughly around
the circle of people, still pulli
ng
fiercely
at her hair.  Sahara
could barely stand up as she
struggled to free herself while
keeping most of her hair.  Tears welled in her eyes, half
from
pain, half from humiliation, as
she heard
Nicolae
yelling,
“
This is
your new life.  You have chosen it, yes?
”
 
She tried to protest, horrifi
ed at
Nicolae
's fury and frightened
for her life. 
“
And you will abide the
rules and traditions, yes?  Oth
erwise, you will be punished!
”
 
The crowd began to respond with nods and grunts, words that Sahara could not understand. 
“
You must never be outside without your diklo!  It must always cover your head!
”
 
With all of his strength,
Nicolae
pushed
her away from him. 
She felt herself falling and
landed on the g
round at the feet of some older
gypsies.  Her skirt flew above her knees.  Sahara sat up, tugging desp
era
tely at h
er dress, hoping to regain some dignity. 
Nicolae
noticed the blood on her
lower shin and ankle.  Sahara's
terrified eyes looked up at him
, questioning his outburst with
ignorance. 
For a few long seconds, no one spoke or moved.  Nicolae glared down at her, watching as Sahara dab at the cut with the bottom of her ripped dress, tears spilling freely from her eyes. 

The crowd dispersed around the side of the wagon.  Nicolae watched them from the corner of his eye.  Once they were gone,
his anger vanished. Biting his lip,
Nicolae
moved toward her crumpled body. 
He knelt
before her, one hand
reaching out to brush her hair
out of her face. 
“
S'hara...
”
 
Tenderly, he touched her chin, til
ting it to look up at him.  The
confusion he read in her face ma
de him feel even more ashamed. 
“
Come.  I will wash your cut.
”

Forcing her tears back, she met
Nicolae
's eyes and slowly
reached out for his
hand.  He helped her stand than
put his arm around Sahara's waist
when he saw the cut caused her
pain to walk. 
No one was there to see
the
Rom Baro
's son, the future leade
r of the
kumpania,
take the
beautiful
raven-haired
gadjo woman
away from the encampment, his anger replaced with tenderness
. 
Sahara sat down on the gr
ass, her fingers playing with a
rock on the ground as she watch
ed
Nicolae
.  He was standing near a
wooden bucket of water, his back to her.  She could see his
taunt
muscles move as he dipped a cl
oth into the bucket and rung it
out.  Turning around,
Nicolae
caught h
er eyes lingering on him before
she turned away, blushing.  Cle
aring his throat, he approached
her timidly.  Once again,
Nicolae
knelt down
before her, lifting
the hem of
her
skirt
in order
to wash
away the
remaining
blood. 
“
I am sorry I was so angry. 
I did not mean to frighten you,
S'hara.
”
  His voice was soft and s
tilted as he mumbled. 
“
I heard
you had left the wagon without the diklo covering your hair.
”
  He
glanced up at her face. 
“
That is
a mockery against me, S'hara. 
Always wear that scarf over your head.
”