THE HOMELESS GYPSY

THE HOMELESS GYPSY

 

April 8th was the "International Day of Gypsies (Roma)"
 

I met a man in Marrakesh, the story goes, who claimed to be a homeless gypsy.
His family and in fact entire clan had been wiped out by the war.
And he, the only survivor of his kin.
But then it came to him that some had escaped to North Africa.
Hence, the reason for him looking there.

I remembered, that tale told to me by a fellow traveler on a train to Madrid, some time ago.
The gypsy did not find any of his kin, but in searching
he came to find a family of Berbers.
While lost in depressed slumber one hot evening, he said,
a familiar sound of music, caught his attention.
It snaked out a narrow alleyway into the street.
Slowly, he strolled down the passageway
the hypnotic music seemed familiar, as he got closer.
The way opened into a cul-de-sac and a group of musicians
sitting around a centerpiece playing, oblivious to the gathering crowd
men, children and women, moving to the music.
Dancing, swaying, bending and waving
wrapping the music about them.
A young girl, dressed in a tight white dress spun seductively
 
Our wandering gypsy realized, he had found people of his kind.
He took out his lute and joined them.
In his later conversation with them, a kinship was discovered.
Accepted, he was asked to travel with them.
As destiny had it, sometime later, he married the young dancing girl in white
and lived with them henceforward. Homeless no more.
 
A heartwarming story, it was.
At times like this, it behooves us to appreciate
mankind is all of one kin, finding common traits
is a coalescing bond that heals spirits and bodies
only then we may truly realize that humanity is so precious.

Reza Ghadimi