I saw you this day, man with a ponytail and beard, whose face I should have recognised, talking in a language I’m learning. I thought suddenly automatic your words, apprentice automaton that I am. My eyes like a breeze and you blink, slow down and glance beside me. Briefly, the air settled, my mind your …
Category archives: romani
jatka
The sign at the local abattoir favoured by my Roma friends:
just enough to properly misunderstand
Driving up the road with E near her house I say something about a boy using the term “raklo” in reference to a Roma boy on the street. She laughs at me. As if I had just said something quite funny that blurred the boundaries of Roma/gadjo. And corrected me to “chavo”. Two funny things so …