Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers

by Sarah Price

  it was expected. Sahara was a living ghost to them.

  The crowd parted and Nicolae stopped walking. Sahara bumped into him, her eyes still staring into the amazed crowd. For the first time, she wished she was back with her father. The man I thought was my father, she corrected herself. Raising her eyes to meet Nicolae's, she was startled to see his eyes glazed over and distant. Nervously, she laid her free hand on her stomach as if protecting her unborn from whatever was about to happen. “Nicolae?” When he didn't respond with words but a short nod followed by a glance toward a large tent, she let her eyes roam in that direction.

  A man older than the Rom Baro stood in front of a small group of people. His dark gypsy eyes widened momentarily then narrowed. A muscle twitched in his cheek. Slowly, he took several steps toward Nicolae and Sahara. When he stood before them, he looked up at Nicolae. Sorrow was written across the older man's face as he laid a wrinkle, sun baked brown hand on Nicolae's arm. No words were spoken. The old man turned to Sahara, reaching out to tilt her chin toward the sun. His exhausted eyes studied every feature of her face. Finally, he sighed and said several words in a foreign language. Nicolae smiled to himself, taking a small step away from Sahara. The old man missed the glare Sahara threw at Nicolae when he turned back to face her. “Once I knew you as shey.” His words were stilted and thick with an accent. Sahara frowned, forgetting Nicolae as she listened to the older man continue. “Now, we meet and you are romni.”

  Sahara quickly translated what he had said in her mind. She knew what a shey was. “You knew me as a child?”

  The old man glanced down at her swollen stomach. He nodded twice to himself. “Soon, you will bare my great-grandchild,yes?”

  It had never occurred to her that she had another family. A gypsy family that belonged to her mother. “You are my grandfather?”

  The old man exhaled loudly. “When Amaya was pregnant, my heart broke. I had no choice but to send her away. Too many customs were betrayed. But when she ran off with the Irish man, she took with her the only grandchild of the Afrikaiya kumpania's Rom Baro. Then E Martya took Amaya and the grandchild was lost.” He smiled at Sahara before raising his eyes toward the sky. “O Del has returned the grandchild and I may go to Him in peace.”

  Sahara shook her head, glancing at Nicolae for an explanation. “I don't understand.”

  Nicolae moved closer to Sahara again. He lowered his voice so no one outside the small group of three could hear. “Your grandfather had only one child that survived long enough to bare him a grandchild. We are both the heirs to kumpanias, S'hara. By our marriage, we will combine two kumpanias into one.”

  Sahara's grandfather nodded his head again. “Now I may die and know the Afrikaiyi will be lead by the rightful. Amaya still lives through her daughter and one day through your child.”

  Sahara chewed on her lip, thoughtful for several seconds. Did this mean she was going to lead her own “people”? The thought terrified her. “Why are you so quick to accept me as your kin?” Nicolae stiffened, squeezing her arm but she ignored him. Her self-confidence back, Sahara continued. “What if I don't want to lead the Afrikaiyi? What if I'm not truly her child?” Her last question brought laughter to her grandfather's lips.

  His laughter slowly ceased. “If you are not Amaya's flesh and blood, then Beng has played a glorious trick on my eyes. Your face. Your hair. That white streak. You look more like Amaya than Amaya did, yes?” Again, he laughed. When he sobered, he answered her other questions. “If you wish not to lead the Afrikaiyi, you need fear not. The title of Rom Baro is passed to your rom, yes?”

  “Nicolae will be Rom Baro of my people?” The emphasis she placed on the word “my” made her displeasure apparent. “Our marriage has joined two kumpanias but to be led by one? Is this the way all gypsy marriages work?”

  Quickly, Nicolae answered, “No, S'hara. But you must know that your people travelled from another land to America. The Afrikaiya Rom Baro did not fare well on the journey. Many died, yes? With no sons to lead the kumpania, the Rom Baro struck a deal with the Machwaiya Rom Baro.”

  She listened to his words, wondering how much ambition this “bargain” had given Nicolae to seek her out. Was this the basis of his love, she wondered. Casting aside her suspicions, she turned to her grandfather. “How many of my kin live?”

  “I am your kin.”

  The sorrow in his voice touched her heart. Softening her voice, she asked, “And our people?”

  “Six families.”

  It was a small kumpania, one that would be little, if any, trouble to Nicolae as the Rom Baro. Sahara knew without combining the two kumpanias, certainly the Afrikaiya would die out. No man would promise his daughter to a family of a dying kumpania. Without daughters, there would be no children. No children meant no future. Sahara lowered her eyes, softly caressing her stomach. “I understand.” One day, her child would be Rom Baro to the Machiwaya-Afrikaiya kumpania. “And the rest of the people here?”

  Nicolae touched her arm. “They belong to their own kumpania. We gather for the cold months then travel our separate roads during the warmer weather.”

  Sahara looked at her ailing grandfather. “This is where I was promised to Nicolae?” A coughing fit interrupted the man's answer. Two elderly women hurried to their Rom Baro's side and helped him into his tent. Sahara watched without emotion. The man was a stranger to her but for his name. Glancing up at Nicolae, Sahara noticed the concern on his face. Something was bothering him. “Nicolae? What will happen to the old man now?”

  Nicolae tore his eyes away from the tent and stared down into his wife's face. Her sun touched skin glowed from the slightly chilly evening air. There was something about her eyes, perhaps the coldness, which made him uneasy. “He will die. There will be mourning and then a celebration.” Before she could ask him any questions, he continued. “A celebration because the Afrikaiya will live on with the Machiwaya. They will not die out with the old Rom Baro as they had thought.” He turned around, walking slowly back through the thinning crowd of people. Silently, Sahara walked beside him. As they neared their own kumpania's camp, Nicolae noticed his own weak father sitting alone by a fire. He was meditating, rocking back and forth as his mind wandered far away. Nicolae sighed, “There will be celebrating, yes. And soon another mourning ceremony.”

  “For our Rom Baro?”

  Nicolae nodded and leaned against the corner of a wagon. His fingers picked at a piece of splintery wood. “The Rom Baro will wait, yes. He will wait for your child to be born.”

  “Our child.”

  “Our child, yes. Then he will die and I will be Rom Baro of both kumpanias.”

  Sahara caught her breath as she felt the unborn child shift. A smile crossed her lips. “He just moved again.” She raised her eyes to meet Nicolae's. He noticed with satisfaction that the coldness had vanished from her eyes. Sahara took Nicolae's hand and laid it on her stomach. “Feel?”

  It wasn't the first time Nicolae had felt his child kick from within Sahara's stomach. But each time excited him as if a new experience. “He will be strong, yes.”

  “Strong like you.” The gentleness of her voice stirred his insides. Carelessly, he leaned over and kissed her lips. The gesture brought a blush to Sahara's cheeks. Lowering her eyes, she smiled to herself. The time for her child to be born was not soon enough. She needed to feel Nicolae's love again.

  “I love you, Sahara.” His soft whisper startled her. He tilted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I am worried about you. I fear I will lose the woman I love.” He thought back to his first wife. Certainly Sahara was stronger than Miquela had been. But he still remembered her screams and the blood. A shiver ran up his spine. It had been stillborn, perhaps dead for weeks inside Miquela's body. Nicolae had never felt her child kick or heard Miquela catch her breath like Sahara did every time the child moved. Even though Nicolae hadn't loved Miquela, he had mourned for the pain her life had ended in. The only comfort he felt was that the child had not been
his but Emilian's.

  Sahara smiled and laid her hand against his cheek. “I am blessed that you found me, Nicolae. But let's not speak of such horrible things.” Her own mind reeled every night as she laid next to Nicolae about childbirth and her fears continued to grow as the time came closer. If only she knew what was going to happen when the child was born.

  Nicolae lead her back toward the Machiwaya camp. Sahara clung to his arm, ignoring the shocked stares of the other gypsies. It pleased her that Nicolae did not seem to notice either. As they neared their own people, someone called for Nicolae. Sahara stood by the cooking fires, watching as Nicolae hurried away. Soon he would be Rom Baro and she a mother. Rubbing her stomach, she smiled. “You, my son, will be raised as gypsy,” she whispered. “One day, you'll be a great Rom Baro and lead more men than your father and grandfather ever will.” As if in respond, the child shifted its weight again. Sahara smiled again, turning to go into her tent to rest until Nicolae came to get her for the evening festivities.

   

  When he realized that she was gone, he wanted to seek her, find her and bring her back to the kumpania. But he had no idea where she had gone. They were in the middle of nowhere, no big cities nearby, no places to hide. He spent a few days searching for any clues of her whereabouts. But the trail went cold. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. He worried that she had perished. He fretted all day and all night. The rest of the kumpania saw the change in the Rom Baro and they worried for his health. He refused to eat and rarely slept.

  When they finally moved on, he discovered her whereabouts. It was a month after her disappearance and they were camped outside of a small town. Amaya had been through there just weeks before the kumpania. Word spread quickly and he heard about the marriage of the gypsy woman with the Irish man through the people at the saloon. She had ridden for two days to find a local town. She beguiled the barkeep and convinced him to marry her and move far away. They would open their own saloon and live, just the three of them.

  Married, he thought to himself. Untouchable, he realized. Once married, she was out of his reach.

  With sorrow in his heart, he turned his attention back to the kumpania. From now on, he vowed, rather than follow his heart, he would follow tradition.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The loud wails echoed in Sahara's ears. Each shrill cry brought a frown to her face and ache to her head as she stood obediently next to Nicolae. Her legs ached and her back was sore. Shifting her overbearing weight, Sahara felt more restless and uncomfortable than ever. A loud sigh escaped from her lips. Nicolae heard it and through his sorrow, he nudged her disapprovingly. The Rom Baro had passed away two nights before. His illness had been kept quiet until the final moments. No one had seemed overly shocked to learn their Rom Baro was dying. Instead, they knelt around his wagon, chanting softly in prayer until he had passed away. Sahara had tried to act sorrowful but she had never felt anything but hatred toward the man that won her in a gambling match. Out of respect, the entire camp mourned together, even those who had not known the Rom Baro. Everyone wore black and trilled their tongues, wailing and crying as loud as they could. The noise bothered Sahara as she chewed on her bottom lip. Her mind left the funeral. “Nicolae?”

  “Ssh.”

  Sahara stamped her foot, impatient and unusually short tempered. “I refuse to stand here. I'm tired and I want to lie down!” Several people standing nearby glanced at her, frowning at Sahara's disrespect toward the deceased Rom Baro. Several gypsies, new to Sahara's disregard to gypsy custom, smiled to themselves. Everyone had heard stories about the gadjo-gypsy. She was Amaya's daughter, they all said. No one had ever held a candle to Amaya until Sahara had appeared that winter at camp. Nicolae ignored her. Several minutes later, he felt her tugging at his arm. Annoyed, Nicolae brushed her off his sleeve and gave her the attention she desired. Her face looked pale and her eyes angry. With a shake of his head, he took her arm and began to lead her away from the mourners. No one would notice their disappearance since his father had already been buried and the ceremony handing the Rom Baro's power down to Nicolae had been performed the previous day. “You are like a child, S'hara.”

  “And you are cold hearted! Making me stand while all those wailing women give me a headache! You should have enough sense to allow me leave of such trivial affairs in my...” Her voice trailed off, leaving her sentence hanging in the air between them. Digging her nails into his arm, she froze where she stood. Something warm wetted her inner thighs as a soaring wave of pain tensed her body. The pain grew and she collapsed against Nicolae. Not now, she thought. Clinging to him, she began to cry, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “S'hara! You are alright, yes?” His own face paled. His dear Sahara was in pain. O Del, he thought. Please do not hurt her. Pressing his hands gently against her cheeks, Nicolae whispered, “The baby, yes?”

  She managed to nod once as the pain faded away. “I think we shall soon hold our child,” she whispered. Catching her breath, Sahara still clung to Nicolae for support. She turned her face up to his, silently pleading with him to help her. “I must lie down.”

  Nicolae helped her to their tent and hurried back to the mourners, searching for Duda. He found her standing next to the burial mound. Disregarding custom, Nicolae grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the others. Duda glanced at his face and hurried toward the tent he shared with Sahara, not having to ask what had happened. As she neared the tent, Duda could hear Sahara crying out. Nicolae bolted past the slower woman and hurried to Sahara's side. Tears streamed down her face. “You left me!”

  Startled, Nicolae tried to defend himself. “I had to find Duda!”

  Duda pushed the tent flap back. Her face tightened as she saw Sahara laying on her back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to breath normal. “Nicolae, get Rubbi. Tell her what is happening.”

  Unwillingly, Nicolae left Sahara's side again. It took him longer to locate Rubbi, an elderly women with many children and grandchildren. Pushing through the crowd, Nicolae finally found her in the back, clutching a black handkerchief as she dabbed at her eyes. Nicolae quickly grabbed her arm, explaining that Duda needed her assistance to deliver Sahara's baby. No sooner had the words passed through his lips than Rubbi disappeared. Nicolae decided against following her. Instead, he found a bottle of rakiya and took a couple swallows. Clutching the bottle's neck in his hand, he started back to the tent, wishing he had anywhere to go but there. The closer he got, the louder her cries.

  By now, the mourning crowds, aware of Sahara's labor, approached Nicolae, encouraging him to drink more whiskey. Without hesitation, Nicolae lifted the bottle to his lips. His heart beat inside his chest, frightened that her cries would suddenly cease. But they didn't. Instead, they grew louder and longer. Minutes turned into an hour. An hour turned into two. The mourners lingered near the tent, forgetting the deceased as they prepared to welcome their new Rom Baro's first child.

  Nicolae paced, throwing the empty bottle aside. Half drunk, Nicolae cried out, “Enough of this! I am going in!” No one tried to stop him as he pushed aside the tent flap. His eyes, resting on Sahara's sweaty face, avoided what the women were doing. Nicolae hurried to her side, picked up her hand and kissed it. “S'hara? I am here.”

  Gasping for air, she glared at him. A sharper wave hit her and she squeezed his hand, refusing to cry out. “You did this to me!” She panted and tried to shake her hand free of his. “You are causing me this pain!”

  Nicolae's face twisted, ashamed and hating himself. “S'hara?” Another wave cut off anymore words from her mouth to Nicolae's relief. She lifted her shoulders, biting down on her bottom lip as she suppressed a scream. Suddenly, she started laughing as she clung to Nicolae's hand. Nervously, he leaned over and brushed some of her sweaty black hair off her forehead. He raised his eyes to meet Duda's. The faintest sign of a smile touched her lips and she nodded, “Any minute, Nicolae. You should leave now.”

  N
icolae stared down into Sahara's exhausted face. She needed him. “No, I will stay with my wife.”

  Sahara hadn't heard the conversation between Nicolae and Duda. The waves of pain were closer together now and rose to higher depths. Each one threatened to rip her apart, she thought. Barely could she hear Nicolae telling her over and over again that he loved her. The pain took her away until it didn't effect her anymore. Instead, she felt nothing but a sudden relief from having to rid her body of the baby. Faintly, she could hear something crying. My God, she thought. It's over. The crying grew fainter and further away as she slowly drifted out of consciousness.

  “O Del! Is she dead?” Nicolae looked hopelessly at Duda, frightened as he thought back to another woman. A woman he hadn't loved, yet lost the same way he feared he lost Sahara. His eyes travelled back to the pale and lifeless face of his wife. To his relief, he noticed her chest barely rising and falling. Wiping some sweat off her forehead, Nicolae asked, “Will she live?”

  Duda laughed softly, gently wrapping the newborn in a soft, clean blanket. “That one will live to bare you many more children. She's a strong one.” She waited for Nicolae to stare inquisitively at her. His dark eyes showed his appreciation. “S'hara will live, yes. And so will your daughter. You wish to see, yes?”

  It took Nicolae a moment to realize that he was about to see his child for the first time. His heart beat rapidly inside his chest as he stood and approached Duda. The small, unmoving bundle in her arms frightened him. A daughter? They hadn't thought about a daughter. Only a son to inherit the title of Rom Baro. Now he would have to worry about finding a suitable husband for her. He would have to worry about gadjo trying to seduce her to their bed. He would have to worry about her being like her mother. “A daughter, yes?” His voice was barely audible as Duda carefully placed the sleeping, wrinkled baby in Nicolae's arms. He glanced at Duda before looking down at the pink face of his daughter. His eyes timidly stared down at his child. Her face, so round yet a perfect resemblance of her mother's features, shocked him. He held the bundle tightly, almost afraid the baby would disappear or someone would come to take it away. Smiling to himself, Nicolae realized no one was going to take the baby away. This was his own flesh and blood. His child. “You will be named Lea after the Rom Baro. O Del sent you to replace his spot in my heart.” Gently, Nicolae touched the tender cheek. The skin felt smoother than silk. “Ah, you will be like your mother, yes? Just as feisty and wild.”