Breaking through the barriers of Standardization. Part II - Going the Indie Way ….

I knew was of course this was going to cost me money. I also knew that the message of the novel, the tragic reality of Gypsies behind the prejudice, needed to get out there. Gypsies/Romawere once again being persecuted across Europe, reminiscent of the holocaust.  With that in mind I had been putting money aside for years before I started the endeavor.

1. The novel was finally in the shape I had worked hard to achieve. This is not possible, to my mind, without the help of equally dedicated editors – my first, essential expense.
2.  I then went the traditional rout - Query letters to Agents, receiving in return some encouraging, some standard pre-printed replies, i.e. landing on the slush pile, probably unread, i.e. waste of time, but I did my duty.
3. The choice now was between self-publishing and Independent Press. Here I had learned from writer friends that, at that time, self-publishing closed many doors, reviews in major literary magazines, selling to major bookstores, etc. So I opted for Independent Presses. Here the search livened up. More dialogue, more interest, more people truly dedicated to literature, willing to take a risk. Then I came across the best match for me - Wilderness House Press. Its owner and manager, Steve Glines, a writer, designer/computer wiz, above all a man truly dedicated to literature as an art form. We hit it off. He loved the novel, I loved his work and dedication. We have had close collaboration ever since.
4. Marketing. Essential of course. As I was told by several successful writers, as much work as writing the novel. But, a writer can’t be a fox that hides in a hole. I then, in 2010 at the vigorous age of 65 started Facebook, Twitter, Linked in with great success, mostly because I actually enjoyed it. I also came across a huge food chain of people trying to make a living off us struggling writers. I don’t blame them, and I don’t knock them. They have a lot of knowledge to impart. On the other hand, I needed actual results, sales, for the writer, in this case, me. Again, after intensive search, I came across the perfect professional for me - Denise Cassino. Denise specializes in turning your book into an Amazon Bestseller. Again, she loved my book, and so she did. Thanks to her, a European agent approached me, again a wonderful professional. Pauline Villain. Unfortunately, she tragically died suddenly. Last but not least, a word about Amazon. I did deal with one major book chain, Barnes and Nobles. They did sell all the copies, but did not ask for more. Whereas Amazon was and is there for me. Right now, for the struggling writer, I feel it is our best ally.
5. Back to what now I consider my home turf – Wilderness House Press/Steve Glines, my publisher, Denise Cassino, my marketing expert, between the three of us helping each other, collaborating, starting a marketing/selling campaign. I did sell over 2,000 copies. Not bad for an unknown, and a first novel. Friends, another essential, helped finding places for book signings; I did a number of radio interviews, helped by an outfit that specializes in that. Last but not least, Independent Book Stores. Here I want to mention a spectacular one in Vermont, the Northshire Book Store. As a whole, these stores are struggling side by side with us writers, and should be supported by both readers and writers.

I am now working on a sequel to Dosha, flight of the RussianGypsies. So, unfortunately I have to cut back on my marketing efforts for novel no.1.  I will, however keep in close contact and continue to work with Steve Glines, my publisher, and Denise Cassino, my marketing person – my home turf, to me so reminiscent of how publishing in this country used to be. 

To those of you interested, I am open to further questions.

WALKING FROM HOPELESSNESS TO HORROR – The Romanian Gypsies.

I am not an academic researcher, I am not a journalist, I am a novelist who has known the Gypsy people for most of my life. I am a European by origin who has grown up in World War II. Then too people were persecuted and nailed to the cross, anybody in Germany who did not agree with the Nazis. We were lucky insofar that we were never caught and trapped in those death camps at the mercy of common men turned full-time abusers. Through massacres and ever present death, what gave us wings was hope in a world on the other side of war.

I am sure it is what held Romanian Gypsies/Roma together and going. In Romania they were enslaved until 1865, again I am no academic researcher, but that is what I have read over and over - then pushed out of sight into abject poverty and neglect, no human rights, no opportunity. But, and this is merely human, I am convinced that hope kept them believing in a better future, somewhere down the line.

Europe Unites. The barriers to their prisons FINALLY opened. The day, I am sure, they had been praying for over a century has become reality. Their leaders, those with knowledge of the world on the other side of the invisible barbed wire that has kept them closed off from the world at large, warns them. They do not have the tools to survive in the modern world, they never had access to them.

Again, I compare their destiny to my own. Walking out of the world of war where hope had made life despite it all even beautiful at moments, we walked into the aftermath, where a whole culture lay bombed to the ground and the horrible truth of Nazi persecutions now lay bare, destroying all remaining beliefs in humanity.

Again, racial hatred is out of the bag, is spreading as Europe is nailing her Gypsies to the cross.

Independent Book Stores Flourish in Vermont

In a state many highly educated readers have chosen in search of a more fulfilling life, these bookstores have turned into community centers for kindred spirits. Owned and run by lovers of the written word, protectors of an art in trouble, those who work there appear like members of an extended family. Should you be a reader, or a writer, or a child ready to start exploring the magic of the written word, you will feel at once at home. I live in a tiny village, yet there are two of these inspiring stores nearby. The bigger one, Northshire Bookstore in Manchester, Vt. (a must see should you come visit this wonderful area), consists of three expansive levels of books, displayed with thought and enthusiasm, of toys and children’s book to inspire the young, and a generous coffee shop where you can meet, mingle and chat. 

The second one, Mystic Valley Books in Chester, Vt., is more of the same on a smaller scale, but worth the visit. Both feature calendars packed with readings by authors and other literary events.

These stores are reminiscent of a time when literature in the U.S. was flourishing. To my mind, having fought the struggle of marketing my own novel for close to a year, they are essential to the survival of literature as an art in our country. Like Public Radio, they deserve our support. We need them as much as they need us. Go browse, and choose them as their place to buy. With both the visit and the buy you demonstrate your support.

HILLARY CLINTON, Role model for today's WOMEN LEADERSHIP.

It took me time to grasp the leadership qualities of Hillary Clinton. I was used to more flamboyant female leaders. Women partisans I knew during WW2. Hemingway captured the type perfectly in Pilar (“For Whom the Bell Tolls”), women who openly confront men. Grandmotherly types like Golda Meir, who didn’t budge from threat and gained the respect of negotiators in male dominated societies. In fact my novel “Dosha, flight of the Russian Gypsies” depicts women of all types, from the needy to the radical to the wise leadership of an elder. I myself grew up liberated, not by choice, but by lack of the normal protections of childhood and young adulthood. So when I found myself surrounded by raging American feminists in the Sixties, I felt the movement was misguided, mainly because many believed in bashing men to elevate women, whereas I felt that a healthy society is one of shared power, equal but different, male and female complementing each other.

Since then I have met women who have risen to the top of leadership in corporations and government positions. I have witnessed many of them mistaking toughness and lack of compassion for leadership. Hillary is of a different ilk, a woman of compassion and a leader with vision. When her husband strayed, instead of breaking up her family, marking her daughter with relationship insecurities for life, and leaving herself remaining wealthy but alone like so many other divorcees for the rest of her days, Hillary opted to work it out. I have watched her carefully stand her ground, getting her points and messages across in male dominated societies. She has been bravely and tenaciously fighting for women’s rights across the world. I even came across notices of Hillary trying to stand by Europe’s most vulnerable and once again viciously persecuted minority, the ancient, once nomadic Roma/Gypsies population.

We have every reason to be proud of our Hillary, hard working, smart, a true woman and effective world leader in her role as US Secretary of State.

Florida: EVICTION OF GYPSY/ROMA FROM THEIR ONE-OF-A-KIND CHURCH

There I sit, long-time Gypsy activist, present at the latest episode of an 11 year old struggle to evict Roma Christians from their church in Broward county, the first all Gypsy church I had ever come across. Nor had I come across a Gypsy leader, this one a Roma pastor, who remained in place defending the rights of his people. In Europe Gypsies have been persecuted for the 600 years they have lived in Western culture, but, this is America, I proudly thought.

The half-circle of county commissioners, deciders of the fate of this very special church, sit on the elevated stage ahead of us and are still dealing with main county business - money money money - thrown back and forth like ping pong balls.

I happen to also be a survivor of and witness to Nazi persecutions, baggage that remains grafted to my brain. So now I am eyeing those in whose hands lies the fate of my religious friends. I have no reason to trust bureaucrats, for the Nazis within all the chaos and tragedies they caused remained superb bureaucrats, everything was done by the book, their book. So now I am eying this set of bureaucrats in front of me with caution. To my relief I note that they are of mixed ethnicity and gender. Seven, I remember, women, two men. White, Jewish, Black. I have 3 minutes to convince them of the symbolic value of this missionary church, its importance reaching way beyond Broward County, for once again, Gypsies, now known as Roma, are being openly persecuted all across Europe. My life has come full circle. So called to the podium, I speak of the renewed, “silent persecution” of Europe’s now largest, most vulnerable minority. How, this pastor is trying to recruit Roma missionaries to go teach Roma abroad to help themselves, the uniqueness of this church. That this is precisely what America stands for, a symbol of what raises us, Americans, morally above all other countries I know and have lived in.

Deliberations resume. The black man, new member on the board, starts speaking on the Gypsies’ behalf, but - backs away. Heigh, I think, he’s new on the block. The one white man, vice-mayor off (I believe) Broward county speaks up, hero of my soul, about the purpose behind the eviction now, there are no permits issued, the Roma are paying their bills, they are a positive presence in an area of rehab centers, looking industrial. So

Why?

The women speak up, misspeak. One young black lady says – falsely so – the Gypsies haven’t been paying their bills, and that she got this from channel 7. Which rightfully infuriates the Gypsy pastor, who has paid his bills, always, he has gone by the book, always. He is not allowed to speak, at first, because he’s not on the list. But then he talks anyway, he has proof of not being delinquent in payments or anything else, ever reminding them

This is a CHURCH!

Question is, I thought, would it have happened to any other church, temple, religious institution involving anybody else but GYPSIES, now called Roma?

Once again, presiding women take center stage: They want to get it over with, be done with it, enough already. Moneymoneymoney, that has changed hands, etc. etc. etc. Once again, flashbacks to my past, where you had a better chance arguing for your life with a fish in the ocean than with a German bureaucrat. So here too, I was horrified at the heartless reaction of these women of different ethnic backgrounds who had been given the power to make decisions of this importance.

Branded Thief - At Birth!

When I was fist asked, now years ago, to address a small group of people to talk about a subject I have now been writing about for over 10 years, namely to talk about Gypsies, Roma as they are rightfully called now, a matronly lady piped up from the back row asking “aren’t those the ones that steal?” Not once, but interrupting my initially rather academic talk, over and over again, with “aren’t they the ones that steal?” Until, I finally stopped my neatly prepared little talk and rather sharply retorted, “Have they ever stolen from you, personally, Mrs……?” The lady blushed, and I continued with my talk.

The other day in the dog park, I was talking to an educated gentleman, a cosmopolitan European about the present persecutions of European Roma, when to my surprise he started telling me how “these people pick a village clean”. Taken aback, and at this point passionately involved in the Roma cause, I asked him, “please tell me what you have personally witnessed along those accusations toward the Gypsy people!” The next day he approached me and said, “I personally have not witnessed anything of the sort, I guess I have fallen into the trap of repeating prejudicial beliefs.”

Now I want to go over to other side. Imagine yourself being born Roma. Two very close friends of mine, both highly intelligent, both evangelical pastors, both of them had not been denied the privilege of formal education, both self-taught and intellectual by nature. They talked to me about the pain of being dismissed as inferior, even criminal by birth - declared criminal without any justification.

One person close to me actually was pick-pocketed by Gypsy kids in the streets of Rome. I had to explain to him the why. Gypsies in Italy arriving from the Baltic states where they have a history of slavery and severe marginalization, are denied all rights, all possibilities to earn an honest living. The children learn how to steal to survive, because they cannot be thrown into jail. If the parents get caught, leaving their children behind, they will starve to death.

As I have written before, during the war, when food and shelter meant survival, I knew not one person who did not steal. I did. Even the Catholic declared that “Mundraub”, stealing food for survival was not a sin.

Branding a Roma thief at birth is to inflict a deep and lasting wound, a handicap that is hard to overcome. Here in America we have about a million Roma. On a recent radio interview my host remarked “One doesn’t ever read about them in the papers over here,” meaning criminal activity. “That’s because,” I said, “given only the slightest chance they are like everybody else. They are Americans first, Roma by inherited culture; a beautiful culture which I am trying hard to give justice to.”

Prejudice is a dangerous phenomenon. Prejudice can kill, it is killing Roma in Europe as I am writing this. Do not be a silent by-stander, stand up for human rights for all.

The Lure of the Open Road - The Spirit of Nomadism

Like the wild geese I love, come late Fall I pack up to migrate south - 1500 + miles by car. “Why don’t you fly,” a fifty-year young man asked me. “Because,” I said, “for one, I am taking my animals. “ Only 2 dogs now, versus the several horses, 2 dogs, 2 cats and one bonsai tree I used to load up and caravan to the South. “But most of all,” I added, “I love the open road.” Leaving all the unnecessary junk we all accumulate behind, taking only the strictly necessary and driving into change - of weather, of landscape, of people. My mind is wide open as to what lies ahead, the unexpected. It’s like turning your face into the wind and letting your soul fly.

I grew up nomadic. Because of our flight from the Nazis, by the time I was 7, I knew nothing but war and moving on, always moving on - leaving behind memories of massacres, killing fields, ambushes and round-ups. It almost felt as if by walking on you could bury the horror underfoot. So that, for a long time, I only remembered moments of beauty. To this day, the howling of the wolves sends goose bumps down my spine. For then, their howling reassured us that for the moment all was safe, that right then no strange intruder was lurking about. Then there were those moments after the bombs stopped falling, the shooting stopped and the life of the forest resumed in full force. I thought of those years as happy, maybe because I was too young to see beyond our own survival.

The horror started when the so-called “Peace” trapped me in the place where I was born – Cologne, Germany, the place where I was told I must now settle down. A place in ruin, a place foreign to me, infested with rats and crime, a place of defeat, where I had to fester amidst the true horror of it all now out in the open. I had survived the war in freedom, but would I survive the peace forced upon me in a place of entrapment with people I grew up to consider as my enemies. The hopelessness of the war’s aftermath would never quite leave me.

Roma/Gypsies in Romania have lived under hopelessness far greater than what I experienced. Enslaved until 1865, exploited and scorned ever since, when a United Europe opened borders that had confined before, those Roma followed the first sign of hope ever, only to be flung back into a misery greater than the one they left.

Open your hearts to these most vulnerable people who have been part of our Western culture for over 600 years. Unite in the demand for their human rights.

The Effects of Severe and Enduring Poverty on the Gypsy People

It is true. I have been mostly focusing on the positive side of Roma
culture. That is because this ethnic minority has been relentlessly
beaten down for so long. Their spirit, however, has never been truly
defeated. Their defense has been to withdraw into invisibility. This has
helped them to survive, as Gypsies, but the more they withdraw, the more
the problems they face keep increasing. And now the time has come to
make a stand, for the places to hide are disappearing like arctic ice.

I am not an academic, although I have read every piece of research I
could lay my hands on, and there were many. I am not a politician. I am
merely another human being, a writer, an elder with lots of life
experience, who happens to have love and respect for the Roma people.
Our paths have crossed since I was a child. I have known them in
different countries, of different tribes. I have known some while still
nomadic, those who grew up nomadic then settled down, those who have
been settled for centuries. I am fully aware of the seemingly
insurmountable problems they are facing, most of them not part of their
culture, but a result of extreme poverty. To name a few, in my opinion
of course:

1- Roma, especially in the Balkans and Eastern Europe urgently need a
new type leadership. Whereas, while still nomadic, their leaders were
chosen because of their intelligence and their selflessness, poverty
drives the bad apples to the top. Men often without scruples toward the
majority that surrounds them, but unfortunately not caring about their
own either. Exploiters, not humanitarians. No different from the Mafia
in Sicily, Russia, gangs in black ghettos, the drug lords in Mexico,
etc. That unfortunately is the dark side of humanity. That is no
different for Gypsies. Unfortunately, this does not just happen in the
poor camps, but higher up, where money destined to change living
conditions for the poorest Gypsies never reaches its goal.

2- Again I am optimistic about a new type of leadership for Roma. I have
found the type of intelligent, selfless leadership reborn in evangelical
Roma, who are leading their congregation back to the old values via
religion. One particular such Roma pastor stood up for his rights
against a strong Southern county and won. Roma leaders like him, with
love and understanding, lots of help from the majority that rules, can
lead those long suffering European Roma to truly integrate into European
majority life, without losing their own culture, which, to my mind, is
in Europe's interest to preserve. But only Roma can lead Roma.

3- The division among the different tribes. This has always been the
norm. Just like in war zones the partisans split off into smaller groups
to avoid detection and getting killed, so these 'eternal strangers' had
to travel in small groups to survive, else they would have appeared like
an invading army. This of course created different cultures. Now they
have to unite, at least in Europe to achieve an effective political voice.

4- The Roma women in Europe are emancipating. This is to my mind of
extreme importance. They have always been the preserver of their
culture, but they have done so as backseat drivers. As a woman I have
the highest respect for the Roma woman. They remind me of the women of
partisans who dragged their kids through warzones. Only to the Roma the
war has never ended.

The true integration of Roma into European majority societies will take
lots of understanding of the problems caused by poverty, patience and
willingness to help them overcome the results of centuries of
marginalization. The time is now to undo the harm done to the Roma people.

Europe Forced Roma/Gypsies Off Their Ancient Treks and Set Them Up For Failure

Their culture was different from those of settled folks. They were entrepreneurs specializing in iron-smitheries, lace and candle-stick making, basket-weaving, dealing in the animal that was sacred to them, the horse. Nobody can handle a horse the way a Lovara horse-dealer can. But most of all they were artists, dancers, singers, musicians, poets, actors and circus performers. They added joy to the often drab lives of many.

Their strength centered on absolute honesty and loyalty within the tribe. Their leaders were chosen because of intelligence and selflessness. Strict cleanliness rules surrounded their daily lives, rich with children. They watched with horror of killer war after killer war of the settled folks. A silent minority, they withdrew and moved on.

But the laws of the settled folks were rigid and strictly enforced. They allowed for no freely moving parts that did not belong. So little by little, these peace-loving nomads found their treks barred. They were pushed into areas nobody else wanted, hidden from sight. Here they were offered no schooling, in order to be branded as ignorant. No sanitation in order to be called dirty. No opportunity to make a living, so that theft was often the only means of survival, so that would mark them as thieves, or lazy.

The time has come to right these century-old wrongs. The Gypsy people are like all other people. They have their good and their bad. They do have different value systems. To them rich is not what you own, but what you share. Life is there to enjoy within the circle of those you love. Try and look at our world through their eyes: - the wars, the dictators, the inequality, the deterioration of family life, the obsession with worldly goods.

We, the non-Gypsies, should celebrate not destroy what is left of their culture. Stop persecuting the Roma people. They for one do not deserve it.

Persecutions of Roma/Gypsies Have Never Stopped, 1400 to Now. Why?

Unlike settled Europeans, who fought war after war over territories,
their own and those of their neighbors, all Roma ever wanted was to be
left alone. Instead of war they showed respect to the territories they
crossed, as well as the bigger animals that shared their living space.
They arrived into Western culture with a great variety of professions –
iron-forging, horse-dealing, basket weaving, lace-making etc., and of
course entertainment – music, dancing, traveling circuses with all kinds
of performing acts, fortune-telling.

So why the enduring hate? The reasons on the part of those who live a
settled life have been explained, examined, over and over again –
xenophobia, prejudice, misconceptions, the need to produce a scapegoat
to blame for their own times of trouble.

But what about the part of the Roma themselves? I personally believe, as
more and more open territory came under control, the professions the
Roma had travelled with for centuries became obsolete through
modernization, the Roma were forced into poverty and areas encircled by
the totalitarian law of Might is Right. By then, what had once been the
Romani way of survival was turning against them. Life in small,
traveling units, by then had resulted in division instead of unity, lack
of unity in turn made them vulnerable to attack, lack of opportunity for
work, forced them into petty crime (within their own culture, theft,
lying were considered high treason, and practically non-existent).
Instead of human rights, a Roma baby received brands that he or she
would never able to erase.

But I firmly believe a new day is dawning for the Roma people. I see,
that instead of withdrawing into invisibility at the onslaught of
persecution, as they have done in the past believing that only then they
could survive, Roma people are starting to unite. Modern type leaders
will start to emerge from their midst. They are starting to demand their
European birth rights, thereby exposing the hypocrisy of countries who
call themselves democratic. As they do so, idealistic non-Gypsies have
started to, and will increase in numbers, march along their sides in
support.

'Opre Roma' (Roma Rise) is becoming a reality.

The Standardization of American Fiction

Once upon a time, until roughly 60 years ago, those born to write,
lovers of reading, blessed with talent, embarked on this journey of the
mind in isolation. When in trouble, because that journey is fraught with
obstacles and pitfalls, they sought out other writers to share the agony
and the ecstasy, the hopes and the uncertainty, drawing knowledge from
the giants of the past who had paved the way, searching for hints to woo
and conquer that ultimate bride - THE READER. Once the fledgling novel
was hatched it was sought out by or handed over to publishers big or
small who cared, many had a vision. They took the new-born novel and ran
with it, along a lengthening path into the welcoming readership.

That path was bombed, made impassible. Now those born to write, lovers
of reading, blessed with talent are processed by those who teach to
write, who dictate the rules of 'how to' and 'when to, and 'what not
to'. An art form has turned into an academy. Writes the
"huffingtonpost.com: The academy is ruled by 'theorists' who consider
their work superior to the literature they deconstruct, and moreover
they have no interest in contemporary literature." And to finish the
newborn novel off, again writes "huffingtonpost.com: As for conglomerate
publishing, the decision makers wouldn't know great literature if it hit
them in the face." And last but not least, the coup de grace, same
source "And the mainstream reviewing establishment (which is crumbling
by the minute) validates their choices with fatuous accolades,
recruiting mediocre writers to blurb (review) them."

Want to know my personal opinion? WRITERS UNITE.

Often Art Succeeds Where All Else Fails

Once upon a time, alas by now a long time ago, when Gypsies or to be
correct the Roma people where still allowed to follow the nomadic lives
of their choice, there were those afraid of and maligning, rightly or
wrongly, strangers who entered their settled lives. But much stronger
than the prejudice against the Roma outsiders, were perceptions of
freedom and romanticism they inspired. Great writers depicted their
lives with love and longing: Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dumas, Marquez, and on
and on. But as the last of their ancient treks were barred and they were
pushed more and more into subhuman poverty and isolation, with their
freedom they soon lost their romantic sheen, leaving nothing but
misconceptions, lack of empathy, and downright racial hatred. By
contrast I have never met a person who personally knows the Roma people,
and who hates them and/or still harbors these misconceptions.

To reverse the increasingly one-sided negative image of this ancient
ethnic minority, I feel art is starting to play a dominant role. Fashion
shows with beautiful Roma women showing off their colorful and fluid
attires, movie and documentary film makers are and have been entering
the day-to-day of their lives and art. More than fifteen years ago, I
started research on my novel Dosha, flight of the Russian Gypsies. A lot
of my material came from the Russian Gypsy writer Mateo Maximoff, for
the rest I prayed that God give me the power to do justice to their
harmonious and rich culture. When I started, Gypsies in Western Europe
lived mostly in harmony within the majority that surrounded them. Then I
merely wanted to reveal the reality behind the myth. Now that an
economic downturn has stirred up renewed and deadly persecutions, I hope
my novel will highlight the inhumanity of their persecutors. Once again
humans are persecuting and killing fellow humans, the very act that
originally decided Gypsies to keep moving into the sanctity of nature,
and thereby remain outsiders to the human killer fields.

Save The Roma/Gypsy Children Of Kosovo

I was told by Roma in Kosovo, that their families had been settled in
houses, in villages for centuries there. They had jobs, they had small
business. They lost everything including many loved ones during NATO's
"humanitarian" bombings during the last Kosovo war. This in turn, with
UN troops looking the other way, was followed by the Kosovo Liberation
Army's and triumphant Albanians' vengeful campaigns of rape, torture,
random assassinations of Roma believed to have sided with the Serbs. The
surviving Roma were either expelled or forced to live on lead polluted
dumps.

One who I am honored to call my friend, Paul Polansky, a poet and tried
and true friend of Kosovar Roma, told me children are born with bleeding
gums and stunted growth on those dumps. He took several of them to
Germany for observation and possible help. Many other Kosovar Roma had
sought refuge in Germany. Roma children were born and raised there. Now
they are being forced to return to Kosovo, into an environment of
hatred, possible torture and death.

The Roma are like us. They love their children. Back them up by raising
awareness.

Political Invisibility Vs. A New Type Of Leader For Europe’s Gypsy/ Roma People

There are between 12 and 16 million Roma living in Europe. Increased
persecution coupled with an absence of legal protection and the most
basic human rights are pushing Europe's Gypsy people to protect
themselves the way they have for over 600 years – they withdraw into
invisibility. Their life-expectancy is low, the general health of many
is often poor, their children are discriminated in school or are not
obtaining formal education at all. They are murdered by fire-bombs in
their sleep, women and children openly attacked in the streets, and
newspapers, radios and television stations rarely direct attention to
Europe's latest episode of a holocaust that never really left.

It seems that Roma are waking up to the fact that a new type of leader
is needed for their people, one who unites, at least to the outside, the
many separate tribes. He has to be Roma, for Gypsies can only be lead by
one of their own. One who builds bridges across the ancient divide
between Roma and the majority population and starts chipping away at the
many misconceptions held rigidly by both sides. A leader like Martin
Luther King comes to mind, a man of faith and dedication, who believed
in using civil disobedience and other peaceful means to cross the racial
divide here in the States. I have known such Roma men: Mateo
Maximoff, a Russian Gypsy, living in Paris. He was a man of religion, an
evangelical pastor. He had reached across the divide, was backed by
friends on both sides. Gypsies then, up to 1999, the year of his death,
were doing relatively well in France. He was and still is well known by
Roma here in the United States. There are Roma like him right here in
the States, just as there must be in Europe too, Roma men of faith,
dedicated and selfless. Change has to happen, and it has to happen now.

THE SILENCE OF THE PRESS vs. GYPSIES/ROMA and their HUMAN RIGHTS.

[Roma Virtual Network (romale@zahav.net.il)]
July 5, 2010

"There is a real desire in France to silence all stories dealing with
violations of Roma rights, and so very few are aware of what is about to
take place this week, in a small shanty town called Hanul, located in
St.Denis"………that's near Paris,France.

HELLO!

Anybody remember the holocaust, porraimos (the devouring) as the Gypsies
call it? Well that's exactly how that started. No press. After that 80
million Germans looked the other way. Only when the American press
finally picked up the story, by which time millions of innocent people
had been murdered, did the world do something about it.

How many lessons does it take, for some fundamentals to finally sink in?
What you do or let happen to others, will in the end catch up with you.
Germany paid dearly, and was only able to get up from her knees, when
America pulled her back up.

The Gypsies are Europe's most vulnerable and, yes, innocent minority.
Maybe they steal when they're hungry, not different from any other
hungry mouth, but they have never been killers. They are our human
brothers and sisters, part of our human family, stand up and speak out
for their rights. It will create a world in which all of us can thrive.

Decade of Roma Inclusion: Is it Working?

2005-2015 A political commitment by Governments to fight Roma poverty
and discrimination. We're half-way through. Has it worked?

On the political majority side, if anything prejudice and vicious
persecutions in a down-economy have risen. What about the Roma side,
Europe's largest minority? Gypsies are always a reflection of their
surroundings. While still nomadic, they lived in perfect harmony with
their surroundings, respecting life of humans and animals alike. Their
response to the wars raging around them, has always been avoidance. But
they have been forcibly pulled off their ancient treks and pushed into
cage-like settlements into the poorest, least law-abiding sections of
Western society, where they have to survive surrounded by prejudice and
downright hatred. But Gypsies have had at their core family ties
stronger than of those who surround them. These families close in on to
themselves when they feel threatened, a tool of survival, yet by now
resulting in a weakness of the Gypsy population as a whole. The Roma
population has been and still is divided into tribes and family units.
As a result they do not, nor ever have had, a unified political voice.
This and their peaceful nature makes them very vulnerable and defenseless.

The big question is, why an intelligent, talented people with strong
family ties and loyalties, who are not known to turn to violent
reprisals, fanaticism or radicalism like so many other ethnic groups,
why are they so maligned and hated.

The answer is simple: Those around them do not know nor understand them.
They see them only through the eyes of prejudice and misconceptions. The
big task is for both sides to learn more about each other, have the
separate communities get into real contact.

My personal feeling is that, so far, the economic downturn and the
efforts made by several human rights organizations have so far merely
raised awareness of the existing and enduring problems. To my mind that
is a step in the right direction. The next step has to be finding a way
to solve these problems, through education, training of job skills,
acceptance and respect. For the Roma the prize cannot be a loss of their
culture. Theirs is a peaceful culture, we can learn from them in that
respect. The petty criminality they are accused of is a function of
poverty, no different than existed among Europe's poor before their
nations turned wealthier, offering an escape from poverty. Now only Roma
seem to have to live under third world conditions, that is what now has
to change.

MOTHER TERESA -- tiny Gypsy woman, Great Saint to us all.

I always believed she was an Albanian Gypsy, but a Roma friend told me
she was a Macedonian Gypsy living among Albanians. One thing I am sure
of, Mother Teresa, never asked the question – who are you, where are you
from, what ethnic group do you belong to? She worked among the poorest
of the poor, hers was the heart of true humanity. A guiding light in a
destructive world, nobody deserves more than Mother Teresa to have the
Empire State building lit in honor of her 100th birthday.

In fact her type of religiosity and goodness of the heart I have found
among other religious Gypsies. I have been religious without being a
churchgoer since my childhood days in a war zone. I once told a Roma
pastor, a church is only as good as its pastor. I have come across only
a few religious leaders who actually stuck their neck out to help the
persecuted. I rarely felt God in the European churches I grew up with. I
did feel his presence, a true gift, in a Roma church in Florida, which I
frequent as often as I can. There too, the pastor, his wife and his
congregation, even in these tough economic times, try to reach out to
whoever is poor and near.

We are all of the same human race that from time to time produces a true
star. Mother Teresa is such a star. She would have wanted us to stick
together, and work toward a better world.

GYPSY, the word

It was a misnomer from the beginning. When a group of travelers arrived
into medieval Europe in the fourteen hundreds, they were believed to
come from Egypt, therefore they were called Egyptians/Gypsies. These
colorful travelers, entertainers, fortune-tellers, horse-people did
nothing to dispel that misconception. Their country, ever since leaving
India hundreds of years before, was the open road; they interacted with
outsiders merely to supply their families with the necessities of life.

At first these entertaining people were greeted with open arms, they
brought joy into the harsh life of sedentary folks who were divided into
a handful of rulers and a vast majority of the poor who had to serve
these few rich and powerful. But it did not take long for this
underclass of peasants and servants to become envious of the freedom and
independence of these often dark-skinned nomadic strangers, who were and
always had been people of peace. The sedentary folks started taking up
whatever arms were at hand – after all wars were part of their lives –
and went to hunt down these nomads who abhorred violence and killings.
They killed many outright, in brutal medieval fashion, many were caged
like animals of the wild. The persecution of the Gypsies, their real
name is Roma, has had its ups and downs, but has never truly stopped. It
is reaching another peak in Europe as I am writing this.

Many, not all, of the Gypsy people now want to be known as Roma only.
That is their right, their choice. To them the word Gypsy has become a
derogatory term, a curse. I cannot help but feel a certain sadness. To
me personally the word Gypsy has always meant warmth, loyalty, and love
of life. In my darkest moments there was always some Gypsy or other to
pat me on the shoulder, to sit down with me and talk. It is not the
Gypsy who has sullied that word, it is us. For, be honest, who among you
has ever experienced harm done by a Gypsy, a Roma? Most of you know them
only through hearsay and prejudice. In reality they are part of and
contributors to our culture. I would feel mournful at having to bury the
Gypsy word. But nomads have always buried their loved ones and tragedies
and walked into the future. We have much to learn from them.

The Howling Of The Wolf!

For a long time I didn't remember seeing them. But I remember their
howling, like true Gypsy music it went right to my heart. It enabled my
soul to lift above my body and fly. Taste the beauty of freedom. For I
knew that while the wolves howled, we were safe in those forests, or in
those abandoned buildings, where we hid getting away from Nazi killers,
or anybody else who killed before asking questions in the war zones of
World War II. For who knew the forest better than the highly
intelligent wolf? Always on the prowl, communicating with each other,
they knew before anybody else if there was an intruder, a killer on the
prowl. Then, a few days ago, while walking my beloved pooch around a
pond, I noticed a black dog standing in the water and intensely staring
at his feet. That's when I remembered a wolf, like the dog, fishing.
Then other memories came back, witnessing a wolf, almost playfully
jumping up and down, while catching mice. "It's what they live off," my
father told me.

I buried most of my memories of war in order to be able to walk into the
future, but wolves left their imprint on my soul. I have since studied
them through reading. They live by moral codes we most value in man:
they choose a mate for life, they are loyal to each other, they both
care for the pups, and in fact the whole extended family does. I've have
never heard of a wolf attacking man, except maybe in self-defense.

We must stop the killing of this noble and beautiful creature. Look into
his human eyes! Killing them from the air for sport, is abhorrent,
sub-human. Save the American Wolf!

SEX IN THE U.S. vs. EUROPE – FROM THE 50’s TO NOW

BLOG 1. -- THE PURITANICAL FIFTIES

I was a teenager when I first arrived in the States. I arrived from
Italy where, as the poor relative of a wealthy family, I was told the
facts of life. Marriage was not about romance. It was an alliance of
mutual benefits. Since I was penniless, my sole assets were good looks
and health. The latter was of prime importance, since my major
contribution was to ensure the continuation of an old family line. (I
never signed on to that one on the dotted line since I was a rebel since
birth. I did, however, apply the concept later on in my life to the
breeding of top competition horses.)

Formal education for a "young lady" was not required, I was assured.
Instead I was taught to talk about art and music in multiple languages,
appear not too intelligent, and eat modestly when in company. Of the
utmost importance was virginity. How else could I guarantee not to
function as a cuckoo's nest? In those days, in the Italy I inhabited,
potential in-laws were allowed to study you in detail, whereas the
potential suitor was limited to a mere ogle, but any type of touch was
out of the question, as was time alone before an official engagement.
These suitors often had titles, but resembled in no way Michelangelo's
statue of David, which I in turn used to ogle, discretely, wondering.

With that preparatory introduction into life's facts, I arrived in the
U.S. There, in a small town, I was to attend an American high school for
six months out of the year. What I found were bobby socks, strange ways
of dressing, chewing gum and blowing huge bubbles, and a culture of
Romance; from going wild while dancing jitterbugs, to the grindingly
slow cheek-to-cheek dancing in the dark. Allowed were open appraisals of
a girl's curves, followed by whistles (behavior reserved for lower
classes in Italy, and mostly applied to tourists from Northern
countries). Rampant was an activity called 'Necking". This was carried
out mostly in the backseats of some parents' car, movie theaters, in
parking lots, or along riversides. Everything was allowed: touching,
'French' kissing, except………IT. Nice girls were virgins here too on their
wedding night. In America, if this was not the case, an American friend
told me, you simply assure him he is the second, i.e. slip-ups can
happen. In Italy by contrast, I was told there were surgical procedure
to put things back into order.

Any type of nudity was out of the question. No bikinis, as heavily
guarded virgins in Italy were allowed to wear, no nude pictures in
magazines. The kind of openly pornographic material I was used to seeing
on newspaper stands in Paris were, I believe, here were punishable by
U.S. law. I felt like an alien who had landed on Planet U.S.A. Of
course, instead of peer pressure, I had family pressure. Juvenile
American sexual behaviors were strictly off limits to me. Nor was I
tempted. Came prom night. Several young men, among them the high school
tennis star asked me out, but I was obliged to go with a young man,
intelligent, nice and nerdy, simply because he was my cousin's closest
friend. The evening was awkward, with much blushing and little dialogue.
When finally he walked me back up a hill to our house, and in front of
our entrance bent over and out of nowhere shot his tongue toward my
mouth, like a sleepy lizard catching a fly, my instinctive reaction was
to whack him across the face, which in turn sent him flying to his
parents stationed in their car at the bottom of the hill waiting for his
return.

That same evening my cousin told me, he, the prom date, only did what
was expected of him. So did I. Of course now, 2010, Grandma Sonia knows
that date was somebody's most beloved son and hope for the future, who
had finally gotten up the courage in the chiaroscuro of our house
entrance. In retrospect I'd say, we merely remained, each of us, on our
own side of the cultural divide.