Gypsyland

Every once in a while you simply must enjoy life around you. I had the most interesting discussion with a young lady approximately nine years of age over the course of a twenty-four hour camp out at a local park where I volunteer.

The evening was not intended to be anything "Gypsy" at all. I was in charge of teaching a group of Girl Scouts how to bake bread on a stick over a camp fire. I had sixteen girls total, all around 9 years old. From out of the blue comes the question "Do Gypsies wear swimsuits?" The question was not directed at me, but at one of the child's friends. The friend responded in that 'all-knowing' voice that Gypsies were from Egypt and they don't swim in Egypt because it is a desert, that everyone wears 'dresses' that go to the ground, even the men, so no, Gypsies do not wear swimsuits, they were dresses and lots and lots of jewelry, especially really big ear rings.

I asked where the question had come from and why the child had asked. She 'saw on TV where Gypsy girls don't wear the right clothes all the time," and I can only assume she'd seen My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. We began to have a short conversation about real Gypsies and their origins. It took me awhile to convince them, but I managed to get the idea that Gypsies are from Egypt out of their heads.

This must have sat in this little girl's mind and percolated throughout story time at the bonfire. She came to the Visitor's Center, which was where I was spending the night, and asked me about 'Gypsyland.' I had my laptop set up, but was unable to connect to the Internet, so we had a nice little talk.

Where was Gypsyland?

I had to explain once more the idea that Gypsies (I gave up on the word Romanies by then) came from India, but there was no one place in the world that was 'Gypsyland.' She grew very quiet and I could see this idea had just blew apart her concept of the universe and required more thought. She thanked me for the information and went on her way.

The next morning, she approached me and asked if my laptop was the type of computers we use in Gypsyland.  This time I tried a different approach. I told her that there really wasn't a Gypsyland, that I was from her hometown, and that my laptop could be purchased by anyone at Best Buy. "Gypsies are just like you. We don't own anything special that makes us Gypsies."

"Oh," and with such a look of disappointment!

The girls asked if I had any Gypsy music on my laptop, so I pulled up VIA Romen and let that play awhile. And she was back.

"Is that the kind of music they have in Gypsyland?"

"We have many different musicians who play many types of music, but, please understand, my dear, there is no Gypsyland."

About 20 minutes later we were on a hay rack ride touring the park and my little Gypsy girl was still contemplating the universe. Again, she looked at me and asked if Gypsyland was as big as the park or smaller. And after a similar conversation to those mentioned above, she still had that look of confusion on her face.

At breakfast, she asked if the foods were the same in Gypsyland.

"I eat the same things you do, sweetheart. I had donuts and orange juice like you did. There isn't any special food Gypsies eat because Gypsies live everywhere. There is no one place we can call our own."

She still wasn't satisfied, but then, neither was I. As she walked away to go home with her mom, I couldn't help but think about those days a thousand years ago, when the long road began, just what it may have been like in Gypsyland.