gypsycarol: Dream:The favor of Gypsies

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Dream:The favor of Gypsies

Mornings, waking up, the dreams of the night usually burst like fugitive and fragile soap bubbles. But not always.

I am at a gathering and dear Katy sits beside me. As we have done so many times before, we make plans for the clothes we might wear to the next Machvaia party. But dream transitions are fluid and, look, Gypsies are arriving! We are already at a Machvaia party!
The people are ready: they bring their best party look, their good will, good thoughts, and the intent for celebration. Frissons of excitement as I realize they are asking who I am. More frissons as I am reminded that I am an Outsider and, by Machvaia law, am not supposed to be here.
But the nearness of Katy reassures me. Katy is my benefactor, protector, friend through many years of parties. In my dream I can't really see her clearly. But I can feel her warmth, the comfort of sharing; we are joined in the joy of innumerable experiences like these. Now dead a decade, she is, to me, more compellingly alive than ever. So alive that Katyness greets me on awakening. Katyness follows me through the day and into the week, making me invincible.

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Born in Spokane, Washington, the first decade of my life I lived downtown in the hotel my father managed. There, my friends were retired musicians, artists, dancers, and I even had trendy lessons in elocution. We moved to a tough urban neighborhood and then to a house in the suburbs where there was a swimming pool and places to ride a bicycle. School bored me and my grades were mediocre, until I began at the University of Idaho. At seventeen, I found I loved learning – I had always read – the Friday afternoon beer fests, and joined Alpha Chi Omega. I married, had two children, divorced, and, with a passion to understand people, what they are like, how they behave, and why. I went to graduate school at the University of Washington in anthropology. In Seattle, I met the inimitable Lola and began fieldwork with the Machvaia Roma. An elusive people, they piqued my curiosity. I dove into their world and became the Outsider/Insider. They called me The Djuhli. Recent publications? Lola’s Luck: My Life Among the California Gypsies and the Church of Cheese: Gypsy Ritual in the American Heyday.

Now I live again in Seattle near my family and far from Gypsies. For forty years, studying, living with, writing about the Machvaia Roma was my mission. Although I still feel part Machvanka, nearly all my dearest friends have moved along to the Other Side and, to get the Gypsy news, I must phone their children and grandchildren.

Several mornings a week I do aerobics at the local YMCA, row there on occasion with one sister, visit the Asian Art Museum with another, walk at the nearby zoo, Green Lake, or in the new habitat restoration wetlands at Magnuson Park, drive my at-work son crazy with questions about computer glitches, read The New Yorker cover to cover, shop the Coop every Tuesday for organic produce with my daughter, check out used DVDs for sale at Scarecrow – I like French movies – and work the crosswords in the NY Times.

Machvaia rituals, beliefs, and the cultural supports that kept them together are eroding. After generations in American society they have lost many of their traditions and knowledge of their past. It is my wish to preserve their history and help bridge the gap between the two worlds. They have entrusted me with their friendship, and I honor them the best way that I know how- by telling their stories. I hope those who read my blog will share some of my fascination for the people I studied and gain a modicum of compassionate regard for the Gypsies among us.