Gypsy in Black: the Romance of Gypsy Travelers (2015)
“But, in the long run, she felt as though she had just been born. She fell into this life with her arms open, embracing the new world that surrounded her.
Was it only a week ago that he told me, she thought to herself. So much had happened. It didn’t take long for the town people to chase the gypsies away shortly after their arrival. “We are always on the run from folklore we did not create,” Nicolae had explained. Sahara knew that town people did not trust the gypsies, often believing the stories about gypsies stealing chickens and children. In the morning hours, the camp was packed up and the wagons loaded. Once again, the caravan travelled down the road. The day was just as grueling as the first time Sahara had traveled with the gypsies. At the end of the day, she ached just as badly. Her hands blistered from driving the horses, the old ones were calloused over but new ones broke open. But, she didn’t complain. Instead, she held her head high, refusing to relinquish th...e reins to the old man. In her mind, she saw her mother, guiding her along the way. If her mother had been so strong, Sahara knew that she could be, too. The children still laughed and the older gypsies smiled. In new towns, they could trade horses, sell goods, trade, and tell fortunes. After traveling all day, the men on the horses returned to the traveling caravan. They had ridden ahead to scout out the area. It was Nicolae who reined in his horse, a solid black horse with a lone white stripe down its nose. The horse snorted and pranced in place. “Only over the hill,”MoreLess
Was it only a week ago that he told me, she thought to herself. So much had happened. It didn’t take long for the town people to chase the gypsies away shortly after their arrival. “We are always on the run from folklore we did not create,” Nicolae had explained. Sahara knew that town people did not trust the gypsies, often believing the stories about gypsies stealing chickens and children. In the morning hours, the camp was packed up and the wagons loaded. Once again, the caravan travelled down the road. The day was just as grueling as the first time Sahara had traveled with the gypsies. At the end of the day, she ached just as badly. Her hands blistered from driving the horses, the old ones were calloused over but new ones broke open. But, she didn’t complain. Instead, she held her head high, refusing to relinquish th...e reins to the old man. In her mind, she saw her mother, guiding her along the way. If her mother had been so strong, Sahara knew that she could be, too. The children still laughed and the older gypsies smiled. In new towns, they could trade horses, sell goods, trade, and tell fortunes. After traveling all day, the men on the horses returned to the traveling caravan. They had ridden ahead to scout out the area. It was Nicolae who reined in his horse, a solid black horse with a lone white stripe down its nose. The horse snorted and pranced in place. “Only over the hill,”MoreLess
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