HEART TO HEART CONVERSATION

Gypsy

Good evening, my friend. Yes, I know it is late, but it is never too late for a good tale to be told, isn't it? Awww, it's not like you did any work today so you can't be that tired. O yes? Now you do want to hear it? Very well.

I told you that I ran away from home. That turned out to be a very bad idea. It was autumn and the night was cold and foggy and dark and I was a child of nearly eight years. Yes, that was important, I was not seven, I was nearly eight. What? No, that is not the same. To me that was very important at that time. But a child alone in the night, the coldness and the fog in a wood - well, that was frightening. I had nothing but my clothes, not even shoes, no knife, no matches, no lamp, nothing. All I had was a crude stick I had found in the woods. Of course I knew tales about wolves lurking in the wood, waiting to eat children who dared to go there at night, of course I knew tales about robbers who did even worse to children and in this fog and darkness I had trouble staying on the street. You see the street was not like a street in Paris, it was just a trail, nothing more.

That night was one of the most frightening nights in my life. I had no idea where I was, where the next town was and I heard so many noises I had never heard before. In the silence of the night even the tiniest noise was like thunder in my head and I was so scared, my imagination played cruel tricks on me, making me see wolves everywhere. There was not one wolf, or I would not be here today and if there were robbers, they surely knew better than to waste time with a child which didn't even have shoes. It was so cold, I didn't feel my feet after a while. Since I had no watch I did not know the time, I just went on because I knew when I would sit down I would die for sure.

You can't imagine my relief when the first light of the morning showed me that there were no wolves, what I had seen were just bushes and a stray cat. I was tired, hungry and cold, but I was still alive and started to wonder what I was to do. I had no idea what the world was like, all I knew was that I had to find something to eat and something to keep me warm. I wouldn't dare wander through the wood again, one night had been more than enough to scare the hell out of me.

It was about noon when I reached a village. I was very thirsty and found a small well with a hand-operated pump where I got some ice cold water to drink. Unfortunately someone saw me and within moments several women were there, shouting at me to get away from their water. I didn't argue, I just ran. What else could I have done? I still wonder what they thought I was doing - surely a few gulps of water would not make any difference to them.

When I walked through the village I made the mistake not hiding myself and was spotted by children who came from school. They attacked me and forced me to take off my mask. When they saw my face they ran away, crying they had just seen the walking dead and I fled from that village before they would beat me to death, which turned out to cause another problem - I was on the road again, with nowhere to go and scared of the night. But luckily I found a tiny chapel somewhere, it was so small, it just had a miniature altar and not even one bench, but I found shelter there and I even slept a few hours despite the coldness and my fear and woke with a terrible cough and my pants wet.

The next day I reached another village, but this time I didn't just go there. I sneaked around it, trying to find some water and maybe even food. Close to the churchyard I saw a beautiful carriage with a emblem. I knew that only nobility used such emblems and since I had always heard that noblemen would be good I dared approach the carriage. The driver was going to the small well with a bucket to get water for the horses while a young man fed the two horses with small pieces of bread. I would have loved to have some of the bread for myself, so I just went to him and asked directly, naive boy that I was I hoped he would help me. He looked down on me in contempt.

"I can brush the horses, clean their hooves, fetch them water if you give me some of the bread," I begged. He looked down at me and told me to get away from him, he didn't want to get fleas from beggars like me. I tried to argue that I was no beggar but he replied: "Surely you understand, boy, that I do not need you. If I let you brush the horses, you would take away that work from my driver and he has a family to feed. You don't want that, do you?" I was hungry, but not hungry enough not to understand that the driver's family needed the income. So I just turned to begging, but he fed all of the bred to his horses and I could just watch from some distance. When I saw him disappear to the graveyard with a very large candle telling the driver to use the overlay so the horse rugs would not get dirty something within me snapped. I saw the horses wearing velvet with golden embroidery and linnen overlays while I was so cold and hungry something within me snapped. I went to the carriage again while the driver was away to relieve himself and took a woolen blanket from the seat and ran away as fast as I could. I think it was my first real theft, if I do not count stealing sweets from mother's kitchen, but I did not feel bad about it.

I had made a mistake and chosen the wrong path for suddenly I was at the small chapel again. It was too late to return to the village - and I didn't even want to - so I spent another night there, plagued by nightmares about wolves and children attacking me. I woke early because of the terrible hunger and started to walk again, this time I took another road at a junction. When I came by a fruit garden I saw so many apple and pear trees, I just had to go there. I took some peas and apples and went away to find myself a hiding place where I could eat them. I guess I ate a bit too much for withing few hours I had terrible diarrhoea, I needed to hide in the undergrowth beside the road every so often, but I did not only hide when I had to relieve myself, I also hid when I noticed other people on the road. I didn't want to meet anyone.

In the next village I put the blanket around my head and shoulders, a bit like a woman wearing a chador, which helped hiding my masked face. In that makeshift disguise I sat down before the door of the church, keeping my head down, begging for food. There were a few benevolent people who gave me something. I didn't get any coins but I got some bread and a matchbox. By then I had a terrible cough and most likely fewer, so that night I sneaked into the church and curled up on the carped before the altar. I felt save there, at least as save as I could under these circumstances. Well, never sleep on a valuable carpet when you have the bad habit to wet the bed. It wasn't a pleasant morning, neither for me nor for the priest who found me. I had to run again, leaving the village, hoping they would not find me, but to my shame I have to admit that I stole a large candle from the church.

It was too cold to wash myself and my clothes, even as I found a small rivulet with crystal clear water. It just was too cold and I had no other clothes. I guess I didn't just look like a corpse then, I also stunk like one. Aww, come on, it IS funny after so many years. No, I am not ashamed. Why would I be? I was a sick child and had no one to help me.

That night I wandered with my candle in my hand, the candle giving me light and a bit warmth, it helped a lot to make me feel a bit better alone in the darkness and the fog. Or maybe the fewer just reached a point where I no longer cared if I died or not, breathing was painful and the coughing fits were even more painful and sometimes I though I would suffocate on the mucus, but fortunately I always managed to spit it out. I must have collapsed somewhere, for I found myself lying on a pile of dry leaves in a very large tent, when I next opened my eyes without any idea how I had ended up there. In that tent were many horses tied to pegs. I was in some sort of mobile horse-stable and stared at the many different horses I saw there.

"You awake?" I heard a voice. A man with dark skin and funny clothes brushed the horses. I answered only with a coughing fit. He came to me, touched my forehead and I screamed as I noticed that I was naked, really naked, I didn't have a mask. "Hush, calm down, I won't hurt you", the man said and pointed to a bowl next to me. "Eat!" It was some sort of soup, not really hot anymore but I was starving. I ate as hastily as my cough allowed it. Then I thanked the man and asked if he could give my clothes back. He pointed to a pile of rags. These were not my clothes but I had no choice and put them on.

It turned out that a gypsy tribe had found me unconscious on the street. They had taken me in and now the man with the horses told me I had to stay with them. I didn't understand why but I was very happy that at last someone actually WANTED to have me. "You really want to keep me?" I asked astonished, "Really? O thank you! I promise to be good! I can brush your horses and clean their hooves, I promise, I do everything, just let me stay!"

I guess he was taken aback by my eagerness to live with them, but he agreed.

The gypsies were just one large family, a grandfather who was the only one to make any decisions, his seven sons and their wives and their children. They lived in horse-drawn wooden caravans and they were in the horseflesh-business. They had some mares, a stallion and they bred horses, but they would also buy horses, make them "look good" and sell them. There is a nice German word for people like that: "Rosstäuscher" - that is someone who makes an old, sick horse look so good it can be sold - and hopefully you get away from the buyer before he finds out he has been betrayed. Well, they surely were tricksters.

Living with them wasn't bad. I was one of the first ones to get up in the morning and start brushing the horses, cleaning the hooves, help feeding the horses and I was also taught how to make them look good. I was good with the horses and I liked them.

I did not like the other children. They loved to taunt me, called me shit-eater and loved to tie me to a tree and use me as target to throw horse-droppings at me. One hit to my arms or legs was one point, hit my torso was two points, hit my face three points. When I was dirty, I got punished by the young women who had to do the laundry, they would just beat me brutally. I did not dare tell her what her children were doing to me, I was too scared of them, so in the end when they wanted to "play with me" I went with them, stripped naked and they did not even need to tie me up, I endured their game, washed myself, got dressed and went back to the camp with them. Of course they pretended to be my friends around adults. My only protection against their humiliating game was to stay close to the adults and do some work for them. As long as I worked, the other children left me in peace for they knew that if I didn't do that work, they would have to do it.

Why I did not run away? Well, where do you think I could have gone? I still had that cough, it got better but I didn't really get rid of it. And with the gypsies I could sleep in the tent with the horses, when they travelled I sat at the back of one of the horses they wanted to sell, I got food and clothing. Of course I got beaten for disobedience, for asking for more food, for being disrespectful to the grandfather, for getting my clothes dirty, for showing my face - I didn't have a mask, I just had a headscarf I would tie around my head in a certain way - and for frightening the small children. But then... that was nothing I didn't experience before. And the one man who had taken me in - he was really nice. He taught me to ride a horse, to care for a horse, the difference between good and bad horses, and whenever I asked him if he still wanted to have me he said yes. Why would I ever run away if he wanted me? He did treat me like one of his horses, and this meant I was well-fed, I even got some wine with water or hot wine when winter came. He even gave me socks and wooden clogs, so I did no longer have to walk in the snow barefooted. And I was happy. Yes, I was happy for the first time in my life someone told me that he wanted to keep me.

We traveled somewhere through France, always buying horses, taking them with us a few days, selling them again. When my guardian wanted to show the buyers that a horse was really gentle as a lamb I would have to hold it. I was skeletally thin and just a small boy, so when I could handle a horse the buyers thought it had to be a gentle one. They didn't know that I just had an apple in my shirt and the horse stood before me, it's nose nuzzling my shirt, because it wanted the apple. Or sometimes they would just give it wine to make it drunk. Then you could do almost everything with that horse, even if it was a nasty beast. Washing the fur with eggs made it shine, brushing the teeth with ashes made them look white. If they wanted a weak horse look like a fiery racehorse they would push an onion in its ass.

What? With an onion in your ass I'd like you see running!

Travelling with them I learned that they spoke many languages, they had their own language, and they spoke French, English and German. When they sat at the camp fire they would tell stories in all of these languages and I kept asking what they were talking. This was something that was allowed. Of course the other children mocked me, for I was so stupid and didn't understand any language other than French, but my guardian told me. He even started to teach me the basics of these languages when we rode side by side. I loved him, but I do not think he had any affection towards me. He just made me presentable like he would with a horse he wanted to sell at a better price.

How I know this? Patience, I am going to tell you. Shortly after Christmas we met another gypsy tribe. I was in the tent brushing the horses when my guardian came to me and told me he had something very important to discuss. I didn't understand why anyone would discuss anything with me - they never did - but we sat in the stray and he told me that his eldest son was going to be married. The bride would come from the other tribe. She was a virgin, a diligent, obedient girl and he would have to pay a high bride price for she was beautiful too. She was worth four horses.

Why not? Many cultures know bride prices, why would I question them? I didn't even know Frenchmen had no bride prices but dowry, the father would not get money if he gives his daughter away, he would have to pay the groom to take her - what is more humiliating for a girl? To know that she is valuable or to know that her father had to pay to get rid of her? Stop interrupting me if you want to hear my story! Yes, I know it is late, so the sooner I can get on with it the sooner you can go to sleep.

He asked me to follow him and I did. He brought me to the camp fire where grandfather was sitting with three other old men. They all looked at me and I was told to take off my scarf, when I did not obey my guardian ripped it off and hit my legs with his whip for my disobedience. I stood there, staring at the men as they stared at me. One of them came over to me and took my chin in his hand, forcing me to open my mouth, studying me as if I was a horse. Then I was told to go back to the stable and continue with my work.

A little bit later my guardian came in and told me that I would have to leave him. I panicked, threw myself at his feet, begging him not to send me away.

"No, you misunderstand, boy, I do not cast you out - you are to be the bride price for my son's bride," he told me as he helped me to my feet.

I wiped away my tears and stared at him. "They really give you the girl in exchange for ME?" I asked, dumbfounded, "Does this mean, I am worth four horses?"

No, this was not frightening or humiliating. On the contrary, I was excited. I was worth four horses, I, the child no one wanted. I thought my parents had been stupid to allow me to run away when they could have gotten four horses for me. Actually I was proud that I was worth four horses. So I allowed him to make me presentable, I washed myself despite the snow in the icy water of a pond, I put on the clothes he gave me and I allowed him to shave my head. He said this was better for me for I had fleas and they would go away if my head was shaved. I don't know why I was now wearing a black shirt, black pants and a black cloak that was far too large for me. I just did as I was told.

He took my hand and lead me to the old man who had studied me before. "He's a obedient boy with a good character, you will like him," my guardian assured the old man, "He's a quick learner too, you can teach him whatever you want, he's clever and diligent."

Yes, he did praise me like a prized horse. But that was more praise that I had ever gotten in my life and I didn't feel humiliated at all, I was proud. Then I saw the girl. She was... about thirteen, I guess, and the groom was fourteen. They weren't that much older than I was, I had just turned eight. Not that anyone cared about my birthday. I do not know what happened then between them, I had to promise to my guardian that I would be a good boy and obey my new grandfather. I'm not sure, I think I just nodded. Then the old man took my hand and lead me away. I was his now, but I wasn't frightened. This man had exchanged his beautiful granddaughter for me so I was assured he would treat me well for I was too valuable to be starved and abused. Someone was holding my hand to make sure I didn't get lost, I really loved this and was happy to have found a place where I wasn't seen as bringer of bad luck but as valuable.

No, this is not pervert thinking. No, this is not humiliating and no, hell, NO I do not consider this as bad. You see, they were treating me like one of their daughters. Okay, they did not treat me like a boy and I assure you I have always been a boy. But actually I was proud for I was exchanged against such a beautiful girl. For the first time in my life I felt that I wasn't worthless - and I knew I was worth four horses, which was very much, and so... well, I was proud.

I missed the wedding completely, except hearing the noise from the party that lasted two days.

Yes, I am going to tell you, don't worry.

I was taken to a large tent. At first I assumed I was there to care for horses, but in that tent there were small caravans, very much like the other larger caravans outside, but they were far too small for a family. "Meet your co-stars," the new grandfather said and I coughed. At first he was worried about my cough, well, angry, is more the right word. But when he had pressed his ear to my naked breast and listened to my breathing he was assured that it was nothing that wouldn't go away if I was kept warm and drank much tea.

Then he knocked on one of the small caravans that stood in a circle in the large tent and opened shutters. I saw that behind the shutters were metal bars, the other three sides were normal wooden planking. In this caravan was a very comfortable armchair, a table with an oil lamp and a man was sitting in the chair, reading a book. "Hey, Beastman, this is our new attraction, Corpse Boy. Be a good lad and show him around, will you?"

The man got up, took a key from his pocket and left the caravan through the door. Only when I stood before him I noticed that he was covered with hair, he didn't look human, he looked like an animal. But he wore fine clothing. "At your service," he said with an elegant bow, then turned to me, "A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur, since we are not formally introduced yet allow me to do that by myself: I am Jose. Will you grant me the pleasure to know your name?"

I stared at him open-mouthed. He was such a gentleman, but he looked like a beast, I understood why they called him Beastman - as he must have understood why they called me Corpse Boy. I was too surprised to be called "Monsieur" to answer. It took me a while until I noticed that I was alone with Jose and he was patiently waiting for an answer. "Erik," I said, my voice raspy, "my name is Erik."

Again he bowed deeply. "I'm delighted to meet you," he said and I had no idea how I should answer to him. My manners were that of a working class boy and not a gentleman.

He politely overlooked my lack of decent behavior and explained to me that this travelling sideshow was more or less a zoo presenting curiosities. People would pay to see us. He was billed as "the Beastman from the Rocky Mountains". He wasn't from America, he was from Spain, but claiming to be from America made him even more attractive. His job was to sit in his cage and read from books and newspapers to show the audience that he was not only tamed but educated. But he wasn't to communicate with the audience or show his really elaborate manners. I would be "Corpse Boy" and they would experiment a bit with a background story for me. I would sit in another cage and let people see me, I would have to do something to prove that I was alive.

Then he showed me the other cages, he just opened the shutters. In one cage was a dog with six legs, then there was a hyena. A real hyena. She was dangerous, could kill a man, crack the leg of a horse with her mighty jaws. A goat with four horns, Jose explained to me that this was a rare goat race, all of them had four horns but it was seldom found outside Austrian alps. The goat race is called "Vierhornziege" but here it was called "The Witches Riding Goat". A snake with legs. Well, that was no snake with legs, it was a goanna. And Beastman was certainly no beast but a real gentleman. Well, Corpse Boy - I can't argue that. Haha.

Of course it was not funny. But what can I do now instead of laugh? Cry? Scream? It is over, so I can only laugh for I can never change it.

Well, it worked like this: The tent with the curiosities drew in the crowds. We had to sit in our cages and every hour a group of visitors were allowed inside after paying the price at the entrance. A young man would show them one curiosity after the other, telling it's story. For me they had the story that I was the son of an Egyptian magician who was so perfectly embalmed that he could be reviewed by ancient magic and would now walk among the living again after 3000 years of being dead. The shutters of one cage were opened, the story told, then shut and they went to the next cage. It was utterly boring, spending two to eight hours in that cage, surrounded by black candles, waiting to get up and bow to the audience, moving around to show them that I was really alive.

Outside the large tent with the curiosities were smaller tents, a fortune teller, a healer selling portions, a tinker, a woman who sold junk jewellery - you know that sort of jewellery most people think gypsies would wear and therefore gypsies really sold them, just to make money. When the travelling fair was closed of course no one wore their show costumes or this fallalery.

Travelling with them was utterly boring compared with the other tribe. Jose and I were not allowed to let ourselves be seen without payment so we spend most of the time in a caravan we had to share. It was a small caravan, a normal one, without bars, it even had windows, but we had to draw the curtains all the time. We slept on worn carpets on the floor, rolling them up at daytime. We had a small metal stove and a table with two chairs. And of course Jose's books. He was fond of literature and science and read many languages. He started to teach me Spanish, English, German, Russian, Italian, Romanese and even Arabic and Farsi and I eagerly accepted his teaching for it was the only thing we could do.

No, we were not locked in. We had the keys to our caravan and to our cages. We would only go to our cages when the fair opened for visitors, the "Tamed Beastman" would show that he was really "tame" by reading from newspapers, astonishing the gawking crowds that he could read. If they had only known - his knowledge of so many languages and their literature matched or even surpassed every professor's. I have to admit that in my ignorance I never fully appreciated his kindness and teaching, I was just a bored boy and I wanted to run, ride the horses, see the sun... sitting in a caravan or a cage all day wasn't easy and so I often quarreled with Jose and made his life miserable. I often provoked him, mocking and taunting him, even hurting him, just because I needed to quarrel with someone. Sometimes he had to slap me, hold me down until I had recovered from my temper tantrum.

No, I told you, I was not locked in, neither was Jose. We had the keys, we just obeyed the rules. Well, not really of our free will - I did, because it was the only way to avoid the mobbing from the other children and Jose because he was such a gentle character, he avoided any disagreement. There was not much need for the gypsies to beat me into submission, their children had done the trick - I obeyed because it was the only security I knew. As Jose pointed out to me: "Always keep your cage locked at a show. It is for your own safety. It is not you who is locked in, it is them who are locked out."

My life became a bit better when I started to sing to myself in my boredom. Jose noticed my beautiful voice and pointed that out to the gypsies, who asked me to sing for them. I sang some hymns, I didn't know many other songs that time. Well, they liked my voice, even at that age I had quite a range. They asked me if I could read notes and play instruments. Of course I knew the piano but they told me they couldn't drag a piano along in their travel but the grandfather himself agreed to teach me the violin. At first even the smallest children mocked me - gypsy children start practicing the violin even before they can really stand on their own feet. But my progress was a fast one, even the grandfather acknowledged that I was naturally gifted and send one of his sons to buy scores for me to play when we reached a city every so often.

I didn't like cities. There were so many people, we would stay for weeks and the shows would take up to eight hours a day. Now I was not just to stand up and move around but to play something on the violin. Once they noticed how well I could play after only a few month they asked the audience for extra money to hear the Corpse Boy play the violin. If they didn't offer enough, I would not get the signal to play.

My life was very simple then. I was mostly separated from the others and I liked it. I had Jose, my gentle teacher, and I didn't need much more. I disliked being stared at, I hated the screams, the retching, the fainting women and crying children. But I did not complain. Their money also paid for my food, the coals for our stove and my clothing. Jose told me it was better to bargain with the gypsies, they easily understood bargaining, but they would punish me for complaining or trying to run away or defying them in public like when I refused to play the violin or would just stand stock still, pretending to be a real corpse and a fake. Of course I did not believe him, but the gypsies were quick with a whip and soon I knew better than to defy them.

Yes, I could have run away any time. Why do you ask? O. Well, to be true, it never crossed my mind that I could run away. I was an eight year old boy then - I had nowhere to go and by summer we had reached the borders of France, we were travelling East and I had no idea where I was. My ability to speak foreign languages was not so developed that time, I would not have made it long if I was on my own.

Well, I started bargaining with the grandfather. I wanted to be allowed to help with the horses and he agreed under the condition that I would from now on care for the curiosities, the animals. Well, that was easy. I liked the goat and the dog, they were easy to care for, they needed to be fed, brushed, the goat had to be milked and yes, the milk would be sold in tiny bottles at a very high price. The dog needed to go for a walk each day, but so that he was not to be seen. It became my duty to walk with him every night when it was dark enough, and, of course, I had to wear a mask. The hyena was difficult. She was dangerous and mistrustful, so at first I had to clean her cage with a broom with a very long broomstick form outside the bars and every so often she would bite the broomstick in halves. But slowly I gained her trust, she wasn't laughing hysterically when I came and finally she took meat from my hands and I could enter her cage without difficulty. The gypsies nearly fainted when they saw me cleaning the cage while I was inside with the hyena - they had always thought something like this was impossible, but obviously I had unknowingly tamed it. Well, sort of. A hyena never obeys and a hyena isn't happy when you approach her. I had to wait until she decided to invite me in, otherwise she would have bitten off my hands. In the end I could collar her and lead her on a leash. She was much stronger than I and of course I had not control over her, but I took her for a walk with me and the dog.

Yes, I know this was a tremendous risk, but I was a child and didn't know the risk and never thought about it. I just did what I did, and with the hyena at my side I was save from everyone. We must have been quite a sight - a corpse and a hyena. Haha.

The other children... well, yes, that was still a problem. They liked to show me just how low in the pecking order I was. Once they found out I could not swim they threw me into a pond. I kicked and grabbed around, but I found nothing to hold onto and the water was too deep, my head under water, somehow I managed to come back to the surface but one boy dunked me. I have no idea how long this torture lasted, it felt like hours but it can't have been more than a few minutes or I would have drowned. Suddenly strong arms grabbed me and pulled me out of the water. I gasped for air, coughed and retched and spit water. It was Jose, who was now berating the children that they could have killed me - and he would tell their parents. Suddenly they were scared, the begged him to have mercy but as gentle as he was, he refused, picked me up in his arms and carried me back to the camp.

Of course the gypsies wondered why we were that drenched and I was still coughing and crying. Jose just told the gypsies that their children had just tried to drown me. It wasn't long after that we heard the children yell and cry, the fathers shout and scream. The next day I saw many of the children with blood on their shirts and knew that in the end I would be the one to pay the price for their punishment - as if this was my fault.

They waited for me when I went to a nearby pond to wash my clothes. Well, usually men and boys did not do women's work but I had no woman who would ever care for me. They taught me to do it myself, then I was on my own. If I did not want to wear smelling, dirty clothes I had to wash them. Jose did the same, since he too had no mother, grandmother, wife or daughter to do it for him. Well, the children grabbed me, threw me to the ground and beat me. They beat the shit out of me. Literally.

What? Yes, I know, I am using vulgar language again. But that is what happened. There was nothing I could do except cleaning my clothes and returning to the camp with wet trousers. Well, it was a hot summer day and I did not catch a cold.

No, I did not tell anyone. You think I was keen to be mocked as scaredy-pants for the next weeks? Do you think I wanted to give them even more ideas to torment me? Having horse shit thrown in my face had been bad enough - I didn't need something worse. What? Horse-droppings isn't that bad. There are much worse things in the world than horse-droppings. Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned it.

Now, where was I? O yes, the gypsies and their meals. I had to sit with them when we had our meals, this was something very important to the gypsies. They insisted that everyone would sit together and share all meals. I do not know why but to them this was really important. Even Jose and I had to be there, although we always kept some distance.

Did I think my life was bad? No, actually not. Yes, I was more or less a slave. But what had being free brought me? It had nearly killed me, I had been all alone, starving, cold, ill - and now I had clothes, I had food and yes, they made sure I would not fall ill for they wanted me to sing and play the violin. So I was not cold. Of course there were more than enough days when I had to go to bed supperless or hungry. But whenever they had food, I got my share. The first ones not to eat were young men. Then the old ones, women and children got the most. In that I guess I was seen as a child, for even when women didn't get food I still got a few bites. In that I cannot speak ill of the gypsies. Certainly not. I often did not get enough, yes, but then the entire tribe was hungry too. So... well, no, when it came to the basic needs of life they took care I got my share without having to fight for it.

Actually I think my life was quite a good one. I had everything I needed - food, shelter, clothing - and I had Jose as my teacher. I had music, that wonderful violin - of course the violin was not mine, but I was allowed to play it - and the occasional beatings were not that bad, the children made sure they did not hurt me so I would not be able to perform and the adults beat me for disobedience, for refusing to work and - yes, I have to admit that I did this - for bullying younger children.

What? Did you think I was above doing that? I was not the youngest and not the weakest one, so of course I let out my frustration on the weaker ones. I beat them, pushed them face down in the dirt or forced them to take off their pants and run back to the camp without them. I forced them to eat earthworms and I noticed that the more I was cruel to them, the less I got beaten myself. I found my place in the social hierarchy among the children - as long as I entertained the ones that were stronger than me with bullying the weaker ones, I would not too often be on the receiving end of the beatings. Yes, I deserved every punishment I got from their parents, but whenever I got punished I would take my revenge on them, so they learned - as I had earlier - that snitching is no good idea.

Yes, Mother Nature is a vicious old hag. Haha.

The shows? Yes, of course they went on. But it is amazing what one can get used to. Like a whore who gets used to have a horde of stinking, disgusting men banging her every day I got used to being stared at in delighted horror. It was my job to be stared at. I did it, then I got out of my cage and got on with my life. The next day the same. And the day after, and the day after that... Well, one can get used to everything if it is necessary for one's survival.

Sorry for the vulgar language. But I think my normal language does not do credit to my feelings now. It is hard to describe something so disgusting and humiliating in a polite and educated language. I never learned how a gentleman would swear - Jose never did that, he never showed any anger, he was far too composed for that.

And then there was that fateful night in late autumn. I do not know where exactly we were - somewhere between France and Germany, I think, for most people spoke both languages. It was a more or less normal show in a village. We didn't earn much, the weather was bad and all of us were frustrated for we knew we would be hungry that night. The hyena was fed a stinking dead cadaver we had found somewhere and I envied her for she could eat rotting trash that would have made me sick. We were asleep when the night guard suddenly gave alarm.

You see, the gypsies always had one of the younger men or elder boys keeping watch in the night. This was necessary to protect the camp. The alarm was just him whistling. It woke everyone up and within moments all of them lit candles and torches and ran to him. The men from the village were there, even a few of their women, and someone accused "the Beastman" to have raped a girl in the village. Of course this was not true. Jose had been in his cage for the performances, then we had sat together in our caravan and he had read a story to me in German to help me learn that language. He had not been at the town.

But they did not believe the gypsies that their "Beastman" was absolutely tamed and well confined in his cage. While some men argued with the townspeople all others started to pack up in a hurry. We needed to be away as soon as possible. It was "torches and pitchforks" and that could get us killed. A woman suggested that Jose took a horse and fled, luring them away from the camp to give the slow caravans and horse-drawn carts time to escape. It did not work well, no matter how hard Jose tried to get their attention, they didn't go after him, they set fire to the large tent. I was worried about my dear co-stars, the animal oddities, they were still in their cages except the dog, who who was running with the other dogs of the camp, barking and snarling at the townspeople. The tent was on fire and I unlocked the cages, the goat, the goanna, and I set the hyena free. Maybe that was stupid for she was really dangerous, but I liked her too much to let her burn.

The hyena ran from the flames and attacked one man, I do not even know if it was a man from the village or a gypsy, it was just a constant fighting and fleeing, someone grabbed me, snatched away my mask and then I remember being thrown to the ground and beaten with large wooden sticks. I thought I was going to die when I passed out. The fire, the screams, the beating, the pain, the chaos - hell could be no worse.

I woke to a grey dawn. It was raining and I saw fog, smelled the stench of smoke and ashes, of blood and excrement. I tried to move and the pain in my body forced me to lay still. I groaned and glanced around. The hyena was lying close to me, she was dead, her head chopped off and she looked like they had killed her with pitchforks. I guess I was lucky that they hadn't done that to me. The dog was dead too as were most of the dogs. The goanna had not escaped the flames, it had been too cold and so it wasn't able to move fast enough. The goat was alive, it had already been captured by a gypsy woman. There were gypsies searching for whatever goods they could save from the destruction. The tent, the cages and three caravans were destroyed but somehow the other caravans and the carts had escaped. Now there were only some gypsies back to pick up whatever they could.

I groaned in pain as I tried to sit up, I was alive and was afraid they would leave me there. When they saw me move they picked me up and someone placed me on his horse and got on it behind me. I do not remember much of the ride, my left arm was broken as was my left leg and once the horse fell into trod I fainted from the pain.

I woke in one of the larger caravans that now was a makeshift sickbay. I was lying on the floor, close to the small metal stove.

Yes, they had small metal stoves in the wooden caravans. Yes, as an architect I would strongly advise against such a carelessness for the danger of a fire was high, but nothing like that ever happened. They knew what they were doing, they had lived like that for generations.

There were others who had been injured and most of them were sleeping now. I heard the two old women who cared for us talking silently. I did not understand everything, my Romanese was not that good at that time, but I understood that the tribe had lost their means to earn their livelihood and they were desperate. Several men had been injured and some women had been raped. The married women were "lucky" to be able to pretend it had not happened to avoid the shame and disgrace but the problem was one girl, she was only twelve and not yet married. They could not give her to the intended groom, no matter how badly they needed the bride price now, for she was no virgin. I kept silent, pretending to be asleep, as I heard them talk about joining another tribe who would be willing to help them for they were somehow related.

Days later I learned that Jose too had escaped and met the others at some "meeting point".

We lived on stealing and begging then for there was nothing else the tribe could do. I was useless with my broken arm and leg, all I could do was lying in the caravan, hoping I would heal fast. As soon as I was able to move my arm again, one of the old women showed me how to knit socks and crochet panholders the women could sell. It was the only work I could do at that time. I remember being constantly hungry and cold, soon I had a nasty cough, and the woman who cared for me yelling at me and beating me for working too slowly. Since they were no longer able to draw in crowds with only the goat, Jose and me - and I could not sing or play the violin now - without the cages, the tent, the healer's shop and the tinker's there was not much money to be made.

What? Why are you laughing? You can't imagine me sitting at a fire knitting? Yes, I know this is no work for a man, but actually I liked it. What? Stop laughing! Stop it, right now!

Thanks.

Why is it so funny to think that I am able to care for myself? I can sew, I can knit, I can make my own clothes from thrown away rags and leftover fabric and I can repair my clothes. I simply had to. Of course now I just buy them. But then I was poor, I had to learn how to survive and the gypsies taught me and for that I will always be thankful.

It was winter when they met the other tribe they wanted to join. I have no idea how they found each other, the clans are travelling all over Europe but they tracked them down and met them. Then I saw how they were welcomed. They were greeted as honoured guests, they weren't treated like beggars who should be thankful they got the leftovers. No. They were taken in as if this was the most natural thing in the world. I had never seen a group of impoverished people being taken in with such a warmth and given everything they needed with open hands - an that from another tribe who certainly was not wealthy. They were poor themselves, they had so little but what little they had they shared warmhearted without any envy. They would have given even more, but "my" tribe refused whatever they did not find absolutely necessary.

The other tribe had a travelling fair but they were specialized to entertain families with children. And they thought that the goat and I were not suitable for their happy-go-lucky fair. They wanted everything sugarcoated and nice. Jose was given a co-star, the young girl who was cleaned and given a beautiful dress, and they were announced as "Beauty and the Beast". Well, they had their new place in life.

So the goat and I were sold to a travelling circus for one of their large tents. I did not want to leave Jose, I clung to him with all my strength, grasped his left leg with my arms and legs and cried I didn't want to leave him. But they needed me at my best behaviour to bargain for the price. They could not beat me into submission or it would ruin the price. And I did not want to leave Jose, even as he tried to persuade me to do so. I did not want it, despite all the cruel little pranks I had played on him I loved my gentle teacher.

Jose told me that it was absolutely necessary for the survival of the tribe that I accepted my fate and went with the circus. I do not know how long I was fighting and screaming, Jose patiently enduring my temper tantrum, until I broke down sobbing, my strength failing, I could not go on fighting. He took me in his arms and allowed me to weep in his soft fur of his breast. His fur was so soft, seldom have I felt such soft fur. It felt much like a cat's. Finally he said: "Erik, you are a very brave boy and I will never forget you as you will never forget me. But this is not our decision. Please, do not make it harder on us. Look, they are giving us a circus tent for you - a circus tent! We need that badly. You save all of us from starving if you do behave and be a good boy and go with them."

"Is a tent worth more than four horses?" I asked miserably.

"Much more, Erik, such a tent is worth an elephant and an elephant is worth at least eight horses," Jose answered gently.

My worth had increased twofold in just one year. But this time I was not proud, I was sad because I did not want to leave Jose. It was late that night that I finally accepted my fate and resigned.

So when I was shown to the circus people, I was at my best behaviour, polite, friendly, charming, as Jose had taught me to act. I did this for him, I knew he was watching and I wanted to make him proud of me. I sang when they told me to, I played the violin and when they asked me to take off my mask I did so without any complaints. When they asked me what else I could do I told them that I could take care of almost any animal, I would love to help with their horses. The deal was made and I was led away by a young woman. She took me to a caravan that was about two meters in breadth and six meters in length. It had four small rooms of two meters in length and one and a half in breadth. One of these small rooms was to be mine. I had nothing but a blanket as furniture.

I still had that cough and they gave me herbal tea to help me. They needed me healthy for their circus show. I do not know why but they were in their winter quarters and would stay there until spring, preparing for the new season and the new show. And I was to be part of them, so they would find me something more than just playing the violin and showing my face. They were no sideshow, they were a real circus and they were proud of it.

What? It is so late? I'm sorry, my friend, for keeping you up all night. I have to go now, I can't risk being seen. Good night, or better, good morning!

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Thank you for reading. This chapter took me very much research work, but I hope it was worth it. Just to make sure: What I describe the gypsies doing has nothing to do with gypsies in general, as there are so many clans with different languages and cultures and they are all called "gypsies". So if you have different experience, yes, that is likely. Of course I do not approve racism. But it happened, and it still happens. And gypsies are killed just because they are gypsies. Even in our time.