Gypsy Coppersmiths in Liverpool and BirkenheadMacfie, R. A. Scott (Robert Andrew Scott)
History
Gypsy Coppersmiths in Liverpool and Birkenhead
Macfie, R. A. Scott (Robert Andrew Scott)
Romanies
He was the one disturbing influence in the tribe, and when the illness
seized him, always suddenly and unexpectedly, frantic crises of shrill
emotion broke the tranquillity of the camp. From all sides gesticulating
women would rush screaming wildly, and the men would leave their work to
return soon after in gloomy silence bending their heads to an inevitable
fate, while the poor little figure in all the ridiculous bravery of his
gaudy clothes and pale blue plush hat would be carried under shelter and
nursed tenderly. The distracted mother, meanwhile, would pace the
ground, her face distorted with agony, clutching convulsively at her hair
and singing a wild lament; and even the queenly Tinka would sink to the
ashes where she stood, raise her kindly face to heaven and weep aloud.
Such scenes were frequent and very painful. Even more painful was one’s
sense of impotence afterwards, when Zhawzha offered all she had, even the
gold coins from her hair, in exchange for her boy’s health. Time alone
could give what she demanded; but she scorned patience and would not
wait.
No cure which anybody recommended was left untried, it mattered not what
it was nor how much it cost. And so the child wore amulets, and to the
tent-pole mysterious bunches of thorn-twigs were tied. But the malady
was stubborn, and recourse was had to quacks who poisoned the little
fellow with excessive doses so that he ceased even to speak, and wandered
aimlessly in a comatose condition. And then, most wonderfully—for which
of us in our own land could find, at need, a sorceress?—they discovered
that there was a witch-doctor in Bradford. Letters were dictated,
symptoms described, medicine bought at exorbitant prices, and Harley
Street fees paid. A lock of hair was cut and sent, untouched by human
hands, for some kind of sympathetic magic. But this, like everything
else, failed to effect the instantaneous cure the mother demanded, and
she and her lad, with his father, a very black and rather stupid little
Gypsy named Adam Kirpatsh, journeyed to Bradford for a personal
interview.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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