Romani Whispers

I have spent many years following the whispers of my traveller Romani routes, remembering my Mum responding to words I’d said, “Judith, we live in a house and that’s the way it is”. I can’t remember what I spoke to get that response, however it took me a long time to feel at home in a house and I only knew through the odd quiet moment in my Mum that she was gypsy. She would not tell anyone, not even my Dad, I can only suspect what the consequences might have been if she had. I did get to see my Great Aunt Brittania’s wagon at some point when I was under 7, it had a lasting imprint in my brain of something so beautiful, nothing more was spoken to me about the whole mystery, until more whispers through my dear Mum’s psychoses, the mystery deepens and a longing to know more deepened too.

My Mum had shared a name “Ayres” that was what I had to go on. A 30 year journey ensued of getting care records, paying for birth and marriage records, calling authors of books that had written about the Ayres family, going down dead ends, getting my DNA done, building my family tree through DNA matches, contacting people and asking many many questions… Then out of the blue, a few years ago, a message came from someone that had seen my family tree on Ancestry and asked “are you Judith that lived in Dulwich in the 80’s?” This was my Uncle’s ex-wife, my mum’s brother who I’d been looking for for 30 years, who I now realise was teaching me Romani words when he visited me in Dulwich all those years ago. A miracle really.

Through that long journey and finding my Uncle, much more understanding came and we talked and talked and I visited him and eventually he took me to meet my Great Aunt Brittania’s (yes the one with the beautiful wagon) daughter. As I walked into her home, as a lot of Romani are housed now, I saw her home covered with everything that my little mind had been following whispers about since seeing her Mum’s wagon, pictures and remnants everywhere of the traveller life in every direction. And the moment came, she passed me firstly a photo of my grandmother that I had not ever seen a photo of…. Tears … and then of my grandmothers’ parents, Eddie and Alice, standing in front of what looked like a wagon, more tears… such precious gifts … I had no idea how I got to be in this room, in this moment.

I've studied that picture that was of my two great-grandparents, trying to work out anything about who they were from it, I think there’s a lucky rabbit’s foot hanging from Alice’s clothing… and is that a hand on the shoulder, is there more people, it looked like there was a lot more going on then just the two of them?

And then… in a moment looking through Facebook, of which I am part of a few Romani groups, I scroll past a picture… wait there …. no it’s not … yes it is! It was the full picture of the one I had been given, that someone had posted on Facebook, a kind lady from the Lee family who I now know is a relative. This is the picture of their wedding day that I share with you today, as a celebration of family, a celebration of whispers, a celebration of longing, a celebration of recognising so much of them live through me today and my daughter. A recognition that I come from a long line of people with stories to tell that bring meaning to my days right now.

This is written in honour of them, of the hard times that I suspect was their lives and that somehow their livingness led to me and I celebrate that with full heart every day.