When the gypsy met the gorga

Chapter 1: Stefan

" Small I maybe,

Yet I too am human

Words can not hurt me

Stab me..

I will fall only once

But, when someone stabs you

You won't fall

but roll over in pain

again and again..."

"Hey gypsy, where's your caravan?!!", yelled Terrance, the jobless, racist and rich gorga ( Non gypsy person) in the area. He's always tormented us whenever we went there to work. I've seen him since I was 11 and used to   help my Dad with his work. Every time we stopped our trucks there and set up our tools to start work, Terrance would have already parked his porsche or Lambhorgini close by, gathered a few lackeys and they start their insults.

I just shook my head and carried on fixing  a car battery. My cousin Onas who at the moment had no job was revving up for a fight and my other cousin Iaan continued his work holding his anger in because the police had given us a warning the last time we took a shot at Terrance. They knew it was his fault but didn't do anything because his Dad was a powerful attorney that not even the judge messed with.

"Your gypsy wife doing your brother in it?!!", yelled one of his lackeys and they all laughed.

"THAT'S IT!!!!!!", roared Terrance and lashed out. We tried pulling him away but they started on us as well so we faught back. I just about ended up with a black eye. Onas's mouth was spouting blood by the time a group of people pulled all of us apart.  The guy who had pulled Iaan away wiped his hand on a piece of paper mumbling something about a communicable disease. I was about to punch his back but Iaan pulled me away.

"Was a fight going on?", asked Frank who had gone to the kiosk while I worked on his car. He saw Terrance starting his car up to leave. "That fellow's getting pampered beyond a limit. Back in the day I only had a second hand cycle ." Frank was a 65 year old  lawyer that worked for a charity firm in that village, one of the decent few that didn't believe in racial boundries. "Last week they ran out of Carlo's store with 4 cases of beer after calling the man a couple of things without paying."

I just smiled deciding that it was best not to comment on the matter because there was no telling who would listen  and spread rumours around the place.

" Could you try the key Frank?", I asked after I finished and the car started like a beauty if I should say so myself. "You might wanna service it in three days or so."

"I trust you've done a fine job son and anyway our local mechanic is a thief." I chuckled politely.

"20 quid." He handed me 30.

"Keep it son, you've earned it."

"Thanks." I waved as he drove off.

We didn't have anymore customers after that. I managed 150 pounds and another 15 in tips. Onas didn't make much but Iaan made around 200.He has a way with cars. I'm more of a home appliance man and Onas is pretty good but a bit lazy. 

We packed up and headed off to the next village. Onas sat beside me holding a rag to his bleeding mouth while Iaan was counting his money in the back.

"So which pub?", I asked as I turned the truck into the village.

Onas let go of his cloth and spoke up."There's this place called The White Rose Tea shop."

"Sounds....posh...for me like," I said unsure.

"Hester works there." I saw Iaan lift his head up in the rear view mirror. Their mum, Aunt Rhoda would die if she knew that her future daughter-in-law had a job now and in a gorga shop. Girls in our community were'nt allowed to work. Everyone in the Kumpania thought Hester was too modern a Romani as it is. Nana said the girl's dji as we call it or spiritual energy was draining because she was around a lot of gorgas. She can sense these things. She's the gifted one in our tribe who understands tea leaves, palms and tarot. She also fixes disgusting remedial herb cocktails whenever anyone comes down with anything.