A change to our traditions: A good idea? / Pàruvipen amare tradiciengo: lachi godi?

(May 2017)

I have recently been thinking about some of the, for want of a better word, hangups that Romani culture has about the human body – and especially the female body. This is a very difficult topic for me to write about or even to think impartially about, since I had a very strict and traditional upbringing and it brings my analytical mind into sharp conflict with my cultural conditioning, so please bear with me...

Now, I have to admit that in many ways I'm a fairly traditional Romni: unless I'm just hiking over the Moors in atrocious weather or doing mucky jobs (when I do permit myself to wear leggings for practicality – which would have caused my grandmother to pitch a fit), I always wear the traditional ankle-length skirts; I never cut my hair; and I follow the old rules of màkhadipen (ritual purity) pretty strictly, and rigorously so when I'm on the road. But on the other hand, I'm of such an age (in my fifties) that I've seen the gàdjia (non-Roma women) go through their feminist revolution, and I have had a gàdjikano education – so I've “seen the other side” too.

I understand that the màkhadipen laws and our strict adherence to high standards of cleanliness developed for very good reasons, and have kept us safe and healthy in difficult circumstances of nomadic life for centuries, and that the association of blood with disease is generally a sound principle for people without scientific understanding, but the latter principle is taken too far in branding an entire half of the population màkhade from the first onset of maturity until middle-age. In my semenca, as recently as my grandmother's time, women were virtually isolated for several days every month and for several weeks during and after childbirth, and even now most clans regard women in the prime of their lives as being inherently màkhade (all the time, not just at certain times of the month). This is not healthy for our culture as a whole, less still for Romnia. The fact that following the change-of-life, older Romnia gradually acquire a considerable degree of respect and “soft power” in traditional Romani society is not, in my view, sufficient compensation.

There is also, of course, a very strong nudity taboo (for both sexes, though stronger for women) in our culture. Many Romnia, myself included, will not go undressed even in the privacy of their own homes. And there's an interesting point of linguistics associated with this: in Romani, the word nango means 'naked', and it has a derived verb, te nanderel (pes), which in my very archaic dialect means simply to uncover/undress (oneself); but in many 'younger' dialects it has shifted its meaning and now means 'to bathe', because the only reason any self-respecting Rom or Romni would ever dream of getting naked is to take a bath!

Now, I don't believe for a moment that entirely overturning the old standards would be a good thing. I believe very firmly in politeness, decency and modesty, and for the most part the old màkhadipen laws are thoroughly sensible, especially when living on the road without access to modern sanitary facilities such as washing machines and powerful antibacterial cleaning products. But I do feel that some liberalization would be a good thing... of course, there is already in many clans some degree of liberalization in women's roles in so far as it is becoming more accepted for a young woman to choose education and the chance of a career instead of early marriage and motherhood – when I made that decision 40+ years ago, it was considered pretty revolutionary and shocking. But we should not be teaching girls that our bodies are fundamentally màkhade simply because Nature has decreed us the biological rôle of bringing the next generation into the world; that is not fair!

And while I have no argument with the basic idea that certain parts of the body (namely, “below the belt”) are to be considered màkhade – which is why we always use two separate washcloths and two separate towels, and wash strictly “top down” – nor with the idea that certain bodily functions are not to be discussed in polite society – it is absolutely taboo, for example, to ask where the toilet is in Romani, you ask something like “where can I wash my hands”, which I admit does sound a little silly if you're on a traditional campsite and you need to know where the, err, “pit” is located (we do have a word for toilet but it's considered impolite to the point of obscenity by the more traditionally-minded, so I'm not going to write it)... but since I follow in the footsteps of my maternal ancestors as a traditional healer, I have sometimes had no choice but to discuss certain biological functions privately with people when they are unwell; and in such cases it makes life very awkward if both the patient and the healer have serious cultural hangups about discussing certain things even in private! And I have seen it happen, very sadly, that a Romni of my semenca, a close relative in fact, died before her time from a cancer that would have been entirely treatable had she told me about it sooner – but because it was somewhere “taboo”, by the time she approached the healer (me), and I said that this was clearly beyond our traditional medicine and she would have to overcome her inhibitions and take it to the gàdje doctors, it had become terminal. Again, such things should not happen: our traditions are meant to keep us safe and well, not to kill us!

So, to conclude, I believe in keeping our traditions where they serve a good purpose in maintaining health and cleanliness and in maintaining our separation from the gàdje – but there are cases where traditions can prove harmful, particularly to the lives of women, and in those cases I believe that they can, and should, be liberalized... and that doing so does not make us “less Romani”, as some ultra-conservatives have argued; I would counter-argue that it has always been part of the true Romani tradition, which ultimately derives from the Hindu concept of Dharma, that we adapt to the conditions in which we find ourselves living while preserving the core of our beliefs and traditions: allowing our own people to suffer unnecessarily is adharmic, and it is now time to make such an adaptation, and doing so with love and compassion is fully in keeping with the principle of Dharma and our finest traditions, and makes us more, not less, Romani.