Perhaps we could go and live on Mars
By Melissa Elliott
Oct 27, 2004
"If nobody wants us, perhaps we could make our own country?... But where?... There's only Antarctica left! ... Even better, perhaps we could go and live on Mars... There could be a Romani planet!!" Light-hearted banter and "pie-in-the-sky", you might think, but what happens when a group of people, abandoned by their government and viewed by their countrymen as a dangerous pest, has no place to go?
n July 9th 2004, I set off from the Czech city of Ostrava toward East Slovakia in a car along with my partner, štefan (a Czech Romani friend), Petr (his brother-in-law), and Petr's uncle, who is one of the leaders of the Romani settlement we were visiting. I became close friends with štefan's family while staying in Ostrava during my eight-month visit to study Romani music and culture. Along with many others, štefan's family showed me unlimited kindness and hospitality, and had patiently explained many aspects of the Romani's lives in Ostrava. Although the discrimination and socio-economic conditions are dire for most Roma in Ostrava, they kept insisting that I had not seen anything until I saw how their relatives in Slovakia lived.
They were right. Despite my shock in the Czech Republic at the horrible conditions that some Roma are forced to live in, the deeply ingrained discrimination against Roma on the streets, in schools, hospitals, and in the employment market, and the very low standards of health compared to the Czech national average, in Slovakia the living standards for many Roma are considerably worse. Although my research is focused on culture, I felt compelled to write an account of the appalling social conditions I witnessed in East Slovakia.
We drove straight through the quaint East Slovak town of Krompachy (near Prešov), and then up the hill toward the ramshackle houses. We arrived in the late afternoon, greeted by hordes of excited children. There are few visitors to the Richnava settlement, and almost no non-Romani visitors. One notable non-Romani visitor was Julie Danesha reporting for the New York Times. She stayed in this settlement earlier this year, and because of her reports, she is currently persona-non-grata in Slovakia, with a stamp in her passport to prove it(1).
Petr's relatives lived in the first house we visited. Although they were surprised and pleased to see Petr and štefan, and curious to know about the foreigners, there was an unmistakable atmosphere of despair. They had nothing to offer us, which meant deep humiliation for them, as Roma people put great importance on hospitality, particularly for strangers. Even štefan, who had visited many times before and was very much wanting a coffee after the long drive, was surprised the situation had worsened so much that there was not even a hot drink.
As soon as we arrived, people approached to tell us of their hardships. At the same time, others were rearranging their dwelling, so that my partner and I could have the best room in the house to ourselves. From the first moments of our arrival, the issue for me was clear: it is unacceptable for there to be approximately 1000 Roma living on a Slovak hillside in roughly built, chronically overcrowded, "houses" and shacks - with no infrastructure, no drinking water, no drainage/sewage, and only a few dry toilets – while suffering all kinds of associated health problems and being terminally unemployed?
To be fair, the local government representatives have visited and promised various improvements. So far, all they have done is give 300 adults "aktivni prace" for cleaning the settlement two mornings a week. In March, the national government cut social security benefits in half, prompting violent uprisings in nearby Trebišov.
These people do not have enough even for basic necessities, and cannot get jobs in a region that suffers high unemployment across the board. Roma are particularly affected, because they are the first to be laid off, and the last to be re-employed, owing to discrimination; some Romani communities suffer 100% unemployment. Residents are forced to miss meals, go without bottled water and lack wood for heating; they cannot afford proper medical care or equipment for child-care. When it rains, many shacks are not waterproof, and the paths turn into muddy rivers. It is against the law to collect wood from the forest and the police stop whose who try. They are humiliated when their children are called dirty, but with only one pump between 1000 people, it is not feasible to bath and wash clothes every day. In fact, even in the searing heat, everything was clean and tidy, and the only bad smell came from the dry toilets. If people do not have enough to maintain their dignity, we should not be surprised if there is social unrest and negative patterns of behavior.
As a European Union member, it is particularly disgraceful that there are an estimated 591 such settlements(2). Most of these ghettos are in East Slovakia on roadsides and hillsides, ranging from a few shacks to several hundred, and they are an embarrassment for the Slovak government. It is exceedingly difficult for the national and local governments to comply with E.U. economic demands, appease public opinion at home, and give a positive impression to the outside world, with limited resources and widespread prejudice against investing resources in Roma. However, the situation must be publicized. Thousands of Roma cannot remain completely disenfranchised; outsiders should be motivated by the realization that in this inter-dependent world, if we do not voluntarily reach out to those who are suffering, sooner or later we will be forced to do so as the consequences of their suffering increasingly impinges on others' lives.
A particularly emotional issue that once again came to light during my stay was that of forced female sterilization. This issue is currently being fought in the European Court(3) . Two women told me about how their daughters went into hospital for the births of their first children, and upon release were incapable of bearing any more children. Families are usually very large in settlements, partly because the culture takes the view "children are happiness", and large families are viewed as more secure. If current trends hold, Romanis will eventually outnumber ethnic Slovaks. Whatever the concerns of the government, there is no excuse for sterilizing women without proper consent.
Opinion was divided in the settlement about how to improve the situation. Some no hope, others were incredibly angry that they had been reduced to such humiliation, and some seemed to be existing in a sort of suspended state of despair and depression, almost beyond caring. Some were tearful and emotional, especially when they thought of the futures of the younger generations. No one saw any hope for immediate improvement. The local government has been promising various things for a few years, with little or no tangible results. The question of liquidating the ghetto brought mixed feelings: although people are living there involuntarily, there are benefits to living in ethnic concentration for security, support and community life. If they were to be re-housed separately, although there would be much regret for the loss of community, it has reached a point where people would sacrifice this for the chance to live "normally" and give their children a chance at a better life.
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