farkasdrom-blog

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Erdélyi vagyok, nem “Oláh”.

Sometimes I feel weird when people think or say I'm "Romanian' or "Balkan" because one type of Romani I am is Hungarian Lovari (and they're called "Olah" in Hungarian and their language is considered to be "Vlax")..

[The other type is Hungarian-Romani “Romungro”.]

But the truth is my Lovari ancestors came from Transylvania (and already spoke Hungarian and Romanian) and then came to Hungary in the 19th century. (Though it's believed many were in Hungary before)  ---- 

At this point all my people know is Hungary, and the Hungarian realm. 

We have Hungarian names, most of us only speak Hungarian, and our ancestors spoke Hungarian (and Romanian) for centuries.

Our dialect of Romani has Hungarian influence as well as some older Romanian influence.  

I did AncestryDNA and most "Romanian" distant cousins I've found are from Transylvania, many have Hungarian last names, or have names that are Hungarian but were Romanian-nized, example.“Farcas” instead of Hungarian “Farkas”.

I find it even weirder when I meet cousins who say they're "Romanian" but are from Transylvania.-  Historically being Transylvanian is more complex and there were various peoples there, not just “Romanians”. It wasn’t part of Romania until fairly recently. 

I also find it funny when I find some 3rd cousins who say they're from Bucharest, and don't know if they have any family from Transylvania. (But I exist, and know my people’s history). If we're related as 3rd cousins (and the rest of your cousins are from Transylvania or Hungary) your family was living in Transylvania and then moved to Bucharest recently, as it's the largest city, and capital of what is now Romania. 

Long story short, don't call me "Olah" or "Romanian" - Gypsy/Romani.

Call me "Erdélyi" or "Hungarian-Romani" (whose ancestors were Transylvanian-Romani.) 

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When do you feel the most "Romani"?

Question: When do you feel most Romani?

Answer:

When I speak the languages I know, and study ones I wish to know. My people, were in their own right some of the best linguists and translators of their time, sure many didn't know how to read and write long ago, but they were able to understand/speak multiple languages, and the various dialects of Romani [our own language(s)] showcase this beautifully.

Some of my people were itinerant going to city to city, kingdom to kingdom, others were sedentary but lived in places were multiple languages were spoken and it was the norm to be proficient in varying degrees in the languages spoken in that region; Transylvania for example [Hungarian, Romanian, Transylvanian Saxon/German, Romani, Yiddish, and various Slavic languages] .

For me the rich linguistic history of Romani language(s), and all the languages my ancestors spoke and the languages I now speak that my ancestors didn't speak (Swedish and Norwegian for example), truly make me feel Romani. That's my Romani way.

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Dosta! To the "TRUE Gypsies".

Some educated Roma, from Roma families (some which formed via love and not arranged marriage or “tradition”), and who have money judge me (and other adopted Romani folks), and tell me (us) I’m (we're) not “Romani” or “Romani enough”.

If my birth parents had the love, education, and money, the PRIVILEGE you have, I wouldn’t have been adopted.

You might have grown up in the “culture”. (Whatever that means.)

But I was born of the struggle.

I was born in Hungary, and my existence and adoption (reason for being adopted) is the Romani struggle.

Your biological existence is love, money, and education.

The Romani struggle is my birth mother and birth father.

Who are yours?

Dosta! Cut the shit.

-Drom

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Introduction: “Me Sem Marime”.

Sastipe mure phral thaj mure phenja! 

Muro anav si Drom. 

Me sem Lovari thaj Romungro.  

This is a blog dedicated to my thoughts/feelings about my Romani identity. 

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Muro Drom

By Drom Farkas

I’m my own Rom.

My own Romani man.

I’m Drom.

Me sem Drom.

Drom vagyok.

Muro anav “Drom”.

[My name “Drom.]

Means “Journey, Path, Adventure, Way, Road.”

I’m a Toldi, a Szalai, a Raffael.

A Hungarian, a Romani man, a Hungarian-Romani man.

I’m Romungro and Lovari.

Me sem Romungro thaj Lovari.

En Romungro és Lovari vagyok.

I’m not a “chavo” [a boy, an “unmarried” man].

I’m “büszke” [proud] to say “muro jilo” [my heart] is a man.

I love him and am as loyal to him as though he’s my husband.

He made me a TRUE “Rom” [a Romani man].

Muro gadjo [my “non-Roma”] taught me what it meant to be a man.

I’m a better man because of him.

He taught me to be “Rom”.

Dosta! Dosta! Dosta!

[Enough! Enough! Enough!]

Is what I declare to all those gadje [Not-Romani] and Romani who don’t want me to be me.

I’m not “marime” [sinful/dirty].

I’m not “piszkos”. [dirty].

I’m not the sin(s) of “apám” [my father].

Nor am I the sin(s) of “anyukám” [my mother].

I am not cursed by the jakhalo [evil-eye], for I now choose to see love with my eyes.

I will not give or beg for  “Prikaza” [Retribution], for I have no shame and have no sins.

The words of others can’t give me “bibaxt” [bad luck] or “nasvalipe” [illness].

For I have love in my life.

I have no “kris” [trial/tribue] I take orders from.

I’m FREE.

All people Romani and gadje [Non-Romani] have love in the being. We must share it.

Aven Romale [Come/Come “in” my Romani brothers and sisters]

Join me on your own “Drom”.

“Come, come, whoever you are.

Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.

It doesn't matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.

Come, yet again , come , come.”

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Me sem “Marime”

By Drom Farkas

Call me “Marime” for my name and who I am doesn’t matter.

Call me “Marime” for my brown skin means nothing to my own kind.

Call me “Marime” for my dreams and hopes of finding my identity were taken away from me.

Call me “Marime” for my soulmate is a man.

Call me “Marime” because my Romani family didn’t want me as a baby and banished me as punishment for the “sins” of my mother.

Call me “Marime” because to some I’ll never be “Romani” enough.

Call me “Marime”. Because I am.