Von Antje Mayer.
Von Antje Mayer.
Following the Roma revolts in eastern Slovakia earlier this year, the media scrambled to out do each other with sensational reports on their catastrophic living conditions. Most Roma have long been integrated in the larger community. Nonetheless, they are still subjected to daily racism. A younger generation is now rising to their feet, in their own way.
Not all Roma pillage supermarkets, are illiterates and vegetate in slums...
“A gypsy has long hair, is dirty and lies,” the Slovak Ivan Hriczko explained to me. He himself has short hair, nicely trimmed with just the right amount of gel: the perfect image of a stylish businessman. He is fed up with all the lies being spread about people like him. Ivan Hriczko (23) is not a gypsy, not a cigan. He is, in his own words, a middle-class Rom. He is a Rom who has grown up among the “Whites”, the non Roma, in Slovakia and is well-educated. “I am part of the new generation that has broken out of the vicious cycle of poor education, unemployment, and welfare.” Hriczko explained self-confidently. He hadn’t even turned 20, when he was hired by Global-TV in Slovakia, for a position not behind the camera but in front of it. Recalling all this, Hriczko noted that as the first Roma reporter in Slovakia, with Hungarian and Jewish roots, he was as popular as he was controversial. “A lot of viewers thought I was Spanish or Portuguese because of my dark hair and skin. When they found out I was Rom, threatening phone calls were the most harmless weapons they used for attacking me.”
Betting everything on one card
When the “white” woman Kristína Magdolenová approached him two years ago at a media seminar, asking if he might not be interested in founding a Roma press agency in Kosˇice in Eastern Slovakia, he was immediately taken by the idea, heart and soul.
“My mother nearly had a heart attack when she found out, she was so afraid.” Hriczko recalled. “But I just couldn’t stand the prejudices and the sensationalistic Roma reports in the Slovak media anymore.” As he recounted the story, the young Rom straightened his broad gold signet ring and proudly passed his business card across the table. It indicated that he was a “Director”. “This is the first time in my life I’ve bet everything on a single card,” Hriczko said with a smile.
Hriczko seems to be quite passionate about smiling. The journalist is one of those people whose graciousness is so enchanting they could call you an idiot with a joyful beam and you’d take it as a compliment. But such crude words would never cross Hriczko’s lips, just the opposite, in fact. Diplomacy is the high art he is cultivating. His three guiding principles are objectivity, communication and independence. During our conversation, the Rom repeated these three words like a mantra, so often you couldn’t help but get the impression that his friendliness might be a shield against possible injuries rather than an expression of a carefree attitude towards life.
Roma revolts: Spectacular and a great story for the media
March of this year was a good month for the Roma Press Agency,” noted Hriczko with pride. More than thirty teams of journalists from around the world have descended on the agency over the past several weeks. All the uproar also brought in a little petty cash; otherwise the agency is funded by the small donations stemming from the US embassy, the EU and Schweizer Medienhilfe, a Swiss-based non-profit NGO supporting independent media. His fellow reporters all traveled from far afield to the pretty eastern Slovak city of Kosˇice (population 300,000) to report on the living conditions of the Roma. Besides the monthly supplement Rómske listy in the weekly newspaper Domino, the agency’s seven-member editorial staff publishes three to five articles a day on its web site. There have rarely been so many hits on the site as recently. “A lot of foreigners, hardly any locals, for whom the news is actually intended – displayed in English, Romanes, and Slovak no less.” added Hriczko with a flicker of disappointment before his smile returned.
The reason for the upsurge in interest from abroad in the Roma of Eastern Slovakia is as spectacular as it is compelling for the media. At the end of February, revolts and food pillaging broke out in several eastern Slovak towns, prompting a call-up of about 20,000 police and 1,000 soldiers. The story made international headlines. The reason for this rage was that Slovak Prime Minister Mikulas Dzurinda had reduced the basic welfare benefit, effective as from March 1, from around 4000 to 2000 koruna (about EUR 50.00). The Roma families, which are usually large, receive a maximum amount of 4210 koruna (about EUR 104) regardless of the number of children. The public welfare benefits are the only source of income for many Roma, who make up nine percent of the total population of Slovakia on the eve of its accession to the EU. Some of them live in catastrophic hygienic conditions, in squalid ghettos on the outskirts of towns and villages.
“The media and the politicians have made a beeline for this impoverished minority in recent weeks,” scoffed Etela Matová, a 22-year-old Romni who works for the press agency. The “showcase” slum Lunik IX at the fringes of Kosˇice is a place no pizza delivery service or taxi company operated by the “Whites” has set their eyes upon in a long time, but all of a sudden a bunch of journalists came to visit. When she walks through the slum, the Roma give her a friendly wave; she’s a familiar face. “For these people, the journalists aren’t unbidden guests storming them every day with microphones and cameras in their hands, they are more of a welcome change of pace than an annoyance. After all, the people here have a lot of time available. The unemployment rate in Lunik IX is exactly 100%.” Etela Matová’s words were suddenly drowned out by a deafening crash. Out of a fifth floor window of the dilapidated building ringed by stinking garbage containers, someone had just thrown some very large item onto the street. “When their TVs break down, the Roma here just toss them out the window. That’s life in Lunik IX,“ said the young journalist with a shrug of her shoulders.
Daily discrimination because of their heritage
“About 120,000 Roma in Slovakia live in squalid conditions similar to the ones in these slums, also called ‘osady’ in Slovak,“ explained Matová’s boss Ivan Hriczko. “But there are also the people we call the eclipsed ones. They form a middle class - which is also my background - of approximately 250,000 people, making them the majority of the Roma in Slovakia. About three quarters of them are relatively well-educated, own houses, cars, and TVs, in other words, their way of living is almost the same as the one of the ‘Whites’. Almost. They were the first to lose their jobs after 1989. It’s no wonder, even the non-Roma are having a hard time in Slovakia right now. Unemployment is not expected to drop below 14 percent from its present 17.4 percent until 2010. The jobless rate among the Roma varies from 70 to 100 percent depending on the region. They face daily discrimination because of their origin, especially when looking for jobs,” added the former TV reporter angrily. “Politicians and the media have shut their eyes to them and have no ears for them. The images just aren’t dramatic enough!“
One of these invisible people is Hricko’s acquaintance Josephina Vornová, whom the agency founder fondly calls “sister.” This young 22 year-old Romni lives in the rural village of Durkov, with an estimated population of 1500, about a twenty-minute drive from Kosˇice. Roma account for one third of the population of this village. She lives with her husband and year-old son in a meticulously tidy little room 20 square meters in size in the house of her parents and siblings. The young middle class family can afford a thing or two because Josephina’s husband landed a job in the Metro supermarket: a cabinet, a crib, a TV, a family picture and – their prize piece – a brand new yellow leather couch. Absent is the Virgin Mary kitsch and the plastic flowers found in their parents’ rooms.
“My family’s house is outside the village, just like all the houses the Roma live in,” explained the young mother with annoyance. “In school I always had to be better than the Whites, because I’m a Romni. Every day after getting up the following thought flashed through my mind: I am a Romni. That’s on my mind when I walk through the village and feel the eyes of the non-Roma looking at me. I have light skin and brown hair, but the Whites still let me know that I’m just a Romni. Why do they do that? I simply don’t understand why they reject me.”
Josephina Vornová grew up just like any other Slovak girl. She wasn’t married off by her parents at age 14 as tradition would dictate, she had a good formal education at school, speaks not only Romanes, but also Slovak, and quite fluent English. She doesn’t want to bear as many children as possible either like “a good Roma wife”, but intends instead to stick to just one child for the time being, “in times like these.“ Recently she lost her job as an integrative social worker for Roma children in the village kindergarten. The official reason was a lack of funding. Nonetheless, Josephina has the impression that things are going better for her than they are for a lot of other Roma in the village. Her relative Darina Tucková is having a tougher time.
She lives a few hundred meters down the road in a similarly large stone house on the “Minority hill” of the village with her eight-member family, all of whom subsist on public welfare benefits. The muddy, unpaved streets leading to the hill are lined with the shacks of the poor Roma built in makeshift fashion. The air is full of the acrid fumes of burnt plastic. Darina is in her mid-fifties, as is her diabetic husband, an early retiree.
“He slaved away for forty years as a construction worker,” explained Darina Tucková, on the verge of tears. “Since social benefits were cut to 2000 koruna I just don’t know how I am going to pay for my husband’s expensive medicines. They eat up three fourths of my benefit check. But we don’t want to steal.” As proof, she pointed with a trembling hand to a shoebox. “Have a look here: fifteen different medicines my husband has to take daily, otherwise he’d die.” Hriczko sought to calm her down: “It’s all right, Darina, don’t get upset. Learn to voice your rage.”
“We still have our whole life ahead of us in this country”
Ivan Hriczko and Josephina Vornová started pondering as they left their friends’ house: “Our parents’ and grandparents’ generation made a big mistake by isolating themselves and accepting a life of dependence on welfare. The white kids’ parents forbade them to play with us, but our mothers did the same. Why? Because they were not respectable in their eyes. Having several boy friends before you marry – that was something contrary to their morals. But we young Roma have to change, we also have to throw archaic rules overboard.” Josephina raised her voice even louder: “We have to express our concerns and desires with diplomacy and charm, without resorting to confrontation: objectively, communicatively, and independently. We still have our whole life ahead of us in this country.” Josephina Vornová joined forces last year with agency director Ivan Hriczko and other middle-class Roma like the agency journalist Etela Matová to establish the organization “My Roma” (“We Roma”) for Roma youth. The organization arranges work training placements at companies and conducts public discussions, cultural meetings and communication courses. Ivan Hriczko, a businessman himself, is not at all upset that many of the Slovak business owners who happen to be Roma themselves are not known to give fellow Roma special treatment: “They have to bow to the dictates of the free market, too. The job should go to the candidate with the better training or education. Anything else would be reverse racism.”
Today Josephina and her friends from “My Roma” met for the first time with the village mayor to express their concerns and wishes. “Although he apologized for not having funding for any concrete measures right now, the meeting was a success anyway,”, bubbled Josephina and Ivan. “It was a sign that the mayor is respectful of our culture.”
And how do the young Roma like the journalist Etela, the agency director Ivan, and Josephina cultivate their traditions and culture? “Basically, we have been living just like the Whites for a long time,” remarked Ivan Hriczko. “The only major difference is that our skin is darker and that we speak Romanes. And we might marry and bury our dead differently than they do. But don’t the traditions of the Sicilians, for instance, differ a little from those of the Austrians, too?” asked Ivan Hriczko.
In the very moment he uttered these words, his cell phone rang. “Excuse me just one second, my dear,” he whispered to me with impeccable politeness. During the call, he became so excited he even forgot to smile for a moment. When he hung up, he was beaming: “That was the Slovak Minister of Social Affairs, Labor and Family. She requested an appointment with me!” Hriczko turned his gold signet ring aright again and grinned: “If you permit me to add something to my answer to what makes us Roma different: This morning I had Roma-style unleavened bread for breakfast. You should definitely try it!“