I was invited to attend the Christening of a Gypsy baby a few weekends ago. It was interesting to say the least. I missed the religious ceremony but the reception which followed would have already been the talk about town.
The reception hall was amongst warehouses. As I was driving along the lonely stretch of road, I was doubting I’d eventually come to anywhere decent to celebrate a baby’s Christening (a Dedication is what they call it). I arrived rather flustered having been caught in ugly traffic and ugly weather. Big Bear had attended the first part of the celebrations so I just joined for the dinner. I walked into the hall and it was every little girl’s fairytale wedding – except it wasn’t exactly a wedding. The room was decorated in pink and white and all guests were required to dress in white, gold or beige. It was a ball for little kiddies and adults alike. At each table there was a large bird cage with colourful birds chirping away (they all surprisingly fell asleep to the beat of “Boom Boom Pow”). Everything was perfect – flowers, decorations, candles.
Then it was time for her entrance…First the parents, then the brothers and finally the little Princess….in an automated hot pink Barbie sports car! She zoomed into the middle of the room clapping her hands and then her Dad steered her around for everyone to see. It was extravagant to say the least. The night was an interesting experience. Eye-opening in fact. I’d never met a Gypsy before let alone sit amongst a roomful of them. Before that night, Gypsies in my mind, were people who wandered around reading the fortunes of others or stealing your money. That was what I was warned whilst travelling in Europe. I’ve heard some scary stories and I’m aware that they are treated as outcasts in some societies. I remember when I was studying in Italy over the Summer on 2008, there was uproar because two Gypsy girls had drowned and lay dead on the beach while Italians looked away and continued to play and tan nearby.
Anyways, back to the party…there was a ritual of giving (which I suppose is common in most traditions). But at this ceremony, the family walked to every guest alongside the Pastor to receive gifts followed by a blessing which was given. Big Bear and I had brought a piece of furniture but had left it in the car and it wasn’t exactly something you could fit into the jewellery box they were using to collect the presents. So we made a quick decision to give money instead. It almost felt impossible not to give (not that I wouldn’t have given or anything), but had I chosen not to, I would have probably been cursed or something! Nonetheless, it was a beautiful event. I can’t imagine how spoilt this little girl is going to be. Imagine her wedding!
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