|
We Borrow the Earth
|
My Puri Dai told me that once, before I was born, everything that was on the mantelpiece in a house they had been sitting in suddenly fell with a great crash to the floor, apparently of its own accord. She said that Jack Lee leapt out of his chair and had rushed to the other side of the room with eyes blazing in terror. He had then run outside to the garden, where he had fallen to the ground, remaining there for some time, lying against the Earth.
This had been an omen, my grandmother said, a warning that a curse might well be upon the family if it continued to live in houses and indulge in ownership in the gaujo manner. Later, they discovered that at the precise moment the phenomenon had occurred, a relation had died. She had been in another house, dropped an oil lamp after falling over and tragically burned to death. This marked the beginning of the curse, which has remained in the family to this day.
As a Chovihano, Jack Lee attempted to carry out purification rituals to charm away the bad luck, but the bad luck considered to come out of gaujo living was strong and it was finally decided that the Bengesko Yak, the Evil Eye, was well and truly upon them all. My grandmother said that Jack Lee left the house and went away for some considerable time following that event; he thought that his magic could not work any more.
Living and dying, or rather how you live and die was always an important issue for the Romani gypsy. The general belief is that if the old ways are not observed you lay yourself open to bad luck which will weaken you, thereafter inviting harmful magical influences in the form of curses and enchantments to enter your life. These can be a severe threat to health and well-being if not taken seriously.
When the objects on the mantelpiece took their mysterious unaided dive to the floor that day, my family saw it as a warning to protect themselves. An ancestor’s spirit was not at rest and this is a very serious matter, for it subjects the family to what is probably one of the greatest fears for the Romani gypsy: the Mulo.
The word mulo is related to the Sanskrit mrta, ‘dead’, also to the English words ‘murder’ and ‘mortuary’. It covers many aspects of the spirit in death in Romani lore and like all spirits, it manifests as a benevolent or malevolent force. When benevolent, the spirits of the departed are seen as trustworthy, and in many ways alive, but alive in another world. They can guide and help those in the flesh in many ways. But if malevolent, these spirits are still considered to be living in this world and are what we might call vampires, zombies or the walking dead, a belief which dates back many thousands of years and which may well have its roots in vampiric traditions in India.
From my own family I learned that the spirits of the dead are extremely vulnerable just after death, rather like newborns. I understood that after death you returned to Grandmother Earth, the source, and entered places that are often beyond the comprehension of those left behind, as only the Chovihanos have access to these obscure realms. Providing you made your transition back to Puvus, the Earth, through the grave, all went smoothly, and you could move on to other dimensions. But if something interfered with that process, you might well become a ghost, a lost soul, haunting those left behind. Only a Chovihano could then find your soul and bring it to rest.
It has been common in modern times to associate exorcism with Christian ministers, but post-death soul-retrieval was a common task for the gypsy Chovihano in earlier times. The word drukerimaskro was used to describe a Christian minister who had the power to lay ghosts to rest. Drukerimaskro, originally ‘soothsayer’, described an art, which was linked to the Chovihano. Certainly it was always impressed upon me that a Chovihano must be prepared to help the dead as much as the living.
The Chovihano’s role will lie not only in rescuing a lost soul, but also in experiencing that soul’s misery and pain, thereby ‘capturing’ the curse or spell responsible for keeping the dead person out of the grave.
Perhaps new ideas of death, or more correctly the loss of the ancient value of death, have created a fear in our modern times of being buried or contained in the Earth - almost as if at death we are buried alive! Since the Earth’s soil is no longer the ‘source’, no longer the ‘mother’, it is no longer considered to be clean. It has become unhygienic and constantly needs washing away. So the Earth’s soil has become ‘dirt’, a term I find deeply offensive, which is justified on the discovery that the origin of the word ‘dirt’ has its roots in the Old Norse drit, which means excrement!
Romani gypsies have used the soil in many ways in their rituals and to break spells, throwing it over themselves or even into their mouths on occasion. Jack Lee threw himself on the soil when the objects fell from the mantelpiece as a means of protecting himself and asking the Earth’s forgiveness. Many Romanies who drop food on the soil will pick the food up and eat it, but if food is dropped on the floor inside a house it is considered to be mokado, or ritually unclean, and is thrown away. In early times when humans moved into dwellings the soil moved in with them, household dust being linked with good fortune, and its removal only ever being carried out as a ritual.
Some gypsies have been rather preoccupied with cleanliness, which has been attributed to high standards of hygiene, but this is, in fact, a corruption of the old way when washing was a means of washing away magical impurities.
For instance, gypsies’ modern habits of using several different bowls for washing have their roots in fears of magical cross-contamination, where bad luck will be passed on through the flow of water. Several washing bowls will be designated for different purposes, i.e. clothes can never be washed in a bowl that is normally used for washing dishes, and a man’s clothes and a woman’s clothes have to be washed in separate bowls. Children, who are considered to be naturally pure and therefore incapable of passing on bad luck, can have their clothes washed in anyone’s bowl.
For the gypsies, magic has always been far more important than ‘dirt’ and dust; bad magic alone provides the greatest obstacle to general living.
Contact with gaujos has often been considered to leave a gypsy in a mokado, or unclean, state of mind. (Interestingly, the word ‘mokkers’, as in ‘to put the mokkers on something’ comes from the word mokado.) But death, and its mokado effects, has always been given special attention in Romani lore, for there are no compromises when your time comes. You may walk about in your physical life dragging your soul and your past behind you, but at death you must relinquish all, particularly if you wish to become a wise and respected ancestor - and most Romanies prefer this option, as their fear of the Mulo is so great. The borrowing principle - accepting something and being able to let it go when nature demands - holds true once again.
There is no doubt that Jack Lee knew all this, but he was only too aware that the old traditions were rapidly being devalued as gaujo magic was becoming stronger. Most other gypsies were experiencing the same discomforts. For instance, although many were still practising the death ritual, which requires the deceased’s belongings to be burned, buried or destroyed, it was humiliating for gypsies to have the great ritual blaze of a flaming tent or wagon brought under control by concerned fire-fighters! With fewer places than ever in which to conduct this old ritual, loved ones risked suffering the horrors of not having their needs met at death and were therefore susceptible to the Mulo.
Such fears caused Romani families a good deal of anxiety, which many ordinary people failed to understand. The death ritual itself would, of course, have been much simpler in earlier times when gypsies moved about with fewer possessions. The decorative wagons, or classic gypsy caravans, first used in the early nineteenth century - which are the inspiration behind the holiday caravans we have today - and then the motor-drawn trailers brought gypsies more fully into the civilized world, but they also brought space for storage, which meant an inevitable increase in possessions. Understandably, the fewer the possessions, the less one needs to relinquish when departing from this world.
Many resisted the horse-drawn wagon at first, as they did the motor-drawn trailer which took its place, preferring to stick with the prehistoric bender, which had after all served them and other Asian and European nomads for thousands of years. The decorative wagon was in fact favoured mostly in Britain, the patterning becoming very dense and colourful as a means of preventing bad luck filtering through to the inhabitants within, such as in the winding vines which were painted on most wagons, symbolizing continuous uninterrupted flowing life. In Europe the wagons remained plain and some gypsies there were inclined to live sedentary rather than nomadic lives.
I believe that the era of the wagon was detrimental for the Romanies’ spiritual lives, particularly at death, as possessions were being passed on in the gaujo manner rather than being destroyed, which also meant that the old nomadic values of letting go were not properly adhered to and souls were becoming lost. Ownership was taking over in a very big way.
© Patrick Jasper Lee 2013.
As a Chovihano, Jack Lee attempted to carry out purification rituals to charm away the bad luck, but the bad luck considered to come out of gaujo living was strong and it was finally decided that the Bengesko Yak, the Evil Eye, was well and truly upon them all. My grandmother said that Jack Lee left the house and went away for some considerable time following that event; he thought that his magic could not work any more.
Living and dying, or rather how you live and die was always an important issue for the Romani gypsy. The general belief is that if the old ways are not observed you lay yourself open to bad luck which will weaken you, thereafter inviting harmful magical influences in the form of curses and enchantments to enter your life. These can be a severe threat to health and well-being if not taken seriously.
When the objects on the mantelpiece took their mysterious unaided dive to the floor that day, my family saw it as a warning to protect themselves. An ancestor’s spirit was not at rest and this is a very serious matter, for it subjects the family to what is probably one of the greatest fears for the Romani gypsy: the Mulo.
The word mulo is related to the Sanskrit mrta, ‘dead’, also to the English words ‘murder’ and ‘mortuary’. It covers many aspects of the spirit in death in Romani lore and like all spirits, it manifests as a benevolent or malevolent force. When benevolent, the spirits of the departed are seen as trustworthy, and in many ways alive, but alive in another world. They can guide and help those in the flesh in many ways. But if malevolent, these spirits are still considered to be living in this world and are what we might call vampires, zombies or the walking dead, a belief which dates back many thousands of years and which may well have its roots in vampiric traditions in India.
From my own family I learned that the spirits of the dead are extremely vulnerable just after death, rather like newborns. I understood that after death you returned to Grandmother Earth, the source, and entered places that are often beyond the comprehension of those left behind, as only the Chovihanos have access to these obscure realms. Providing you made your transition back to Puvus, the Earth, through the grave, all went smoothly, and you could move on to other dimensions. But if something interfered with that process, you might well become a ghost, a lost soul, haunting those left behind. Only a Chovihano could then find your soul and bring it to rest.
It has been common in modern times to associate exorcism with Christian ministers, but post-death soul-retrieval was a common task for the gypsy Chovihano in earlier times. The word drukerimaskro was used to describe a Christian minister who had the power to lay ghosts to rest. Drukerimaskro, originally ‘soothsayer’, described an art, which was linked to the Chovihano. Certainly it was always impressed upon me that a Chovihano must be prepared to help the dead as much as the living.
The Chovihano’s role will lie not only in rescuing a lost soul, but also in experiencing that soul’s misery and pain, thereby ‘capturing’ the curse or spell responsible for keeping the dead person out of the grave.
Perhaps new ideas of death, or more correctly the loss of the ancient value of death, have created a fear in our modern times of being buried or contained in the Earth - almost as if at death we are buried alive! Since the Earth’s soil is no longer the ‘source’, no longer the ‘mother’, it is no longer considered to be clean. It has become unhygienic and constantly needs washing away. So the Earth’s soil has become ‘dirt’, a term I find deeply offensive, which is justified on the discovery that the origin of the word ‘dirt’ has its roots in the Old Norse drit, which means excrement!
Romani gypsies have used the soil in many ways in their rituals and to break spells, throwing it over themselves or even into their mouths on occasion. Jack Lee threw himself on the soil when the objects fell from the mantelpiece as a means of protecting himself and asking the Earth’s forgiveness. Many Romanies who drop food on the soil will pick the food up and eat it, but if food is dropped on the floor inside a house it is considered to be mokado, or ritually unclean, and is thrown away. In early times when humans moved into dwellings the soil moved in with them, household dust being linked with good fortune, and its removal only ever being carried out as a ritual.
Some gypsies have been rather preoccupied with cleanliness, which has been attributed to high standards of hygiene, but this is, in fact, a corruption of the old way when washing was a means of washing away magical impurities.
For instance, gypsies’ modern habits of using several different bowls for washing have their roots in fears of magical cross-contamination, where bad luck will be passed on through the flow of water. Several washing bowls will be designated for different purposes, i.e. clothes can never be washed in a bowl that is normally used for washing dishes, and a man’s clothes and a woman’s clothes have to be washed in separate bowls. Children, who are considered to be naturally pure and therefore incapable of passing on bad luck, can have their clothes washed in anyone’s bowl.
For the gypsies, magic has always been far more important than ‘dirt’ and dust; bad magic alone provides the greatest obstacle to general living.
Contact with gaujos has often been considered to leave a gypsy in a mokado, or unclean, state of mind. (Interestingly, the word ‘mokkers’, as in ‘to put the mokkers on something’ comes from the word mokado.) But death, and its mokado effects, has always been given special attention in Romani lore, for there are no compromises when your time comes. You may walk about in your physical life dragging your soul and your past behind you, but at death you must relinquish all, particularly if you wish to become a wise and respected ancestor - and most Romanies prefer this option, as their fear of the Mulo is so great. The borrowing principle - accepting something and being able to let it go when nature demands - holds true once again.
There is no doubt that Jack Lee knew all this, but he was only too aware that the old traditions were rapidly being devalued as gaujo magic was becoming stronger. Most other gypsies were experiencing the same discomforts. For instance, although many were still practising the death ritual, which requires the deceased’s belongings to be burned, buried or destroyed, it was humiliating for gypsies to have the great ritual blaze of a flaming tent or wagon brought under control by concerned fire-fighters! With fewer places than ever in which to conduct this old ritual, loved ones risked suffering the horrors of not having their needs met at death and were therefore susceptible to the Mulo.
Such fears caused Romani families a good deal of anxiety, which many ordinary people failed to understand. The death ritual itself would, of course, have been much simpler in earlier times when gypsies moved about with fewer possessions. The decorative wagons, or classic gypsy caravans, first used in the early nineteenth century - which are the inspiration behind the holiday caravans we have today - and then the motor-drawn trailers brought gypsies more fully into the civilized world, but they also brought space for storage, which meant an inevitable increase in possessions. Understandably, the fewer the possessions, the less one needs to relinquish when departing from this world.
Many resisted the horse-drawn wagon at first, as they did the motor-drawn trailer which took its place, preferring to stick with the prehistoric bender, which had after all served them and other Asian and European nomads for thousands of years. The decorative wagon was in fact favoured mostly in Britain, the patterning becoming very dense and colourful as a means of preventing bad luck filtering through to the inhabitants within, such as in the winding vines which were painted on most wagons, symbolizing continuous uninterrupted flowing life. In Europe the wagons remained plain and some gypsies there were inclined to live sedentary rather than nomadic lives.
I believe that the era of the wagon was detrimental for the Romanies’ spiritual lives, particularly at death, as possessions were being passed on in the gaujo manner rather than being destroyed, which also meant that the old nomadic values of letting go were not properly adhered to and souls were becoming lost. Ownership was taking over in a very big way.
© Patrick Jasper Lee 2013.
