We met with
misfortune on our travels; an ambush of fierce fighting and the clash of arms
in the night. Isolde and I escaped
silently into the dark bringing with us nothing but the clothes we were
wearing. A weary week of travel caused us to become weakened by hunger and
thirst. We fell asleep at a roadside
near the plains crossing, certain we would not rise again. In the purple of the evening I heard them,
their laughter and voices joined in song.
The men cursed the mules that pulled the wagons of gear. We called weakly to them for aid.
The dusk sets across the plains of
Hungary as we wend our way to Connacht and the creak of wagon wheels echo on
the wind. We follow the wagons walking
behind in dust and stars. The Chergari band
has been kind to us. More than kind, they have made us family. To be free, finally free is more than I had
hoped. Gladly do I take my gypsy name
Yee Chergari. To live the nomadic life,
new worlds, new names, new beginnings await us.
I hope the people of Connacht will find it in their hearts to accept
this humble gypsy encampment at their gathering places.