“The building was in such a bad condition, that my son kept falling through the floor and landing in the room of the family living below.”
Do you think the sentence above is true? Do you think it is even a little bit true? Does it sound exaggerated?
We will tell you the facts. But first, let’s look at the bigger questions. Do the Romani lie? And more importantly: what makes them lie?
“In case they don’t believe me”
Recently, Pepi had a health problem that forced him to spend 20 days out of the month on sick leave so he can rest at home. Because of that, he received only a small portion of his salary. The rest would be paid out, in a week or so, by our national insurance agency. So, Pepi called the office of a private judge where he makes monthly payments on an old loan. He wanted to tell them that he’ll be late on the payment this month.
“I’m in hospital,” he told the lady on the phone. “I’m very sick, and had to be hospitalized.”
Then, he continued.
“I didn’t get my full salary. I only received 40 BGN (= 20 USD.)”
The lady told him they understand, and can wait until he receives his full income.
Later, Martina asked him:
“Why did you exaggerate? The truth, alone, was going to be enough to get you an extension.”
“It’s a precaution,” he said, “in case they don’t believe me.”
It’s an ironic vicious cycle. You expect not to be believed. You expect to be dismissed and disregarded. So you lie in an effort to make the truth more true.
Did it matter, to that accountant in the office, if Pepi was hospitalized or recovering at home? Did it matter if he received 40 BGN or 100 BGN or 500 BGN? The correct answer should be “no.” What should matter is that he was sick and the bulk of his income was delayed.
But the Romani don’t deal with “shoulds” when it comes to institutions and anyone with authority or power. They don’t expect to be treated fairly. They don’t expect to be extended the some courtesy, rights, and even attitude, that everyone else receives. Fair treatment is, to them, an exception that they need to orchestrate and arrange for themselves.
Pepi wanted to communicate two things on that phone call. “I have been sick” and “My salary is being delayed.” He did communicate those two things. They were true. The detail he added, while untrue, was meant to penetrate the indifference and hostility and ensure that the actual truth is heard.
Did the boy really keep falling through the floor?
In 2017, a number of houses in the Roma “ghetto” our tribe has lived in for a century, were demolished under the supervision of the mayor and police. The people who lost their homes were later placed in social housing, specifically: old two-story buildings nearby.
Vela, together with her husband and children, was placed on the first floor of these houses. Her aunt, Todorka, together with her children and grandchildren, was placed right above them: on the second floor.
The house had just been through a fire, when Vela and Todorka moved in. The walls were charred black. The wooden boards that served as a floor for Todorka and a ceiling for Vela, would creak and break. Todorka and the children quickly learned to step around holes and weak spots on the floor.
However, one of the kids, Kerim, is almost fully blind. So he wasn’t always able to step on solid ground. Often he would step into a hole and the entire board around it would collapse under his weight.
“Kerim has fallen through our ceiling at least a dozen times,” Vela said when Martina asked her once if Todorka’s story was true. One of those times he even broke his leg.
The house was eventually repaired by Vela and her husband, and other members of the tribe. Not enough for it to be considered in a livable condition, but enough to mend the fire damage.
When Vela tried to get reimbursed by the municipality for the repairs, she was told she had to provide proof.
“I had pictures of the fire damage on my old phone, but it broke a long time ago,” Vela says.
What other proof can she provide? There are no receipts, no officially hired repairmen, no witnesses other than the Romani themselves.
Even with the repairs, the building is still officially considered dangerous. The municipality is, on paper, obligated to do a full repair before placing anyone there, let alone families with children.
Even with all this information, when Martina was talking with a human rights lawyer about Todorka’s living situation, it was only when she showed the birds-eye picture of the house taken from a nearby bridge that made the lawyer’s eyes grow wide.
“This is absurd,” the lawyer said. “Look at these walls. Is this tarpaulin on the roof? Can you send me the picture so we can add it to the file?”
Yes, it is absurd. It is so absurd that when you tell someone about it, they can barely believe it.
And this is exactly the point.
The Romani are put in so many absurd situations by the surrounding hostile racist society, that when you hear them talk about it, you think they are exaggarating. Until you see it with your own eyes.
How do you make truth sound true?
The reason Martina was meeting with a human rights lawyer on behalf of Todorka in 2021 was because Todorka had been served an eviction notice by the municipality due to unpaid rent. She was about to be kicked out on the street.
Did Todorka really not pay rent?
The lawyer told us to look for receipts. Todorka brought out all of her documentation, filed away in a folder under the mattres.
She had receipts for the entire time she had been living there except for several months earlier that year.
“Did you pay rent for these months?” Martina asked her.
“I went with cash to the municipality counter every month,” Todorka answered, “but they kept saying I should pay it all in bulk later.”
The municipality declined Todorka’s rent. Not in writing. Verbally, over the counter. When she came to pay the entirety of the debt she owed, on the day the municipality official had told her, she was rejected again. They couldn’t accept backpay, they said.
Todorka lost her court case. After several appeals, she was finally evicted in the fall of 2023.
The municipality is unrelenting in wanting to free up this house. Vela and her family have been facing similar pressure and threats of eviction.
Do you believe their stories?
And the more interesting question.
If you were them, and nobody believed you when you told them what has been happening, what would you say to make the truth sound true?
The amount of times I've heard this stereotype in my life is astounding. Great post!