Horse-driven carts are a source of great shame for the ethnic Bulgarians living in the capital city, Sofia. “What kind of European capital is this,” they say, and very often add a compassionate, “Those poor horses.”
Not counting rural villages, here in Bulgaria the horse-driven cart is a vehicle used exclusively by the Romani. People look down on these carts. They are seen as a sign of low class, poverty, and aimlessness. Also, as a relic of a long bygone time. In today’s modern world, there is no place for wooden constructions being dragged by animals on the busiest boulevards of our capital city.
And speaking of the animals: exhausted, malnourished, on the brink of fainting. Clearly abused by these savages, the Romani.
Now, let’s see how much of this is actually true.
What are the carts for?
In our piece addressing the stereotype that the Romani are lazy, we talked about how the Romani, employed or not, exploited or not, never choose to take a day off. Regardless if they have just woken up in the morning or just returned home from their day job, they always venture out to a different, unregulated, looked-down-upon but very much needed kind of work.
The best way to describe this work is recycling but the reality of it is much more nuanced than what most people would imagine.
The Romani collect all types of metal, sort it, clean it, and carry it to scrap shops.
They collect broken tools, appliances, and electronics, repair them, and resell them.
They scan the streets for people doing renovations: carrying out heavy bags or furniture; and they offer to help.
They scan shops, garages, and all types of small businesses in need of help with cleaning, shelving, heavy lifting, and transportation; and they offer to help.
Most Romani do this with their two bare hands. A smaller number are fortunate enough to afford a horse and a cart, so they work in bulk, are able to transport bigger loads, and make much bigger earnings.
The horses, obviously, play a huge role.
Are they abused? Are they exploited?
“If the horse is hungry, the whole family goes hungry,” says Pepi. “If the horse is sick or tired, everything stops.”
Putting feelings and sentiment aside for a brief moment, the practicalities of owning a horse demand constant, vigilant care. Buying a horse is an enormous investment, the cost sometimes exceeding that of a car. To employ the horse in the job you need it for, you have to ensure that it is strong and healthy. Otherwise, you sink even further down into poverty.
But the role of the horse goes far beyond the practicalities.
Members of the family
Nicky, the husband of one of Pepi’s nieces, was telling a story once about one of the many police raids in the Roma ghetto. The police would show up unannounced and start pulling people out of their houses, beating them, threatening them, insulting them, and finally, arresting them. Often, nobody knew what the raid was for. They knew the police enjoyed it. “One time, they poured my Fanta onto my head while I was lying down after they were kicking me,” Nicky said, “and they were laughing and laughing.”
One evening, Nicky was just outside the ghetto when he heard the sounds of yet another police raid.
His first instinct was to run away. His wife and children were already there with him. They were not in danger. He told them to run and all he needed to do was join them.
But instead, he ran straight into the ghetto.
Because his horse was still there.
“The policemen sometimes go straight for the horses,” Nicky said. “They hit them and sometimes shoot at them. The horses can’t escape on their own because they’re attached to ropes.”
Nicky couldn’t just hide while his horse was at the mercy of the police. So he dove head-first into another night of violence.
The horse died years later. Nicky still tears up talking about him and has pictures of him on his phone. “I loved this horse.”
“The horse is a full member of the family,” Pepi explains about his Roma tribe. “With the one caveat that, if you have only enough money to feed the children or the horse, you feed the horse. A horse cannot stay hungry for even a single night. Humans can, but horses - no.”
There are people who abuse their horses, whip them too hard, rush them, and drive them to exhaustion. The tribe doesn’t tolerate them. “As much as he beats his horse, we beat him twice as hard,” is a common sentiment.
Yet, many horses do go hungry or grow weak and tired. This is not a signifier of love or care. It shows the state of the entire family.
When mainstream society sees a cart driven by a weak, tired horse, their hearts break for the horse. Not for the doubly weak, tired, and hungry people inside the cart.
Nicky’s current horse, Rino, is loved by all of his 4 children and respected as an earner on equal footing as Nicky himself. Rino is Nicky’s buddy, comrade, and brother. One time, when Nicky was in the hospital for a week, the entire family went hungry - a common side-effect of the Roma reality where your living depends on constant work, every day. If you don’t work, you don’t eat.
Nicky didn’t work for a whole week while lying in a hospital bed. His wife, Vela, was left in full survival mode. When we saw her, she talked about being worried for Nicky and how she pawned things “to feed Rino and the kids.” After we saw her, she went to feed Rino first, while her kids were waiting at home.
If you open Nicky’s Facebook profile and do a quick scroll through his uploads you will see pictures of him, his wife, his children, his nieces and nephews, and Rino.


Sharing a destiny together
Horses are a big part of Roma culture. Entire tribes have honed the craft of horse trading for generations. One of the big Roma annual festivals is centered around horses.
But what about other animals?
Do the Romani share the same love for animals they can’t make money from?
Yes. Yes, they do.
When a stray dog or cat walks into a Roma house, it finds a bed, food, and the ecstatic cuddles of children. Nobody chases the animal away. Nobody forces it to stay either. The tribe, a microcosm of many families woven together, doesn’t close the doors to keep anyone out or in.
Recently, a dog found shelter under Vela and Nicky’s bed. She gave birth to a few puppies and nursed them for a while until it was time to roam further. Vela and Nicky shared their food and water with the dog and puppies without a second thought. They still think of them as “our dog” and “our puppies” even after they left the nest.
Before that, they had a cat. It still visits them. And before that, many, many more family members.
“I’d go hungry first before my dog,” Pepi’s 23-year-old son says. Pepi himself has had many dogs and cats, one of which is Sarah. She bonded with Pepi as a puppy and has stuck with him through many tumults, including the demolition of his house in the Roma community. Pepi was moved to a temporary center and tried a couple of times to take Sarah but she found her way back to her neighborhood. Now, Pepi lives even further away, but she still greets him at the bus stop every morning when he comes to work.
Another one of his dearest dogs was struck by a car years ago, right in front of Pepi’s eyes. He took the dog off the road and hugged it under a tree, still feeling its heart beating. They stayed in this embrace for a few short but eternal minutes.
“I felt he wasn’t allowing himself to die because of me. I was forcing him to keep struggling. So I laid him on the ground and took a few steps away. He died within seconds.”
The Romani are not possessive and radically unsentimental about anything, much less animals whom they see as beings with their own dignity and agency, as fellow souls who share this Earth with us. They cherish the bond with an animal. If they are rich, the animal will be taken care of like a royal. But most of the Romani are not rich. So they share what they have, even if it’s just bread, and the humans, the dog, or the cat, or the horse are all a bit hungry, a bit tired, but - in this moment - together.
I've been enjoying your posts immensely! I've learned a lot about Roma culture from you. I'm an American storyteller and though I've lived in Bulgaria twice (1983-84, преди промените, and 2015), I never had much contact with Roma. A couple of years ago, a non-Roma friend who works with Съдружение ЛАРГО in Kyustendil invited me to do a storytelling project with a group of Roma youth. I met with them a couple of times on Zoom. The larger project hasn't worked out yet, but maybe it will in the next few years. I speak Bulgarian and a little Turkish but no Romany (yet).