Sunday, 26 November 2017

The Priest's Tale

by Reverend Roger Redding, MBE,
retired Chaplain to Gypsies, Travellers and Showmen



My introduction to the Gypsy Traveller world began in 1996 when I was selected for the post of Team Vicar in the Chalke Valley in the diocese of Salisbury. The parishes bordered the counties of Wiltshire and Dorset. I had been working in urban areas where there were large housing estates and vast parishes so arriving in rural Ebbesbourne Wake came as quite a shock. After about a month I began to wonder why God had chosen me for this isolated post. However it was at this point that I was invited to officiate at my first Romany funeral.

Mr Cooper had not travelled for many years but had bought a piece of land above Salisbury where he constructed a small site for his family to live.

I was invited by the family on the evening before the funeral to see the body into the family home where the deceased would lie in state. The family were in deep mourning and there were many relatives all gathered to pay their respects. I was ushered into a room where Mr Cooper was lying and was asked to pray for his soul and his family also.

I prepared to leave them to their watching when a Romany lady addressed me with the words—“You haven’t had much to do with Travellers have you vicar?” In my heart I heard a voice saying to me, 'That is all going to change from now on.'

Like most Traveller funerals it was huge with around 400 people attending and masses of wonderful flowers.

The family requested that their great friend Eli Frankham, a Gypsy counsellor, should be able to speak about Mr Cooper as a Travelling man. This was the first time that I had come in contact with a Traveller activist. Eli told me something of the spirituality of this much loved man. He was very generous of heart and if you admired anything that belonged to him he would insist that you take it. I am a Franciscan, so this kind of spirituality was of great interest to me. I began, over the following months to be drawn to studying this fascinating nomadic tribe of people.

One of my parishioners told me that there were Travellers who came to camp on the downs above Alvediston and that she would call me when they arrived. On new year’s day 1997 I received the call from Laurie Bissett to tell me that Dave Rawlings and his family had arrived on the drove road.


Romany musician and his wife
from an oil painting by Roger
I drove up just a little apprehensive as I had not encountered itinerant Travellers before. I approached a man who was cold shoeing a horse outside his Gypsy vardo. I asked if he was Dave Rawlings and he answered yes, I am but who are you? I told him that I was the local vicar and he said, “Good, my daughter wants to get married.”

This extraordinary day was to be the start of a wonderful friendship. Dave opened the doors into the Traveller community and introduced me to some amazing people.

Within a year of meeting the Rawlings family I had spent time living on the road with them and become involved with the Great Dorset Steam Fair.

As time went by I came to know of the real suffering of the Travelling people and also gained an insight into their deep spirituality.
I remember Dave saying to me once, “ You know the story in the new testament about the kingdom of heaven having many mansions? Well I look at it like this, I am one of those mansions, a dwelling place for God’s spirit.” That to me was a very special insight into Traveller spirituality.

The thread of nomadic spirituality runs right through the bible form Abel to Abraham, Moses and to Jesus himself who was the ultimate nomad.

I often felt that I was being ministered unto rather than being the one ministering.

It has been a great joy to live and work with my adopted nation and to share in their joys and sorrows.

I would like to offer you God’s blessing as you continue to read on.
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Traditional Gaelic Blessing

4 comments:

  1. I'm a Sicilian..and proud of it...!
    I live here in a town called Blandford...
    Where over many years the travelling
    community have lived..even as a young
    teenager, l used to visit them at Thorecombe,
    relate to them, eat and drank with them, and,
    dare l say it...tasted my first hedgehog...!
    Lovely people..I wanted to tell you about the
    Sicilians, the way l was raised...I found this
    on line..which will tell you of my upbringing..
    As close as l can get really...

    Let me begin by stating that the word Gypsy was originally used as an abreviated, or sometime derogatory name for Egyptians. This should explain that the original Gypsies were from Egypt/Africa. Due to the invasion of Sicily by the Moors (Arabs) and times following, not only had the ethnicity of the Sicilian people changed but also their religious practices. The Saracins (Moors) were Nomadic people mainly Islamic, but being Nomads they revered nature and depended on the land for survival. As time passed some of these people referred to themselves as Gypsies/Egyptians when they broke away from Islam and/or the Orthodox Religion of the times. The Sicilian Gypsies hid their beliefs and would choose one or more children per generation to pass their beliefs (ways) to. The child(ren) would be chosen by several criteria. In my case, it was my birthdate 11-11 and my birth time which also corresponded to 11-11. The number 11 was very significant to them, thus Eleven was given to me as my magical name.

    My parents, both being Roman Catholics, frowned upon my Aunties schooling me in the ways of old and by my seventh birthday (the Catholics believe this to be the age of reason) my parents limited my contact with my Aunties and place me in Catholic school so that the nuns could influence me. It never happened and the nuns became very frustrated with me saying that I asked too many questions. Until I was 14 years old I still studied with my Aunties, but in secret as my parents were afraid of what I was learning from them.

    What you need to understand is that most Sicilian Gypsies had to hide their beliefs, even from their immediate families. My Aunties were very active in the Catholic church. My Aunt Francesca became my godmother at my baptism. My family considered all of them my godmothers because they attended my birth. None of my siblings were given the honor of being 'chosen'. Why? I cannot say. Maybe it is because the Aunties were not in attendance for my sisters and brothers at their births. Or maybe their birthdates didn't align properly. Two of my cousins were chosen by them though and I was always closer to the cousins than my siblings. Both cousins were the daughters of my Aunt Maria, so it was obvious that they would learn from their mama. My Aunt Cecelia also had a daughter who never showed any interest in learning the Old Ways.

    I hope that I have been able to shed some light on the question of Gypsies in Sicily. Unfortunately there is not too much written history. There was just too much hatred shown toward anyone who was not mainstream religion, especially those that chose to be called Gypsy, that lineage was forgotten. What was important was that spiritual and magical teachings could survive and be passed to new generations.

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  2. Thank you, Willie. Your story is both fascinating and sad. I also lived in Blandford for a long time, and knew it as a centre that the Romany people looked to for their funerals in particular. I was told this wa because so many of them had been born on the hills overlooking Blandford, Local place names like "Travellers' Rest" and "Tinpot Lane" still remind us of the heritage they are a part of, and you will often e=meet them at the Great Dorset Steam Fair too.

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    1. Oh! Goodness! Yes! Tinpot Lane...
      They seem to take to me, l was told,
      because of my curly hair, and coming
      from Sicily. I spend a lot of time with
      them over the years..Frank and his wife
      Sylvia, finished up living just a few
      doors away from me...Sylvia was a lovely
      lady...but they've all gone on now!
      Lost touch a bit..still happy memories!

      And,,Yes! The funerals were amazing, went
      to a few up at the cemetery, the Turner
      graves, are still the best kept up there!

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