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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Not far from my bustling town of Baiano, which welcomed anyone, there was a camp set up for gypsies, not with dangerous tramps and thieves, it looked like a concentration camp: a territory restricted and feared by the locals when they burned logs themselves to keep warm; and despite alienation and distrust, out of it came inner beauty. Mandisa and I became friends, and we chatted after I finished school; many wonderful stories of Egypt she told me: from every Pharaoh who ever lived to the last tribe of gypsies. While everybody was suspicious and kept the distance, prejudice didn't keep me away from her...we shared the same feelings of two young people, but mine were somewhat more real, hers were not too realistic considering the condition she lived in: a camp that resembled a ghetto without any help from the Government. At dusk, the males played the Ouds and Riqs that surely brightened up a cloudy sky over their squalid tents... residents listened, but thought their music was dedicated to their Goddess Iris: what a misconception they had about theses gypsies who never hurt anyone! With arms hugged across my chest, feeling the crispness of the evening breeze, I listened to every song they sang with a nostalgia an outsider couldn't describe, then I grabbed Mandisa's hand and started to dance! They cheered and played that music louder..everyone came out of their homes thinking that a concert was in progress, but they were taken by shock: their bitter looks changed to human tenderness seeing two kids dance, one of their own country: beautiful Italy and the other from mysterious Egypt which they knew little about. We looked at them and smiled and invited them to join us to form a ring where all held each other hand: two races coming together in friendship and harmony that before seemed a mere impossibility! Copyright 2012 by Andrew Crisci
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