Washington Week: Student Voices (O)

Marginalized Roma trying to survive in ravaged Czech Republic
By Courtney Dudley
Daily Texan (U. Texas)
08/10/2007

(U-WIRE) AUSTIN, Texas — Miroslav Kandrac and his son, also named Miroslav, enter the kitchen of their dilapidated home in Stara Cervena Voda, a small farm town in the Czech Republic just south of Poland, with bags of food in tow. As if on cue, the rest of the 17 members of the Kandrac family rush in from the other three rooms of their home to survey what is for dinner. Zophie, the matriarch of the family, passes out bread and salami to all of the children, seven of whom are under the age of five. The room is overcome with chaos as mothers and fathers try to restore order to the once-quiet kitchen. The kids begrudgingly return to one of the three bedrooms, but with 17 family members living under one roof, privacy is not an option.

The Kandrac family is Roma, a politically correct term for Gypsy. The term "Gypsy," depending on its use, is considered a derogatory term. When mumbled through gritted teeth on the metro by a Czech, it carries the same weight as the word "nigger" in reference to a black person.

There is a lot more history behind both of these words than can be easily recounted, and unless you have been on the receiving end of a slur, it could be hard to understand. And unlike the "N" word in the U.S., Czechs use "Gypsy" freely, even refusing to say "Roma" out of spite and a lack of respect for the entire culture. The schools are segregated. There are educated and successful people who exhibit blatant racism and encourage their children to do the same.

At the same time, Zophie refers to herself and her family as Gypsies, plays Gypsy music and cooks Gypsy meals. She does not have a problem with the word, and the more and more she hears "Roma" the more she seems to insist that she is "Gypsy."

The Roma "problem" (as the media and politicians call it) is widespread and intricately complicated. City officials deported the Kandracs from their home in a nearby city to Stara Cervena Voda (which literally translates from Czech as "Old Red Water") in the middle of the night. Zophie says that they were given two choices: to give up their home, which was in much better condition, and move into their present home, which was already in shambles, or refuse the offer, have their children taken from them and live on the streets. They chose to take the house.

The Kandracs are not alone. Hundreds of Roma families in the area have been forced to make the same decision. Actions like this by the government don't just create ghettos where Roma are confined to work and live — they further enforce institutionalized racism.

The "problem" dates back hundreds of years, and the Roma have always been discriminated against. It became most prevalent in the Czech Republic during communism, when traveling was outlawed and the Roma were forced to live together in apartments. They were supposed to adjust, or assimilate, to white culture. Not surprisingly, that never happened. Even if they had tried, Czechs generally want nothing to do with a Gypsy.

Giant steps have been made for Roma rights in the government. There are many successful and educated members of the Roma society. But they are seen as a credit to their race. They stand out in a sea of uneducated, unemployed Roma. The vast majority of the race lives in extreme poverty, cyclically propelled by both a lack of opportunity and a lack of desire.

It's almost as easy to blame the Czechs for being racist as it is to blame the Roma for being lazy. There is no easy answer to this "problem."

Although the Kandracs have had to endure countless hardships since their move to Stara Cervena Voda, they are held together by an incredible love for one another. Their home is falling in on itself, the walls are covered with mold, and the water is undrinkable. But at the end of a day, the eldest Miroslav lies on the couch with four children across his stomach watching TV, while his daughter Susannah sings and dances along with her brother's children, Nella and Marie. In the next room, Zophie cradles her youngest daughter, Jasmina. There is not a neglected child in the house. The inseparable bond between them mirrors a tradition throughout Roma history of unconditional love that will continue to keep them alive, despite the adversity and challenges they still have ahead.

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