WAITING FOR MAGIC IN MACEDONIA

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Herdelezi is an annual celebration common to Roma that involves a big toad, a volley of gunfire and some home-made brandy. A correspondent for Economist.com observes the spectacle ...

From ECONOMIST.COM

“Around midnight a big toad will appear—no-one knows where from—and then healing water will flow from the spring, only to dry up a couple of minutes later," said Iso, a 53-year old hodja fresh from reciting the Koran to sanctify the slaughter of six sheep. A volley of gunfire would then be needed to summon three angels to restart the flow, so the 200 pilgrims could take a bottle home.

Looking round it seemed it would be easy enough to muster the necessary fire-power. “It’s like Afghanistan,” said Iso, smiling as he surveyed the steadily growing encampment of gun-toting pilgrims. Even Almir, his 19-year-old pupil, had a pistol grip sticking out of his tracksuit’s waistband, and took an unsettling delight in brandishing a murderous-looking axe. Thankfully the guns were only there to satisfy the Balkan-wide custom of loosing off a joyous shot or two in high spirits, and the axe to lop wood for the fire.

I had made the two-hour climb up this mountain near the town of Prilep in western Macedonia with a group of Roma to witness “Herdelezi”, an annual two-day celebration common to Roma living in south-east Europe, which starts on the eve of St George’s day. "For non-Roma Christians St George’s day is just another name day. For the Roma it is much more," Iso said. While the Roma population in this area are almost all Muslim, Orthodox Roma elsewhere in the region mark the day with equal enthusiasm.

For Muslims the stock theological explanation is a ninth century meeting between the Green Man, an enigmatic figure known as “Al-Khidr” in Arabic, and Elijah, an Old Testament prophet. But Iso links Al-Khidr back to the miraculous blooming of nature which took place after Buddha had spent time meditating under a tree. "Our bible, the Koran, is the umbrella for all religions," he said.

This particular ritual near Prilep can be traced back around 200 years, when the great-grandfather of Nuri Uzereoski, a bespectacled man in his fifties who has inherited the role of keeper of the spring, was led to the water, reportedly by the Archangel Gabriel.

Roma But Iso did not need a precise religious pedigree. “It is not really a holy day. It is the end of spring and the start of summer. It is an international day celebrated by Roma in Afghanistan, Kazakhstan and Turkey.” The gathering here had its own modest international contingent. Each of the six metal shelters were named after the places whence friends and neighbours had sent back the money to construct them. I was offered space to lay down on some corrugated cardboard in the Switzerland shelter, which was adjacent to Austria, Denmark and Italy.

“Almost all of the food is donated," according to Tahir Selemoski, president of the Roma Goodness citizens’ association. “There are almost no jobs and most of the Roma people are illiterate, although Jesus and Mohammed were illiterate too.” The main source of income for the community is growing tobacco. But this offers slim pickings. A farmer might earn 250 denar ($5.50) per kilogram, but a typical tobacco patch would deliver a yearly crop of just ten kilograms.

The only good thing, Mr Selemoski said, is that the level of hatred towards Roma is not as strong in Macedonia as it is in places like the Czech Republic.

Shortly before the sun went down the women, directed by Sejdija Salijoska, served up dinner, a spicy bean and lamb broth and hunk of bread. (As a guest I was ushered straight to the front of the queue.) The combination of a hearty meal, an afternoon scrambling up a mountain in the burning sun, a shot of home-made rakija brandy and the quickly falling darkness proved powerfully soporific. I retreated to my patch of Switzerland. Perhaps 20 minutes later I woke with a start to see a dark figure looming over me: a middle-aged man covering me with a blanket.

I emerged bleary-eyed an hour or so later. It was now fully dark. Beyond the range of three or four generator-powered light bulbs, the only illumination came from campfires in the near distance. Many had found shelter for the night in fissures in the granite rock face behind or built lean-tos with branches and polythene sheeting. It was time to take a place by a fire and wait for a miracle.

Picture credit: borderlys, Christos Tsoumplekas (both via Flickr)

(This is a correspondent's diary about the Roma in Macedonia, published on Economist.com.)