A group of people started to walk into our resturant and the employees inside started to freak out. A murmor of wispers and arrows shooting looks were crossing tables and invisable sound barriers....
"Do you see who is coming in?"
"OH my gosh they had better not be coming in here."
"Seriously, do you remember last time they were here?"
"If you seat them in my section I will seriously kill you."
"Its the gypsies, urghhh, their so rude."
"You had better remind them that 15% gertuity IS included and we CANT change it."
"Their so loud."
..........................................
And blah blah blah. I was so tired of hearing the gosip. And it was gosip. They were telling assumptions and spreading them as truth. Through the doors a minute later walked in a large group of gypsies. Not the skirt wearing, tamborine carrying traveling gypsies like out of the old story books, but like the nationality, the group of people based out of Eastern Europe Gypsies... the group of peple I spent 3 months hanging out with last winter.
The little girls were beautiful and I immediatly felt myself drifting back to Bulgaria, where we spent countless days crammed in churches with children whose faces so directly resmebeled those of the girls smiling and laughing in front of me. The women were classy, petite and mission oriented. The husbands were happy, comftorable and domineering. I led them back to their table and talked and joked with them aside from jeering stares from my co-workers.
"I am to inform you that there is a 15% gertuity added onto your bill tonight for having a party of 8 or more." I said dreadedly through smiling gritted teeth.
"Not where I come from," the obvious leader of the group laughingly said to me. I laughed it off, shared a final word with the girls, and walked off to face the gossip once again. I pretty much shut out the story that was lunged upon me about what our resturant "thinks of this group." It was such a bad attitude, it was racist.... I didnt know racisim was so alive still. I didnt get a chance to tell anyone that I hung out with gypsies... and mabye we need to understand a little more of their culture, and maybe we need to extend a hand of graciousness and compassion and willingness to learn. I didnt get the chance, but I should have made one. I hope they come in again. I want to know the origin of their accent, I want to tell people that I dont see them as scum.... I want to know how anyone could think that anyway.... is it just easier to pick on someone? Seriously.
All I know is that the gypsies I have met have changed my life. My weeks in Bulgaria are my fondest of my trip, the hands extended to me during that christmas season weakened me to my knees as I learned how little of hospitality I really understood. I love their simplicity and culture and life.... I was reminded to pray for the missionaries in Greece who have devoted their life to a small group of 42 gypsies who are slowing learning to follow God, to not leave their culture, but to let God chance the bad parts of it. I just..... I just want people to know.
2 comments:
This really moved me. Thanks for sharing this part of your day, our world, your heart. It makes me a better person!
At first when I read your story, I thought you were in a restaurant in Bulgaria...then I realized you were talking about Outback, here in Salem, Oregon. In America. Where prejudice is still alive and not well. Why did your coworkers have those attitudes? What had happened the last time they came in? I love your heart for the gypsies. Your heart of compassion for them reminds me of mine....and how I feel about Hispanic and Black families locally and the prejudiced attitude people have against them...and now this group is also experiencing it. Let's face it, Salem is not the most tolerant city of people of other cultures. I am glad you served them with love. Hmmm...makes me want to know how and why and when they came here...where their children go to school. How do you or the staff know they are gypsies? I love who you are Heather Anne Ziebart.
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