Inside the Roma Camp

The Olive Pickers

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Dozens of bags of olives being stacked along the wall, ready for the next trip

The idea had been to visit my new acquaintances at their "homes" the very next day following my photo-shoot at the olive grove. However, that night, my mind would not stop wandering over to them. I had returned home, bubbling over with tales of my afternoon adventure, literally bombarding my husband with a cascading stream of snippets that kept popping up in my mind. I made him sit down with me at the kitchen table, opened up my laptop and excitedly shared the fruits of my afternoon labour: hundreds upon hundreds of snapshots capturing a Day in the Life of the Olive Pickers. While I was sitting there with hubs going through the pictures, the olives that had been gathered that day were being offloaded outside Bakis’s gate. They would soon be picked up and then transported to a local processing plant. I’d already booked my ticket for that ride too! In fact, I’d asked Bakis if he could check with their management whether they would let me join him and take pictures inside the process. I didn't want to upset anyone by showing up unannounced and start taking pictures without permission. In short, the answer was Yes!

The Camp People

'The Camp' as I secretly call it, seen from our bedroom balcony

I kept thinking of those amazingly happy people who had invited me to share a few hours with them during their day’s labour while I was taking photographs. No-one had actually really begged me for anything, except for work and a blanket, and I was asking myself what I could do to help. I wondered how they must have viewed me, a foreigner - an intruder, really- who'd imposed herself into their world, a world they don't normally share with outsiders. I was thinking of the woman who'd asked me if we had a spare blanket or so, because the nights were so very cold. I told my better half about it and together we went through spare bedding and found a couple of brand-new blankets that had never even been taken out of their wrapping. In Greece you simply don’t need extra blankets during the summer, and since we have few visitors during the winter, we had more than enough bedding to cover our needs! So, that was one thing sorted, then. I kept seeing flashes of that lovely smiling girl in her pink sweater - she was simply gorgeous. Even now, as I am writing these words, her full, innocent smile is as vivid a picture as it was on the day we met. The simple and down to earth way in which they carried themselves and went about their business, laughing, chatting and working in harmony will stay with me for years to come.

Clothes and more clothes to come...

...every day the clothes are washed and hung out...

I had an idea. We have a friend in Bulgaria whose mother lives outside Sofia, in Samokov. We always collected clothes and other unwanted or unneeded items from local contacts here in Greece and took them to her on our visits to Sofia so she could give them to her mother who would then distribute everything among some less fortunate families in her town. As we were expecting a visit from our friend I thought I’d get in touch with as many of my contacts in Serres as I could possibly manage and ask if they could prepare some bin bags with unwanted items. Clothes for children, adults, summer, winter... anything. And shoes and any other items they could spare. I would come after the weekend and pick everything up, sort everything and then distribute it to the people at the camp while also keeping some items for my friend’s visit. It worked! Most of those I phoned were able and more than happy to contribute at such short notice and so I arranged the pick-up day, after which I felt instantly better. Even though it was not really much, I’d still be able to help these people.

Ready to visit...

A smiling 'Pinkie' inside The Camp

The next day I had to be in the village down by the sea and decided that while I was there I might as well nip over to a local supermarket to get some fresh groceries and bread. Normally I pick everything up when I’m in town on my weekly visits, but having rearranged my programme to suit the collection of the old clothes, we were running low on fresh vegetables and fruit. When I was leaving the house, Bakis happened to be in his yard and came up to me, asking me how things were going. I told him how much I had enjoyed the previous day and that I had been asked to visit his workers at their camp. He was rather surprised and told me how pleased he was, but at the same time added that I should be careful. I should keep my distance and not become too involved with them. I brushed it off and told him that I would be ok – after all, I was a big girl and could take care of myself! He then laughed with me, gave me a big hug and kiss and saw me off. On the way out of our village, I happened to see the young girl, whom I'd secretly baptized Pinkie, and her husband; they waved at me and I stopped the car. They beamed and asked when I would come to visit them, and I replied that I had a couple of errands to run and promised to come and see them afterwards.
With big happy smiles they waved my off.

Another perfect day along the coastal road to the seaside village...

It was a lovely autumn day, the sun was shining and although it wasn't really hot, it was pleasantly warm. I had some things to sort out at our beach house, and it was a perfect day to open up all the windows and let some fresh air in. I felt good. Life felt good. It really does not matter how often I drive along this road, nor what the weather is like, each time we drive here and see this scenery, I feel I could sing with joy just looking out over the bay... In fact, I often do just that... Sing my heart out!

Back to the story, though.
When I finished my jobs at the beach house, I went to the supermarket and picked up what we needed to see us through a few more days until I returned from town. I proceeded to pack some additional bags with fresh fruit and a selection of basic groceries which I intended to give to my hosts– I could hardly go empty-handed now, could I?

The Visit

Happy faces around the goodie-bags...

By the time I was on my way back home, it was well into the afternoon. The sun sat noticeably lower in the sky and I was quietly wondering if I had perhaps left it too late to take any decent pictures. As a budding photographer I was not yet equipped with the necessary lighting or other fixtures - nor the necessary knowledge to handle it all- that would make an evening or night shoot possible. I decided to play it by ear; nothing else I could do really. My arrival at the camp – well, a loose collection of makeshift tents and plastic-covered constructions that would have been more at home in the shanty towns of a Third World country would be a far more accurate description, actually – caused quite a stir. All of a sudden there was a group of laughing and shouting people milling around the car, calling out for everyone to show up. It was a totally unexpected and amazingly warm reception, but then, to tell you the truth, I didn’t really know what to expect. I had wondered how they would react to my showing up; this was much more than I could ever have expected. Someone asked me if I had brought the photographs and I explained why I hadn’t. I needed to be in town for that because there were no facilities locally where I would have been able to print them. I added that I would bring them next week after I had been to town, and that I had also managed to sort out some clothing and other items to be collected from friends who were happy to help out. And if they let me get out of the car I’d be able to give them something I had picked up earlier on while I was down at the village. They were like a bunch of happy children on the loose; I cannot describe them any different. I asked whether they had any objections to me taking pictures while I was there and they readily agreed... could I get them copies of those pictures too?
How could I possibly refuse ...!

Happy Faces...

... mmm... tasty!

I handed over the different bags and Pinkie’s young husband –forgive me, no disrespect intended- took over as NCO in charge of distribution. Fortunately I’d brought sufficient to make sure no-one would go empty-handed and as soon as everything had been sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction I was showered with a veritable cascade of thanks that made me feel most uncomfortable. They were like a bunch of happy kids opening their Christmas presents. It was incredibly heart-warming to hear them giggle and chatter away, smiles galore! As soon as the Flower-Lady had received her bag, she immediately picked out an apple and was visibly enjoying her crunchy snack. I watched the scene in warm wonder - I had as much pleasure seeing them all so happy as if it had been me on the receiving end.

Neither Rococo nor Renaissance...

Architectural warts in the landscape... but they're called 'home'

And then I was taken on a brief tour of the camp although "Tour" is most definitely too grand a word to describe my guided walk around the small settlement. I soon found out that in spite of its dilapidated looks, there was definitely a kind of chaotic order in this set-up. I do realize that this does probably not make much sense, and I guess one would have to see it with one's own eyes to understand what I mean. All I can do here is display some of the photographs I took in the hope that they reflect what I felt while I was inside the camp. The improvised structures were actually intricately put together with whatever material they had managed to lay hands on. The sturdier constructions were all covered with several layers of heavy plastic sheeting as a protection against the elements. There were also some smaller tent-shaped erections which had old carpets thrown over them. They had probably not been sufficient waste plastic sheets at the local farmers or processing plants to cover their needs. I wondered how they would cope when the heavens opened... It doesn't bear thinking about.

Home life...

... stove-cum-heating system in one!

As the nights had become markedly cooler now, they had cleverly devised a personal “heating” system by cutting away the top of a large empty Greek cheese tin, which also doubled as a makeshift mini-stove on which they prepared a simple meal. It was fashioned in such a way that there was even a metal pipe attached to the tin which served to draw the smoke outside the "room". I shook my head in disbelief. Ingenuity itself! Old mattresses were placed on empty, upside-down plastic vegetable or bottle crates to keep off the bare earth and served simultaneously as a raised bed and improvised couch. Clothes were hung up wherever possible, and every day the women who stayed behind when they had no work made sure some washing was done - the washinglines strung along the vineyards clearly bore witness to this. A couple of stray dogs were happily playing together, running along with us. I was shown around each dwelling and was allowed to make as many pictures as I wanted. Needless to say that I was in my element. I just loved every minute of it!

All mod-cons...!

... the camp's shower room...

It had become pretty clear to me that the members of this little community obviously knew how to take care of themselves. And I have to admit that contrary to what I had expected they seemed to be very well organised. Life here was a far cry from even the most basic hostel, but to them it was home, however temporary and makeshift. I remember thinking 'What do they actually do when nature calls?' As far as I was aware there was no provision made by the local authorities to provide portable toilets during the different seasonal work periods when migrant workers would be in the area, so I wondered how they coped. I did not ask the question - I didn't really want to embarrass them, nor embarrass myself for asking. All I can think of is that Mother Nature provides ample hideouts in the area...

Be that as it may, in all fairness I also must state here that their small camp featured a “shower” facility. Pinkie's husband proudly showed me the result of their craftmanship. By the side of a narrow path, toward the end of their camp they had built a kind of 3-sided cubicle where they could stand in relative privacy -as well as under the open skies- on a disused wooden pallet getting washed with water they had collected in large empty cheese tins. Rudimentary, but quite effective!

Getting ready for those blazing fires!

Time to say goodbye...

Some of the men who had been working in the olive groves during the day had returned by then and a large fire was lit outside, around which they would all gather, eat the dinners that had been prepared by the women-folk, perhaps have a wee drop of rakia and very much like in any ordinary family or community around the world no doubt would talk about the day's events - safe and happy in each other's company, until it was time to climb on their simple cots, tired after yet another long and hard day’s work. It was getting dark and I had to leave my hosts. I had been allowed to spend yet another amazing day in their company, learning and accepting that they were really very generous and kind people who had afforded me a glimpse of their simple lives, an opportunity which I believed very few outsiders would ever be given. I also think that very few outsiders really would want to get more closely acquainted with the Roma, or gypsies as they are generally speaking called. I felt deep gratitude for the kindness and openness they had shown to me. I bade my farewell and promised that I would be back after the weekend, probably on Tuesday, because it would be far too late to visit them after I returned from town on Monday night. They told me how grateful they were for what I had done for them and that they were looking forward to seeing me again. ...
Thank you so much, Gospozha. You are very kind...

... No, not really... but you are!

As night falls, another splendid day comes to a close

I’d explained to my husband that I would stop at the camp after I returned from the village, and when I got back home he was eagerly waiting to hear all about my adventure. It all came bubbling out of me, I talked and talked exitedly, and just as we had done the other night, we were soon both huddled together over my laptop screen looking at the results of my afternoon shoot. He thought the pictures told the story very well... I'm not too sure - I couldn't possibly put into words what I had experienced that afternoon. The emotions connected with my mini-expedition ran rather deep and have occupied my thoughts ever since I met this colourful group of people. Their welcoming kindness most definitely has enriched and brightened my life.

Today was another special and unforgettable experience. We are so fortunate to be able to live here, and every day again we both count our blessings...

To be continued...

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Click here for: It's Olive Picking Time Click here for: At the Olive Processing Plant