The Witch of Portobello

The following day, Athena arrived bearing a bunch of flowers. She tidied my room, told me that I should wear glasses because my eyes were getting worn out from all that sewing. She asked if the friends I celebrated with experienced any problems with the tribe, and I told her that they didn't, that my protector had b

een a very respected man, had taught us many things, and had followers all over the world. I explained that he'd died shortly before she arrived.

"One day, a cat brushed against him. To us, that means death, and we were all very worried. But although there is a ritual that can lift such a curse, my protector said it was time for him to leave, that he needed to travel to those other worlds that he knew existed, to be reborn as a child, and to rest for a while in the arms of the Mother. His funeral took place in a forest nearby. It was a very simple affair, but people came from all over the world."

"Among those people, was there a woman of about thirty-five, with dark hair?"

"I can't be sure, but possibly. Why do you ask?"

"I met someone at a hotel in Bucharest who said that she'd come to attend the funeral of a friend. I think she said something about 'her teacher.'"

She asked me to tell her more about the gypsies, but there wasn't much she didn't already know, mainly because, apart from customs and traditions, we know little of our own history. I suggested that she go to France one day and take, on my behalf, a shawl to present to the image of St. Sarah in the little French village of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer.

"I came here because there was something missing in my life," she said. "I needed to fill up my blank spaces, and I thought just seeing your face would be enough. But it wasn't. I also needed to understand that...I was loved."

"You are loved."

I said nothing else for a long time. I'd finally put into words what I'd wanted to say ever since I let her go. So that she would not become too emotional, I went on:

"I'd like to ask you something."

"Ask me anything you like."

"I want to ask your forgiveness."

She bit her lip.

"I've always been a very restless person. I work hard, spend too much time looking after my son, I dance like a mad thing, I learned calligraphy, I go to courses on selling, I read one book after another. But that's all a way of avoiding those moments when nothing is happening, because those blank spaces give me a feeling of absolute emptiness, in which not a single crumb of love exists. My parents have always done everything they could for me, and I do nothing but disappoint them. But here, during the time we've spent together, celebrating nature and the Great Mother, I've realized that those empty spaces were starting to get filled up. They were transformed into pauses--the moment when the man lifts his hand from the drum before bringing it down again to strike it hard. I think I can leave now. I'm not saying that I'll go in peace, because my life needs to follow the rhythm I'm accustomed to. But I won't leave feeling bitter. Do all gypsies believe in the Great Mother?"

"If you were to ask them, none of them would say yes. They've adopted the beliefs and customs of the places where they've settled, and the only thing that unites us in religious terms is the worship of St. Sarah and making a pilgrimage, at least once in our lifetime, to visit her tomb in Saintes-Mariesde-la-Mer. Some tribes call her Kali Sarah, Black Sarah. Or the Virgin of the Gypsies, as she's known in Lourdes."

"I have to go," Athena said after a while. "The friend you met the other day is leaving with me."

"He seems like a nice man."

"You're talking like a mother."

"I am your mother."

"And I'm your daughter."

She embraced me, this time with tears in her eyes. I stroked her hair as I held her in my arms, as I'd always dreamed I would, ever since the day when fate--or my fear--separated us. I asked her to take good care of herself, and she told me that she had learned a lot.

"You'll learn a lot more too because although nowadays we're all trapped in houses, cities, and jobs, there still flows in your blood the time of caravans and journeyings and the teachings that the Great Mother placed in our path so that we could survive. Learn, but always learn with other people by your side. Don't be alone in the search, because if you take a wrong step, you'll have no one there to help put you right."

She was still crying, still clinging to me, almost begging me to let her stay. I pleaded with my protector not to let me shed one tear, because I wanted the best for Athena, and her destiny was to go forward. Here in Transylvania, apart from my love, she would find nothing else. And although I believe that love is enough to justify a whole existence, I was quite sure that I couldn't ask her to sacrifice her future in order to stay by my side.

Athena planted a kiss on my forehead and left without saying good-bye, perhaps thinking she would return one day. Every Christmas, she sent me enough money to spend the whole year without having to sew, but I never went to the bank to cash her checks, even though everyone in the tribe thought I was behaving like a foolish woman.

Six months ago, she stopped sending money. She must have realized that I need my sewing to fill up what she called the "blank spaces."

I would love to see her again, but I know she'll never come back. She's probably a big executive now, married to the man she loves. And I probably have lots of grandchildren, which means that my blood will remain on this earth, and my mistakes will be forgiven.

SAMIRA R. KHALIL, HOUSEWIFE

As soon as Sherine arrived home, whooping with joy and clutching a rather startled Viorel to her, I knew that everything had gone much better than I'd imagined. I felt that God had heard my prayers, and that now she no longer had anything more to learn about herself, she would finally adapt to normal life, bring up her child, remarry, and forget all about the strange restlessness that left her simultaneously euphoric and depressed.

"I love you, Mum."