A couple of weeks ago our team of five accepted the invitation to sleepover at a Gypsy village, which was located a couple of hours outside the city. I had not been to this particular village before, but the leader of our team had been, and spoke of there being an unusual softness and openness with them. Many prayers were prayed, some fasted, preparations took place, and phone calls had been made. The morning started early, with our team meeting up beforehand for a couple of hours prior to our departure. It was then that we discovered that our main contacts in that village had experienced a death in their family, therefore requiring them to leave for a few days and travel to another village for the “funeral.” We still had the option of travelling to this village, as almost any home within that village would take in a team of foreigners (which included 3 doctors!) for a sleepover, but we decided to take some additional time to pray and ask again where the Lord would have us go.

Shortly thereafter, we connected on the phone with a man from a Gypsy village we had visited in November (read about it here).  Moments before that phone call, we had projected a map onto the screen in front of us, which identified other Gypsy villages we could travel to and establish new relationships – all of which are apart of the same people group. We took some time to pray as a team, and felt directed to return to the same village we had visited in November. We managed to secure a taxi with ease, purchased food for the meals (they would not have the means to feed us all for two or three meals), developed a few pictures from our previous visit, and even made a pit stop at a tourist place along the way. I hope to upload the pictures from that stop onto Flickr very soon!

We arrived at the man’s house in the afternoon, prior to his return from work, but were warmly greeted by his wife, daughters, and a whole group of children. We quickly learned that he had not let his wife know that five guests would be coming (and spending the night!), but the lacking communication between them did not hinder her from welcoming us in with joy and making room for us to leave our belongings. When in the presence of our Gypsy friends, I am continuously convicted of how inhospitable I can be, even though my home is much larger, definitely cleaner, and my cupboards full. It really did not matter to the wife that she was unaware of our visit, rather, she graciously welcomed us in and started preparing the food we brought. During that time, our team was made aware of various medical issues, so we divided up into two groups and visited a couple different patients. Those visits certainly test my language abilities, or lack thereof!

After some time, we reconvened back to our hosts’ home, where the food preparations were still underway and the husband had returned from work (he collects scrap metal and sells it). I joined the younger ladies who were outside, by the fire, cooking the food, and asked if they would teach me as they prepared one very popular traditional dish. It was really neat sitting with them, shoulder to shoulder, in the dark, keeping warm by the fire, and having them show and explain to me what is involved with making this dish. I also quickly learned how unsanitary the food preparation process was, simply because there is not clean running water, nor are there nice kitchen surfaces/countertops to be cutting the food on. A simple knife and block of wood  on the ground is sufficient!  Nevertheless, I really enjoyed my time with these girls, and they were excited to teach me, too! Our team of five, the family of seven, along with a few visitors, enjoyed the meal together. Afterward, we were able to share a couple of stories with them, and learned a little more about their family and village history. The husband of this family is very musically talented, enjoys rich conversation, and is very inquisitive. We enjoyed some wonderfully open discussion, listened to him as he sang a few songs that he had written, and I had the opportunity to work with his only son (about 10 years old) who I believe has dyslexia. Having this disability meant that he was no longer attended school, as he most likely was not welcomed there anymore, nor were there teachers there who were willing to be patient with him. My heart ached for this young boy, as he was often the source of many jokes, was frequently made fun of by his peers, and was probably repeatedly shamed. But, working with him one-on-one, he was quite eager to try anything I had him do, put forth his best effort, and had sustained focus the entire time we worked together.

As the evening went on, with no power (this is quite common, especially in the villages), things started to wind down and we “got ready” for bed. We took a quick trip outside the house to use the “washroom” (consisting of a squatty-potty), brushed our teeth (that weirded them out), and I took out my contacts (which REALLY weirded them out!). All the women piled into one room, and the men in the other, getting nice and cozy on the cushions that had been laid out for us to sleep on. As the fire inside started to dwindle, I was thankful for the warm blanket and many bodies in the one room. One of the toddlers had been experiencing nightmares, so that was a new experience keeping me awake, and one of my teammates serenaded us all with her deep snoring, which I eventually had to sacrifice my jacket to throw over at her to get the snoring to stop. I may have been going a wee bit crazy. I was also slightly paranoid about bugs crawling on me, but I think my mind was just playing tricks on me.

We woke up that morning to a fresh snowfall, and the kids were excited to get their pictures taken in the snow. Before doing so, our team sat together, read from the Word, spent some time in prayer, and sang a couple of songs. We shared with the family what we had read, as they were interested, and then for breakfast we ate the leftovers from dinner the night before. We then took a few hours to address other medical needs in various homes throughout the village, and in one of the homes I visited, we met a lady who clearly had experienced a stroke. She had spent the last three months in bed and had done no rehabilitation. We tried to locate one home we had previously visited in November, showing a few people a picture of the child from that home, but no one was able to direct us accordingly. People likely did not recognize the face of this child because he is probably always kept inside due to the shame associated with having a child with a disability. Heartbreaking, isn’t it?

By early afternoon, we were offered a ride back to the city by one of the relatives. I crashed pretty hard once arriving back home, but my heart was encouraged and I am very thankful for the many opportunities we had to show and tell of His love.