“And we do it because people say our Saviour, the small God, was born on the Great Day, in the field, out in the country, like we Rommanis, and he was brought up by an ash-fire.”
Here a sudden sensation of doubt or astonishment at my ignorance seemed to occur to my informant, for he said,—
“Why, you can see that in the Scriptures!”
To which I answered, “But the Gipsies have Scripture stories different from those of the Gorgios, and different ideas about religion. Go on with your story. Why do you burn ash-wood?”
“The ivy, and holly, and pine trees, never told a word where our Saviour was hiding himself, and so they keep alive all the winter, and look green all the year. But the ash, like the oak (lit. strong tree), told of him (lit. across, against him), where he was hiding, so they have to remain dead through the winter. And so we Gipsies always burn an ash-fire every Great Day. For the Saviour was born in the open field like a Gipsy, and rode on an ass like one, and went round the land a begging his bread like a Rom. And he was always a poor wretched man like us, till he was destroyed by the Gentiles.
“And He rode on an ass? Yes. Once he asked the mule if he might ride her, but she told him no. So because the mule would not carry him, she was cursed never to be a mother or have children. So she never had any, nor any cross either.
“Then he asked the ass to carry him, and she said ‘Yes;’ so he put a cross upon her back. And to this day the ass has a cross and bears young, but the mule has none. So the asses belong to (are peculiar to) the Gipsies.”
There was a pause, when I remarked—
“That is a fino gudlo—a fine story; and all of it about an ash tree. Can you tell me anything about the súrrelo rukk—the strong tree—the oak?”
“Only what I’ve often heard our people say about its life.”