THE GYPSY
This is a story set in the 1990's Hungary. All people in this story speak the Hungarian language but is translated into English. The gypsies speak Romani, their native language.
This story concerns gypsy magic and potions.
Malkos Balko is a forty-year-old Hungarian living in Budapest. He had spent the last twenty years of his life fighting the Russian occupation of Hungary. His father had died in the rebellion of 1956 when the Russians sent troops into Budapest and crushed the rebellion against them. Malkos' father died when he was a young child. He remembers nothing about him except what his mother had told him before she died.
After the Russians left in 1991 Malkos lost his purpose in life. He had never been really popular or active among the young people growing up. All he cared about was killing Russians, and he had been very good at it. He studied urban warfare and hand-to-hand combat until he was lethal in close quarters. Now, he wandered between jobs, looking for something to do with the rest of his life.
The people he gravitated toward were the Romani, or Gypsies. No one knew for sure how many gypsies lived in Hungary, but the guess was between 300,000 and 600,000. They tended to stay under the radar as much as they could. The ethnic Hungarians didn't trust them or like them. Violence against them was common, especially during the hard economic times after WWII. The Third Hungarian Republic, established in 1990, tried to stop it, but they weren't very successful. Malkos knew them, and many of them believed he was one of them. He had let that impression go unchecked because they supplied most of the weapons he had used against the Russians. They believed him to be one of them, and he did nothing to dissuade them from that.
After the Russians left, Malko and the gypsies drifted apart. One evening, he went looking for one of his gypsy contacts. Motshan Brazil ran a small shop selling Gypsy trinkets and shawls for his people. He also was a conduit for information between the revolutionaries and gypsies. Malko wanted to find a couple of gypsies that roamed the countryside. Django and Leander were his most trusted allies in the fight against the Russians. They hated the Russians almost as much as he did. Nothing else mattered to them. When the Russians left, they grew restless and went wandering around Hungary and Romania. Malko had an idea, and he needed them.
He knew where Motshan's shop was. He had avoided it after the revolution. He didn't want to be associated with the gypsies any longer. The unrest in the economy brought anger against the gypsies. Many Hungarians blamed the gypsies for their problems. It never matters who's at fault, just find a convenient minority to blame and lash out. Because the gypsies traveled a lot and never established many roots wherever they stopped, they were a convenient target. The government was trying to stop the hate, but they weren't very successful.
It was after 9 P.M. when Malko walked up to the back of Motshan's shop. He had a key, a leftover from the war, and he quietly let himself in. Once in, he was going to call out to Motshan when he heard voices from the front of the shop. There were two young Hungarian men yelling at Motshan. Motshan was trying to calm them down, but he wasn't getting anywhere.
The men were robbing him. They both had guns, and Malko could see it was getting very unstable. Malko knew where Motshan kept several guns in the back, so he found a loaded handgun and quietly slipped behind the curtain to the front of the shop.
The two men were standing in front of the counter. Malko was slightly behind Motshan, at an angle to his right. Malko had a clear line of fire if he needed.
"Get out of our town, you filthy gypsy. We don't want your kind here."
Before Malko could make himself known, a shot rang out. They shot Motshan. Preservation kicked in, and Malko shot both dead before they could put their gun away.
He then rushed to Motshan and put his hand over his wound. Motshan looked up at him and smiled. "Isn't that the luck of the gypsy? We fight the Russians for twenty years without a scratch. And these two punks get the drop on me."
"Just lay still. I'll get an ambulance."
Motshan coughed. "There'll be no ambulance, and you know it." He tried to reach under his counter. "Put that hidden lever under the counter." Malko did so. A small compartment opened on his wall behind the counter. It was just a board in the wall one second, and a hidden compartment the next. "Take out the book."
Malko reached into the small hole in the wall and pulled a dusty, old book out. He handed it to Motshan.
Motshan was fading fast and Malko had to get out of there. Even in this shady location, three gunshots would eventually bring the police. "Take this book, and make sure it gets back to my people."
"What is it?"
Motshan faded out muttering, "my people, my people must have it."
Motshan was past help, and Malko stuffed the book into his coat and slipped out the back door into the night. He was walking down the alley a couple of blocks away when he heard the sirens. He just kept walking until he made it home.
Once he settled into his little apartment, he opened the book. What was so important that it would be Motshan's last thoughts to save it?
He was disappointed but not surprised to find it written in Romani. Malko had learned some of the Romani language during the twenty years he had dealt with the gypsies, but he couldn't read it. This was OLD Romani, not the language his friends use now. He would need to get this translated, but he knew no one he could trust with this.
He started with the Metropolitan Ervin Szabo Library system in Budapest. They had several branches and thousands of books, including many old books. He started by writing the chapter titles down exactly as shown. He then spent many days in the library system until he found a dictionary of the old Romani language. He couldn't check it out without raising suspicion, so he sat in the library translating the old Romani to Hungarian. After several days, he knew the chapters.
History of Romani people to date
Greeting codes
Special services
Potions
