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 :.][.Zindelo.Djordji.Juriša.][.:(Del)pansexual28“What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide.”
:.][.Biography.][.: Alright. So. I'm a Romani gypsy by birth; born in some alley with thanks to careless fumbling between my mother and some random guy, probably for money. I didn't get that, and never did- my mom had a position of relatively high regard in our Serbian caravan. She brought in more money than just about everyone else, with her job. But I never resented my mother for depriving me of male influence or whatever. Chances are, I wouldn't want to ever meet my biological father anyway.
We moved around with the caravan for my entire childhood. Unfortunately, my mother perpetuated a particularly nasty and negative Romani stereotype, in me, while I was still too young to understand the stereotypical aspect: pick-pocketing. I was always great at it. Me and a pack of the other boys in the caravan would just walk through busy streets and grab money. Sometimes we'd pull off schemes wherein one of us would act injured as a distraction while the rest of us grabbed all the money we could get our hands on. I learned, by the time I turned ten, that this really wasn't a very good thing to be doing- not a good way to represent my people. I stopped, and made the excuse that I sucked at it.
Sometime around when I turned twelve, mom started educating me in the Romani art of dukkerin'; divination. Mom, back in Serbia, was what was commonly called among fellow Roma a "chovihani"- something of a shaman. Mom said that all Roma have natural powers of clairvoyance and premonition. While I frankly don't buy that- I see divination as a craft more than an innate power- I did learn, and learned with a passion for what she was teaching me.
Dukkerin', probably thanks to the amount of traveling, of packing up and leaving the Roma have always done, consists mainly of palm reading, tea leaves, the crystal and the cards. Nothing showy or particularly visually extravagant- anything that fit that description would be way too much to drag along every time the caravan up and moved. But the methods we do use work with considerable accuracy- the only catch was that no Roma ever consult fortune tellers. Only Gaje, or outsiders; non-Roma. Not that I ever had trouble finding those.
I was first taught palmistry, as tradition dictates. It remains my favorite method, but a lot of Gaje like to have crystal readings done, 'cause I guess they just kind of associate all of us gypsies with crystal balls. Mom never trusted the Gaje; she insisted that we would never see Gaje doctors, as they all strive to make every Roma they see deathly ill with their modern medicines. Mom had a lot of extreme prejudices against anyone paler than us, but the Gaje had never been particularly kind to us as a race, anyway.
Which is why I was shocked that, when I was sixteen, she decided to up and leave the caravan- up and leave Serbia, and Europe altogether. She never explained why. I know that, thanks to my birth, she became something of an outcast; virginity is expected of unmarried Roma women, and the fact that she had a kid without a husband spoke volumes about her sexual activity. I feel like she just got sick of the dirty looks. So that's how that caravan lost their best chovihani.
I spent two years under a roof in a blue collar village a few towns over from where I currently live with my mom, and left at age eighteen. I never went to college; hell, the only education I got to begin with was from one of the gypsies in our caravan who'd apparently gotten some college education, though all the kids doubted as much.
My first establishment, when I came to a slightly more upscale town nearby and opened up shop there, was burned to the ground by radical Pentecostals after four years of successful business. I didn't tell my mother- she would've pointed and yelled about how terrible the Gaje are, and I was starting to think that our caravan hadn't been much better, the way they persecuted her. But I wasn't going to verbally express that.
A friend I met shortly after opening my establishment, a Santeria practitioner named Josue, took me in and let me mope around his apartment while I tried to think of a plan of action. He was far too tolerant of me, and whenever I talk to him to this day, I insist as much, but he just laughs and tells me that I made for an interesting roommate.
He himself, he told me, used to have a botanica in the next town over, and never had a single bit of trouble from anyone. He said that he either got enthusiastic customers or total skeptics, but never anyone trying to burn the place down. And he said that it was still empty, waiting to be bought.
So, with the money I still had saved from my four years dead profession, I bought the old place from him (discounted, at that- I kept telling him I could afford the full price, but he seemed to find that hilarious)
:.][.About.Me.][.: How would your character describe him/herself? Write this in the first person also.:.][.My.Desires.][.: In the first person, describe what your character wants. What are his/her goals? What is drives your character? What is important to him/her?:.][.Inconveniences.to.Others.][.: Now take a look at the other character profiles that have been submitted already. In the THIRD person, describe how your character may stand in the way of the desires of others.:.][.Thumbscrew.][.: In the THIRD person, describe some of your character's weaknesses.:.][.Miscellaneous.Information.][.: Any other tidbits of information
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You can include likes,
Dislikes,
Little-known traits,
Or what ever you like.
Use as many bullets as you need!
These should also be written in the first person. :.][.Puppet.Master.][.: Whigg
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 Posted by: Whigg Sat Jun 05, 2010 @ 05:45pm
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