united we stand

My homogenous middle class white community has recently been riled by the arrival of some not so welcome newcomers. Approximately twenty or so caravans lie encamped on the outskirts of our commuter paradise. Occupying these caravans are the people everybody loves to hate. Gypsies, Pikies or Travellers, whatever you wish to call them they travel up and down the country spreading a special kind of social magic. Unity. Suddenly the neighbours are talking, strangers share a sly smile as they pass near the camp and ederly women stop scuttling from corner to corner and instead join the local hoodies, their former foes, to exchange common remarks of condemnation.

Now I consider myself something of a liberal (both socially and economically) and as a rule of thumb tend to believe the opposite to what the Daily Mail tells me I should. So it was with no surprise that I arrived at work to excited rumours of the new comers crimes and healthy doses of racist suspicion. These are not locals we were dealing with here. I was told they had come into the restaurant only the day before, spat at customers, thrown food around and then promptly stole a colleagues bicycle before disappearing into the undergrowth from which this pack of savages had seemingly appeared. Of course I scoffed at such remarks, “oh how these silly working class infidels love an excuse for socially sanctioned racism” I inwardly chuckled.

This confident air of superiority was however short lived. Soon the sun disappeared and the air became chill. Like a screaming banshee the first ‘pack’ of Irish children descended on our tranquil haven. Sure enough it didn’t take long before the spitting began, their eight year old shock troops came running in and out of the kitchens, spoiling food as they went. After rallying the staff and locking to the ground what we possibly could we were better able to hold the line for a while. The children fell back to the outer car park. There they waited. We waited.

A few more caravans came. Bigger versions arrived. Finally, adults. They would control their troublesome offspring… right?

Not quite. Seemingly intent on ‘impressing’ their parents the children came again, this time with their audience they were doubly energetic. While this was going on the parents (with exceedingly poor restaurant etiquette) began ordering a colossal feast with absurd changes and requests. Then they began questioning us, why were we just letting the children get away with it? Why had we not called the police? Wary of saying the wrong thing we simply smiled and said that they weren’t so bad. Kids will be kids after all. One man in his twenties kept questioning me about the news in his paper, I forgot myself for a moment and simply told him to read it. As he glared upwards, finger still pointing at the picture, my mistake became apparent just a moment too late.

Is this a clash of cultures? Do we simply misunderstand them? Do we need to be more accommodating? Perhaps. Yet I am now of the belief that theirs is certainly a bizarre culture. What parent would wish their child to spend their entire lives travelling, meeting only fellow family members and facing hatred and discrimination at every turn? What parent would not wish their child to have an education beyond only that which they could provide? Theirs is an incredibly segregated society and, sadly, inbreeding must surely be inevitable. Admittedly they have not had it easy, they are the first to be blamed and the first to be persecuted.

Yet this has all confirmed something I am slowly beginning to realise. Stereotypes tend to have solid foundations.