Chat with a Romany

It's not the first time we've spoken, but it's been a few years. Nevertheless the slight woman with the light brown hair always tied in a ponytail is always there at her post - the entrance to the INNOs supermarket. She's dressed in slacks and a light or heavy jacket and sturdy shoes according to the weather. She holds a few copies of the Itinerant magazine which she 'sells' as a matter of human dignity, but she never speaks to someone unless they speak to her first - and she admits to me that her French isn't very good. I stopped this evening because I noticed she was there past eight pm which I thought seemed past her normal 'work hours'. "You've been here for a few years now," I said. "How many years has it been?" "I've been here since 1997. Ten years." "Where do you sleep, then?" "Well, you know it's difficult - sometimes at the mairie." "I don't speak much French - I'm a Romany." She wanted to know if I had children and I said 'no' and she wanted to know my age - I told her. "I'm sixty-four" she told me. She smiled when I gave her 2 Euros for a copy of the Itinerant magazine and she kissed my hand. I cannot tell you the number of times I have walked past this woman thinking - what a waste, what a waste of a life. France is very much a country of 'live and let live' mentality but still I have a very hard time understanding the mentality of the Romany lifestyle that would allow a woman to spend ten years of her life standing in front of a supermarket - just standing. Day after day after day. For years, I've said, it's none of my business. Maybe it's her choice - but is it?