Preface
It is impossible to make a real analysis of the origin and development of the Roma movement, Roma organisations, Roma public figures, leaders, and politicians in Bulgaria without exploring the life and work of Shakir Pashov, his experience in raising the culture and education of the Roma community.
Shakir Pashov “awakened” the sense of Roma identity among the Roma in Bulgaria and fostered their sense of belonging to the Roma ethnic community. It is since the time of Pashov that the Roma community has been trying to find its place among the other ethnic communities in Bulgarian society.
Shakir Pashov was a candid person with an open and rich soul and with a cheerful character who was loved and respected by the Roma and non-Roma. His words – simple and ordinary, filled with humaneness, touched the most intimate corners of the Roma soul. His words revived the faith of the Roma in goodness and justice. He was an extremely strong-willed man who did not give in to difficulties and was able to defend his positions. He sold his motorcycle to secure funding for the first Gypsy Theatre Roma in Sofia. Deportations and camps did not break his spirit; he continued to believe in his ideas and to follow them.
In 1931, Shakir Pashov gave the initiative for the establishment of the first national Gypsy educational and cultural organisation and became its leader. The purpose of this organisation was to work for the improvement of the culture and the education among the Roma population in Bulgaria. At that time, the newspaper Terbie was issued with Shakir Pashov as editor-in-chief.
After September 9, 1944, Shakir Pashov was the first Roma elected as a representative of the Roma population in the Bulgarian Parliament in 1947. He was the founder of the first Gypsy Theatre Roma in Bulgaria and gave the initiative for the establishment of the first Gypsy School (in the Fakulteta neighbourhood in Sofia). As a Member of Parliament, he constantly travelled around the country, met many Roma and helped set up local Gypsy groups which were actively involved in the socio-political life of the country. He visited villages and towns, speaking to the Roma about the things he believed in and about his dedication – to explore the origins of our culture and to present it to others. In other words, to believe in ourselves and to respect ourselves so that others would respect us too. This was his main life goal, and it remains relevant today.
In his lifetime, he faced mean lies and vile insinuations by some Roma people, who slandered him out of envy. He was interned several times because of their false reports. In the end, their lies were exposed, and Shakir Pashov was rehabilitated. On his deathbed, his “friends” asked for forgiveness.
May his memory be bright!
Shakir Pashov’s Childhood And Adolescence
“Oohh, it is so cold” said old Pemba through gritted teeth in mid-October, “aahh, it’s going to be very cold this winter. Deep snow will fall outside.”
“Get up, my dear, get up, my little grandchild, it is daylight outside already, your grandfather has sore feet. Go to the shed to fetch some chaff, light a fire and warm up our souls. You know, do not you, we will put the stick in the middle to make a hole in the chaff and light up the fire.”
“I am sleepy, Granny …”
“Get up, lazybones, eat my daughter-in-law’s …”
“I will get up, Granny, just do not hit me.”
“Just do not slam the door hard so that you do not wake your aunt, she hasn’t slept all night, poor thing. She was in a lot of pain last night, poor her, she will give birth these days.”
“Here, my son, close the hole so the fire can light up. Put the jug of water on top of the stove so that it can heat and that we can wash ourselves.”
“Come, Granny, the water is warm already, should I pour for you to wash your face?”
“Go on, my son. Dear Lord, protect all of us from troubles and evils, give health and luck to all, and to us. Please, help my poor daughter-in-law give birth without difficulties, and please heal my ill husband. Come on, son, wash yourself, grandma will pour water for you. Now, take the porridge out of the cupboard so that it can heat up until your grandpa gets up for breakfast. Neno, son, can you see why the dog is barking outside? Who is coming?”
“Granny, grandmother Nadira is coming.”
“Well, son, let her come in, God has sent her, she is coming with His luck, I hope she has a “light” leg.”
Nadira was Pemba’s younger sister and the most beautiful girl in the mahala. When she appeared on the square, on weddings, everyone – men and women, young and old, turned to see her and could not take their eyes off her. Murat, with the black moustache, from the Dzhambazi Roma, liked her very much. He was ready for anything for her, he loved her more than anything in the world, but they were not destined to be together. Unfortunately, he was from the Dzhambazi, while Nadira’s grandfather, the old Ibrahim, was from the Blacksmiths. The two clans did not get along with each other at all. Grandpa Ibrahim did not want to hear anything about Dzhambazi, let alone become related to them. When they happened to meet in the tavern, the grandfathers of Murat and Nadira always argued over something, sometimes they even got into fights. Murad, however, liked Nadira terribly and wanted her to be his wife.
Once in the mahala, musicians from far away came for a wedding. With them also came Ferat, the famous cornet-player, from the neighbouring village. When he saw Nadira, he lost his mind and his words. Two days later, he sent his parents to speak to her parents and to ask for her hand. Old Ibrahim agreed to give Nadira as a wife to Ferat but far away from the mahala so that Murat would not see her. They organised the wedding in a week. Exactly on the day of the wedding, Murat hanged himself in grief over Nadira. He could not come to terms with the thought that his beloved was with another man …
Pemba thought to herself, “Now she has six children – four boys and two girls. She grew older too, poor thing, but one could still see the beauty in her youth. Also, she dresses well, no woman from the neighbourhood has such clothes and gold jewellery; she wears the best headscarves. In her youth she was beautiful, strong, healthy, tall, slender – walking down the street, the ground trembling under her feet. Her husband, besides being a good musician, was also a good singer. In his songs, he was singing about Nadira’s beauty. His most popular song was called “Nadira, my beauty” …”
“Aay, my sister, what are you doing, why don’t you come home, I dreamt of you last night, when I woke up, I said to myself: “I will go to Pemba’s today to see how they are, what they are doing, to make sure they are okay” …”
“What can I do my sister, I have problems, your brother-in-law is ill, your sister-in-law, Eda, is pregnant, Mahmud’s wife is expected to give birth any day now, I do not go anywhere, I am at home all the time. And how about you? How are you? How is my brother-in-law, how are the children? Well, it is not nice to be married away from your loved ones, but such is fate.”
“Well! What can I tell you, sister, your brother-in-law is fine; he often gets invitations to play music to weddings and christenings. He plays, he sings, he earns money, we are fine, we cannot complain, we do not lack anything, we have everything we need. But sister, I have one great pain and sorrow, and she looked toward the child.”
“Neno, oh dear, go to your mother, son, your grandmother Nadira will tell me something, and children should not hear such things.”
“When my daughter was 12–13 years old, the women in the neighbourhood always said to me, “Nadira, you have a beautiful daughter, I will take her as my daughter-in-law, and we will connect by marriage.” They said this at weddings, in the public bathroom, or in the laundry. Now, my Zhemila is 16 years old, no one opens their mouths, let alone a door, to ask for her hand. If she does not get married in the next year or two, she will grow old, and it will become more and more difficult for her to get married. I am awake during the nights, I cannot sleep, I have such issues. I never expected that to happen to my daughter. I see in the mahala girls who are uglier, invalids, but they are married, while my Zhemila is not. My soul is aching when I look at her. Sister, what should I do?”
“Oh Lord, that is the devil’s work!”
“I took her to Nazhiya, the fortune-teller, to hear what she would see. What can I tell you, as soon as she took the cards out it turned out from the first time that there is black magic on her not to get married. Her path to get married was closed. We need to break this black magic, if not – I will be so ashamed, sister, I will die young.”
“Don’t worry, Nadira, listen to your sister, I will take you to the sister of my mother-in-law. The woman is a widow, you will give her two levs, it is not much money, you will buy her a beautiful headscarf with lace. She knows all the herbs, she has helped many people and she will help us. We will ask her to collect 41 herbs, to boil them in a cauldron, she knows how. With this water, she will give our Zhemila a bath, entirely naked, as she came out from her mother. You should throw the water into the river, in a place where the river makes a turn. The water will take all the evil away. When we cleanse her of the black magic, we’ll need to unlock her luck so that her way to get married would open again. You will go to the priest and give him five levs, then ask him to give you the key to the church on the day of the church holiday of Saint Mina. Zhemila should open the door of the church in the early morning and should say, “As the church door opens, so should my luck of marriage open too”, and she should enter the church first, with her right foot, after her should enter the priest. Do this! And if they do not come to your place to ask for Zhemina’s hand in two weeks, you can spit on me!”
“Oh dear, may you stay alive for easing the burden on my soul, my sister. I will do all of that. I will do all that you told me.”
“Come now, sit down to eat with us, and after that you can go home.”
“I ate quite well, it was really tasty. All right, stay in good health, may God protect you from bad things. If things happened, as you said, and I marry off my Zhemila, I will hold a big wedding and will slaughter a cow. Murzho will be the best man at the wedding. We will eat and drink to our hearts’ content, while our enemies, let them die. Those who do black magic, let them not see the light of day, let them bury their children in the black earth, far from this home. All right, stay in good health. May God protect you.”
“May the great Lord protect you too.”
Pemba thinks to herself, “Merciful Lord, take away the pain from the heart of my sister, let her marry off her daughter, let her have grandchildren, one after another. Let her forget her pain. Why is this bitch barking?”
“Ooh, it is freezing cold outside. Inside it is nice and warm. Mom, where is my aunty Nadira? Neno told me she had come. I was rolling out the dough for banitsa, I baked it, and I am in a hurry to bring it while it is warm so that you can help yourselves.”
“Argh, daughter, your aunt Nadira came, she was here, but she has left just now. She has big issues. And you, daughter, how are you, what are you doing?”
“What can I tell you, whether magic was done to us, whether we caught the evil eye, I don’t know, but we don’t have luck. Ever since I found dirt from the cemetery thrown in front of our door, we have not been doing well. I and my husband are always arguing and picking on each other. He goes to work but he does not earn anything. The other men, the neighbours, even though they leave for work after him, they manage to find work. It has been already a week that he leaves the house empty-handed, and he enters it the same way. Yesterday, I went to the church to light candles for health and good luck. I brought holy water. Mom, you had given me one herb, we were doing very well while we had it. Do you still have some it for me?”
“Listen, daughter, your neighbours are envious that you and your husband live well, so they do not wish you well. They do their work through magic – water sleeps but the enemy does not. Whoever casts spells on you, let these spells come back to them. That one, with the big head – Dacha, she wanted so much her daughter to marry your husband. I don’t know, I haven’t seen it, I hope I don’t take a sin on my soul [for making a false claim/accustion]. Whether it is her, God will show us. Before she dies, she will eat her own shit and then she will be punished. Doing magic is the most sinful thing in the world, daughter, and the Lord punishes it severely. Here, take this herb and you should collect water from three fountains. The fountains should be facing the sun at sunrise. You should put the herb in a pot and fill it with the water collected from three fountains. You should leave the pot in the open sky, under the stars, for three days. Make sure that the cats do not jump over it because that it is not good. On the fourth day, collect the water in a bottle. Early in the morning, before your husband goes to work, sprinkle him with that water. With the same water, you should spray the four corners of the room and the beds. If there is any magic, it will break. You should give a piece from the herb to your husband, to put in his pocket so that money come there. And listen, daughter, what I will also ask you – tomorrow, after your husband goes to work, come here to clean the house. We should clean everything in the house because any day now my daughter-in-law will give birth, people will come to visit us and we should not be ashamed.”
“All right, mother, I will come. Now call my father to have some banitsa while it’s warm.”
“Right, I will look for your sister-in-law, Eda, and tell her to come and eat too.”
One morning, on October 20, 1898, the old Pemba went to bring lunch to her husband and her son in the smithy. When she returned, she found her daughter-in-law, Eda, curling up on the bed in strong pregnancy pain. She immediately put a jug of water to heat up. She prepared the swaddling clothes and told Neno to call the local midwife.
“Ha, it’s a boy, grandma’s sweetie, grandma will eat his bottom, what a handsome boy is my grandson!”
The families of the couple gathered to think about the name of their grandson.
“How about naming him Shakir, after his father’s uncle?” Eda’s mother said.
“May he be alive and healthy and may he grow up with his name. In-laws, you know that it isn’t good to announce the child’s name until we have the christening. Please, make sure not to mention his name to your relatives until the third night when we do the christening. In the night, the fairies will decide his fate and how his life would go.”
Three days later, all the relatives of Eda and Mahmud gathered to celebrate the christening of their firstborn son, Shakir. They ate, drank, and had fun all night long. Everyone blessed the newborn baby:
“May he grow up in great health and become an educated and a great man. May he make his parents happy and find a good wife.”
All the people that were blessing the baby thought that Amin Kushi would hear them and pass on their wishes to the fairies at that very moment. Shakir’s mother did not sleep all night long as she wanted to hear what fate the fairies would decide for her child, but she could not hear anything.
At the age of one year and two months, Shakir made his first steps, and there was an event to celebrate the occasion. The two grandmothers and the aunts kneaded three large breads. Shakir’s mother placed on a three-legged table in front of the house an accordion, a clarinet, a pair of scissors, a ball, a rope, and a pencil. If the child grabbed first the accordion and the clarinet, that would mean he would become a musician. If he grabbed the scissors, he would become a tailor, if it was the ball – he would become a football player, the rope – a porter, and if he grabbed the pencil – that would mean he would become a big man, a learnt man – a teacher or a banker. Grandmother Pemba took him three metres away from the three-legged table and let him go to touch the objects all by himself. When the first time little Shakir caught the ball, everyone applauded and said he would become a footballer. However, the second and last, third time, the little boy grabbed the pencil, and everyone rejoiced, applauded and said that Shakir would become a learned man.
When Shakir turned seven, his father Mahmud built a house in the Konyovitsa Gypsy mahala in Sofia. His sister and brothers were born in the same place. Later, when his grandfather died, his father took over the smithy in Sofia’s city centre all by himself. People from the villages came to the smithy to shoe their horses and to order hoes and spades, axes, coppers, etc. Mahmud liked to communicate with Bulgarians from the villages. His best friend was Grandpa Georgi from the village of Chelopech. Every time he came to visit Mahmud, he always brought in his bag something from his village for the children – corn, beans, potatoes, apples, rakiya, walnuts. He spoke with Mahmud for hours about the hard life in the village, about the education of his brother’s son and how he became a lawyer and a big man in Sofia. That is why Grandpa Georgi insisted that his son should study and become a learned man.
Impressed by the story of Grandpa Georgi, upon his return home, Mahmud told everything to his wife Eda while the young Shakir listened, his eyes and ears wide open.
One day, nine-year-old Shakir sat in the kitchen next to his mother and asked her what should be done if someone wanted to go to school. His mother looked at him in surprise, “Shako, why are you asking me that?”
“I want to go to school too, like my friend Sasho. He told me what they do there. They learn to read and write. I also want to learn. He showed me his primer and pointed my letter. I asked him about your letter and daddy’s. Mom, I really want to go to school too.”
At that time, it was not customary for Roma children to go to school. His mother stroked his head, bent down, and kissed him, “Son, sit down to eat and when your father comes back from work, we will see what he’ll say.”
Shakir looked forward to his father’s return to find out what would happen with his studies. His mother, as she cleaned up the table after dinner, told her husband what Shakir had told her at lunch. His father was glad that Shakir wanted to study and immediately agreed to enrol him. He bought him nice clothes, a pencil, and a notebook and Shakir went to school. All Roma children mocked him, “You want to become a Bulgarian”. Shakir replied to them that the school was very nice and if they wanted, they could enrol and learn to read and write. It was not easy for Shakir at school, but he liked it there. He graduated grade after grade until he graduated the eighth grade. All his Bulgarian classmates discussed where they would study after the eighth grade. He was saddened that only he would not continue studying further.
One evening he said to his father, “Dad, all my classmates will continue to study in the big schools – technical schools and secondary schools, and I want to study like them. What do you say about that?”
“Listen, son, it will be difficult for us – you and your siblings are now grown up, in two or three years you will get married, and I will have to organise weddings. I was waiting for you to finish school so that you can come to work with me and help the family. If you sign up to study again, we will need a lot of money – for textbooks, clothes, shoes. How would we cope?”
“Look, Dad, I will help you. I will come to your workshop after school. In the evening, I will study my lessons. You remember what your friend Grandpa Georgi has told you? He wanted his son to become a learned man.”
“Okay, Shakir, if you help us, maybe it won’t be so difficult for us. If you want so much to study, I will not stop you. Why should your life be more difficult than mine? What do you want to study, son?”
“Dad, my best friend will enrol in the school for machine-drivers. I also want to enrol in the same school.”
“Good, son, I will tell your mother to come with you tomorrow and enrol you in that same school. Now, go to bed.”
“Oh, dad, I love you so much! You must know, I shall never make you look bad” Shakir said and went to bed, however, he could not fall asleep as he was so excited that he would be a student in the “big school”.
His father said to himself, “Thank you, Lord, for giving me such a good son. When he made his first steps, he grabbed the pencil. Perhaps such is his fate. What else can I do? Maybe this is your doing, Lord!”
As soon as Shakir enrolled in the railway technical school, the Roma children suddenly changed their attitude towards him and no longer mocked him. On the contrary, they talked about him with respect and high esteem. Since he went to the “big school”, they sought his advice, and they considered him as a smart and knowledgeable man. His mother and father were proud of him. When people from Sofia and the countryside came to visit his parents, they talked for hours about their son, about his studies, and how much the teachers and his friends liked him. The news of Shakir spread around very quickly and his name became known in other towns. Those parents who were brighter spoke about Shakir to their children and gave him as a great example.
Shakir had many Roma friends from the neighbourhood where he lived and got along well with them, but he also had Bulgarian friends from the school and from them he learned new and different things. His best friend from school, and with whom he shared a desk in the classroom, was Stefan, a good boy who respected Shakir and the two friends helped each other a lot.
One day, on their way out of school, Shakir and Stefan witnessed an unpleasant sight on the street. One of Shakir’s neighbours, who was quite drunk, chased his wife, cursing her and when he caught her, he started hitting her wherever he could. Shakir rushed to tear them apart.
“Uncle Dzhago, don’t do it! It’s not good to beat your wife. Do you hear me?”, and Shakir grabbed Dzhago’s hands so that he could not hit his wife.
At that moment, his wife ran away. Now, Dzhago got angry and started hitting and kicking Shakir. Shakir pulled away from him and went to his friend Stefan who was standing on the sidewalk.
“What did you do? Why did you try to interfere?” said Stefan.
“Don’t you see he is drunk? He could hit her badly, she could fall on a rock and die.”
“And what if he hit you and you fell on a rock and died? What would happen then?”
“In that case, my father would kill him!”
“Do you realise now? You were going to be in the cemetery, your father in prison, and all of this because of a drunk man. Is that what you want?”
“No, Stefan, I am a Gypsy, you see. I love the Gypsies and I cannot stand by idly, don’t you get it?”
“Right, but would your father or you behave as he did? He got drunk and chased his wife down the street to beat her. As far as I know your family, you will not behave in such a fashion. Do you know what the problem of the Gypsies is – that they are not educated enough. So, if you want to help your people, help them get educated and to study like you. You see, everyone at school knows that you are a Gypsy, but everyone respects you and accepts you normally because you are like us. You dress well, you live like us. If the other Gypsies were like you, they would be concerned with other problems and they would not behave in such ways. Your people see that their lives are hard and at the same time they give birth to so many children. You see, our families have fewer children and you have more, why is that? Don’t be angry at me, Shakir, you are my good friend, your family is also good, you are not like other Gypsies. You are my friend and I respect you, and that is why I tell you all this. If I have offended you, please excuse me.”
Shakir listened to him thoughtfully with his head bowed.
“Yes, Stefan, maybe you are right.”
Shakir graduated from secondary school and made his parents and all his relatives very happy. On Shakir’s graduation, the whole family gathered to celebrate this important event. Everyone ate, drank, and had a lot of fun.
His mother got up early and began to prepare his breakfast. She waited for Shakir to wake up and to have his breakfast. Pouring warm milk into his glass, his mother said, “Son, it is such joy and pride for us that you graduated from school. I and your father are so proud of you. May you be alive and healthy.”
Shakir Pashov’s Youth and Marriage
“Listen, Shako, your father and I talked last night. It is time for you to get married and for us to have a good wedding before you go to the army. The time of your sister has come too. A good family wants her hand. They are from our guild, they are blacksmiths. However, you are the older child, and your sister cannot get married before you do. Your father and I liked a girl for you. If you want, we can go to ask for her hand from her father by Sunday. Your aunt hinted to her mother that we should become family, just to see how she would react, and she replied, ‘If the young people like each other, we, the old ones, cannot do anything’. Her parents will agree. She is a very good girl; she also went to school and finished the fifth grade. She is smart and clean. She does not go out, she stays at home throughout the day and cleans, washes, irons, and cooks. She is aware of her obligations in the house. Her father doesn’t drink, her mother speaks a bit too much, but she will learn to behave as we teach her, she will learn our ways. I will love her as my child and as I love you, for the sake of you. I will take her to the market, and I will buy her shalwars that no woman has ever worn. Whoever glances at her once will turn to see her again. The best musicians will play at your wedding. We will hold a wedding like no other in the mahala. While I am still healthy, while God keeps me on my feet, I will raise your children – your and your sister’s. After that, if I die, I will close my eyes in peace.”
“Mother, at school I met a Bulgarian girl, she likes me very much and I like her, but she is afraid to tell her parents because they do not like Gypsies.”
“Oh, son, it is better for me to die! I don’t want to hear such words from you. You will bring shame on us in the mahala, people will be laughing at us! As long as I am alive, a Bulgarian woman will not enter my house! She will not let me look after your children she will not speak to them in our language. She will not come with you to our weddings. I know my uncle Feros’ son, Adem. He married a Bulgarian woman, and she did not let him come to his father’s funeral, to honour his death. Adem is handsome, white, he speaks Bulgarian well and his wife hides from her relatives that he is a Gypsy. When he goes to the market with his wife, and when he sees one of our people, he turns his head to the other side so that they wouldn’t speak to him in Romanes. Bulgarians are hard-hearted, they are not compassionate like us. The Lord has so commanded – the lamb should be with a lamb, the pig with a pig. You cannot have a lamb and a pig living together in one sheepfold. Listen, son, you should get this Bulgarian woman out of your head. Forget her. We will take one of our girls, the girl that your aunt spoke about is a good one. I like her as a daughter-in-law as well. She is prettier and better than the Bulgarian. She is going to make our house prettier.”
“Mother, is she the daughter of Pata, Sabria?”
“Yes, son, she is. Do you like her? She is pretty, isn’t she? With that long black hair covering her back, her smile shines like the sun …”
“I saw her yesterday at the market. She was with her mother. She turned, looked at me, and smiled shyly; her cheeks burning like red apples. She is a beautiful girl and I think she will be a good bride.”
“I’ll send your aunt by Sunday to ask her parents when I and your father could go their place and ask for her hand. This week you must work hard with your father to earn money because we will have big expenses. We should make bread for the bride, we need money for food and drinks, clothes for your sister, your father, for you, for me. With God’s help, everything will go well. My sister will sew, by herself, a pair of shalwars for the bride. I sewed for her bride and now it is her turn to sew for mine. Your father’s friend – Grandpa Georgi, promised to give a demijohn of rakiya for your wedding, he makes it himself, it’s made of plums.”
Two weeks later, Sabria was brought home, her mother-in-law met her at the door, and before she entered the house, she carried a loaf of bread under one arm and a bottle of water under the other for luck to everyone in the house, and for bread and water.
In the evening, the young men who were already married gathered to talk to Shakir and to tell him ‘this and that’ for the first wedding night. The old woman, in turn, went to Sabria and took her rings and earrings off, and gave her a new white shirt. They told her what to do, her mother-in-law gave the bride last instructions and advice, and finally left her alone in the room. Shortly afterwards, Shakir joined her in the room while the rest of the relatives stayed to hear the drum. After midnight, Shakir went out, and his mother, along with two other elderly women (Sabria’s aunt and sister-in-law), entered. After carefully examining Sabria’s white shirt, one of them sprinkled rakiya on the red spot and said, “The girl is good, she is pure, let them beat the drum to let the people know about her honour. Send a message for her parents to come.”
Was it found that the girl was not virgin, she would be returned to her parents. There would have been no drum nor a wedding. Such a girl was treated as married, and she could not marry a bachelor.
Shakir’s whole family started preparations for the wedding. Relatives came early in the mornings and left late in the evenings. Aunts sewed crowns on which they wrote “Mashallah” with colourful sequins.
On Friday afternoon, the women of both families gathered at the house of the groom. A young bride, whose parents were alive, put henna on the bride while the other women sang a ritual song. Young unmarried girls took the bride’s wedding clothes on plates and arranged in a row, carrying them around her house while dancing. Then, they took the clothes bought by the groom’s mother-in-law and took them to his home, dancing on the way. The next day, on Saturday, the mothers of the newlyweds prepared sweet bread and after the gilin banya [washing of the henna from the bride’s hair and hands], they handed out pieces of the bread to the women who were outside the public bath. The vessel for the gilin banya should be provided by the husband’s mother and should remain to be used by the bride. Women from both families sang old songs during the bath. The musicians waited in front of the public bath and as soon as the bride appeared outside, they started playing. Then, the mother-in-law led the horo dance towards the public square. Late in the afternoon, the musicians roamed the streets while playing music while the groom went from house to house with a bottle of rakiya, decorated with a wreath of flowers and cinnamon, and invited relatives to the wedding. For the rest of the guests, the drummer was hitting the drum in the middle of the public square and shouted, “Hey people, Mahmud is has a wedding party for his son, Shakir, tomorrow (Sunday) and he invites everyone who’d like to attend, eat and drink.”
The actual wedding was on Sunday. At 11 o’clock, the bride was dressed up, made up, powdered, and waited for the groom to come with the godparents and the flag-bearer to pick her up. The mother of the bride led the horo dance, and dancing, she led the bride towards the house of the in-laws. At the door of her house, the mother of the boy was waiting for the bride and her family, and when they arrived, she put a horse harness on the newlyweds, which signified that the couple would pull the family load together. She broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in honey and gave it to them with the words, “May your family life be as sweet as the sweetness of the honey.” And she ushered them into the house. At noon, the bride, held by two bridesmaids, walked around the neighbourhood with the musicians while the others danced around them [this is the so-called first alay]. After that, they changed the blue shalwars of the bride with pink ones, danced a horo in the town square and led her on a second alay around the mahala. Then, they loaded the girl’s presents in carts and went around the whole mahala so that everybody could see the presents made by the bride’s mother and father. At around 3 pm, the third, and last, alay took place around the mahala – this time the bride wearing white shalwars.
In the middle of the tour, the young men lowered the flag to take off the three apples nailed on its top. They were usually painted in yellow or in white bronze. He, who managed to take the apples first, would soon get married. The apples were then cut and shared with the youth so that they could get married too. From 4 pm to 6 pm a beautiful horo dance was performed on the square and the relatives from both sides danced together with the newlyweds. After 6 pm, the wedding guests began to arrive in the tent, which was set up for the occasion of the wedding. The father-in-law greeted the arriving guests with a bottle of rakiya and received congratulations on the wedding. When young people came, they were immediately served drinks and food, music played, and people danced. At about 9 pm, the bride and her mother-in-law walked across the tables to receive greetings. The bride kissed the hands of the guests and gave them shirts (which were respectively suitable for men and women). The guests, in turn, gave the young family either gifts (cups, spoons, forks and plates, blankets, sheets, etc.) or money, which were all immediately announced. The closer family members donated pillows, quilts, mattresses, etc., and all guests ate and drank until the morning.
It was not long after the wedding when Shakir was summoned for military service. He left his young, beautiful wife with his father and mother and went to the army. The first year was very difficult for everybody. During the second year of his military service, Shakir and Sabria had a baby boy. They named him Alcho, after Shakir’s grandfather. It was such a joy. Not long after, another child was born. Shakir went home every week. While he served in the army, his mother and his mother-in-law took care of the children. Thank God, one fine summer day Shakir returned home. He started going to his father’s workshop, and they worked together. He worked harder than his father, and he kept telling him, “Dad, you worked hard while you were young. You also worked while I was in the army. Now you should rest. I will work as I am young and healthy.”
“You speak well to me, son, but what can I do? I cannot just sit at home. My friends pass through the workshop, they come to see me, and my time quickly passes this way. I will come to work too, but I will do the easier work and you the harder.”
“All right, dad, as you say. I will not challenge you, just like you didn’t when I said that I wanted to study. Dad, you took care of my wife and children, while I was in the army and you could not help my sister. Now that I am here, I want you and me to help my sister a little. My brother-in-law is a good man, but he may hint to her one day that you are only helping me. I see they have now started building a small house. I will buy them the doors for the house, while the windows could be from you.”
“Great, son, I am very glad to hear that from you. You warm my soul when I hear how worried you are about your sister. I wanted to suggest to you to help her too, but you did it yourself. Your sister took great care of your wife and children while she was in the army. She was coming to see your children all the time and always brought them milk. Even though she is building a house, she is thinking about your family”.
Young Shakir went to work, took care of his family and relatives, and they all respected him very much. They were proud of Shakir. They used to say to their Bulgarian colleagues that they have a relative who is very educated, that he could drive a train, that he was a “big man”, very handsome, that he looked like a Bulgarian and dressed like one, and that he did not look like a Gypsy at all. When they used to have problems, Shakir relatives went to him to ask for his advice on what should they do.
Shakir Pashov’s First Public Appearances
In the summer of 1919, when Shakir returned from the Great War, along with several other friends, he decided to form a group attached to the Socialist (Communist) Party, which would be dedicated to working with the Gypsy population. Shakir was appointed as secretary of the group. In 1919, he worked for the railway and drove a train. He became even closer to the Socialists, who were his colleagues. They organised strikes demanding higher wages and better working conditions. Not only their demands were not granted, but the organisers, among them Shakir Pashov, were also fired. He did not lose his hope and was even more motivated to defend the Communist principles because they were in the interest of the poor, and the Roma were the poorest strata in the society.
In 1920, Pashov and his group joined a strike of unemployed people. Their demands were for shelter for the homeless people. They gathered Roma, who did not have homes, and joined the protest. Mounted Police suddenly appeared and chased the demonstrators away with batons and whips. After the protest was put down, the police searched for Shakir and his friends because they were the organisers of the strike among the Roma population. Pashov and his group had progressive ideas and thought differently from the rest of the people. They wanted people to be treated equally without a division between rich and poor.
One evening, on his way home, Sabria told Shakir that at noon the police had walked down their street and stopped in front of their home. Looking at their house, the policemen exchanged some words with each other, but Sabria could not hear what they were talking about. Shakir listened to her and did not say anything.
The next day he met some of his political friends and told them what his wife had told him. They advised him to leave Sofia. Three days later, Shakir went to the town of Kyustendil, where he worked as an ironworker in the construction of the local bank. He worked there throughout the summer of 1923 while his family stayed in Sofia. While in Kyustendil, after work, he went to the Gypsy mahala, where he met with progressive Roma, who shared his ideas. He managed to form a group. In this group, the most prominent were Arso, Zhesari, Demir and Zuche. During their meetings, Shakir told them about the real situation of the Roma. If they failed to organise, it would be very difficult for them to improve their lives or to get any rights. His friends from Sofia, and in particular his “teacher”, as Pashov himself called him, Valcho Ivanov, were all very pleased with his work with the party. In the larger cities, there existed already political Roma party groups which have played a major role in the development of the education of Roma in Bulgaria and in the promotion of their culture.
During the bomb attack in the St Nedelya church on April 16, 1925, Shakir Pashov was detained and taken to the police, where he was brutally beaten, and then taken to Konstantin Fotinov school together with all other detainees. He was detained there for three months, and after his release, police agents followed him everywhere he went. Shortly before the bomb attack, Shakir had resumed work in the railway, but after his arrest, he was expelled from work. The police always came to the mahala accompanied by Roma, who cooperated with the police. These ‘collaborators’ told on and betrayed their neighbours and friends, even their own relatives. These were the so-called topachi who took the police to the houses of those Roma who were wanted for interrogations, arrests, or evictions.
One morning, a policeman from the Third District Department appeared in the Gypsy mahala Konyovitsa looking for Shakir Pashov. His collaborator Ismail, a Rom, was walking next to the policeman. When he saw Shakir’s wife, he quickly told her in Romanes, and in a harsh voice, to go and tell her husband to run away because the police had come for him. The policeman asked Ismail what he had said to the woman, and Ismail responded that he had asked her the way to Shakir’s house. He and the policeman took the long route around the mahala before they got to his house so that Shakir could escape. In the meantime, jumping out of the window, Shakir managed to escape through the backyard, and he went to his party comrades – Alexandar Lambrev, Nikola Milev and Angel Boyadzhiyata – and told them that the police were looking for him at his home. His friends advised him to spend some time out of the country until the police forgot about him. Two days later, Shakir left for Turkey, where his sister was married. There, he met with Roma from former Yugoslavia and in their conversations, he wanted to find out how they lived there, what they did for a living, etc.
He returned from Turkey four years later, in 1929, and began to work seriously with his comrades in the political group. Throughout his life, Shakir tried to be useful, with whatever he could, to help the Roma community. For instance, he organised them to vote in elections and to take part in the International Labour Day -- 1st May, manifestations. His political group was leading in the organisational work among the Roma population. In 1931, Shakir Pashov and his friends registered a cultural and educational organisation. Pashov had heard that Tsar Boris III wanted the Roma to have their own organisation. When the Tsar’s son, Simeon, was born, all ethnic groups in the country – Turks, Armenians, Jews, etc., made performances in front of the Tsar’s Palace, dressed in their national costumes, to greet the Tsar for his newborn son. Shakir Pashov, in turn, organised a group of young Gypsy girls who wore white shalwars in black dots and beautiful colourful Turkish headscarves. Singing and dancing, the Gypsy group was the last group to greet the Tsar. Noticing the last group, the Tsar’s mother inquired about their nationality. The Tsar signalled to them to remain at the spot (all previous groups performed for 5 minutes, while the Gypsy group remained in front of the palace for 15 minutes). The Tsar’s mother told him that she liked best the last group because they seemed the merriest people. The next morning, royal envoys met with the leaders of the Roma group that had performed in the congratulatory procession and gave them a cash prize to support the activities of the ensemble. Shakir Pashov was invited as the leader of the group. The Roma used the money from the prize for sewing new dance costumes – shalwars and headscarves for the girls and sleeveless tops and colourful shirts for the boys.
Later, in 1946, when Georgi Dimitrov, who also had great respect for Shakir Pashov, attended a performance by the Gypsy ensemble, he personally greeted his friend and expressed his approval. Years later, when Pashov asked Georgi Dimitrov for money to set up a Gypsy theatre, he made sure to support the theatre. Shakir had many Bulgarian friends who respected him and appreciated his work but also he had many Gypsy friends as well.
During the mobilisation in the Second World War, Shakir Pashov, who had good friends and influence among the military commissions, advocated for the release from labour mobilisation of the Roma, who were the only men in their families. That is why many Roma respected him in the past, and those who are still alive, keep good memories of him. There were, of course, people who envied him for the respect that he enjoyed.
One morning, Shakir’s wife went to see her mother. She was pregnant with her fifth child. They already had three boys – Alcho, Neno, Stefko and one girl – Pata. Sabria wanted another girl so that Pata could have a friend. The merciful God heard her request and two months later she gave birth to a baby girl named Imet.
“Listen, daughter’ said Sabria’s mother, “your husband has the reverence of many people, but his work is such that some Roma envy his position even though they are not qualified to do his work. Our son-in-law has a good appearance, he was born under a lucky star and many Bulgarians like him. He is a well-mannered and educated man. He knows how to dress well and how to treat people, and he is aware of Bulgarian manners. He is a handsome man with a beautiful soul. Bulgarians are not crazy. They are not stupid, and they know what they are doing to give him such a job which is not just for anyone. I have heard that there is a black, fat Roma. People don’t like him. He envies Shakir and goes to the police to snitch on him with base lies, get him in prison, and take his place. Do tell your husband that he has enemies who wish him bad! He should be aware of them so that there are no accidents, and your children should not suffer.”
“I will tell him, mother, he works all day long in the workshop with his father. He leaves early in the morning and returns late in the evening. Yesterday, I went to bring him lunch, many people go there – Bulgarians and Gypsies. The Bulgarians, always nicely dressed, bring some booklets and tell him to hide them. He should open his eyes well for another person who would bring the rest of the booklets. If this person did not come, Shakir should burn the booklets and do not let the police capture them because many people from the group might end up in prison. When I heard this, I got very scared, mother, but I will tell him what you told me. I know he is a smart man and that he knows what he is doing.”
“Tell him, daughter, he would know how to defend himself. Oh, my dear grandchildren, look how much they have grown, my sweet grandchildren. Grandma will now lay the table and serve some of the delicious sarmi [stuffed grape or cabbage leaves]. See what your grandfather has brought for you from the village! We went to the village last week. Your father and brother worked digging the gardens of the Bulgarians, and I and your sister-in-law cleaned their windows and washed their carpets in the river. The woman gave me some corn, apples, walnuts and two knitted sleeveless tops.”
The old woman went into the other room, brought the knitted tops, dressed her grandchildren, and kissed them.
“Granny, these vests are so nice! Did Grandpa bring some for mom and dad?” Alcho asked his grandmother.
“When he goes the next time, he will bring some to your parents. Why are your eyes closing, my daughter? Did you not sleep last night? Come, lay down to rest.”
“Well, mom, what can I tell you … Last night I couldn’t sleep, the little one caught a cold, and she coughed all night long. Her throat got sore, and I rubbed her with rakiya so that she could warm up. She finally got some sleep at dawn, but she is still coughing.”
“Do you know what you should do, daughter? You should put to boil walnut shells, add ten hot candies, and leave them to boil for ten minutes. You will then wait for it to cool down and then give your daughter to drink the water. I will give you some of the walnuts that the woman from the village gave to me. Wait for me to bring it to you. Then, you will break them and give the nuts to your children to eat, and the shells you will boil.”
Sabria went home and waited for Shakir to return and tell him what her mother had learnt. Shakir listened to her carefully and said, “Listen, Sabria, I have not done anything I should be afraid or ashamed of. I have always tried as much as I can to help the Roma. I have never hurt anyone.”
Later on, Shakir started building a house in the Brick Factory neighbourhood in Sofia [today Gotse Delchev neighbourhood], in the then Gypsy neighbourhood called Boyana. He wanted his fifth child to be born in the new house.
Three-four years have passed since Ismet’s birth, and it was time for Shakir and Sabria to start looking for a wife for Neno, their second son (Alcho was already married). The other children have also grown up. They were all married and had children. Life was hard for both Bulgarians and Gypsies after WWII because people were very poor. Despite the famine, Shakir’s united family had been doing well before one ‘black’ morning police knocked on their door.
The Unhappy Years of Shakir Pashov
Internment (1951–1953; 1959–1962) and Rehabilitation
Shakir Pashov’s youngest son-in-law, Tsetso, worked for the police as a supplier. His task was to buy kitchen products such as vegetables, fruits, meat, etc. One day he saw the ‘fat black man’ entering the chief’s office. Tsetso approached the chief’s door and bent down, pretending to clean his shoes, hoping to hear what the Roma man would say to the Bulgarian. After hearing the conversation, Tsetso did not go straight home as usual, but went to Shakir’s place.
“Listen, dad, what I have to tell you … I will tell you what the situation is, so that you know who is plotting against you.” [Tsetso said to Shakir].
“I told Shakir what my mother had told me about this man two or three years ago, but he didn’t listen to me then. He told me he hadn’t done anything wrong to anyone,” said Sabria.
“Don’t be angry! I will tell you again, I have no reason to be afraid. All calumny he uttered against me is about things he had committed himself. People know him, and they know me as well. My consciousness is clear. I leave myself to the will of my God, who sees everything and knows everything. I will not get after him, but my good Lord will not pardon him.”
In less than two or three weeks, Shakir Pashov was already in trouble, and it was the beginning of the hard period in the life of this wonderful person. One ‘black’ morning for the Pashov’s family, as Shakir’s granddaughter, Snezhana, described it, the militiamen brought a summons for Shakir Pashov. This happened on April 7, 1950 and he had to report to the militia chief. This was the beginning of his misfortunes.
When Shakir presented himself to the militia chief, the latter told him, “Look, I know you very well, I know your job. I know that you are a decent and honest person and I respect you very much. Two weeks ago, two of your people, Gypsies, came to me with a denunciation against you. I told them that I did not believe mere words and that I wanted proof. They returned two days later with the signatures of some Gypsies and photos of you with some women. With these documents, I am obliged to initiate proceedings against you. If I don’t, they will go to my boss and then I will have problems. I don’t want to lose my job and the bread for my children. I want you to understand me well. I see that they are disgusting people and want to harm you, but there is nothing I can do.”
“Listen now to what I have to tell you. I understand you very well, but I also want you to listen to me very carefully and to remember. The proof that the Gypsies brought you has the signatures of their relatives and friends, I know them by name, and everything they said about me is a lie. The story with the photos is fabricated, look at the photos well and you will notice that they are from two days ago. When you told them you needed proof, they made that filth up. Listen, I have been a worthy citizen all my life. I have been honest and respectable in my life and work. Sooner or later, the truth will prevail.”
An investigation was launched. Each night, relatives, neighbours, and friends came to Shakir’s home. They were very angry, but there was nothing they could do. In anger, they uttered heavy swearing for those who had slandered Shakir. He was sent to a camp on Belene Island where he was kept for almost two years. In 1956, after the April Plenum of the Central Committee of the Bulgarian Communist Party, Shakir was rehabilitated by the Government. When he reconnected with old colleagues and friends, they told him who had slandered him and brought about his troubles.
The years after 1959 saw the second ‘black period’ in Shakir Pashov’s life. One day he received a message that he and his family would be interned in the village of Rogozina, in northern Bulgaria, for three years, from 1959 to 1962. In the morning, all their neighbours, friends, and relatives came to see them off. Everyone cried and gave them something for the trip. Shakir’s aunt was the oldest woman in the neighbourhood and she cried the most. She swore day and night on those who had harmed Shakir. She used to take her headscarf off, drag it on the ground, and tell strong curses. She said the curse would reach their enemies because Shakir was with a pure soul.
“May death not come to their houses; may they agonise thrown out on the road. May they suffer from an incurable disease and not find a cure anywhere. May all those, who fabricated the slander against Shakir, die in excruciating pains”, she cursed.
Shakir Pashov sent letters to his relatives and friends telling about his new neighbours in the village of Rogozina, and the good relations they had. They soon became friends. Shakir and his family left good memories in the people from the village. Three years later, when it was time for the Pashovs to leave for Sofia, their friends and neighbours sent them away with tears in their eyes. Their granddaughter, Snezhana, explained that they brought many golden pendants as gifts for their grandchildren. Relatives and neighbours rejoiced, especially the elderly women, and they came to kiss Shakir’s hands and to thank him for the good things he had done for them and for their children. They blessed him and wished him long life, “Shakir, son, may God bless you. While you were here, we saw many good things from you. My husband had recently passed away and you helped my son remain home during the war mobilisation. I don’t know how we would have coped if it weren’t for you. You did good to us, child, we will never forget it. You should see now, those who are in your place – the miserable things they do to people instead of helping them. They moved the Gypsies away from the city centre to the Filipovtsi outskirts. If they like a young woman, they would intern her husband and would humiliate her. I am sorry, son, for telling you these things, but to me, you are like my child. These nasty people brought many Gypsy families to tears, but these tears will not bring them good. Remember what I tell you. I have seen many things in this life.”
“Some of his political comrades avoided him for another three years and they kept at a distance. They did not even greet him, and my grandfather was not taking this easy”, Snezhana said. “As people say, sooner or later, the truth comes out, and so it was with Shakir. After six years of torment, slander, and persecution, his name was cleaned up”, she continued.
One evening Pashov invited his whole family for dinner – daughters, sons, in-laws, and grandchildren. Sabria prepared a delicious banitsa, sarmi, and stuffed peppers, and they all ate and drank to their hearts’ delight. During the dinner, Shakir told them, “Listen, my children, I’ve had good and difficult periods in my life. I’ve had many happy moments but also many dark ones. When I finished my education, when I got married, when my children were born, when I married them off, the birth of my grandchildren – all these were the happiest moments in my life. The difficult moments are not few either. After six years of vilification with lies and slander, the time has come to get rid of this disgusting stain. Listen to what I have to say now – the most difficult moment in my life so far remains my conversation with my non-Roma friends. They said to me, “Shakir, your people, the Gypsies, the people you care for so much and for whom you worked for so many years, they were the ones who betrayed you. All the slanders and lies that caused you so much harm and suffering did not come from the Bulgarians, but they were fabricated by your people, by the Gypsies”. This is what has depressed me most of all. When I found out about this, I was so ashamed and humiliated that I’d rather the earth opened and swallowed me.”
Snezhana is Shakir’s youngest daughter’s daughter, who took care of her parents until their death in their home in Druzhba Housing Complex in Sofia, block 6, where Shakir received housing in 1970. To this day, many of his grandchildren, as well as many other Roma, live in the same block. She explained, “[My grandfather] felt offended by the people who did harm to him, his trust was lost, but this did not stop him from working for the Gypsy cause and did not crush his will to help the Gypsies who were in need. He did his work with so much love that it made him the first Gypsy MP. As such, he made the first sod of the Gypsy School in the largest mahala [in Sofia], Fakulteta. He met many Gypsies from the country and abroad. He wrote articles about the origin of the Gypsies and about their culture in the Gypsy newspaper Neve Roma (New Roma). He gathered young boys from Gypsy neighbourhoods and organised football tournaments. He worked hard to create a Gypsy theatre. He attracted other Roma in this work as well, such as Angel Blagoev (Simo Blagoev’s father), Emin Eminov (Sasho Emilov’s father), Neno’s son, Neno, was the cashier of the Gypsy Theatre. For a short time, he achieved many things, and the respect for his personality was restored. Shakir was happy because he was respected by the people; he had overcome the isolation from the time of his internment on the Belene island and resumed contacts with the Gypsies from other towns in the country as well as outside the country. When his enemies realised that everything around him went smoothly, they felt envious and started plotting new attempts to ruin his reputation through denunciations, slanders, and plots. When the denunciations against him had piled up, his party comrades reported to Karlo Lukanov (Andrey Lukanov’s father) who ordered an investigation and a report on the case to be handed to Shakir.”
Snezhana also recalled, “I was born in 1949. I was ten years old when we had a small house near my grandfather’s house in Boyana neighbourhood [today Gotse Delchev neighbourhood]. In 1970, they demolished our houses, and in return, we got apartments in the Druzhba Housing Complex. We, the grandchildren, were all around our grandparents. One morning, our grandmother served us hominy for breakfast. We had just finished eating and we started looking for our schoolbags to go to school when militiamen stormed inside and started looking for something. My grandmother was a fearless woman, she started shouting and arguing with the police. She told them, ‘Aren’t you ashamed of what you are doing in front of the children, you will frighten them, see how they are trembling. We are not criminals, we are not murderers, we never killed anyone, why are you treating us like that?’
They turned around, saw us, and asked grandma why we were not at school. Grandma replied, ‘Can’t you see they are with their bags, ready to go out.’ We got frightened, they tied grandpa’s hands and took him to the militia, we all started crying. Later, my mother told us that some Gypsies slandered my grandfather to harm him because they envied him. We know very well who these people were because the Bulgarians revealed them to my grandfather and my grandfather told us. They had caused a lot of misery to my grandfather, they harassed him a lot, but they received what they deserve from God. My grandfather died a natural death and lived until old age, as the old woman had blessed him. The slanderers died violent deaths, on the roads and from severe incurable diseases, as the old women had cursed them. They had told the police that my grandfather kept in his home portraits of Tsar Boris and Tsaritsa Joanna. That was true and I remember these portraits. Grandpa respected the Tsar because he helped Grandpa’s Gypsy organisation financially. Two days before the police arrived, Grandma hid the portraits in the attic. The militiamen turned the house upside-down; they searched everywhere but found nothing. I don’t know exactly what they did, but two days later they interned my grandfather to Belene island.
My grandfather told us that he saw more kindness from Bulgarians than from Gypsies. Grandpa was one of a kind, and such a person will not be born soon, he had a wonderful soul. He was a very disciplined and responsible man. He cared a lot about his appearance, he always went to work in a suit and a tie, his shoes were always polished. I was still small, but I remember. I was impressed by the fact that my grandfather would not go for a coffee just anywhere – his favourite place was the cafeteria of Balkantourist restaurant, today’s Hotel Sheraton, across from the Central Department Store. My grandfather had many friends – when he returned from the village of Rogozina, he received letters from friends for months almost every day. I still keep his correspondence, photos and the newspapers in which he had published articles in one big sack. Even in his old age, he often arranged his archives.
He was very happy with us when we received good grades in school. He always told us how important it is for a person to be educated and hardworking. While he was alive, he always organised the people living in the block to clean the entrances and the areas around the block. He organised Subbotnik almost every Saturday. The neighbours in the Druzhba Housing Complex liked him very much. He organised excursions for them. He took them most often to the Rila Monastery. No matter what problems they had, the neighbours always came to him for advice. You wouldn’t find anyone who would say that my grandpa did them harm. Roma and non-Roma alike loved him.
He died at the age of 83, of natural death, because he had a pure soul and a good heart. The old women never cursed him. There were many people at his funeral, among them the old [Yashar] Malikov and Manush Romanov. Manush cried a lot, he gave a funeral speech, asked for forgiveness and promised at his grave to write a book about his life and to take revenge on those who slandered him. He called my grandfather Pasha. The people who had harmed my grandfather died like dogs, the curses of the weeping old women reached them. There were also many non-Roma at my grandfather’s funeral. We received condolence telegrams, wreaths, and flowers from many respectable people. People had high esteem for him.”
Documentary Testimonies about Shakir Pashov
A RESTLESS MAN
I know he is seventy-five, but looking at him, he looks younger. There is a sense of strength in his large figure, unbent with the years. He speaks calmly, a little slowly, but clearly and meaningfully.
I am listening to his life-story – difficult, tense, with a lot of bitterness, and I am thinking – about what has urged him to live restlessly, to take risks, to ‘look’ for trouble. When he was young, he had a profession, which could provide him with, if not rich, a tolerable and peaceful life. However, this was not what the young Shakir Pashov was striving for; and what his soul was longing for.
The revolt in him was ignited by the Communists, their ideas of brotherhood and equality for all workers. Life itself brought him to the communists and to their ideas – on the one hand, as a worker, he felt the oppression of capitalist exploitation, and on the other hand, he felt sorrow for the Gypsies, who were doomed to exploitation and discrimination. That is why Pashov devoted his whole life to the idea to unite the Gypsies in Sofia with the struggles and the ideals of the working class; to arouse in them anger and hatred towards the oppressive capitalists; and to urge them to become fighters and workers.
The main events in the struggles of the working people in our country in the twenties are also events in the personal life of Shakir Pashov.
1919. Our people remember that this was the year of the great railway strike – a heroic battle of the Bulgarian working class for a better life. The locomotive driver, Shakir Pashov, who has already linked his life with the Communist Party, was among those who were actively involved in organising and conducting the strike. This was also his first major appearance as a class-conscious worker and his first participation in the battles of the working class.
The strike was suppressed with cruelty and with blood. The bourgeoisie did not recognise the right of workers to fight for a better life. Shakir Pashov also received his ‘award’ – he was fired. However, this did not frighten young Shakir, and neither did it weaken his devotion to communist ideas. His alert mind, relatively high culture, the lively feeling of a public figure all acted together to win the sympathy of the whole Gypsy population in Konyovitsa neighbourhood. A Party group had already been formed there.
Bulgarian workers welcomed heartily the Great October Socialist Revolution. When, as a result of foreign intervention and the internal counter-revolution, the economy of the young Soviet State was so destroyed that the Russian people began to starve, in Bulgaria, a popular movement for aid collection emerged. Among the funds that went from Bulgaria to the fraternal Soviet side was the modest help which was sincerely given by the Gypsies from Sofia. The organisers of the relief action were Gypsy communists.
1923. The September Uprising, as is well known, was not declared in Sofia. But the reactionary Government launched a chase against all progressive people across the country. Shakir Pashov was forced to flee from Sofia and hide.
1924. The founder of the Bulgarian Communist Party, Dimitar Blagoev – the Grandfather, died. After the pogrom inflicted on the party during the September Uprising, Dimitar Blagoev’s funeral became an impressive demonstration of the workers. It showed both enemies and friends that working-class Sofia was not broken. Among the wreaths that were laid on the Grandfather’s grave there was also a wreath from the Gypsy population, which was laid by girls in traditional Gypsy costumes. The organiser of this demonstration and the link between the Gypsy population and the Communist Party was comrade Pashov. He was a candidate for MP in the unified list of the Communists and Farmers. However, the Fascist Government did not allow the elected people’s representatives to enter the National Assembly.
1925. Arrests and pogroms against the Communists took place again. Among those arrested was Comrade Pashov. After his arrest, he left the capital again to protect himself from the blows. When he returned to Sofia in 1929, the Bulgarian Workers’ Party had already been established as the legal organisation of the illegal Communist Party. Shakir Pashov contacted the party comrades again and gave the initiative for the publication of the newspaper Terbie (Upbringing). The newspaper was an edition of the Cultural-Educational Organisation of the Gypsies in Bulgaria, and it was under the strong influence of the Bulgarian Workers’ Party. The fact that after the military-fascist coup in 1934, the last issues of the newspaper were published almost illegally reveals its nature.
The liberation of our people from monarchist-fascist slavery on September 9, 1944, was welcomed by Shakir Pashov as his personal victory and as something that had been desired and expected for a long time. His dream was to see the life of the Gypsies transformed; Gypsies to become respected, equal members of society, as well as active participants in the building of our socialist homeland. The Government has given every member of our society the opportunity to do what they can; it values people for their qualities, regardless of their ethnic origins. The Gypsy population needed to give up some of their old habits and overcome the feeling of inferiority imposed by the bourgeoisie in order to demonstrate their qualities and virtues. This task was undertaken by the most active members of our population, including Shakir Pashov, with all his restless temperament. A Gypsy theatre was founded, a newspaper was published, and meetings and rallies were convened. The Government appreciated his activity and devotion to the cause of socialism and opened the way for him to the supreme governing body, the National Assembly, giving him the authority of a legislator and a member of the country’s governance.
Everyone has great moments in their life that they discuss with pleasure; this was also the case with Shakir Pashov. Oddly enough, Shakir Pashov’s most cherished memory is not from the time when he was an MP, which was undoubtedly a peak in his public activity. Instead, he considered that the greatest moments of his life were his meetings with the leader and teacher of our people, Georgi Dimitrov.
He himself finds it difficult to explain Georgi Dimitrov’s charismatic presence. Perhaps it is due to his revolutionary zeal or the warm and human attitude that the leader has shown to Shakir Pashov and his comrades – without a trace of arrogance, just respect and love towards anyone.
Seventy-five years is the age at which a person has the right to a well-deserved break after a restless working life. At this stage, it is natural that people tend to have a diminished interest in the surrounding world because their need for personal care increases. This, however, was not the case with Shakir Pashov. When he retired, nobody could stop him from being a public figure, which he was throughout his life. He then worked actively in the organisation of the Fatherland Front in the neighbourhood, and he enjoyed observing the development of the Gypsy population, its increasingly active participation in the building of Socialism – with each new technician, doctor, teacher, or engineer. These educated young people, active builders of our socialist homeland, were the dreams-come-true story of his long and troubled life.
Source: Ivan Vapirev //