Romani streets and Romani quarters are stuck to the edge of almost every ethnic Hungarian village outside Hungary. Roma in this zone of contention often cling to a Hungarian identity that belongs to them only partially. T he road to Velyka Dobron is dusty and potholed. It ambles through affronted Hungarian villages, dense and stoic, which display the red, white, and green Hungarian flag. We pass women in embroidered dresses and red and green shawls selling fruit.
Men shout at black bicycles and humiliated dogs with panicked eyes.
Everyone here seems old. On Sunday they attend the Calvinist church. They slaughter goats methodically and clip the pieces into parts to be eaten, parts to be worn, and parts to be thrown away. There is a constant struggle against dirt here, into which all are enlisted. It is hot and dusty.