Unwanted in France, Unloved in Romania: A Desperate Homecoming for Deported Roma

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Merisor's house on the hill in Barbulesti is laid out like a fortress, with two-meter walls surrounding the property. As soon as it gets dark, Merisor has the rickety gates locked. Then the smells of freshly baked pita bread and fried chicken waft through the courtyard. The women cook while the men wait to be served.

"We are at home here, but we can barely survive," says Merisor. The family's only income consists of the money he makes with his performances and the €10 each of the children under 18 receives in tuition support from the government each month.

It must have been sometime in May when his cousin called from France and asked him whether he wanted to go there. "Are things good there?" Merisor asked. Yes, the cousin replied. In early July, Merisor, his wife Nuta, three of their grandchildren and others from Barbulesti got into a minibus and drove 24 hours to Grenoble. About 1,000 other Roma were already camping in tents or trailers in a park there. Merisor and his wife moved into a derelict house nearby. "The house had no windows, no electricity and no water. We slept on cardboard boxes." The Roma received no support from the French government, but the children were allowed to go to school.

Every day, Merisor went from restaurant to restaurant with his accordion. "The French are not unfriendly," he says. "I earned €20-30 a day, but then Sarkozy decided to kick us out."

Harming the Reputation of the Roma

Ion Cutitaru, 59, the mayor of Barbulesti, says he is the only Roma mayor in all of Romania. Cutitaru arrives in an old Opel Ascona driven by his son Zobar, who works for him as his driver. "The French should use us as cheap labor instead of driving us away," he says angrily. The door to the mayor's office sticks. The financial crisis has forced Bucharest to reduce subsidies by 35 percent. "Sarkozy is seriously harming the reputation of the Roma. Now all of Europe sees us once again as thieves and criminals."

Cutitaru is wearing his mayor's sash, in the Romanian national colors. His son Zobar already tried his luck in France once before. He tried to work in construction but no one wanted to hire him. "So he begged instead," says the mayor. In the hallway, in front of the "Office of Social Affairs," he demonstrates how he imitated a cripple, his body hunched over and his legs bent.

Cutitaru estimates that more than one-third of the adult residents of Barbulesti are now traveling in Spain, Italy, France and elsewhere. "They all return home, in no more than five years," says the mayor. Five years, he adds, is about the amount of time it takes to save enough money to build a house in Barbulesti.

But Cutitaru also knows that things can't go on like this forever. "Education is the way out of poverty," he says. Some 150 first-graders will begin attending school in two weeks. "But we don't even have enough chairs for everyone," he says. "Our birth rate is simply too high. The average family has seven children."

'I Was Lucky'

The school is housed in a gloomy, Communist-era building a few doors down the street from the mayor's office. The school year hasn't started yet, but Elena Ion is there. She is the only Roma among the 40 teachers. Instead of the typical headscarf, she wears her sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

"I was lucky," she says. "My father read books at home, which no one else does here." He also made sure that after finishing eight grade in Barbulesti, she was able to attend high school in Urziceni and later the university in Bucharest. She is now 47 and proud of her two daughters. One has just finished her examinations in political science at the university in Bucharest.

Ion refers to the Roma in the third person, as if she were no longer one of them. "Only about 15 of 150 first-graders will finish eighth grade -- and only boys." The girls are "sold" at 12 or 13, she says. Roma fathers receive a bride price of up to €6,000 for the prettiest of their daughters. "They will already have five children of their own by the time they're 20."

Ready to Return

It's late, Merisor has finally put down his accordion and now he is cursing away. He boasted to the other villagers about the thousands of euros he had supposedly brought home from France. But in reality it was only a few hundred, barely enough money to feed his family for a few weeks. The house needs a new roof and Merisor wants to build an addition. The first of his grandchildren are already older than 10, and will soon reach a marriageable age.

He says he will wait a few more weeks, until all the excitement over the Roma has settled down, and then he'll drive back to France.

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• Part 1: A Desperate Homecoming for Deported Roma
• Part 2: 'We Are at Home Here, But We Can Barely Survive'