While they were driving to Guča, Rika let Nikola sit beside him on the front seat. They passed farmhouses, corn and wheat fields. The road was bumpy, and Nikola choked on the dust and truck diesel fumes. He felt sick to his stomach, unsure of whether his sickness came from hunger or car fumes. For the first time in his life, Nikola rode in a truck, wore a shirt and a vest, entered a trailer, and saw the hills. In the city, there were buildings and houses, cars and buses and street cars. There were no hills and mountains.
Along the way they passed sheep and horses grazing in fields. There were some horses in Nikola’s settlements, but no sheep. “We keep ducks and chickens,” Nikola said, breaking the silence. “Baba treats them like family; they eat the same food as we do. Sometimes they sleep on Baba’s lap and drink from her mug.”
“Pets?” Rika asked.
“No. At Christmas and Easter, Baba chooses one, prays for her in the church and cuts its neck with a knife.”
“So Christmas dinner!” Rika said, suddenly animated.
“We borrow fancy plates from a neighbour for that meal,” Nikola said.
Excitedly, Nikola went on to describe the Romani settlement under the bridge, the teetering hut where he lived with Baba, Saida and the twins, whom they were looking after. The twins never cried, but they burped, coughed and sneezed all the time. They slept in tiny pink bathtubs that Baba had adapted into cribs. Every night, Baba would sing old Romani songs to put them to sleep. After the twins fell asleep, Baba would sit by the fire and sing those same songs over and over until late in the night.
The next day at noon, Rika’s truck approached Guča. Romani caravans with horses, trucks and trailers were scattered by the road. The roar of scores of brass bands filled the air.
The entrance to town was closed off by police, and only vehicles with special permission could drive in. So they had to leave the truck and the trailer and walk into town.
“It’s useless to argue with the police,” Almira said, fearful that Rika would get worked up. She knew how his temper could escalate. “We can drive into the fairgrounds when they open the road.”
Rika approached one of the police officers directing traffic. “We came here all the way from the capital just to work at the fairgrounds. Please!”
“Do you have a parking permit?” asked the police officer.
“No.”
“I can’t let you in without a permit. You have to park here and walk into town.”
Rika turned red with anger. “Who are those rules for anyway?”
“Provoking the police can get you to prison,” the police officer said, poking Rika with his baton. “Move back!”
“He is tired, otherwise, he would never talk like that,” Almira said, pushing Rika back to the trailer and handing the policeman a can of cold beer.
The police officer drank the beer down in one gulp. “It wasn’t my decision, you know. I am only doing my duty, standing here in dust and traffic all day.” His voice turned soft, almost apologetic.
Almira pushed Rika toward the trailer. They walked in silence.
“Well,” Almira finally said, “that was a bad idea. You almost got yourself arrested.” She stopped herself from adding that she had saved him. As if he didn’t realise it himself.
They were stuck on the road amongst parked cars, trucks, trailers and rows of tents behind the police barricade. In the distance on the other side of the barricade, crowds of people swarmed the soccer field in between makeshift inns and bars scattered among Romani caravans. Rika parked the truck right there—on a dusty road, down the road from a gloomy inn called Bora’s, which was set up in an old garage.
Rika wiped his trumpet with a handkerchief and wrapped up some bread and an onion.
“Almira, do you think you will be safe here alone all day long?”
“I think that I will manage,” she said. “But do we have a choice?”
Rika checked the door to make sure it locked well. Then he wrapped his arms around Almira and kissed her lovingly. He grabbed his trumpet and waved to Nikola to follow him. They soon disappeared into the crowd that was slowly moving into Guča.
Almira climbed back into the trailer and closed the door behind her.
The downtown streets were stacked with food: grilled meat with pita bread, roasted peppers and onions, cheese pies, lamb, suckling pigs and crepes.
“Look at all the food!” Nikola said, suddenly hungry. He inhaled the sweet smell of grilled meat.
Guča was surrounded by hills, woods and mountains, and the grass smelled fresh, like the herbs Baba used for healing. The air felt clear and light to Nikola, so unlike the part of the city where he lived under the bridge. That smelled like car fumes.
“We’ll eat first. I will buy you a pleskavica, a burger!” Rika exclaimed.
They sat on the grass at the edge of pavement to eat. “Sooo good!” Nikola cried out, gobbling it down. “Best thing I have ever eaten. Nothing compares with this.”
Rika nodded in agreement.
“One of the best I have tasted myself!”
They ate in silence watching people move along the busy streets.
Rika found a comfortable spot next to Nikola. “Maybe this is a good time to tell me about Cardboard City where you live.”