The morning sun throws its rays against the smooth, white washed walls. The air feels warm and promises to turn hot as the day wears on. Every where around speaks of affluence, and has a veneer of cleanliness and order. The sun’s rays only annunciate the sparkling windows and clean tiled verandas of the beautiful Middle Eastern houses. An enormous mosque sits amongst the sea of houses, at the edge of a dusty field. People in black hurriedly come and go from the mosque’s doors, largely ignoring another black clad figure at the gates, begging for mercy through the giving of alms. The hot wind throws up a cloud of dust from the field beside and turned the beggar’s eyes that way. The dirty, rocky field is her home. She sees her family and friends preparing for another busy day, another day for a Gypsy to survive.

The six tents pitched in the dusty field are made of large patchworks of colorful canvas and material woven from goat hair, along with pieces of plastic and tarp. The tent is held down by large pieces of rock and concrete blocks. The dingy exterior largely conceals the tidiness within. Large woven carpets cover the ground or where there is no carpet, straw mats can be found. The mats on which they sleep are stacked against one side of the tent during the day, and the front is opened to let a bit of wind pass through, a bit of relief from the stuffiness of the warm tent. The men clamber into a small pick-up truck to go out and try to collect aluminum cans to be recycled and to bring in some money for their families. Beside each tent bunches of large sacks stuffed with cans speak of their labor on past days.

Surrounding the field are four roads, three which are paved the other which is an extremely dry, dusty road ascending a hill, which leads to a construction site. Every time a truck climbs the hill its tires throw puffs of dirty sand down upon the camp, coating it in grime. The freshly washed laundry, washed by the women in small tubs with the precious water they can collect is hanging out to dry, and is infuriatingly covered with dirt from the dust clouds. The efforts at cleanliness are made futile, whilst living in the dirt field. Nevertheless, the work continues, and the women and children do not cease their activities.

The children sit in a circle away from one of the tents. The sun is now pounding its hot rays at noon, but the children still sit, playing, talking and laughing. They are hot, but there is no where else to go. There is no school to attend or park to play in. One of the women and a young girl begin to take down their tent for a thorough cleaning. Their belongings are neatly arranged in stacks around the floor of the tent. The materials will be shaken free of the sand, at least for a while, and the tent will be reconstructed. The women go about their work, tidying and washing with their heads uncovered. While at home they see no need to cover; however, if they would go begging at the mosque, or out to the city they would cover their heads just like the Arab women. Those who pass by the camp and see the uncovered heads of the women, despise them even more. From one tent a woman staggers out, obviously ill. She stops as if unable to go any farther and sits on a rock away from her tent and is sick. Where else was she to go?

Two donkeys wander around the field and even make their way across the road. Cars dodge and honk, but the presence of animals on the roadway isn’t so unusual, even in the city. The women and children aren’t worried. The donkeys will return.

Young teenage boys carry large jugs and canisters to go hunt for some life sustaining water. There are no running taps or even wells to draw from at their homes. They will go to the construction site and see if they can beg some of the water used to mix the concrete. Perhaps it is not the best, but it is water. Or maybe someone in one of the surrounding houses will allow them to fill up the containers from the garden hose. Water is hard to come by, but it must be had. It is better for them to go and look for water than for their mothers or sisters to go. They could be taken advantage of in exchange for the water.

The men arrive home at the hottest part of the day. Just like the other workers of the city, they will take their mid day rest from the heat. Even those who work in the air conditioned offices in the city will take a rest. The women cook saffron rice on top of a single burner just inside the tent. This is the noon day meal. The men, women and children gather at the front of the tent to eat their portion. A bit of bread is also shared around. After the scanty meal the women wash their utensils in a pot by the tent. The children will help as well. The families sit at the front of their tents, hoping for a cooling breeze, some respite from the unrelenting heat. As the hours pass the tents begin to casts shadows and the people move to sit in them.

Later, work is taken up again. The aluminum cans are taken from the sacks and the men begin to crush the cans with rocks, while the children gather the crushed cans and place them in other sacks. The shadows change positions and the people change with them.

Another search for water must be made and this time one of the older boys loads a donkey with canisters and again sets off for the construction site. Water is needed throughout the day and is a constant struggle to come by.

Evening begins to fall and everyone gathers toward home. Tonight there is a bit of bread, tea and coffee to be shared. The women prepare the sweet tea and the thick coffee on the single burners. The children gather around the adults outside of a tent. The sound of voices discussing the day and telling stories to the children echo across the field, gently cutting through the now dark and cooler air. A single gas light burns just outside the tent. There are no electric lights for them, even though the houses and apartments surrounding seem to be lit from every window. The gas light is extinguished to ration its oil and the families disperse to their tents. The mats are spread over the floor and everyone lies down for a night’s sleep. The day has passed. One more day with all of its difficulties and experiences. Yet, this is life, a normal life in a Middle Eastern Gypsy camp.