Teresa Mirga, artist’s private archive
Interviewed by Andrzej Grzymała-Kazłowski
When you search for your earliest memories, landscapes, sounds, faces of people, who and what do you see?
It’s Czarna Góra, my river – the wild Białka, my family, the Roma, Górale (highlanders) around, and all that music that surrounded and accompanied me since childhood. I wasn’t an exception. It was the same for all of us, the mountain Roma, for whom song is like water – you can’t live without it. I was lucky to have everyone around me singing – my mother’s and father’s sisters, the whole family was full of singing.
This “home” singing, daily singing – what was it like?
The women sang. While cooking, cleaning, playing with the children. Someone was always humming something. My aunt would peel potatoes and sing. I didn’t just grow up in this, I sought out this music since I can remember. It called to me. In those days, speakers, megaphones, and radios played continuously in homes, mostly music. I was three or four years old and always heard something intriguing around me: wonderful performers, fantastic Polish, French, Italian songs, Skaldowie, Maryla Rodowicz, Czerwone Gitary, Marek Grechuta.
Roma songs – were they old songs, or were they improvised, created on the spot?
Both. On the base of the archaic songs, new ideas appeared in the lyrics and music. The aunties would tell old stories but add their own – here and now, what troubled or delighted them – they’d sing about it. The song constantly changed. After a sorrowful, tearful part, something different, consoling, would suddenly emerge, and the verse would gain more sunshine and joy.
Though still on the same tune, the same melody?
Yes, although the melody could also be deceiving. It might seem that we’re singing to a cheerful tune, but the lyrics are dramatic, about poverty, loss, misfortune. I sometimes have trouble with this in workshops. Teaching non-Roma Roma songs, I also translate the lyrics, and this surprises them, makes it difficult. It’s not easy for them to get into the mood of a seemingly cheerful song when the lyrics are tear-inducing.
Czarna Góra, neighbouring Bukowina Tatrzańska, is influenced by the Polish Podhale region, but it’s also Spisz with a slightly different culture and Slovak influences.
Yes, of course, in both music and language. The older generation still spoke Slovak – my parents remembered Slovakia here and their first contact with school, which was in Slovak. Later, my mother taught herself to write in Polish. The Spisz highlanders’ dialect was commonly used daily. In music, there’s also more Czardas heard than in Podhale. A walking Czardas, in two parts – a march (walking part) and a faster, livelier section. Oh yes, that came from Slovakia and Hungary. Among the Roma, we also have these variations. I sing these songs at concerts. The songs of the Spisz Roma consist of three parts. First: halgato, slow-paced, free, without a clear rhythm; second: medium tempo, rhythmic – that’s the walking Czardas; and third: fast, the so-called polka. In Slovakia and Hungary, Roma also sing this way.
What about what they call “szájbőgő” in Hungary, where Roma singers are masters of that distinctive improvisation, imitating percussion instruments, drums, metal cans, spoons – was that known in Czarna Góra?
No. But when I heard this type of singing, I realised that I also sing a bit like that, vocalising the melody in a language invented at the moment. And I really don’t know where it came from, it came naturally. At the same time, so much can be expressed through these sounds. I’ve noticed that it really opens listeners, who follow the melody and can let their imagination freely interpret what it suggests at that moment. But ultimately, it either didn’t make it over the mountains, or it was forgotten, lost. Unfortunately, much of our shared culture with those Roma has also disappeared – clothing, instruments, even that remarkable singing. The culture of the Polish Mountain Roma is also vanishing at an increasing rate. By the time I started performing on stage, there were already stage groups in southern Poland that, instead of drawing from our local culture, showcased the folklore of Roma with wagon traditions, Russian influences – in dress, dance, music, and dialect. That wasn’t ours!
In commercial terms, perhaps this is understandable. Audiences want spectacular shows. Many still remember the “Roma” group or know the hits from the film “Gypsies Are Found Near Heaven” – those groups catered to such expectations. But were there any artists or groups before you who offered audiences the authentic, original culture of the Mountain Roma?
No, I don’t think so. Only individual musicians, violinists, brought virtuoso Czardas to stage groups. For example, Miklosz Deki Czureja and his son in “Roma”. But the songs and dances of our Roma, I don’t think you could find them anywhere. Recently, Monika Janowiak, Head of the Department of Cultural Studies and Musicology at the University of Wrocław, found an a capella recording of old songs sung by a woman from Czarna Góra. I was completely moved and delighted – it’s probably the only such recording.
Against the backdrop of other Roma settlements, was Czarna Góra an exception, unique in some way? Were there sympathies or antipathies with Roma from other settlements?
No, relations were good, normal. We met at religious fairs or celebrations. People are people – some didn’t get along, while others married. But musically, Czarna Góra probably stood out a bit. There were many musicians in the settlement. Two bands would gather for weddings and parties – they played in restaurants and inns. My mother’s brother, Józef Mirga, was a very good and well-known violinist. He played not only in Roma bands but also in top highlander ensembles at the biggest weddings, where he was invited as the lead violinist. Highland youth also came to him to learn violin. He was a musician!
Perhaps a bit stereotypically, highlanders are often seen as not being very tolerant of “others”.
Well, they can be stubborn. But we had good neighbourly relations. I think music played a role in this. These two cultures were always close. And since highlander culture is also strongly rooted in music, there was more understanding and opportunities to meet, play together, and get to know each other. It was easier for us to understand and respect each other. And blacksmithing certainly played a role too. There were three forges in Czarna Góra, and while working, people would talk a lot. Then came the shared school, friendships, and acquaintanceships. My parents’ generation already understood that we needed education. That it would provide work – so they really pushed us to study. But school was varied. Some teachers forbade us from speaking Roma among ourselves, or singing our songs.
From the catalogue of school subjects and obligations, which did you like the most?
Polish, of course. I devoured books and poetry. I had a good teacher – she suggested readings, and knew what might interest me. I loved Jan Kochanowski. His “Laments” moved me deeply. I lost a sick little brother very early, and this drew me closer to Kochanowski and probably to poetry in general. I read Mickiewicz, Słowacki, and didn’t even mind that they were compulsory readings. I always had a book under my pillow at home. I read whenever I could. And the house was tiny but beautiful – with siblings, a whole crowd, always someone at home, it wasn’t easy to find some peace.
Did music appear as a choice then too?
Yes, I was about 10 or 11 years old, and it was already very deliberate, almost a necessity. The boys in the settlement had guitars, I listened, watched, and dreamed about a guitar! My mother saw what was happening with me, so we went to Zakopane, and she bought me the dream guitar.
I learned by ear. I watched the boys for chords, but mostly, I used trial and error, arranging it my way by ear. For a year in primary school, I also attended music school for singing. But I went there without basic theoretical knowledge. I sang in the choir but didn’t know or want to learn sheet music or follow those rules and conventions. My teacher said, “It can’t be like this, Teresa, you must sing the first or second voice, but you wander as you please”. So, we had to part ways. But over the years, I often recall or discover something from that time. I also love all those songs I was taught – Schubert, Moniuszko, others. It certainly wasn’t a wasted time.
As you entered adulthood, more aware of your musical abilities, weren’t you drawn to bands, popular music, or even earning money through it?
Not at all. I sang to myself and the river. I developed on my own, sang, and played the guitar. There were also friends with me – Roma children are very open musically, curious about music. I’d take my guitar, and we’d sing together by the river for hours.
But there usually comes a difficult moment when talented children or teenagers disappear – due to responsibilities, starting families, or daily hardships that stifle natural talents. But that didn’t happen to you.
Yes, what happened here? There was a moment when I became a bit known. Earlier, I had become the mother of my late sister’s children and wanted to give them more, fill their time. I read books to them, we went to the forest for berries and mushrooms, we stayed close to nature, and I always served them music. The oldest, Natalia, had friends – twins – who were also with us and sang beautifully. Their father, Jan Kacica – blind, an outstanding singer – heard us. He sang and played percussion in many bands. He joined us, and accidentally, we formed a pretty good little group. When Father Stanisław Opocki began organising a Roma pilgrimage to Limanowa in the early ’90s, he invited us to sing in the church. Invitations to churches increased, and we also started performing regularly in a cafe in Czarna Góra. Singing in harmony with tambourine, spoons, and guitar – these were essentially concerts. Artists from Poland also began visiting Czarna Góra. With the Pogranicze Foundation, we travelled to other Roma settlements, where I held singing workshops. The Węgajty theatre from near Olsztyn also came. They gave a performance and invited us to a campfire for joint music-making in the evening. My uncle almost forced me to attend. I was hesitant, questioning whether I needed all this fuss. I was going through a tough time, avoiding people. But when my uncle asked, I had to go. They later invited us to their place in Węgajty, where we did workshops and evening concerts. People from the world of culture and theatre saw us there and invited us to Warsaw. In Warsaw, as the “Kałe Bała” band, we performed with musicians from Nowy Targ – violin and accordion, a twin with a mandolin, me with a guitar, and four voices. It was powerful. Next was Gorzów Wielkopolski, the Romane Dyvesa festival, and more invitations, concerts, festivals. We played quite a lot.
And “Kałe Bała” is still playing.
Yes, but there were difficult times. The girls got married, there was a wave of emigration abroad. Many musicians left as well. At one point, the band practically ceased to exist, it was just me and my brother, Jacek Kacica. I asked highlander musicians to join, and for a while, we played in a mixed lineup. The band changed, but we kept playing. For several years, Piotr Ondycz (now with Viki Gabor’s band) played mandocello with us. Later, and still today, Piotr Hortmanowicz plays guitar with us. Recently, I recorded music for a film with a Roma pan flute player from Romania, who will probably start touring with us. The band is established but open to changes.
Photo: Archive from the Roma Advice and Information Centre; “Kałe Bała” band founded by Teresa Mirga in 1992.
Most of “Kałe Bała’s” repertoire consists of traditional pieces. To what extent do you transform and develop them, and how much is played in its raw form?
Of course, we try to stay close to the original versions, but our arrangements and thoughts about the pieces are ours and contemporary. So naturally, our influence on the final shape is significant.
But your work also makes up a significant part of “Kałe Bała’s” repertoire.
Yes, from the beginning, even in my youth, I wrote both music and lyrics. I always wrote, everywhere and always. I had a notebook, and during lessons, instead of paying attention and taking notes, I’d write thoughts, fragments of poems, song lyrics that came to mind. Jan Mirga – a Roma from Czarna Góra (author of Roma fairy tales) – was our history teacher and would take my notebook, returning it after class with words encouraging me to write but asking me not to do it during history, leaving the next teacher to deal with it. I never imagined that one day someone would want to publish my writing and music in a poetry collection or albums.
The first recording of “Kałe Bała” was a cassette, “Rupuni gili” (Silver Song).
Yes, in 1994. It was quite a sensation, a revelation for many, showing that Roma music could be so different from what most thought of as Gypsy music – those stage hits. The cassette also included my compositions. In the same year, the “Spółka Poetów” in Podkowa Leśna, thanks to Piotr Mitzner, published my first poetry collection, “Czemu tak?” in Polish and Roma versions. Fortunately, this creativity grew, leading to more poetry publications and several albums.
There’s no shortage of talented young people. Where are the students?
Yes, indeed, the workshops attract many people, often very talented and promising. It must be said that they are almost exclusively non-Roma, interested in our culture, wanting to learn and sing. There are also consultations for theatre productions and films. I want this music to be understood. If someone has the ambition and desire to engage with it, let them do it well. Agata Siemaszko and Marysia Natanson are excellent examples of artists who didn’t need to be taught singing because they were already great singers. They just needed to taste the song, feel its rhythm.
And the Roma, where are your successors?
There aren’t any, not visibly. Czarna Góra is slowly disappearing, and it’s similar in other settlements. Many people have emigrated abroad – perhaps our talents will emerge there. Of course, there are talented young people who occasionally appear, even nationally, in some talent shows, bringing us joy with their success. But I’d also like to hear those wonderful old songs from them, maybe not as popular and shiny. Perhaps something similar will happen as with Polish traditional and folk music, where it almost disappeared before being rediscovered by youth who sought out old musicians and revived their music. I hope to live to see such a revival.
Garwolin, 20 November 2024
Interview by Andrzej Grzymała-Kazłowski
kalebala@wp.pl
Co-financed by the KPO. GRANTS 2024. A2.5.1: Programme to support the activities of cultural and creative industries operators to stimulate their development.
