After an extensive genealogical project, I discovered that I have Sinti heritage on both my parents side. They even share common ancestors going back to the 1780’s, to Adamus Mulla, and his wife Anna Maria. Other Mulla ancestors that are known to me are Margareth, Johann, and his daughter Anna Maria. I am the convergence of 3 known lines of Mulla blood. Mulla is a significant surname amoung the Sinti going back to the days prior to leaving the Sindh region. It signified a lineage of wisdom and communal leadership. It also is linguistically linked to the root word mulo meaning the spirits of the dead. The Mulla were what they called the chovihane of the tribe. They were the shamans of their clan.
I also have a lot of reverence for my German, and Norwegian Ancestry. I even discovered a branch of family that is Serbian. I hold all my bloodlines in high regard, culturally, knowing full well there may have been many that needed healing that they did not receive. However, the more I learn about the Sinti, and their ancient, earth centered ways, and the validation of blood memories, the more I understand myself. There is much of who I am that reflects who they were. The Sinti, along with the Romani, were often called gypsies throughout history and were much maligned, and still are today. They were also victims of the haulocaust. I know my direct ancestors made it safely to Wisconsin by 1878 but there is no telling how many distant cousins were wiped off the face of the Earth by the evil that was the Nazi regime. The survivors were forced to give up their traveller ways and integrate into conventional society. And what happens to any culture that is misunderstood, oppressed and rejected? History has no shortage of examples of that.
I have often mentioned that I seem to have been born utterly dismayed at the modern world, society and all the concrete and walls. I was born to roam the wilderness and the woods. And I was born with my feet in two worlds. I am one with the liminal spaces. Spirit is no stranger to me. I have also, recently, experienced the near death dismantling of the calling. I faced death multiple times and come through. I answer the call. I am on the path. The Sinti would call it the tatcho drom, or even more ancient, the Pura Drom.
