 Hello, my name is Rosa Cisneros and I am part of the Independent Theatre Hungary and I am sitting down today with someone that I admire and just makes me feel great every time I sit down and speak with them. This is, as I say, uncle Richard O'Neill who is an internationally acclaimed performance storyteller, author and playwright. He was born and brought up in a large, traditional, fully nomadic Romani gypsy family traveling throughout the north of England and Scotland. His roots are also to be found in the coal mining communities of the northeast, having family members who work down the pits. This co-cultural upbringing is reflected in his creative work and as Richard says, and I quote, gypsy in my heart and coal dust in my veins. Thank you so much for sitting down with me, with us today. We're here to talk a bit about the hardest word, but before we get into that work, maybe you can tell us in your own words who you are, a bit about your own creative and artistic practice and work, please. I mean, I grew up in the 1960s and the 1970s in a fully nomadic family, so we were traditional Romani gypsies. My dad was born in an old fashioned, whole strong wagon and travelled at a route, the same route every year. And then in 1962 I was born and by that time we were living in a modern caravan. And in that time, from my dad being born to me being born, then the world had changed tremendously because we had lots and lots of traditional stopping places even when I was a little child. And then there was a huge change in the 1960s. We had lots and lots of houses, lots of roads, lots of massive buildings and new towns and everything were built and the gypsy people were edged towards further and further towards the margins of these places, but also further and further towards the margins of society. And we were a growing group of people, I'm one of five children and our population was growing and we had less and less places to go. And then the government in the UK and the local governments, the local authorities, they built some stopping places, some caravan sites, but they always seemed to put them in places where nobody else wanted to be. So again on the margins next to rubbish dumps, next to very, very toxic factories miles away from bus routes and things like that. So again, I grew up realising that we were very marginalised and I didn't really understand how much until I went to school when I was five years old. Now when I was four, when I was a four year old, in those days you didn't actually, now we've got kindergartens in England and we've got all these lovely things where you could from little children, you can go and learn all this wonderful stuff. But when I was a kid, for every child, no matter what family you came from, you stayed at home with your mum, your dad, whoever you had in your family and then five, five years old. So there was two parts of the year, there was September or there was Easter and you got to start depending on your birthday was, when you were nearest to that birthday, five, you got to go to school. So there I was living in this wonderful nomadic family with loads of storytelling and music and not really many books apart from the books my mum got for me because I got obsessed with books and I actually taught myself to read when I was four and sort of memorised this book and I guess my first performance as a storyteller was at four when my mum and dad, I stole my relatives to come round and a lot of these older people who couldn't read and write at all and they sat around and I read from this book, I didn't really read from it, I totally learned it. So I recited this book and they were just, you know, I'm getting this picture of my mind perhaps these days of some kind of little Mozart, you know, and people go look at that child can play the piano so well and these people were just amazed that I could do something they couldn't do which was reading and I was reading this book and it was absolutely fantastic, fantastic, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful and lots and lots of raw money words, you know, cushy this and cushy this and cushy Javi and this good child and all this sort of stuff and then the money started to come, you see they were so enthralled, they gave me money and it's my first public and paid performance and that really got me into books, I thought this is good. But when I went to school, the whole culture was different, everything was different. The main thing I realised about school was you had to learn how to sit down and that was pretty much it. So if you were really well behaved and you stayed in the lines and you did everything everybody told you, even though a lot of it seemed pointless, then you were good, you were clever, you were seen as clever and that was in complete contradiction to my family upbringing where children were seen as just as important as adult, even a little child like me performing that story was the most important person that evening and even when you got to sort of six, seven, eight, nine, ten years old, you would be consulted on family decisions, you know, what shall we sell, what shall we buy, where shall we go tomorrow to try and do that and your viewpoints were taken on board, there was a very circular way, what I call the nomadic way, very circular way of being with everyone included, whereas school was very linear and it just, you had to get from A to B as quickly as possible, so you started the morning there, you got rattled through all that sort of stuff, whether you liked it or not, and then you got to the end of the day and you went home and on repeat. And I can remember once saying, because we lived with the seasons, so if it was raining, you could work outside, but as soon as the sun came out, you worked until that sun went away at night and that was great because when it's raining, sit around, do what you want, when it's sun shining, you've got work, so on. And I can remember being in school one day and it was, I'd say it was 10.30 and they said, oh, it's raining, so you're going to have to stay in and have your playtime inside and carry on with your work, so I have about five or six and carry on. And then after our break, it's finished, about five minutes after our break, it's finished, then the sun came out and I said, excuse me, miss, yes, I said, can we go and have our break now? And she said, no, break's finished, break's gone, I'm thinking, no, it hasn't, we can go out now. No, no, no. So this schedule, this fixed schedule. So I think a lot of children who come from my background, but from other backgrounds as well, find the education system very constricting. And I think that's why most Roma people end up starting their own business, so they become very good at being entrepreneurs because that's the training they've had growing up because we can pretty much turn our hand to anything. And then I think that's why a lot of people also from all communities end up in the arts, because it's a place where they can express themselves, it's a place where off the wall ideas, different ideas, being different, you know, as I say, being a square peg or a square, and I wrote a whole story about being a square, yeah, square, exactly. Even though I made lots and lots of round pegs as a kid as an adult. I do like that. I did make a square peg and a square is part of another. That's another story. That's for another time, square pegs. But the square pegs, the cool people aren't they, you know, the people who do things differently, because very often people say, oh, well, you've got to fit in, you've got to fit in, you've got to fit in. Oh, we're going to see this person and pay them lots of money to watch them do something because they're different. Okay. So that's what I think led me into the arts as well. Because there's a kind of celebration of being different. Whereas in lots of other fields, you have to fit in. And I've always been a collector of stories, a listener, you know, you're on a bus or you're walking somewhere, or I always want to hear people's stories. I'm not interested in their job title. I'm not interested in how much money they've got. I'm not interested in it. I want to know their story, because everybody's got one. And when you start swapping stories, you just connect. And that's always, I think, what I'm trying to do as a performer, and as a writer, I'm trying to connect. I'm trying to connect the dots for me, I think. Or I'm also trying to connect people together. Because I honestly, yeah, I honestly believe wherever we come from, whatever background, whatever country, whatever culture, we are more alike than different. That's right. And can you tell me a little bit then about the hardest word? How, where that came from? You know, the story, you know, if we could, if you could tell us a little bit about the story behind the world. Definitely. Some of my friends are Scottish travellers, so they are Gypsy people, but they live in Scotland. And whilst we might have had a pretty tough time of it in England, being moved on by the police and the local authorities and having our traditional stopping places taken away from us and nothing given in return, they had it even worse. And they were treated abysmally, they were treated so, so badly by so many different authorities from the church in that country, to the local authority, to the government, they were treated really, really badly. And to an extreme. And there were some friends of mine who were activists, and they are Scottish traveller activists. And they said, you know, we've been listening and watching people around the world, particularly about indigenous people and nomadic people, lots of countries, including particularly Australia, you know, they realised that they had treated their indigenous people terribly. And so they apologised. And there was this kind of thing going around probably about 15 years ago, and 15, 12 years ago, where lots and lots of people were apologising for the things that their countries or their organisations had done. And my friend said, well, you know what, we'd be really, really good if the Scottish government apologised for what they've done to us. Because, you know, you can look this up on the internet, we won't talk about it today. But they did, they called the Scottish travellers up in Scotland, they often called them tinkers. And that word came from the sound that was often made from the tinkling of the metal, because they'd repaired pots and pans, and they did so many different jobs, so many important jobs, picking fruit and vegetables and all those kind of things that are often not seen. But, you know, when food doesn't appear in your shop or on your table, then you realise how important they are. And they even had this thing called the tinker experiment where they put people into some kind of forced camp. And it was just absolutely shocking. And they said, well, you know, what we'd really like is an apology. And could we have an apology please from the Scottish government? And they resisted and resisted and resisted. And I was talking to my friends about this. And they were saying, you know, we don't know where to go next, because we've tried every avenue. And I think this is where the arts really come in. Once I heard this story and it got right to my heart. And I thought, OK, I can't do anything else about this apart from write about it. So I'm going to create this play. I'm going to create this monologue. And I'm going to write it. I'm going to send it to my friend up in Scotland who is a Scottish traveller tinker. And she read it and she said, yes, yes, that's great. And she changed a couple little things in it and a little bit of editing, which is you always need an editor. You always don't care who you are. You always need an editor. And she edited a few things. And I said, would you perform it? Because I'm not, I'm very, very good at telling stories. But I have this thing called ADHD and trying to remember lines is really, really difficult. So it's a very, it's a weird memory thing sometimes. So I can remember lots and lots of different things, but I can't often remember lines. So I'd have to have it written, you know, sort of all of my arms, it wouldn't look too good. And she would be much pressure at that than me. So I said, would you perform it for me? And we were down in Leeds in England. And we were at this small theater. And she performed it. And I could just see the impact it had. You know, because I think sometimes when you're trying to tell something to somebody, it's quite personal because people might be judging you and your words. So they judge you first, maybe before your words. Whereas when you use theater, when you use an actor, actually focusing on the words, it's once removed. It's not a case of I'm telling you this, it's a case of here's some words, have a look, see what you think and then feel them. Yeah. And it had an impact. And what was really, really interesting down the line was that it not only got the a particular large church in Scotland to apologize and allow her to recite some of this play, but they also told me it was instrumental. It was part of a campaign to get the law changed in Scotland. So that Scottish travellers actually became a recognised ethnic minority as we are the Romani people in England. So that was that was an unexpected bonus, shall we say. So for me, you know, for people might watch it and think, well, that's entertaining. That made me feel something. But to the people who it was inspired by, it was actually a political act as well. So I know some people think that maybe all art is political. I don't know, that's that's up to them. But I think a lot of our art is because we're often pushed into that corner where we've got a spring out of it. Absolutely. And there's something quite powerful as well in, you know, you said everyone needs an editor, but you went again back to the community who's directly involved in somehow part of that legacy and that story. And, you know, and that's a very different eye and lens or editor on that work. And it's, you know, and there's, I would say, you know, perhaps an offering of or a moment of healing in that and being seen and being heard. And also, you know, you're putting that out there with love and care. You're not just writing about it because you saw it in a history book. You're seeing the flesh and bones of those, you know, what that story really means to people. And I'm assuming that that would be a very different, that's written and shared in a very different way. And that's, you know, I think really ethical and also important to highlight because that doesn't happen enough in the arts world. We aren't listening and co-creating or working alongside the people whose story, who are part of that story. So I think it's, you know, it's just fantastic. And the impact that that has had, I'm not surprised because it's, it's so, you know, good art makes you feel something, whether you like it or you don't. It does something to you. It shifts in energy. So yeah, I'm, I'm, I'm pleased about that. I'm really happy and that that has happened. Yeah. It's, it came from the heart. And, you know, as we would say from, without all of our stories and all of our work and dance and everything that Roma people do, it comes from our heart to your heart. You know, and this is where I think we probably have I don't know, maybe disempowered ourselves a little bit in that we haven't seen it as something that is also a commodity. And we've allowed other people to commodify what we do and make the money out of it. And what I would say is, I think the USA are way ahead of the UK in this, you know, they don't stand for the for the cultural appropriation that we still have in the UK, even though, you know, people like myself and lots of others are tackling this. And we are starting to call it out because it is not on the very worst, you know, I would say that you can you culturally appropriate and you take people's stuff and you give the wrong story and the wrong impression. It can have some really serious, you know, bullying of children in school, which is I think it's one of the most serious things that can ever happen. And it can cause that, you know, at the the least it can do is give the wrong impression so that we have to redo that work. We have to do that work all over again. And then, you know, as a person who is an artist who lives by their work, you know, putting it into the context of Romani people, we would say, you're taking the bread out of my mouth, but taking my work, you're taking my culture, you're taking what I say, and you're doing it wrong. But then you're taking the money that I could have got for it. And that's what I think is so wonderful about what you and the Independent Theatre are doing. You're not only you're doing all of those things, you're getting our work around the world, you're empowering us, you're giving us opportunities to do that. And people are getting the real deal. You know, it's just the real stuff. What was really interesting, I think also about the hardest word is that I wanted it to be a woman because most most political movements I have studied and I have seen, even though some of the men might end up as the Prime Minister or that they lead person or whatever, it's usually women who change things in any community, in my experience. And I based it on all of the strong women that I grew up with. I've been very, very blessed to be brought up with so many strong women, you know, and to have two as daughters who are adults themselves now. So I wanted it to be a woman. And that's why the main character is a woman because that's what I've seen all my life. And it was really funny because we were up at an event in Scotland. And my friend Jess had just performed it in Scotland for the church and obviously got them to apologise. Because again, you know, that sorry is the hardest word, isn't it? It's a small word. But yeah, people can't just can't say it. You know, we want children to say it all the time. Say it, sorry, say it, sorry, but as adults we're like, well, it wasn't really me. And so I was talking to this woman at this event. And she said, Oh, to a Scottish traveller, she said, heard about your play. And I won't do the Scottish accent because that would be very rude. And it just sounded like my granny who was a Scott. And I know there are lots and lots of different Scottish accents, not just my granny. She says, I heard about your play. And I saw some of it. I said, Oh, right. I think here we go. This is not looking good. You've put our course back years. I said, she said, you shouldn't have reported what that woman did. Because in the play, and it's not hopefully not too much of a spoiler, but there is a bit in the play where this particular woman gets incredibly frustrated and takes some kind of action against the senior politician. And I said, I didn't really happen. She said, what do you mean? I said, it's a play. I wrote it. Oh, did you? Oh, that's fantastic. Oh, well done. Well done. But I thought that's the best review you could ever had. She actually thought it was real. And she thought that because I'd reported it as a reporter. I just thought it was just the best, you know, it must have been so, so I thought, well, I'm walking away from that conversation thinking yes. So yeah, it's always these things are always down to interpretation, aren't they? That's right. That's right. And, you know, but I love that, you know, that you could have that conversation and that there was something in there for everyone. You know, when I watched the work, I felt, you know, one of the questions for me was, did you go in knowing you wanted a female to have that? And, you know, you've just answered, yes, that that was very clear for you. And, you know, another question was the title. Where did that title come from? And was it something that came first, or did that come after reveal itself in the writing? That's that's a really interesting question because titles are very important to me. And very often I'll have I'll have an idea for a story, whatever that may be, whether it's a children's story, or whether it's a book or whatever it may be. I've got this idea and it's like a plate full of spaghetti, you know, it's all just sort of and all the ideas and the words are in there. And I'm thinking, this person will do that, this person will do this, a big plate full of spaghetti. And then I sit down on my laptop or one of my notebooks. And then I then I get the title. The title is really, really important to me because it's almost everything flows from the title. I always get the title. I'm good at titles. That's the easy bit for me. That's the hardest. But yeah, I always get the title. And I think, you know, it was about thinking about this apology because the apology was was out there. That was the conversation all the time. We want an apology, we want an apology. And then I was thinking, well, you know, why is it so hard for this apology? And I suppose also, you know, there's a song, isn't there, an Elton John song? I'm sorry, seems to be the hardest word, which is, which is, I'm gonna say it's one of my favorite songs. It's quite a modeling song. It's not really something I'd tune into on purpose. So I think that that phrase, story seems to be the hardest word, is well known. And I think what I'm often trying to do, and I think lots of people do this, is we're coming up with a perhaps a well known phrase, and then subverting it. So you know, you look at the title of a play and you might think that's going to be one thing. I know what that's going to be about. And then maybe you read a bit the blurb and go, Oh, oh, it's not. Oh, I see what they've done there. So you know, maybe there's a bit of salesmanship in your title as well. So yeah, that's that's what happens. That's the process. There's the plate full of spaghetti. And then there's the title and the title seems to unravel the spaghetti. Yes. Yes. Oh, lovely. That makes sense. Yeah, that makes sense. And is there a memorable moment for you without giving away too much? But is there something that whether in the writing process or in the staging of it, or in the viewing of it as you know, because I think that there are various, perhaps stages that we go through. Yeah. When I saw it performed, there's a particular thrill. And this this has happened since my first play was performed publicly. There's a particular thrill about seeing someone else speak your words and speak them perhaps better than you can. And you sit back and you're like, wow, you know, and I think it links into that thing that you know, we were brought up to believe that, you know, people like us, you know, the kid, I always think, you know, I'm watching these things and I'm thinking, well, kid from the caravan's done all right here. You know, because that's what I am. I'm a kid from a caravan. That's what I am. You know, I don't have any history apart from that. You don't have anybody in our family who was a writer. We don't have anybody doing that. And I'm the kid from the caravan sat in this, in this theater watching this. And your words are coming out and they're better. And you're thinking, whoa, this is so cool. This is a thrill. It's an absolute total thrill. And then when I went to the independent theater in Hungary to watch it. And the actress who was just just brilliant, absolutely fantastic. And she did it in Hungarian. And there were English subtitles underneath and I never looked at the English subtitles and I can't speak Hungarian. But just the feeling of the words. And just sat there. And this passion that came out from this actress and just in a different language, you surely would understand this is a woman who is incredibly frustrated. This is a woman who is really, you know, has had enough, she's prepared to go to the absolute end with this. She's not for backing down. You know, and I admire that in anybody. I admire tenacity. I admire people who don't give up because it's an incredibly lonely road to travel. Because people around you, even the people that love you will say to you, oh, you need to quit now. You need to give in now. That's enough. It's really, you know, and sometimes that kind of person, you end up on your own, completely on your own because everybody else around you has said, you know, that old phrase, I'm washing my hands of this now. I can't do anything for you. I can't help you or can't stop you or can't even have to do let you go and do it. And that is incredibly lonely. But I think your passion and this woman's passion keeps her company and keeps her going right to the end. And I admire that in any person who will stand up in front of everybody else with nobody behind them and say, that's me. Yes. I'm putting it on the line here today. Yes. Yeah. I think everybody who's ever changed anything positively, even in their own lives, but on a bigger scale has had to do that. Yes. And I admire that. Yes. Greatest of admiration. So the character was about that. And she displayed, I think, again, going back to the strong women that I was brought up with and that I'm really honoured to be around even these days. You know, that's just a wonderful thing. I wanted to reflect that. Well, I mean, I don't think there's anything else to say after that. I mean, it's really, really beautiful and inspiring. And, you know, to know that the work can cross borders, physical, but also, you know, language, culture, you know, that's powerful. And yes, so is there anything else you'd like us to know about the work or anything? No, but I just picked up on something you said there, which is really interesting because you said about crossing borders. And, you know, Romani people really didn't think about borders. You know, and yes, we know there are physical borders now, but and we talk about women and we often say, you know, man made something was man made. I reckon borders were man made. It'd be really interesting if anybody could find some evidence of a woman who'd ever built a border. These borders that keep us apart. But you know, words, stories, plays, they can cross those borders. They can transcend walls. And I think that's what we're trying to do. You know, I'm this kid from the caravan who wrote this play in the north of England. And then it changed things in Scotland. And then it went to Hungary and now it's gone to America. And you just think, wow, this is this is very, very cool. That is the coolest thing. Absolutely. And it shows that not only the power of the word, but the power of the human spirit and the energy and the, you know, the tenacity to use your word that that as a community we have, but also just as human beings, when we look at so many things happening now, you know, we just have to stand side by side and not worry about all of these, the details and the categories, you know, it's about stories and it's about people. And you know, the hardest word, it really reflects and embodies that and shares that with people and reminds us to be that way. And that there's there's another way of being in that that's powerful and lifting each other up is so important, even though we might be reflecting on something that is quite sad and traumatic, but there's something in that being seen and being heard that's really important. So because I think if we if we as artists don't do that, then the manipulators, the bad people, they win. Yes. Yes, they win without us even trying. And when I wrote this play, it's probably well over 10 years ago. And I would be in my 40s then. So not quite an elder, you know, quite the elder that I am now. But you know, now that I am an elder and reflecting on it, then based on the activists that I met in Scotland, those 10, 12, 13, 14, 15 years ago, which is almost like a lifetime. I'm seeing young women doing the same thing. So, you know, hopefully that play will not necessarily inspire, but will reflect. You know, and that play can can be can be performed by younger people all the time. Yes, yes, absolutely, absolutely. And, you know, some things are timeless. And, you know, I think your your work reflects that and definitely would would slot into that, whether it's the writing or the play, right? Yeah, so it's really yeah, thank you. Thank you for all the work you're doing for sitting down with us today. And yeah, I'm just really I always walk away feeling quite inspired and uplifted and having learned not only one, but a few things. So thank you. It's been an absolute pleasure. And I think this is part of what we do as Roma people is that we work intergenerationally. There's a respect both ways from younger to older, from older to younger. And we show that we can work together just as well. Absolutely, absolutely. And that's really good. Thank you so much. It's been an absolute pleasure. Thank you.