The Roma Community of Timișoara

Timișoara's Roma community, though often marginalised, has shaped the city for centuries. From coppersmiths to rights activists, they continue to fight for recognition and a place to call home.

On a Thursday afternoon in the Fabric district, the sound of hammers on copper drifts from a workshop on Strada Ștefan cel Mare. Inside, a Roma artisan named Ionuț is shaping a sheet of metal into a traditional cauldron. He learned the trade from his father, who learned it from his. Now, Ionuț is one of the last in Timișoara still making these vessels by hand. Demand has fallen; cheap factory imports have flooded the market. He takes commissions when they come, mostly from older Roma families who want a cauldron for a wedding or a christening. The work is slow, the pay irregular. But he keeps at it, because, as he puts it, 'the copper remembers what we forget.'

Timișoara has been home to a Roma community for centuries. The first written records date from the 15th century, when Roma were enslaved in the Banat region. After slavery was abolished in 1855, many Roma settled on the outskirts of the city, in neighbourhoods like Fabric, Giroc, and later, around Calea Aradului and Calea Șagului. Today, the city's Roma population is estimated at between 10,000 and 15,000, though unofficial numbers are likely higher. Many live in segregated pockets on the city's edges, where infrastructure is poor and access to services is limited. Despite this, Roma have left a lasting mark on Timișoara's culture – as blacksmiths, musicians, and traders. Their influence is woven into the city's fabric, even if often overlooked.

Crafts that persist despite the odds

Traditional Roma crafts in Timișoara include coppersmithing, brick making, and music. The coppersmiths, known as căldărari, once made a living producing and repairing household items. Today, only a handful remain. One of them, Gheorghe Ciobanu, runs a small workshop on Calea Șagului. He is 67 and has been working with copper since he was 14. 'There used to be 20 of us on this street,' he says. 'Now I'm the only one left.' He shows me a copper coffee pot, etched with floral patterns. It takes him three days to make one. He sells them for 250 lei each, but few buyers come. 'Young people want stainless steel. They don't care about tradition.'

Brick making was once another Roma speciality. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Roma families in the Freidorf area made bricks for the city's expanding buildings. The kilns are long gone, replaced by warehouses and apartment blocks. But the knowledge remains in stories. Maria, a 72-year-old Roma woman, recalls her grandfather telling her how they would mix clay with straw and bake it in the sun. 'It was hard work, but it was ours,' she says. The bricks they made still stand in some walls of the old city. There is no plaque, no recognition. Just the quiet fact of their hands in the clay.

Roma organisations and the fight for rights

Timișoara has several Roma organisations working on education, housing, and anti-discrimination. The most prominent is the Roma Centre for Social Intervention and Studies (CRISS), based on Strada Gheorghe Lazăr. Founded in 2000, CRISS runs after-school programmes for Roma children, offers legal aid, and campaigns against forced evictions. Its director, Anca Păun, says the biggest problem is housing. 'Many Roma families live in informal settlements without running water or electricity. When the city tries to relocate them, it often moves them further out, away from jobs and schools.' In 2023, CRISS assisted 120 families in securing legal housing. But the waiting list is long. 'We can't keep up,' Păun admits.

Another key organisation is the Roma Women's Association 'For Our Children', which focuses on domestic violence and reproductive health. Its office in the Iosefin district is a small room with a few chairs and a stack of leaflets. The coordinator, Elena, tells me that Roma women face double discrimination – as Roma and as women. 'They are afraid to report abuse because they fear the police and social services. We accompany them to court, we translate, we explain.' The association also runs a sewing workshop, teaching women to make clothes they can sell. The income is modest, but it gives them a sense of independence. 'It's not charity. It's a start,' Elena says.

Roma are the largest minority in Europe, yet in Romania they are still treated as strangers in their own country.

Discrimination remains a daily reality. A 2022 study by the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights found that 41% of Roma in Romania experienced discrimination when looking for work, and 38% when seeking housing. In Timișoara, Roma often face hostility in cafes, clubs, and even hospitals. In 2021, a Roma woman was denied entry to a clinic on Calea Torontalului because, according to staff, she 'looked like a beggar'. The case went to court and ended with a fine for the clinic. But such incidents rarely get reported. 'People are tired of fighting,' says Păun. 'They just want to live in peace.'

Culture, music, and the annual festival

Despite these challenges, Roma culture in Timișoara is alive. Music is central. The city has produced several well-known Roma musicians, including the band Taraf de Haidouks, who gained international fame in the 1990s. In the Fabric district, there are still Roma bands that play at weddings and baptisms. One of them, led by violinist Ștefan, rehearses in a cramped apartment on Strada Ștefan cel Mare. The music is fast, passionate, and full of sorrow. 'This is our history,' Ștefan says. 'Every note tells a story.'

Since 2016, the city has hosted the Roma Culture Festival every September. The event includes concerts, dance performances, and craft exhibitions. It is organised by the local Roma association 'Together for the Future' and funded partly by the city council. The festival takes place in Piața Victoriei and draws a mixed crowd – Roma and non-Roma alike. 'It's a chance for us to show who we are,' says the organiser, Mihai. 'Not as victims, but as people with a rich culture.' The festival is small, with a budget of around 50,000 lei. But it has become a fixture. This year's edition, in September 2024, featured 15 bands and 10 artisans. Attendance was estimated at 2,000 over three days.

The festival is not without controversy. In 2023, a far-right group protested outside, holding banners that read 'Romania for Romanians'. The police kept them away from the main square, but the incident showed that prejudice is never far below the surface. 'We won't be intimidated,' Mihai says. 'We've been here for centuries. We're not going anywhere.'

For many young Roma in Timișoara, identity is a balancing act. They speak Romanian at school and Romani at home. They listen to hip-hop and manele, a genre of music often associated with Roma but also loved by many Romanians. Some face pressure to hide their ethnicity to avoid stigma. 'I don't tell people I'm Roma until I trust them,' says Andrei, a 22-year-old student at the West University of Timișoara. 'It's easier that way.' But others are proud and vocal. A group of young Roma activists runs a Facebook page called 'Roma in Timișoara' with over 5,000 followers. They post about history, culture, and discrimination. 'We are the generation that refuses to be invisible,' one post reads.

Education is a key battleground. Although the number of Roma children attending school has increased, dropout rates remain high. In Timișoara, only about 60% of Roma children finish primary school, compared to 95% of the general population. Many are placed in segregated schools or classes, a practice that the European Court of Human Rights has ruled discriminatory. CRISS runs a programme called 'Second Chance' for adults who left school early. In 2023, 30 people obtained their primary school diploma through the programme. 'It's never too late,' says Păun. 'But the system should not have failed them in the first place.'

Housing remains the most visible problem. In the Freidorf area, about 200 Roma families live in a settlement with no paved roads, no sewage, and limited access to water. The houses are makeshift, built from wood, metal, and cardboard. In winter, it is freezing. In summer, the heat is unbearable. The city has promised to improve conditions, but progress is slow. In 2023, a new water pipeline was installed, but it serves only half the settlement. 'We are still waiting,' says a resident, Ioana. 'They say they will help, but we don't see much.'

Health outcomes are also poor. Life expectancy for Roma in Romania is 10 years lower than for the general population. Many Roma in Timișoara lack health insurance, either because they work informally or because they are not registered with a family doctor. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Roma communities were hit hard. In the Freidorf settlement, 80% of residents contracted the virus, and three died. 'We were forgotten,' says Ioana. 'No one came to test us until it was too late.'

Yet there are signs of change. In 2024, the Timișoara city council adopted a new strategy for Roma inclusion, with a budget of 2 million lei over four years. The plan includes funding for education, housing, and healthcare. It also commits to hiring a Roma liaison officer in the mayor's office. Roma activists welcomed the move but remain cautious. 'We've seen strategies before,' says Păun. 'What matters is implementation. We will watch closely.'

Back in his workshop, Ionuț finishes the cauldron. He runs his hand over the hammered surface, checking for imperfections. The copper gleams in the dim light. He will sell it for 400 lei, enough to buy materials for the next one. 'It's not a fortune,' he says. 'But it's honest work.' He pauses, then adds: 'My grandfather told me that when you make something with your hands, you leave a piece of your soul in it. That's what being Roma means to me.'