To facilitate the inclusion of Roma, a Portuguese association relies on evangelism
Noting the lack of interest among Roma in the activities and work placements it offers, an association in the small town of Fundão decided to do things differently.
It is 25 April 2024, and Portugal is celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the Carnation Revolution, when the people and the military put an end to the 20th century’s longest dictatorship in Europe. In Fundão, a small town of 50,000 inhabitants right in the centre of the country, the commemorations are in full swing and the residents are gathered in the town square.
Young people hand out carnations, the symbol of the revolution. There are stalls selling snacks and specialities from Afghanistan, Ukraine, São Tomé and Principe. They testify to the diversity of a city which was designated European Capital of Inclusion and Diversity by the European Commission in 2023.
This year, however, there is a vague sense of concern. The words of Mayor Paulo Fernandes ring out like a warning bell in the hall where the commemorative speeches are delivered: “Ironically, the year in which we celebrate 50 years of our democracy is also the year in which fifty far-right MPs were elected to Parliament.”
André Ventura’s Chega party, founded in 2019, went from 12 to 50 MPs in early general elections in March last year, which were called after the resignation of Socialist Prime Minister António Costa on suspicion of involvement in a corruption case.
A few streets down, far from the festivities, Marta Afonso, a member of the local Roma community, is chatting with other Roma women, all dressed in black, the colour of mourning. Her eldest son, aged 27, has died. Roma law imposes a set of rules on the bereaved family: no parties, no television, music or meat, heads must be covered, mourners must dress all in black, and the list goes on.
“It’s them against us”
“For us, in any case, April 25 is just another day,” Marta explains. Five decades of democracy have not been enough to end the segregation of the Roma communities. “It’s them against us. We Roma are sometimes too communitarian. And gadji [non-Roma in Romani] are still often racist towards us.”
Marta testifies that this discrimination is particularly acute in the world of work. Unable to read or write at the age of 48, she has been able to count on the help of Matriz, a local association financed by the European Social Fund.
Now in its ninth year, the project has been allocated 229,779 euro until September 2026. It aims to “promote intercultural dialogue, equality and non-discrimination”, and works with the most vulnerable populations, notably the Roma community and migrants. According to figures provided by Elsa Pombo, in charge of social affairs and health at Fundão town hall, of the 500 Roma living in and around the town, only two have a work contract, including Marta.
A complicated community
Two months after the death of her son, Marta decided to continue working, despite the rules imposed on mourners. For this, her community turned on her. Some had already told her that she was “no longer one of them”.
With her voice breaking, Marta recounts the disapproving looks, the remarks, the feeling of being ostracised by her own people. In the end, the comforting words of her work colleagues, who gave her a great deal of moral support during this period, helped her to “clear her mind”.
“If only all our Roma could be like Marta…” sighs Gina, 48, coordinator of the Matriz association and affectionately nicknamed Dona Gina by the Roma community. “In truth, we have no difficulty including Afghan refugees, Angolan nationals or troubled teenagers from Fundão, but the Roma community here is complicated.”
After the death of the patriarch a few years ago, the Roma community in this Portuguese town split into two branches, the Sá and the Cardoso, who were never able to agree on the choice of a new leader. This led to a breakdown in relations with the staff of the town hall and the Matriz association. The idea of establishing a mediator position arose, but never materialised, given the lack of volunteers.
“I really like the Matriz project, it does a lot of good for people from our ethnic group. The truth is that Gina often helps us, doing homework with the children and welcoming them in when we didn’t have TV or lights at home”, says Idalina, in her fifties, sitting on the sofa next to her daughter-in-law.
Accustomed to providing assistance to Gina, who has come to visit her, Idalina offers her coffee and a seat on the sofa. Gina’s daughters-in-law Cristina and Gabriela have already sought help from the association’s staff, either to write their CVs or to take part in training courses, which in turn give them the right to social security.
Cristina worked as a cleaner at Matriz under contract for a year, “with no allowances for leave or vacations”, she complains in Gina’s absence. Gabriela had a job as an activity leader, “which she performed to perfection, but only once every three days”, Gina recalls in turn, in an exaggeratedly angry tone, to highlight their recurrent absenteeism.
Before leaving, Gina asks them if they’ll be attending the evangelical service that evening, led by Roma pastors from Tortosendo, a neighbouring village. Idalina won’t go, citing grief as an obstacle (she’s a member of the Sá family, as is Marta). Cristina, on the other hand, is delighted to be going. She has attended services with her parents from an early age. “The pastors make the Bible’s message accessible to those who can’t read,” explains young Cristina. Above all, “they show the way for Roma, teaching them not to steal or engage in illicit activities”.
An explosive idea
By mutual agreement with the town council, Gina, a member of the consortium that manages the Matriz project, came up with an explosive idea. Why not turn the association’s premises into a place of worship for one evening a week? She contacted the Roma community of Tortosendo, 20 kilometres north of Fundão, which had converted to Evangelical Christianity some fifty years ago.
According to information compiled by Portuguese journalist Ana Cristina Pereira, Tortosendo was the birthplace of Portugal’s first evangelical Roma church. In 1973, Spaniard Emiliano Jiménez Escudero crossed the border to begin evangelising Roma in the Iberian Peninsula, following in the footsteps of Clément Le Cossec, founder of the Gypsy Evangelical Mission in France (Life and Light).
It is estimated that tens of thousands of Roma converted to Protestantism under the influence of Le Cossec, considered an “apostle” by the Roma community of France and the Iberian Peninsula. By 2023, the Evangelical Mission had 130,000 members and 222 churches in France, and is now part of the French Protestant Federation. In Portugal, by 2020, there were 110 evangelical churches and over 350 Roma pastors.
The European Commission seems to have no problem with the Matriz association’s support for this evangelisation project.
Mostly Catholic up to that point, the Roma began this religious shift in the 1970s, encouraged by the more free, more spontaneous organisation of the evangelical faith. Any Roma patriarch can preach the Good Word: they are the protagonists. Catholicism, on the other hand, has always had strong associations with Francoism in Spain and the Salazar regime in Portugal, which persecuted the Roma communities.
For the pastors of Tortosendo, the next step is to evangelise Fundão’s “Roma cousins”, as Bica, son of Joaquim Vicente, or “Pastor Quim”, explains. Pastor Quim was in fact the first Roma in Portugal converted to evangelical Protestantism by Emiliano Jimenéz Escudero in 1973.
“We’ve been trying for fifty years to open doors in Fundão, and thanks to Dona Gina and her association, the opportunity is here at last. Our Roma cousins in Fundão also need to learn their duties and how to behave in society,” declares the pastor sententiously.
The evangelization project supported by Matriz, a non-religious association partly financed by European funds, seems to pose no problem for the European Commission.
“The Commission is aware that some of the projects selected and supported by the ESF in Portugal may be developed by religious NGOs such as the evangelical church in question”, explains a source within the Brussels institution. “The nature of social inclusion and civil society organisations in Portugal allows religious NGOs that develop activities of significant social importance in Portugal to benefit from EU funding.” Some Portuguese NGOs of a religious nature are even directly funded by the European Social Fund.
A garage transformed into a “house of God”
That Friday, the service had to be cancelled at the last minute, due to a conflict within the Fundão community, as Fernando, another pastor, explains without further elaboration. The following evening, the service was held in Tortosendo, in a garage transformed into a “house of God” and carefully soundproofed.
Cries echoed the pastors’ long tirades, as enthusiastic shouts of “Glory to God!” and “Alleluia!” rose from the audience. “Remain humble and ask for the Holy Spirit’s approval in all circumstances,” Pastor Acacio tells his followers, microphone in hand and Bible raised above his head.
The pianist by his side is busy with the sound effects of the microphone, currently set to echo and reverb. In the front row, women sing in a lamenting tone, tears streaming down their faces, which they ostentatiously dry with paper handkerchiefs taken from the cardboard box on the pastor’s lectern.
Socialisation through worship
“During worship, pastors convey to families, young people and children the importance of school, and of not interrupting school careers to get married, for example, so that they have more opportunities for social and professional integration,” says sociologist Maria Manuela Mendes, a specialist in Portugal’s Roma communities.
One of the sociologist’s studies, carried out between 2018 and 2022, shows that most Roma children and teenagers attending school in the country’s two largest cities, Lisbon and Porto, are particularly diligent when it comes to attending evangelical worship. The young people are the most active: “some play music, others prepare the hall, and some even preach the Good Word”.
Regularly observing the educational attainments that are fostered by the socialising influence of their faith, the sociologist has realised that these young people become examples to follow for those who don’t feel “legitimate, as Roma, going to school”. In the same vein, the sociologist points out that itinerant trade is becoming less and less attractive to young people and less profitable for adults.
At the Fundão market, Pastor Lotinha and his son sit in their van opposite the stall from which Lotinha’s wife Suely calls out to passers-by. They come on a regular basis to sell shoes and women’s clothes. On the best days, sales amount to 200 euro, less the cost of equipment and site rental. “It used to bring in a lot more. Now we only come to the market to make ends meet, on top of our seasonal work”, explains Lotinha, interrupted by his 6-year-old son, who holds up his phone to show a photo of his bride-to-be. Arranged marriages are still common, and occur around the age of 14 or 15, which is adulthood for Roma.
“Subsidy dependence”
A few metres away, Catita and Alexandre, two Roma from Fundão, stroll between the stalls, trying unsuccessfully to sell small electric saws. “How do you expect the locals to have a good image of the Roma community if they see them just hanging around all day?” asks Alcina Cerdeira, deputy mayor in charge of inclusion and equality.
The main criticism levelled at Roma people, Cerdeira believes, can be summed up in one word: subsidiodependentes (a juxtaposition of “subsidies” and “dependence”). The expression has entered everyday usage since the rhetoric of the far-right Chega party began to permeate society.
In the space of five years, populist André Ventura’s political communication has evolved. It is no longer about xenophobic attacks on the Roma minority, chemical castration of paedophiles or the return of life imprisonment. These proposals have given way to others, less divisive, more marketable, such as corruption and immigration.
This year, however, as Portuguese democracy celebrates its fiftieth anniversary, “it’s more important than ever to include all communities”. Alcina Cerdeira is convinced that a diversification of approaches “will break down stereotypes”.
With this in mind, the municipality has applied for European funding under the Recovery and Resilience Plan (RRP), and will distribute restored apartments to around sixty precarious families, for rents well below the norm (between 100 and 200 euro, depending on the number of people). Idalina and her family now live in one of these apartments, which was recently made available to them. She assures us that “people no longer look at [her] the same way”. Before, she lived “with rats and cockroaches, with walls falling apart from the damp”.
In the town square, Mayor Paulo Fernandes of the centre-right PSD party has just finished greeting a few people. On the subject of how to better integrate the Roma community, he says: “instead of integration, we want inclusion, by respecting cultural differences. We’ll see how it goes. Now we have a specific religious service for our Roma community. If evangelical pastors can create more tolerance within our communities, then they’re welcome.”
This article was produced as part of The Newsroom 27 competition, organised by Slate.fr with the financial support of the European Union. The article reflects the views of the author and the European Commission cannot be held responsible for its content or use.
