“It’s No Problem”: When Ageing Becomes Survival, Not Living. Reflections from a conversation with two retired Roma in Peterborough on International Roma Day
This was my second interview of the day, on a sunny 10th of April. Coming down from Scotland, where we have barely seen the sun this year, the clear skies in Peterborough felt like a gift. It was around 1:30pm and the sun was blinding all three of us. My two respondents were already waiting in their front garden, somehow knowing I might have trouble finding their home – which I absolutely did.
I was in the city of Peterborough partly to mark International Roma Day, celebrated across Europe on 8 April but also throughout the world. The local, Roma-led, charity Compas had organised a week-long series of events: a charity ball, an international conference, the Roma flag displayed at City Hall, a day dedicated to the work and life of Paul Polansky[1], film screenings, and Roma music workshops. These events had been months in the making, reflecting Compas’ tireless commitment to raising awareness of Roma issues while also celebrating Roma culture, history, talent, and resilience.
As part of the RomaPlaceAge project, we were invited to take part of the events organised by Compas Charity[2], share our work, and commemorate the International Roma Day. Our research focuses on the experiences of older Roma as they age in the places they live. In a landscape where most projects target Roma youth, emphasising education, empowerment, and integration, RomaPlaceAge shifts the focus to those aged 40 and over. We want to ensure that older Roma are not overlooked but recognised, included, and valued. Their wellbeing matters not only to their families and communities, but to the society at large. Supporting healthy and dignified ageing can relieve pressure on healthcare systems and can contribute to a more just and caring society.
So, while in Peterborough, I took the opportunity to speak to local elderly Roma residents about their lives, their needs, and their experiences as they age. This is how I came to meet the elderly couple whose story has stayed with me. Their English was among the most limited I have encountered but where there is a will, there is a way. Between Czech, Romanes, English, and the help of mobile phone translators, which were frustrating due my informants’ poor eyesight and because of the glaring sunlight, we managed.
My Romani hosts were incredibly warm, welcoming, and open. I am very grateful that they agreed to speak to me at a moment’s notice and generously shared their time and their story. Yet, I left with a heavy heart, touched and saddened in equal measure.
Both in their mid to late 60s, they wouldn’t typically be considered particularly old, at least not in today’s Western context. And yet, their lives were clearly marked by physical hardship, chronic illness, and a weariness that was difficult to ignore. The word that surfaced repeatedly was “problem” – a word needing no translation.
But these “problems” went beyond their health. Life in Peterborough had become increasingly difficult for my informants. They felt left behind by a world that had moved on, especially since Covid. Relying on limited English, trying to navigate new systems in which we are boldly shifting to digital everything, is making their daily life feel like an uphill battle. Zoom, Teams, FaceTime, online forms, NHS apps – this ‘new normal’ feels alien to them and the Romani elderly couple are quite aware of that. For me, it is a striking contradiction that in today’s world, that increasingly defined by shrinking distances and ever-expanding access to the internet, where people are supposedly more connected than ever, my Romani respondents shared stories that challenge this narrative. They spoke of feeling left behind, unheard, and misunderstood. It seems that the pace of change has not only excluded them but also made it harder for them to catch up.
They spoke about the challenges of seeing a doctor, booking appointments, getting transport, understanding the GP, and each step of their septs somehow requiring support. Even when they did make it to a consultation, they often felt misunderstood or quickly dismissed. What they subjectively considered as “an emergency” requiring rapid medical intervention did not align with the definitions of the doctors that see them. The frustration was clear.
And yet, again and again, they said: “It’s no problem!”
Not a problem that they cannot speak the language. Not a problem that they feel unseen or unheard. Not a problem that every day is uncertain and monotonous. Why? Because it is still better than the alternative.
Returning to Czechia does not feel a possibility anymore, they related to me. Their families are scattered, some have passed away, others are living abroad. Life there would be even harsher. “[Life there is very] expensive. Elderly people are not supported,” they told me. “It would be worse.” And so, they stay in Peterborough. They manage. They adapt. Thus, they call it “no problem.”
But that is the part I cannot shake. That sadness dressed up as acceptance. Clearly, their existence was a form of surviving which they perceived as contentment. I found myself wondering – have they stopped hoping life could be better? Have they given up dreaming, or even wishing for more?
Their words left me feeling unsettled, as though I was meant to offer a hopeful conclusion which I could not. Should an external, expert-led intervention be offered? Or must change come from within the Romani communities themselves? Could people be expected to ask for more when all they have ever known is less?
These are precisely the kinds of questions the RomaPlaceAge project is trying to answer. We are working to gather knowledge that has been largely missing from research and policy. We want to understand what works, what is missing, and what solutions could be created together with older Roma themselves. By co-creating interventions with both communities and policymakers, we hope to offer support that is locally grounded, culturally meaningful, and practically useful.
The story of this couple, the work of Compas, the aims of our project have all come together to offer a platform. These experiences matter and these voices deserve to be heard. And what is left for us, researchers, charities, policymakers, or service provides, volunteers, is the responsibility to act, and help build a fairer, more inclusive society.
Their story of mounting problems met with a quiet “no problem” still echoes in my mind. And it still does not give me peace.
[1] Paul Polansky was an American activist who has actively advocated for the rights of the Roma people in the Balkans and in eastern Europe. He has discovered approximately 40,000 archival documents in Czechia relating to the concentration camp of the Roma in Lety u Písku, and he was one of the persons who brought the history of the camp to greater public attention. Polansky also authored a number of books and poems. He has worked for the UN High Commissioner for Refugees and has headed the Kosovo Roma Refugee Foundation. He was born in 1942 and passed away in 2021.