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Growing up Naked A True Story By: Michael Smith |
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Growing
up naked.
We were, especially the boys of our clan, literally raised naked. When encamped
and not going amongst the village folks (and even then little ones up to about
ten years of age would go naked into the village with the older kids or an
adult, often in order to mang, that is to say, to beg) we spent most of the time
in the altogether wearing only our “one-button suit”. No one scolded us all
the time to not soil our clothes too much.
It was and still is common amongst certain Gypsy tribes in Europe (and elsewhere), such as the Kale in Spain for example, for children, especially the boys, to go naked for much of the time. In Spain, in Guadaix, the city of caves, Gitano boys up to about fourteen can be seen going about in the nude all the time virtually.
But back to myself.
Because of the fact that us boys grew up naked our camps were always full of
visiting village boys coming in secret to “play with us”, knowing that they
would not be turned away in most cases and that they could, as soon as they got
there, divest themselves of their clothes and run about just like us. What they
did tell they moms when they got home with scratches from brambles and thorns I
really do not know but would dearly love to know. Most of them came back again
and again so even if they got a telling off they still wanted the freedom. But
we Gypsy kids did not just play in the nude; we lived in the nude. We went
hunting rabbits and gathering firewood in the same attire we were going swimming
in, we rode the horses and climbed trees like that and, when moving on again, in
most cases we also walked besides the wagons like that. We must have looked a
sight when going about entirely naked but for a little leather bag, or one made
from some other kind of materials such as canvas or burlap, across our shoulders
that held our slingshot and knife and other accruements for the hunt and the
knife-sharpening trade we boys all engaged in. In the countryside where I grew
up very few people if any seemed to ever take much notice of the fact that we
were in the nude wandering about. All too soon the day arrived, however, when,
because puberty had struck, we “forcibly” graduated to wearing clothes. Oh,
how we hated it.
I have to say that our parents were not nudists or naturists in that they sure did not go undressed though on occasions we did see our Mom without and our Dad certainly as he slept, like all the men in our clan, in the raw. Nakedness, however, for us kids, and here most especially the boys, was the accepted and definite norm and something, so we were told and taught, to do with our ancient Culture.

Many a road in various counties of this country we boys walked completely naked and without a care in the world of what the gohjas thought about it and in the real rural districts we definitely roamed free and naked all over the place.
I know some people will now ask “you gamboled about naked all day every day
and you slept naked, often four boys to a bed at time, did you never…? Sure we
did and it was more that just touching as well. But so what? The same would have
happened if we’d been forced to wear clothes during the days and nightshirts
in bed. It was fun to be simply naked and more fun still to play around with
each other and our parents and elders did not disapprove. All of us –
brothers, cousins, nephews, etc. – lived like that until we were about age
twelve to fourteen.
I recall also a time when I was older and had a seasonal job as a fell warden in the Lake District when I had my little cousin Kore, then age seven, live with me and him wanting just to be naked all the time. We lived in a remote cottage on the fells and when at home I too would go naked. The little one would come with me on patrols walking by my side in the nude and proud of the fact that he was naked. He would have given anyone saying anything about him being rude to be naked the two fingers for sure.
Veshengro
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