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after that night, I never saw him again. I even traveled to Zefiri on several occasions, but
he would always call to cancel our meeting or would simply not show up. Regardless,
however, our phone interviews were productive and Christos did help me one additional
time. Some months after the night we met my apartment was burglarized and my laptop,
camera and some other items were stolen. Christos suggested a couple of pawn shops
where my things might turn up. Despite the fact that I never found them, the time I spent
searching for these shops and speaking with their proprietors indicated to me that an
underground trade in illegal goods, broadly construed, was bringing together a variety of
people I never expected. Mentioning this to Christos, I discovered that he himself was
part of this broader complex social underground network.
His trajectory into this plane of interaction was facilitated by the economic
activities Christos pursued; specifically, selling drugs and transporting illegal goods - the
latter being a business he discovered while in jail. The more dangerous aspect of this life
took him to see dealers and gang members all over Athens and beyond, although the
majority of his time was spent working for unofficial Chinese importers moving
counterfeit merchandise from points of entry to small shops for further distribution. I
asked Christos if he liked this life, if he was “satisfied” (ικαvoπoιημεvoς), as per the
Greek expression, with what he did and how he made a living. He was not; while he
claimed to be having lots of fun, he was unhappy about the lack of respect shown to him
by individuals outside of his group of friends. He also lacked what he described as
“quiet” (ησυχfα), translated also, perhaps, as “stillness”: life was frustrating and, as he
explained, always full of trouble and noise (φασαpiα). He only felt safe around his
friends and within the various Roma camps that he visited. Outside of these safe zones