By Karen Abrams, MBA Co-Founder, STEMGuyana
I have a particular sensitivity, to street vendors. My feelings are deep and go back to a time even before my teen years. I grew up in Socialist Guyana and I remember as a child of twelve years old, having a burning desire to be financially independent. I hated asking my parents for money, and I desperately wanted, even at twelve years old, to control my own income. My source of income as a twelve year old growing up in Socialist Guyana was selling the ‘fancy’ clothes and toiletries my mother sent for me from the United States. It was a very easy choice for me to forego the ‘nice clothes’ for a constant stream of income. My family never knew.
While my siblings planned to sport their new garb, I planned the quickest way to sell the merchandise. I remember routinely gathering up all of the toiletries and clothing allocated to me, and then marching down to ‘Vendor’s Arcade’ to sell them to my favourite vendor. I’m not going to reveal the name of the vendor, but he was a legend in my community, a person who supported many youth activities. In addition, it was obvious to my twelve-year-old eyes that all the people I knew who were ‘sellers’ seemed to be the most financially comfortable. That was the space I sought for myself.
I have vivid memories of this vendor greeting me professionally. He’d asked me where I got my supplies and I told him from my mom who lived overseas. He was always professional and fair, he negotiated with me like I was an adult, we would make a fair exchange and I would walk away a ‘wealthy’ pre-teen, oh how I loved those days.