She walks the streets pushing a trolley. The need for visibility—and with it, sales—propels her to leave the shelter where the vendors have been relocated.
On some days, the degradable goods expire because of lack of sales and she is forced to discard them. There is no joy when this occurs because she is essentially throwing her money away. She is young, middle-aged and elderly. She is a mother, a grandmother, a daughter, an aunt, a sister and a wife. She is a part of some of the hardest working Guyanese. She is a vendor.
Months ago, she sat somewhere in the jungle of competitors around the Stabroek Market area. Some had been there for many years. In sun or rain, vending is their means of survival. For many, it is their way of life. In sickness and in health, there are mouths to feed, bills to pay and bodies to clothe.
The blocked pavements spilled into the streets as the spots for business became a second home for many. She hoped each day that they would not come to disassemble what they had built, bringing a halt to their trades. He hoped also. The father, grandfather, son, uncle, brother and husband wiping the sweat from his brow. But they knew their businesses were under the threat of dismantlement because according to the law of the land, they were illegally occupying those spaces. That was not an easy reality to face. And the days did come. Many days, over the years, when the city council would demolish stalls and disrupt lives. Confusion, shouts of injustice, claims of unpreparedness because of the suddenness of those disruptions, they lived through it all. But somehow they always found themselves back there until THE day came a few months ago, just before we celebrated our golden jubilee.
After all, scores of overseas-based Guyanese and tourists were expected to arrive and in an effort to restore the law and order to the Stabroek Market area, the vendors had to go. They were placed under tents located at Hadfield and Lombard streets, near the Linden bus park, in what was said to be a temporary arrangement.
“Are there still plans to find you a permanent location?” you ask.
“So they say, but we doan know when,” she says with a weary look on her face.
Upon inquiry, the Deputy Mayor Sherod Duncan revealed that plans are in the making to find a permanent location, but no decision has been made yet. The city council is engaged in consultations with the vendors.
Some vendors say that they hardly get any sales under the tents where they now operate so some who could move their goods around have taken to pushing those trolleys. Hadfield Street is simply not as central a location as the area around Stabroek Market.
Now pedestrians can walk unbothered by the vendors selling on the pavements spilling out into the streets. I was astonished the first time I journeyed to the area after the relocation. I was conflicted also. On one hand, it felt refreshing to witness the cleanliness and order, but on the other hand, the absence of the voices of the vendors and the bustle of the place left a longing for a culture that many had become accustomed to.
The new location was not a place I frequented. Where they were in the vicinity of the Stabroek Market area was just… convenient. So, the fruits lady that I loved to purchase bananas and mangoes from those afternoons or evenings when I found myself downtown would no longer catch a sale from me. The other big lady who always had some of the sweetest awaras when it was in season would no longer see me approaching and shout, “Come lovey, ah got nice ones hey fuh you today!”
I would miss them, but at that time, I did not go searching for them. It was a few weeks ago that I decided to pay a visit to the area where some of the vendors now are. The banana and mango and awara ladies were nowhere to be seen. It is said that a lot of the vendors who had stalls on the outside of Stabroek Market also had stalls on the inside, but even on my many trips to the inside of the market, I have not seen those women again.
The energy of the people seemed lacklustre as I walked through the ‘temporary location.’ A couple shouts of “wha’ you shopping” floated through the air. I could feel that business was not like before.
For years, I have held great admiration for vendors. Many of us would not find the stamina it takes to go out there every day in the heat of the day or the cool to make a dollar. They come from various backgrounds.
There are many days when I walk around the city and observe vendors in different locations. Some of them have the identical items their neighbours are selling and I have often found myself pondering about whether they all make decent earnings.
The vendors all around the streets of Georgetown do not have the luxury of going to air-conditioned offices or sitting behind a computer all day. They do not dress in suits or carry briefcases. They sit under sheds, umbrellas and tents within the structure of the market places, sweating, fanning themselves and soliciting shoppers some six days a week, some seven. They are just as important as any other person in our society and deserve to be respected.
There are those vendors who, from years of sacrifice and endurance, can live comfortable lives. Then there are those for whom the struggle is ongoing as it does for people in so many other professions.
We understand that law and order in the case of the vendors takes precedence, but the needs of the people must always be considered when such decisions are made.
While many in this land choose to live by engaging in criminal activities of various levels, vendors make an honest living. We all were born with diverse talents and regardless of whatever legal profession we choose, every aspect is essential for the wholeness of the society.
Wherever the permanent location takes the vendors, I hope that it will make them happy. I hope the vibrant spirit they possess will prevail. I hope the uncertainty of the permanence of their locations will never be an issue again. I hope they keep fighting for their rights, which is a challenge for all Guyanese and I hope I see the banana, mango and awara ladies again.
