Living on the edge

THE VENDORS who ply their wares on either side of Flat Bridge always seem to exhibit a certain degree of alertness. For instance, the alacrity with which they jostle past each other to get to the side of vehicles, as they come to a halt at the traffic light, is amazing. Besides, it would appear that they don't seem to be too concerned about treading a treacherous path, once they succeed in selling their goods.

"Mango! Naseberry! Buying mango?" a young lady in her late 20s, carrying a small bag around her neck and two basins of mangoes in both hands, asks, as she sticks her head half-way inside a car.

In a split second, another, holding two full bags of bag juice in her left hand and a single one in the right, asks from the passenger window of the same vehicle, "Any bag juice, miss? Ten dollars fi bag juice. buying bag juice, miss?"

Then, there are others selling peppered shrimps, juice and bottled water, guineps, ackee, and the list goes on, all with the same intent and purpose: to make a living.

The business of hustling at Flat Bridge, as 26-year-old Lacrecia Elliston put it, is not a dream come true, but her only means of survival, at least for now.

The single mother, who specia-lised in cosmetology at Bog Walk High School, did not get the opportunity to hone her skills after she graduated. Instead, her number-one priority was to find a job to ensure that her seven-year-old daughter and four-year-old son got the chance to acquire a good education. This was at the forefront of her mind when she joined the band of sellers at Flat Bridge four years ago.

Like most of her other counter-parts, her stock is made up of mangoes, bag and bottled juices and water.

"Well, if business good, you can really mek a profit of three gran ($3,000) a day," she explained to The Gleaner.

Committed to saving

Furthermore, she said whether business was good or bad, her commitment was to save a little from each week's sales.

"Well, when mi sell, mi tek out di pickney dem school money, and if mi have partner fi throw, mi know seh mi woulda try sell di partner money first," she explained, squirming out of the path of a trailer rumbling around the corner.

Lacrecia admitted that while the prospect of financial reward was good, selling at Flat Bridge was challenging and risky.

"Sometimes yuh get disrespect from the motorist dem. Some want tell yuh how much yuh mus sell di tings fah. Sometimes dem even give wi bad money, like bad $1,000, or even drive away wid wi tings as di light change. Sometimes dem even back gun pan yuh when yuh a try defend you tings," she stated gravely.

On the other hand, Lacrecia said she had never been deterred by the danger she faced, as she tried to make an honest bread. More important for her is having health and strength to earn enough to take care of her children and hold on to the hope that soon, she will become a cosmetologist.

Like Lacrecia, Thereca Francis is a Bog Walk High School graduate. But even with three Caribbean Exami-nations Council passes, including English language, she did not have the necessary qualifications to obtain a job as a secretary, as was her desire at that time.

All for the children

Not daunted by the many brick walls she encountered in pursuit of employment, the mother of three told The Gleaner that her determination to satisfy her children's needs forced her into becoming a vendor.

"Having my children, the father wasn't playing a role and I had to stand all the responsibility, even before he was incarcerated," the 29-year-old explained, her eyes affixed to the vehicles approaching the traffic light, as they slowly came to a halt.

"I sell water, juice and seasonal fruits. For me, selIing has been up and down. When time is good, I can make like a $2,500 a day," Thereca said, rushing towards a car to solicit a sale.

Upon completing her transaction, she returned to explain that while selling was somewhat gratifying, her mind was now fixed on fulfilling her present desire.

"I will still do the selling because I have to take care of my kids, but September, I will go to evening classes. Hopefully, next year, I'll get the other three subjects to go on to further my studies; maybe nursing or teachers' college, that's my ultimate goal," she says.

For Michael and Martha Facey, as children, part of their daily routine after school was to help their mother peddle her goods.

In fact, both siblings are still carrying on the tradition. Martha, the older of the two, is the proud mother of a son now serving in the United States army.

"Yea, man, a sell mi sell and send him go Crescent All-Age before him father tek him up in di States," she smiled proudly.

Similarly, Michael, 39 years old and the father of four, said he funds his children's education from selling his products at Flat Bridge. He sells East Indian mangoes and nase-berries, two products, he says, are viable enough to make a living.

"You can mek a ting out here. If we neva did a mek a ting, wi wouldn't sell out here every day, still. Nuff a di people dem out here weh do di selling, dem sell and mek dem house and buy dem tings. A dat dem do fi dem living," he explained to The Gleaner.

He said he benefited from the Canadian farm-work programme, but his love for selling at Flat Bridge never allowed him to relinquish the trade completely. Now that he has stopped travelling, it has become his full-time job again. However, he was quick to point out that though rewarding, the job was dangerous.

"When wi a sell, wi haffi watch di traffic, cause wi cyan get lick down out here, yuh know, 'cause car run af a di road and lick dung people dem stall out ere a ready. It nuh really safe; is dangerous living. Wi living dangerously to mek a living," he said.

Of course, vending at Flat Bridge or any section of the Bog Walk gorge can be regarded as dangerous, as statistics from the National Road Safety Unit show that there were 20 accidents involving 40 drivers along the Bog Walk gorge in 2008, resulting in two fatalities.