Street Vendors

On many occasions we have been told that an item is not available here in Zomba, so we are learning our way around the "big city" of Blantyre, the commercial capital of Malawi.  Wherever we shop, in Zomba, Blantyre, and especially in roadside markets, George and I stand out like neon signs -don't ask me why - attracting many persistent street merchants and beggers.  

We had just pulled into a parallel parking spot along a busy street in Blantyre  recently when our car was almost completely surrounded, and several voices were competing to be heard through our windows. Without getting out of our truck, we could have purchased bananas, potatoes,  oranges, grapefruit, lemons, passion fruit, carrots, and apples. We could have also done a month's worth of charitable giving into the outstretched hands of several beggars.   

We both put on our I-don't-need-any faces, waved our hands in front of our faces and shook our heads no as we opened our doors. A few vendors and persistent beggars followed us. 

By the time we reached the curb another young man presented a pair of wiper blades, a cell phone, and a steering wheel cover for sale.  Another gentleman stood directly in our path and presented us with his artwork.  Many street vendors and beggars have a hard time accepting no for an answer, so we  had to repeat ourselves a few times as we made our way along the street. 

 In a couple of minutes, we were relieved to finally be standing in the fabric store, where we felt welcome and there was no pressure to buy.  We found the fabric we needed for our living room cushions and began to make our way  back to our vehicle.

Recently we went into  Zomba for lunch.  Before the car was completely at a standstill, two vendors were approaching us,  one the smiling young  banana salesman, John.  In our early days in Zomba, John would be argumentative and  dejected when we told him we didn't want any.  He would usually say something like this, "But I only have two bunches, and when I sell them I can go home." After several rounds of this, we finally reached an agreement with John:  1.  We buy bananas because we need them,  not  because you need to sell them.  2.   If we tell you we don't need any, it's because we don't need any.  3. Pressuring us only makes us want to buy from someone else. 4. If you can accept no for an answer, we will look you up every time we need bananas. This seemed reasonable and fair to John.

Since that conversation with him,  it is always a welcome sight to see his smiling face running to meet us as we pull into a parking spot near the market.  On this occasion, John lifted the tray from his shoulder and began to make his strongest case for buying his bananas. "These are very nice.  Maybe this one," he said, turning the bunches over in his hands. Before he got any further, George told him we already have two big bunches at home. John's voice softened.  "Next time,"  he said as he turned, and walked away.  

 The other man was selling a variety of Malawi newspapers.   As a rule, newspaper vendors quietly approach a potential customer with a variety of newspapers displayed on their outstretched forearm, and when you say no thank you, they never pressure. This time George  asked for The Nation and began digging in his pocket for the money. While all of this interaction with the vendors  was taking place, two uniformed school boys, about 9-10 years old,  had climbed some stairs overlooking our car and were carefully watching George as he took money from his pocket to pay for the newspaper. 

Just as he was completing the transaction and reaching for the newspaper, one of the boys leaned over the rail and said, "Give me your money."  We have been demanded in that way on different occasions, and it always gives me a chill because that would be exactly the wrong time to take money out of your pocket and give. It blurs the  line between begging and stealing, and we certainly don't want to encourage any  school child or anyone else, to think they could have a bright future by walking up to total strangers and saying, "Give me your money."  

Once we had gone to visit Yusef's little hardware shop in the market to buy replacement bulbs for our security lights. After we had  completed the transaction and were crossing the street to return to our truck,  a man at my back said, "Madam, let me show you my panties." My eyes bulged,  I caught my breath , then I looked back and said,  "No thank you."  Undeterred, the vendor moved in closer. "Come with me. Very nice," he said.  "No thank you. I don't want any," I responded. "I have beautiful panties. Come with me.  I will show you,"   he persisted.   This was getting a little uncomfortable because  he was not listening to me.  Then, as we got into the truck and closed our doors, George said, "We don't need any panties and we won't be buying any. Thank you. Goodby."