In Britain, hawkers or street sellers did not materialize en-mass until very recently. Persons "of need" started to become a familiar presence on the street corners of most British towns in the 1990's, and for the most part nobody escapes verbal attack. Walking along the street, minding your own business, when a loud and abrupt shout enters your subconsciousness. They are heard before they are seen! I am not making comment on the good cause of it all, nor on the correctness or legality of their enterprise (should they be selling something worthwhile or not) I simply detest anybody shouting in my ear, following me with demands as I try to have a pleasant stroll.
One woman typically stands on a road leading off Princes Street (The Main Shopping Street in Edinburgh) and she sells the "Big Issue" a magazine that gives part proceeds to the seller and part to the continuation of the magazine (The description from the BIG Issue website; Street newspaper published on behalf of and sold by homeless people). She doesn't start her tirade until a pedestrian is level with her, she starts off gentle, sometimes with a little rhyme....
Come and buy
Dont be shy
Help a poor old lady(i)
Being her usual catchy and possible chart topping hit. Then upon initial refusal to buy on the part of the prospective customer, usually signalled by a bowed head and continuing forward path, the abuse starts to fly.
Ah you miserable old F...r
Let an old woman starve wud ya
Rot in hell you old b.........
Some sellers do have softer enterprise showing, but it still does not make me want to buy the magazine. Maybe I should, maybe I am missing something really worth while.
Shopkeepers who pounce on their customers as soon as they enter the premises are not typically favoured, usually responded with a sharp exit and a vow never to return to that shop again! People do not want the assistant coming up to them and suggesting what they should buy and hounding them with their presence - a hovering annoyances!. Prospective customers love to browse and look at things without interference and alone. We all prefer to pick and choose at our leisure, then call the assistant if required for advice or purchase. Just like those taxi drivers who haunt me, I feel like shouting out loudly "if I wanted a taxi I would get one".
Some countries are worse than others, sometimes whilst casually walking along the street thousands of hawkers attempt to sell a service or item that is simply not required. Over half the world could be included in this category and it can be fun, a scenario that is not encountered in the Western world, a tourist experience and a slice of local culture right on the doorstep. The fact that thirty children are pulling at your shirt tails, twenty grown men are waving fish or live chickens in your face or once beautiful woman are offering their bodies by the hour is all very well once or twice! When you are not a tourist, when you want to just have a quiet walk or get from A-B, secure in your own privacy space and without being badgered, it is definitely not called fun!
So there I was one day in Fiji, wanting to get from A-B. If I remember correctly it was from the Hotel to the Conference that I was attending, a matter of twenty-minutes fast walking or five-minutes in a taxi (looking back, I should have taken the taxi after all). I was strolling along at my usual quick pace when all of a sudden I was surrounded by hundreds of "street sellers", all trying to out-do the other on capturing this potential giver of cash. I started off calmly by saying "no thanks", and persevered in moving forwards, but it was getting worse! The younger elements were pulling my T-shirt, another was jabbing me in the stomach trying to attract my attention - something that really annoys me to the extreme. I prized off a few fingers, politely shoved a couple of others out of the way and resumed my interrupted stroll.
I continued further only for the same thing to occur with another bunch of desperado's. Again I used gentle force and silent shakes of the head, whilst looking around desperately for a taxi to take me the last mile or so. Oh, those 'beeping' taxis were on holiday and I had to push on with my own two legs. Forwards, forwards and light at the end of the tunnel, nearly there, only twenty meters to go and freedom. But suddenly, somebody nudged my shoulder and I lost it badly. I swung around with my fist raised, ready to thump this new antagonist when............whoops, it was a fellow conference go-er attracting my attention. He had been calling my name, had been running after me as I steamed along but I had been impervious to all. Poor guy, took him a while to calm down.
Yes, it is lovely to be a tourist to enjoy the sights and the character of a new and fascinating city but after a while where is my freedom?
