The heart of Gaborone city is probably the Main mall, bus rank and station, where many people go about their daily businesses of work, shopping and running errands.
On any given day, there’s a steady flow of human traffic. It’s therefore not surprising that scores of street vendors line the little pathways and streets selling everything from airtime, fruits and vegetables, perfumes, music CDs, knick knacks d├®cor, educational toys, traditional medicine, shoes, clothes and food; to others braiding hair and in a few cases, doing nails.
It’s not a business of ‘luck’. It’s a game of “hustling” which requires patience, persistence, tact and vigorous marketing, to make an extra Pula.
When I meet fresh-faced Tshepo as I make my way across the rows of stalls at the station, he instantly offers me a cheap perfume at a “good prices”. I’m left in awe by his energy and persistence. The price falls from P100 to P70 within minutes, and as I observe the beads of sweat playing on his smooth face, I notice a twinkle of passion and greater potential.
This is a young man who could sell an Eskimo ice. He says when he “graduated” to owning his own stall after being an employee at another for almost three years, he knew that this was the right step in his dream of being a businessman.
“One can earn good money in street trading provided you work hard and lure customers and convince them to buy your products,” he says brightly.
His products change every few months, and he’s sold many things from airtime to hot dogs to shoes and belts. He informs me that he bought himself a “Durban car” (second-hand Japanese car shipped to the Durban, South Africa port and transported to Botswana where they are sold at ridiculously affordable prices) with his earnings.
Having had endless tiffs with council workers and police in the past, the young man now uses a smart tent which he mounts and dismounts daily. He keeps two chairs, a foldable table for his wares and in one corner is a cooler box which has cold water and his home-prepared lunch.
As he continues selling to passers by, sometimes flirting and bantering with potential customers, I realize that like many other vendors, this is a way of life for him ÔÇô he’s hard at work.
The street entrepreneur is conspicuous to the city. Their persistence is second to that of combi marshals and perhaps even, big companies who gag their products at us through media.
It’s normal to see street vendors along corners and pathways, sitting in the sun waiting for their next customer. Street vending is a socially constructed phenomenon often undertaken to generate self-employment or income response to the multi dimensionality of poverty.
The business according to Tshepo, is not without challenges, which include the competition in the dynamics of business environment especially as they are near large malls, sometimes unfavourable weather conditions particularly in summer when it rains and the fact that informal street vending isn’t necessarily wholly legally recognised. “Government policy makers need to draw up and develop specific legislation to promote our businesses. We aren’t playing here, we are SMEs and deserve the respect, recognition and support rendered to other businesses,” he points out with a serious facial expression. Unfortunately, many street vendors are subjected to regressive planning and legislature and attempt to construct personal identities rooted within diverse socio-cultural contexts.
Recently, Gaborone vendors were left in the lurch after the city council demolished their temporary business structures in a reported ‘clean-up campaign’. While some vendors claimed ignorance on the matter, apparently the council had given the vendors notice to relocate from where they were to face eviction and confistication of their goods. The aesthetics of modern structures make no room for the ‘tattered’ make-shit stalls used by street vendors and this has seen many cities across Africa, trying to evict informal street traders.
Thabang Molefe, who has been living in Gaborone for the past three decades, is adamant that street vendors have a place in the city, provided they keep their areas of operation clean and neat.
Street hawkers have been informed to use temporary structures which they can take back home after a day’s work. Permanent structures make the city appear untidy and filthy, especially as they are often plastics and boxes, not smart well-built areas which would be appealing to the eye, he says.
He thinks it would be better if they were in one place where they had permanent buildings in one place.
“Most of the vendors are only concerned about money and don’t seem to care about the environment or image of the city.”
Ben Maruping agrees. “Other small businesses pay rent, rates, water, electricity, private garbage collectors and security ÔÇô street hawkers don’t have these costs. The least they can do is adhere to environmental regulations set by the council. They are lucky in that they are closer to their customers but that doesn’t mean leaving the city dirty. Council should do its job of removing makeshift structures from across the city. They are mandated to take action, especially as they warn the vendors beforehand,” he notes.
Tshepo Keikantseng is more sympathetic towards the vendors. “Government should render alternatives to these small business owners who are honestly doing a good job while eking a decent living for themselves without resorting to crime. The poor are often subjected to scrutiny and harassment instead of being offered assistance. The law should be focused on bigger crimes. Yes, our city is dirty, but council’s job is to keep it clean. Most of the vendors don’t have a choice-they can’t carry their structures home daily. It’s impractical and expensive, especially for those who don’t have their own transport,” he explains.
As I stroll around the bus rank vicinity, I come across a vegetable stall owner, who is selling cabbages, tomatoes and onions. After purchasing the leafed cabbage, I take a chance and ask the man his opinion on the council’s decision to take down their stall structures. It turns out his was also ripped apart.
“When I returned from the village after the holidays, I was shocked to find that my stall had been removed.
The city council did not consult us on this matter nor inform us on their planned course of action. It’s tedious to put up a structure and pull it down every single day. I personally don’t see how it makes the city dirty. These people are just harassing us.
They are jealous because we are making a lot of money. They took down my structure but I’m going to put it back up. My efforts to live a better life will not be hampered by council employees who have nothing better to do with their time,” he fumes as he busies himself, calling out to passers-by to buy.
I ask if he would be willing to move to an area that has better built permanent structures. He gives me an irritated glance and barks that he’s fine where he is.
“When council offers a place to sell from, they build their brick areas in hidden corners where it’s difficult for people to find us. Why do they want to hide us? I want to be where the people are and if that means stationing my stall in front of a large supermarket, let it be. I also want money you know,” he stresses emotionally.
Some customers seem unaffected by aesthetics and appreciate street vendors.
“Buying on the streets is cheaper than in large stores where you are likely to part with double the amount. I purchase things like vegetables, fruits and items like sun shades, belts and sometimes the odd t-shirt or cap on the streets.
I also buy many DVDs and CDs here. I cannot afford to shop at large retailers. Those who have lots of money can go to the malls; the street vendors are my mall. It also makes me happy to give my hard-earned cash to my own people. These vendors’ children can eat good food, go to school and dress decently because of us. They are also polite. In large stores, there’s rarely a genuine rapport because they don’t need you; if you don’t buy, someone else will. With a street vendor, one person makes a huge difference!”
Urban planning policies and models based on modernist thinking are often geared towards towns and cities consisting entirely of formal sector activities like industrial areas and office parks. Informal activity is excluded from the urban landscape which leaves street vendors out in the cold. However, practically, street vending in cities and towns of developing countries will continue to grow. Can you imagine what downtown Gabs city would look like without street traders? It would probably be neater but it wouldn’t have ‘soul’ and the bustle and the familiar hive of activity, or options for those who cannot afford to buy from bigger stores.
