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Colleen Barrett |
Colleen writes from inside a Trotro - the local transportation in Accra, Ghana. She is on her way to her work placement at the Ark Foundation.
It is 730 am. I am in the trotro on the way to circle (where I will make my connection to the Ark). We are stopped in traffic - the usual appraoch to circle slow down. We are inching forward and soon I can see you. You are selling tarps again.
Did you sell any yesterday or is this the same one you were holding yesterday morning? How does it feel to be holding up a tarp at this hour in the middle of the road - with most people passing you, ignoring you, and leaving you in their trail of exhast?
You are working in a whole group of people - young men and young women - who just like you couldn't be older than 23 years old. Somedays I am so fascinated by the things you sell. As a little game I try to sope the most unique thing: TV antennaes, remote controls, cell phones, carpets, clocks, towels, food, ice cream, and water, water, water.
I wonder, is there status associated with each thing? Some things are definately gendered. Why is this?
I no longer look for the most interesting thing, because I realize it is not about novelty - you are here each day selling. It is about scraping out a living. This is your job, your livelihood. Your workplace is the middle of the road, and you look hot and tired. When you think no one is looking, the exhaust from the cars makes you wince and look down at the ground. When the next car comes you look up again to try and make a sale.
This morning when you were selling the TV antennae, remote control and halogen lamp, I saw you from down the road. I noticed you right away because I remember you from yesterday. But this time, what I noticed was not what you were selling, but you. How you looked, dressed, stood, and your age.
You can't be more than 15 or 16. You have the look, size, posture and style of a lot of the grade ten students I taught last year. With your baggy jeans and American shirt, and the way you wear your hat, you would totally fit in at my school. Isn't that were you are supposed to be right now? I guess it's not up to me to say were you 'should' be. But why are you here? Why aren't you in school? You are so young and in the prime of your life. Why are you here selling?
I have been told that you probably will make about 10,000 cedies ($1 us) today. Is that true? You can't live on that alone. You much be living with someone - or a family. How do you get by? Will you do this forever?
There are so many kids you remind me of. You are just like them. But they don't have to sell in the middle of the road. They have a lot of freedom to do whatever they want - to hang out, to do whatever. Will you ever have that freedom?
I want so much to remember all your faces. I want to notice you - everyday. I want to see how you are doing, how you are feeling. I don't want to pass you by.