Legacy of the School Vendor: The Way We Were

By: Lear Matthews

Whether it was Ms. Murray, Ms. Stefie or Auntie Gertie, her presence represented an impressionable dimension of the educational environment of primary school children since the 1950’s and to a lesser extent, today.  She has been a daytime fixture occupying an unsolicited “spot” outside the school building, either near a lantern post, under one of Guyana’s massive oaks or a tattered umbrella sheltering from the beaming sun.  Typically, she was a simple middle-aged woman wearing a plain dress, matching “head tie” or straw hat and apron with side pockets. Fondly known as “the sweetie Lady”, this veritable street vendor was a beloved entrepreneur peddling a potpourri of local snacks.  She sold a variety of succulent and tart indigenous fruit, arguably of some nutritional value, sweets and beverages displayed on a shallow, well-worn unpainted wooden tray.

Popular items were green mango, tamarind, golden apple, guinep, dunks, sugar-cake, coconut ice, chip chip, hard sweetie (nevah done), lump, tamarind balls, plantain chips, chicken foot, mittai, fudge, channa, phulourie, flutie, and custard block.

Favorites included “tambrun”, plum and gooseberry syrups, served in brown paper, which was often chewed, with little concern about the health consequences.  Although “stinkin toe” (locus) was not a preferred choice, due to its pungency and clamminess, it was occasionally sold by this solitary vendor.  Salt, pepper and “sour”, were an essential part of her repertoire of flavoring condiments.  She carried a sharpened kitchen knife used primarily for peeling and “cuttin up” fruit, with remarkable savvy and well honed knife craft.

As if those indigenous goodies provided extra vitality or mental alertness, pupils swarmed her during mid-morning “recreashun” and at lunch time.  Seemingly energized, many could be seen standing around or gleefully playing while chomping, savoring and sharing snacks, for which they paid no more than a few pennies or would “trust” (credit) until Friday.   Others patronized her on their way home, licking sticky fingers and wiping them on khaki short pants or well-pleated uniform dresses.

Some retrospective observations about the interaction between vendor and pupil are noteworthy.  This extra-mural matron of commerce was not only well respected, but known to defuse conflicts, often with a calm, yet stern: “yah’ll don’t fight man”, offering solicitous, motherly advice to her unwitting juvenile patrons.  However, of no significance to us was that this adorable seller intermittently wiped her hands on what appeared to be a permanently smudged apron, repeatedly collecting and making change, while handling the delectable snacks.   She also broke “hard cyandy” with the sweat-saturated wooden knife handle.  Further, there must have been moments of ambivalence about the sanitary conditions under which those appetizing building blocks of our youthful biological make up were prepared and stored.   Notwithstanding, we survived!

Although they co-existed amicably, her only real competition was the shave-ice man.  Precariously balancing a huge burlap-covered block of ice on a Carrier Bike, he provided a treat that helped to cool us off from the broiling sun and tiresome school yard activities.  The first few sucks on a piece of shave-ice, partially molded with his bare palm, doused in thick red syrup (whatever the source of that ruby brew) was a heavenly experience.  How sweet it was!  The days of that brand of school vendors may be long gone, but not forgotten.

This article was published in the Guyana Cultural Association Newsletter (January 2012).

— Post #1123