Christopher Harris has been out of work since April when he and other illegal vendors were removed from selling in Bridgetown.

by Melissa Wickham

MOST PEOPLE dream of being a doctor, lawyer, nurse, police officer or fire fighter.

But not Christopher Harris. He always dreamt of being a vendor.

It might not sound prestigious or glamorous, but it is all he knew growing up, watching his mother run a small shop to make ends meet. That's how she supported her family.

Harris was living his dream for over ten years, selling on the streets of Bridgetown, namely Swan Street, until he was removed by police in April this year along with over 200 illegal vendors, for selling without permits.

Ever since then his life has been one big struggle. He has been reduced to begging in order to get by. He went from getting up early to go to a meaningful job every morning to sometimes not wanting to get up at all.

"I can't sleep at night. When I lay down, all I can think about is how after all these years, I can't sell anymore. I can't pay my bills. . . I never see a red light bill in my house 'til this year. It is rough," he vented.

Real hard

"These last couple weeks real hard on me. I have to go to a partner of mine for money and food to keep me alive. I am not accustomed living so; I gone back living like a child."

Harris, 30, has tried unsuccessfully to get a permit for a number of years. He said he was one of the first people to register for one but whenever they were being issued, his name was never on the list.

Even people who were vending for a shorter period than he were granted permits, Harris explained. He decided to turn to the WEEKEND NATION for help after he found out that he was overlooked again when the most recent set of permits were issued.

"I want to know why it has to be so hard for me to get a permit? I feel I am one of the first people who should get one. If they got ten people in Barbados, eight of them know me as a vendor.

"I am one of the men that was even telling people: 'Man look, you can't be crying down Guyanese because all of us have family who leave here and go to make a living in the United States, England and other countries.'

"But it so happened that all the Guyanese like they come and get permits, but I still ain't get none. Guyanese who haven't lived in Barbados for as long as I have been selling got permits and I can't get none," he cried, adding that while he didn't have any children, he did have a household to look after.

"My mother is in her 50s and she can't help me because she is struggling to take care of my grandmother. My brother only just start back working here last week and not for much. There's nobody to turn to."

Respectable

Harris, who called himself a "seasonal vendor", usually sold goods – mostly T-shirts, belts, boxers, socks and scarves – which reflected the time of year. For example, in November, he would sell patriotic items with the Barbados flag or colours. He boasted that most of his merchandise was "100 per cent Bajan", unlike that of some vendors.

He believes vending is as respectable as any other job, but many people saw it as something you did only when you couldn't do any better.

However, he sees it as a way to a better life and has no qualms about admitting this.

"When I was younger, I did certain things I regret now. But I turned my life around and after ten years of trying to put myself in order this is what they do to me. This can't be fair..., it can't be fair," he said, his voice trailing off.

He also admitted he had three run-ins with police for illegal vending - two this year and the other, three years ago.

"But if I'm not vending, what else am I supposed to do?" he queried. "We can't be convicted for trying to make an honest living."

Most of those who were giving the job a bad name didn't do it from the heart, he noted. Instead, they were just looking for a quick dollar, not caring about whom they hurt in the process. And, a number of people were leaving their jobs and flooding the streets making
it harder for hardcore vendors like him.

"I didn't have a permit so anytime I was selling I made sure I didn't block up anyone's show window – some people don't care about that," exclaimed Harris.

"I know that the store owner has to pay overheads, he has to pay a staff, and if I go in front his store and sell what he's selling that will make bad for him and me.

"There are people that when I was selling years ago told me: 'Man, you think I want to be in town selling? I got a Government job'; and 'You feel I want somebody see me in town selling?'.

"These were people who used to look down on what I do. Now, wherever I turn, some of those same people vending, and
some of them got permits too. It really hurts."

Not there

He said he tried, without success, to address the matter with his parliamentary representative Mia Mottley, but he hasn't been able to secure a meeting with her as yet.

"Everytime I go to her office she's not there. I know she's a busy woman; always travelling, but I don't know where else to go," he said.

All like now, if he was still vending, he would be stocking up on merchandise for Cricket World Cup next year.

The future is uncertain for Harris. It is not as easy as going out there and finding something else to do. He was in an accident a few years ago which still affects him today – so jobs like construction or any that involve heavy lifting are out of the question. Giving up vending would not only be giving up a way of life for him, but life as he knows it.

"This is all I know how to do; don't force me to go out there and do something, I don't know 'bout. It just can't be fair," he pleaded. melissawickham@nationnews.com