People of the Walk (Short Story, on Santiago, Chile, reedited, 5-2008)
People of the Walk
(Santiago, Chile/2003)
If you have ever been in Santiago, Chile and spent a week there you might have recognize the People of the Walk, or at least in the year of 2003. They are the ones that have a certain street by the Palace area, and I guess they might call it the merchant area and they start gathering there about 4:00 PM. Sometimes even earlier, let’s say 2:30 PM. I’m not sure if they have some kind of a deal or not with the police, but they really stick together on this one street. No cars, just a walkway for the most part. I found it most interesting, also a little sad, a little frustrating, and a little impressed with the people, so many emotions for this group of slum merchants. Or call them down and out merchants. Or sole proprietors with little money. But whatever you call them, they are not afraid of work, and some of the Americans can take a good look at them, learn something, some of the lazy ones that is; they do not seem to be asking for a free ride—like so many Americans want all the time, thinking society owes them something.
Each day my wife and I would walk down this street a few times, around 10:00 PM or so (once at 2:00 PM, once at 4:00 PM also), and there were at least a hundred or more of these People on the Walk. They had a system, let me explain: they, the people of the walk, each had a bag, suitcase or some kind of carry case to haul there merchandise in, and about, something that could be folded up in a hurry, rapidly; the reason being, if the police came walking by, they could quickly fold their four-by-four foot space area mat (or whatever they used to put their merchandise on) fold it up quick, putting their merchandise back into the case and holding the case in one hand, and the mat in the other, and lean against the wall of a store, as if nothing took place.
Let me clarify, if not a mat, they would use, often times some kind of blanket or plastic material they could lay out easily, and they’d walk away—a few feet that is—as if they were not doing business. Then when the police would go—leaving their sight, their backs to them, they would put there goods back on the ground and sell them to the passerby, the casual observers, whomever, the general public.
I purchased a few items, from these merchants, they were good folk, and like anyone else, trying to make a buck, but in this case the hard way. Sometimes you would look behind yourself and the whole street, four to five blocks (of which they were selling on) were clean of merchants, thus you could be assured a few policemen were patrolling the area; although if you looked harder, they were resting against the nearest wall, and would again go back to business once the police disappeared, everything happened within a matter of minutes, it was business as usual then, watching this happen several times a day, actually made me dizzy.
The people were a sample of the whole city I believe, as young as eleven or twelve and as old as sixty or more, male and female.
Another interesting fact is that they all seemed to know one another and had there own little clicks—amazing it was, to say the least. It seemed to be understood—if not well known, that if the police caught a person, s/he could lose their possessions, and be put into jail, or simply have their things taken away from them. And that of course was their fear, and hopefully not their fate. But on the other hand, they had formed a kind of pack among themselves, a union of sorts, and when a few of the policemen took the merchandise, or was about to take it from a certain individual, they’d beat the policemen up, or tried. I guess it had been done. And here I was watching this from the second floor in a McDonald’s restaurant, looking out the window at 2:30 PM.
And so my trip to Santiago, Chile, had one interesting element to it, better then the sites I do believe, and that was ‘The People of the Walk,’ God bless them, for instead of stealing or robbing or selling drugs, they are trying to make an honest living, or as honest as possible, I do realize they do not pay taxes I suppose, and take money away from the stores they park their bodies against, but until the system becomes more fair in Chile, what can one expect, you got to eat, and everyone should be proud they are at least trying to sell something to stay alive. Nothing is perfect, but let us hope the government finds a way out for these folks, giving them a little more respect and expectations.
Written 2003, St. Paul, Minnesota, upon my return; reedited, 5-2008.
(Santiago, Chile/2003)
If you have ever been in Santiago, Chile and spent a week there you might have recognize the People of the Walk, or at least in the year of 2003. They are the ones that have a certain street by the Palace area, and I guess they might call it the merchant area and they start gathering there about 4:00 PM. Sometimes even earlier, let’s say 2:30 PM. I’m not sure if they have some kind of a deal or not with the police, but they really stick together on this one street. No cars, just a walkway for the most part. I found it most interesting, also a little sad, a little frustrating, and a little impressed with the people, so many emotions for this group of slum merchants. Or call them down and out merchants. Or sole proprietors with little money. But whatever you call them, they are not afraid of work, and some of the Americans can take a good look at them, learn something, some of the lazy ones that is; they do not seem to be asking for a free ride—like so many Americans want all the time, thinking society owes them something.
Each day my wife and I would walk down this street a few times, around 10:00 PM or so (once at 2:00 PM, once at 4:00 PM also), and there were at least a hundred or more of these People on the Walk. They had a system, let me explain: they, the people of the walk, each had a bag, suitcase or some kind of carry case to haul there merchandise in, and about, something that could be folded up in a hurry, rapidly; the reason being, if the police came walking by, they could quickly fold their four-by-four foot space area mat (or whatever they used to put their merchandise on) fold it up quick, putting their merchandise back into the case and holding the case in one hand, and the mat in the other, and lean against the wall of a store, as if nothing took place.
Let me clarify, if not a mat, they would use, often times some kind of blanket or plastic material they could lay out easily, and they’d walk away—a few feet that is—as if they were not doing business. Then when the police would go—leaving their sight, their backs to them, they would put there goods back on the ground and sell them to the passerby, the casual observers, whomever, the general public.
I purchased a few items, from these merchants, they were good folk, and like anyone else, trying to make a buck, but in this case the hard way. Sometimes you would look behind yourself and the whole street, four to five blocks (of which they were selling on) were clean of merchants, thus you could be assured a few policemen were patrolling the area; although if you looked harder, they were resting against the nearest wall, and would again go back to business once the police disappeared, everything happened within a matter of minutes, it was business as usual then, watching this happen several times a day, actually made me dizzy.
The people were a sample of the whole city I believe, as young as eleven or twelve and as old as sixty or more, male and female.
Another interesting fact is that they all seemed to know one another and had there own little clicks—amazing it was, to say the least. It seemed to be understood—if not well known, that if the police caught a person, s/he could lose their possessions, and be put into jail, or simply have their things taken away from them. And that of course was their fear, and hopefully not their fate. But on the other hand, they had formed a kind of pack among themselves, a union of sorts, and when a few of the policemen took the merchandise, or was about to take it from a certain individual, they’d beat the policemen up, or tried. I guess it had been done. And here I was watching this from the second floor in a McDonald’s restaurant, looking out the window at 2:30 PM.
And so my trip to Santiago, Chile, had one interesting element to it, better then the sites I do believe, and that was ‘The People of the Walk,’ God bless them, for instead of stealing or robbing or selling drugs, they are trying to make an honest living, or as honest as possible, I do realize they do not pay taxes I suppose, and take money away from the stores they park their bodies against, but until the system becomes more fair in Chile, what can one expect, you got to eat, and everyone should be proud they are at least trying to sell something to stay alive. Nothing is perfect, but let us hope the government finds a way out for these folks, giving them a little more respect and expectations.
Written 2003, St. Paul, Minnesota, upon my return; reedited, 5-2008.
Labels: Dennis L. Siluk, Ed.D., Poeta Laureado
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 11:14 PM
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