A Night at the Wholesale Market - Last Article: People's Livelihoods

At midnight, Mrs. Bay Duc goes to every corner of the market to sell rice and noodles. Photo: HUONG GIANG

Many people working at the wholesale market are poor laborers, willing to work day and night, risking their health to make a living. For them, night is not a time to rest but the start of a new working day. Every drop of sweat is a relentless effort to earn food for their families.

Hard work

At midnight, in the middle of a crowded crowd, Mrs. Bay Duc, a resident of Rach Gia ward, carried two baskets of broken rice and stir-fried noodles to sell. She was petite, her feet moved quickly, her cries echoed throughout the market: "Who wants rice, noodles? What do you want to eat today, Miss Hai?" She started selling at 11pm, going around every corner of the market. "Every day I sell 20-30 boxes of rice and noodles, priced at 15,000 VND/box, earning a hundred or two hundred thousand VND is enough for my husband and I to live on," said Mrs. Bay Duc.

I followed her for a while, the yellow light through the night mist creating a blurry picture. Her small figure gradually disappeared behind the mist, but that image was deeply imprinted in my mind.

At the market’s agricultural produce area, Mr. Sau Cua (70 years old) is loading bags of green vegetables onto an old motorbike. Mr. Sau Cua and his wife came from Vinh Long to Rach Gia to start a business when they were old. With no fields or stable jobs, their poverty forced them to rely on their vegetable carts and nightly trips to make a living.

Every night, Mr. Sau Cua is at the market from 11pm, picking up vegetables from traders and then driving his motorbike to Tac Rang market to sell. The job has been repeated for many years regardless of holidays, sun, rain or cold wind. “I take advantage of the time when there are no customers to take a nap, sleeping 2-3 hours a day. Sometimes I fall asleep while selling,” Mr. Sau Cua said while stretching to support a heavy bag of vegetables. He said: “On a day when there are no sales, earning 200,000 - 300,000 VND is a blessing. I pay for my room, eat frugally and that is enough to get by…”

He and his wife lived with their grandchildren in a small, cramped rented room, with frugal meals, fitful sleep, and days that went on without rest, but he never once complained about his fate. To him, just being able to provide meals for his family, having a place to shelter from the rain and sun, and still having the strength to work was luckier than many people.

At 24:00, Mrs. Huynh Thi Nam (71 years old) held a stack of lottery tickets and offered them to each person. She sells lottery tickets from 11pm the day before to 5am the next day. “During the day, there are so many people selling, I can’t keep up so I sell at night. Besides, during the day, I have to go to the hospital to take care of my husband,” Mrs. Nam said, her voice breaking when mentioning her husband in the hospital.

The night wind was cold, but Mrs. Nam still regularly called out: “Who wants to buy lottery tickets?” Even though there were days when she could only sell a few tickets, she never missed a night. At an age when she should have been resting, she still supported her family with love, patience, and perseverance.

Every night, Mr. Sau Cua is at the market from 11pm, gets vegetables from traders and then transports them to Tac Rang market to sell. Photo: HUONG GIANG

Humanity at the night market

In the bitter cold of the night at the market, I feel the warmest feeling is the human affection. Where people often have to fight for every small profit to cover each meal, sharing among the vendors becomes a precious affection. They are not only business partners but also friends and relatives. Some days one person is busy, the other person watches the stall for them. Sometimes, when a seller is not selling well, the other person invites him: "Let me help you sell, sell quickly and leave early". The unsold bunches of vegetables, fish, and boxes of fruit are also shared with each other as a way to get through the quiet market days. Ms. Hong Yen, living in Rach Gia ward, said while cleaning fish: "On days when I have little stock, I share it with the other sellers. Sometimes when I have not sold well, the other sellers sell for me."

Amidst the hustle and bustle of people trying to make a living, Mr. Hung, a resident of Long Xuyen Ward, still maintains a warm heart. Every night, he transports vegetables from Chau Doc to the market by truck to sell wholesale and retail. “On days when I don’t sell everything, I share it with everyone and don’t take it home,” Mr. Hung said.

That day, before dawn, Mr. Hai Hoang, a resident of Giong Rieng commune, pushed his old fruit cart into the market. A sudden jolt caused the wheels to hit a rough stone, the cart tipped over, and fruits rolled all over the ground. He stood still. His back was bent, his legs were tired, and he had no strength left to prop up the cart. Then, people around him ran over, without anyone telling them to, to help support the cart, pick up the fruits, and some even used their shirts to carefully wipe each fruit for him. Mr. Hai Hoang was moved, his toothless smile dispelled a long night of fatigue.

At Rach Soi wholesale market, everyone sympathized with Mrs. Nam, sometimes giving her a piece of cake, a lunch box, a glass of water, and sometimes lending her a place to rest. There were regular customers who would give her 10,000 VND or 20,000 VND when they bought lottery tickets. Once, during a thunderstorm, the water seller pulled her under the awning and poured her a glass of hot water: "You're all wet, drink this to warm up."

Mr. Ba - a man who works as a rickshaw driver is a familiar face in the market. He transports goods for hire around the market. He is skinny, has a sunburnt face, and calloused hands. His life is confined to an old rickshaw, rolling from dawn until the market closes. Whatever people hire him to carry, he carries, regardless of the weight. Late that night, he stopped by a sticky rice cart on the side of the road. His old eyes looked at the steaming pot of sticky rice, he intended to buy a package to fill his stomach, but stopped because he forgot to bring money. The sticky rice seller saw this and quickly wrapped a full portion of sticky rice, thrusting it into his hand: "You can take it, you can pay later." Mr. Ba took the sticky rice package, thanked the seller. He ate the sticky rice package slower than usual as if he wanted to preserve the fragrant, sticky, and rich taste of kindness longer.

The struggle for survival at Rach Soi wholesale market continues every night. The hard-working people still shoulder their lives with their rough and thin shoulders but always share and support each other. Amidst the hustle and bustle of making a living, the humanity at the night market supports those who go through difficult days, making the wholesale market a place to preserve the beautiful values of life.

Huong Giang

Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/mot-dem-o-cho-dau-moi-bai-cuoi-nhung-phan-nguoi-muu-sinh-a427188.html