Huge heavy bags opened at 8.30 pm on Panepistimiu Street in downtown Athens. Supple dark hands, with chasing red spots from the rays of the setting sun, skillfully arrange goods on cloth towels on the ground. The hands of immigrants from Africa and Pakistan, which every citizen of Athens knows. Goods seem funny left by themseles on the cloth stands on the street. Handbags, purses, socks, plastic watches, fans, shoes, bracelets, shiny necklaces, ladies' blouses, and even Orthodox icons show that beauty is a relative notion. But aesthetical issues are of almost no relevance to street sellers. And not aesthetic but the need to survive has led them to lay goods on their cloths.
Everyone is the architect of their own experience
These were the thoughts of the “sellers” from Pakistan at the beginning of their immigrant trail, leaving home, family and friends. They have left forever and the Indian tales that are fountain of wisdom for the world today. Now they live in the European fairy tale. In the Greek one.
The sellers from Ghana and Senegal have also believed that they are the architects of their destiny. Their life gathers in the white cloths, which they turn in a bag for seconds and disappear when policemen come in view. But in a good day like this the black youths are in negligent, reggae mood. They are talking to each other and basking in the August Athens sun that reminds them of Africa ...
The summer market opens at 5:30 am. The dark-skinned sellers know that pensioners from the city like to make purchases while it is still cool. They stay at their cloth stands until the midday heat turns the square in a fiery furnace. The “business” is tough and rarely legal. The goods are bought from the Chinese shops on Omonya square and are sold on the market at higher prices. The ones who rarely give up are the Senegalese. They have recently found a new way to earn more money. They buy goods from the Chinese shops on Omonya square and send them as parcels to Italy, where their fellows sell the goods at double price. Then they divide the money. However, if the police catch them they confiscate everything and the “business” is over ...
You must fight one more round to become a master
Morning is not sufficient to earn enough money. In the evenings after 8:30 pm, when the heat goes away, the bags are opened again and...the struggle for life continues. It must continue, explained a 20-year-old boy from Pakistan named Osman. He spent only two years in Greece, but understands and speaks the language well. Unlike his suspicious friends he agreed to talk about his life here, and even to make a picture of him. Osman is a young but very matured for his age. He works as a builder during the year and sells goods on the market in the summer. I learned that for a week of work at the cloth stands he earns not more than 35 euros. His straight posture does not reveal he eats only a croissant a day ... If he is lucky enough he could eat Arabic bread at a nearby restaurant. Osman is homesick of Pakistan and one day, when he earns money, he would like to return there. He said that Greece is a beautiful country but work is hard to find. Employers prefer to hire Bulgarians or Albanians. So he and his fellow-countrymen live for the day.
Severe seems the fate of people who in rainy days call for hours in front of the Athens Metro: “Umbrella, umbrella, take, take!” These same people foresightedly “supply” the Greek people with bottles of water during demonstrations. The romantic option is to sell roses in restaurants. Roughly wrapped in foil, but roses. The most frustrating is the option of sitting cross-legged in a corner of the city and throwing a sticky ball on a piece of cardboard. Then, the time has stopped, just because it can not go on ...
You would not fall until you fight
Brought here by the desire to survive the immigrants from Africa and Pakistan lead unequal battle with life. Meeting it is equal to a collision. Either they will knock it out or it will knock them out. Every day is a new round of hope for success in the final.
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