Feature: A day in the life of Harare vendors

THE early morning sunlight, soft and diffuse beats down on the already sweltering Copacabana bus terminus in downtown Harare.

Vongai Machache (36), a woman on whose face a story of resilience was etched, surveyed her remaining stock — mountains of ripe tomatoes and vegetables, their sweet scent competing with the acrid tang from Harare City Council (HCC) public toilets. Machache, like many other vendor in Harare, has a daily struggle to find a proper vending point and selling enough to survive and also finding a place to store her unsold wares overnight.

Machache’s dilemma becomes tragically clear when closing time arrives. The tomatoes, far too heavy for her to carry home on a crowded commuter omnibus, would not fit in the small rented room she shares with her family in Mabvuku. In a desperate bid to preserve her investment, Machache does the unthinkable. She cautiously lowers a basket overflowing with tomatoes into an HCC toilet, despite the pungent, ammonia like stench that assaults the nostrils from 100 metres away.

Disappointment troubles her eyes, a stark contrast with  the vibrant red colour of the fruit. This is not an ideal solution, but it is the only one she has.

“I make sure I cover my buckets and card [board] boxes with big black plastics before I put them at the back of the toilets or inside,” Machache said pointing to the dilapidated toilet.

“I prefer legal vending areas like Copacabana, Charge Office bus terminus, Market Square bus terminus and Fourth Street bus terminus because council police won’t come here to bother us as we do our business. I am used to the bad smell and I have regular customers hear. I come here everyday early in the morning and collect my remaining stock from the back of this toilet to prepare for business of the day. Sometimes if I have little remaining stock I ask my relative who has a table at the Dubai Mall to keep it over night.

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“I cannot carry them home everyday because of transport issues. I stay in Mabvuku, which means I will have losses due to breakages, remember tomatoes are very fragile. I am not the only one who has such crisis; so many vendors have their corners where they hide their remaining stock or even during the day when they are hiding their products from council police. Imagine the whole day cat and mouse games with council and the police and you will be very tired when going home, so the hustle of carrying all the remaining stock home is a challenge,” Machache narrated her struggles.

Most toilets owned by council have a dense odour that hangs in the air, refusing to dissipate. To avoid municipality police, fruit and vegetable vendors have no choice except to sell their products at a bus terminus about two metres from the toilets that smell like death and decay. Surprisingly, they have regular customers who probably do not know the inside of the storeroom of their remaining stock.

In an interview, council spokesperson Stanley Gama acknowledged that they have several experiences with vendors who hide their unsold products in council toilets.

“In the past we have raided vendors who hide their unsold staff inside the toilets as efforts to ensure that we have hygienic legal vending zones in Harare,” Gama told NewsDay.

He also bemoaned lack of manpower stating that the city council is overwhelmed during clampdowns on illegal vendors.

“We have nearly 100 000 registered vendors in Harare and we believe there are more unregistered vendors,” he said

Gama added: “We still need to come up with more vending sites. The issue of vendors is now a national problem. In some cases we have been successful, but we are overwhelmed. Lack of manpower is our biggest challenge; we still need to train more officers for clampdowns. You know everyone has become a vendor to survive during these difficult times. So we have thousands of vendors in Harare CBD only, imagine outside Harare CBD.”

However, Vendors Initiative for Social and Economic Transformation director Samuel Wadzai said this is not the first time HCC, has spoken about plans to establish designed vending zones.

Meanwhile, only 46,3% of Zimbabwe’s working age population is employed and approximately 54% is unemployed, according to the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (ZimStat). In its 2023 fourth quarter labour force survey, ZimStat disclosed that the working age population was 8 639 522, of which 4 003 121 were in active employment.

Government critic and economist Gift Mugano said Zimbabwe had turned into “a country of vendors” which overwhelmed the authorities trying to create order and in Harare.

Across Market Square bus terminus, another story unfolded. Kudakwashe Mbeu, a young vendor with a mischievous glint in his eyes, displayed a seemingly pristine array of apples. However, a closer look revealed a disturbing truth. Mbeu, unable to afford clean water, struggled to explain the source of water inside a one-litre bottle that he uses to wash fruits when customer buy from him. The once-clear water bottle looked worse for wear. The transparency that used to reveal the refreshing water inside was now clouded.

Ndinoichera mukati imomu mkoma (I fetch it around this area my brother)” Mbeu said with a guilt expression all over the face.

Tinashe Kusiwo who works at boutique near Copacabana said he usually buys fruits from a vendor who moves around with a pushcart. He added: “I don’t, buy from anyone because I don’t trust vendors they do anything to survive.”

Veteran talk show host Rebbeca Chisamba said some vendors had developed a selfish mind-set in order to survive to the extent that they sell food products which they keep in public toilets.

“Some people are selfish; imagine selling people staff you don’t even eat yourself,” she said.

“Remember you need customers everyday, but if they buy unhealthy food and die you have lost customers. So we need proper education for those vendors. However, it’s like a pot calling the kettle black, we are all to blame. It’s not only the vendor who is causing hygiene problems but those who go there to buy have no eye for hygiene. People should have eyes to see dirty areas which are prone to diseases such as cholera. So as a community we need to teach people to see dirty things despite our status, whether poor or rich,” Chisamba added.

The story of Harare’s street vendors is a complex web woven from ingenuity, desperation and a yearning for a better life.

Far from the pristine shelves of supermarkets, these vendors navigate a harsh reality.

Investigations by NewsDay revealed that some vendors collect discarded plastic bags and bottles from dumpsites. They wash and reshape the plastics, transforming them into packaging for vegetables, tomatoes and other small wares. While some may scoff at the unorthodox packaging, their ingenuity allows them to offer goods at a price accessible to many.

The situation faced by Harare’s vendors highlights the city’s economic struggles which are seen as potential vehicles for a cholera outbreak. Formal employment opportunities are scarce, forcing many to turn to informal vending for survival. While these vendors provide a vital service, lack of infrastructure and regulations exposes both them and their customers to health risks.

Amid the grim and the daily struggles, there is a flicker of hope. Organisations are working with vendors to foster hygiene practices and provide access to affordable storage facilities. Additionally, discussions are underway to create designated vending areas with proper sanitation.

The weight of commerce borne by Harare's street vendors is a heavy one. The stories of human cost of poverty and the ingenuity that blossom even in the harshest conditions tell it all. Perhaps, with a little support, these vendors can not only survive but also thrive, transforming the streets of Harare into a vibrant marketplace.