I honestly felt as if I was being squashed between the curvy woman with the expansive bosom and the younger one in the short skirt and matching heels. No, I wasn't dreaming. Although, if I'm to be perfectly open about this, I do vaguely recall an eerily lifelike dream I had when I was about nine years old that involved largely the same scenario. That's another story altogether though.

This time around, I was wide awake at the once-glorious Kingston Craft Market in downtown Kingston. Now the story has long been told of what a happening place this used to be and the cloud of inactivity that has been hovering above it for quite a few years now.

I was standing at the section that seems to see the most action, the shop that sells lottery tickets. I had been wandering around the market trying to find someone to speak with. There was hardly a shopper in sight and a few of the vendors had dozed off. I had inadvertently stumbled into the small betting shop at the market while trying to strike up a conversation with someone, anyone who wasn't arguing about the long line in the shop at midday.

Insinuation

"Hey gyal, move up inna di line nuh man!" yelled one straggler in the back. The response from the woman for whom the direction was meant cannot be repeated here. Luckily, she soon purchased her tickets and walked out of the shop. I sauntered up behind her and said hello. With her eyes still on the tickets in her hand, she cut me off. "No. Mi don't have nothing can give yuh today," she said. Slighted by the insinuation, I remained quiet for a second. The woman looked up at me. "Oh. Sorry. Mi did think is dat igle bwoy weh wash di cyar dem," she said. "Dat wutliss bwoy nuh have nothing fi do."

I introduced myself and told her I was trying to find out what things were like at the craft market these days.

The woman introduced herself as Lasheefa, a vendor of handmade trinkets with Jamaica written all over them.

"Man, what yuh see here is all yuh will see. Di place empty almost di whole day. Is just maybe pan a weekend yuh might see a likkle bit more people pass through," she said, sticking the tickets inside her clothes, near her chest.

More promotion

"Di place probably need more promotion. People go uptown and buy craft when dem want it, but dem nuh realise dat dem can get di same ting dem down here fi much less money," said Lasheefa.

I asked her how long she had been selling in the market.

"Well, on and off fi almost 10 years now. Since recent mi haffi travel back and forth between Ochi and here because sometime tings here too slow. Mi haffi go wherever mi can get di sale," said Lasheefa.

She explained that though the goings were usually slow, she enjoyed the freedom the work offered her.

"Mi used to work in a wholesale and mi ah tell yuh, mi and di boss couldn't get on. So from mi lef, mi decide mi caan work fi nobody again. At least when mi out here is me alone mi working for, so mi nuh meck nothing bother me. Mi will gwaan hustle as long as mi know mi can survive wid it," said Lasheefa.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

Apparently without somewhere suitable to sleep, this man decided to lie in a pile of rubbish behind the Kingston Craft Market. - Ricardo Makyn/Staff Photographer