Looking for the Heart of Saturday Night, Chapter 2

"A pack? A whole pack of Peters?"
"Yes, mate, I want a whole pack of smokes." I was confused by his question for a moment, but then I saw an open pack on the stand, and realised that people here probably just bought one cigarette at a time. Sign of the rich man, buying a whole pack. "You always work here at night, mate?" I asked, stepping to one side as he gave me my change and the soft paper package of cigarettes.
"Ya, I do - why?"
Why? Why did I need to have answers to all the questions in my head? What reason could I possibly have to make this man tell me everything I suddenly wanted to know about being a night time street vendor selling cigarettes and condoms, and the things you see in such a life? I told him a lie ' I told him I was doing some research into informal businesses in Zambia, and was interested in his life. I told him I wanted to know his name, where he came from, how he got started in his business, and whether he had seen trouble during his work, such as the fight ten days before in Alpha Bar. This is a somewhat edited transcript of his story. I wish now, re-reading it in the light of everything else I have learnt about Lusaka's night life, that he had told me more ' there are all kinds of things that he touched on that I would like to follow up on. Maybe I will be able to chase him up sometime and find out more.

My name? Do you really need my name? OK, my name is Mwale, but that's not important. For the last six months I have been working here, one of the best pitches in town ' this is one of the only night time pitches that really makes money. I don't work it Sunday or Monday, but every other night of the week, without fail, for the last six months, I have set up my little stall by 21:00, here on the pavement outside the Northmead Bakery. I only sell two things, cigarettes and condoms to the cab drivers and the working girls and to their customers, but there are enough of them to go round, and all of them are in such a hurry that they can't be bothered to go into Family 24 across the road there. Business, man ' that's what it's all about ' there's no moral question to what I do, is there, I am simply providing the people who work the night here in Northmead with the things they need to do their jobs, the things they need to keep them going through the night and safely into the next day. Apart from Family 24, there are a couple of other people on the street doing the same as me, but there's enough trade to go around for all of us, like I say, and we are all doing OK, making a living. In fact, so long as we don't have another Saturday night like the one you are interested in too often, I should have enough money set aside in six months or a year to open up a proper shop in one of the compounds around town, and from there it won't take me too long to expand.
Where do I live? I live in Garden compound, just here, behind Northmead ' it's close enough, convenient at the moment ' I don't have to travel too far to get any where ' but I'm not sure that that is where I will open my own shop. You see, when I goet out of working the street at night and open my own shop, I want to get as far from this whole scene as I can ' I mean, look at the shit that's going down in the street now, and then imagine it on a busy night. I come from a respectable famil, you know ' my father was a pastor, and my brother went to Bible College, and too many people in Garden know me from this, they really think I am a part of this whole scene. The reason I am telling you all this is so that you know that I am not a marketer, so that you know that I won't be happy doing this for the rest of my life ' I've got plans, my friend, I'm moving up and out of here ' I will be running a formal sector business soon.
So what can I tell you about that Saturday night, the Saturday night there was the big fight in Alpha Bar? By the time I got here and started to set up my stall, the street was already busy, and even before I had set everything up I had customers waiting for cigarettes and condoms, hassling me to hurry up so they could get their fix or their fuck. Shortly after everything was sorted out, this working girl, Gertrude, got out of a cab just by me, and stopped to buy a couple of Consulate and a pack of Maximum. She's a real beautiful girl, that one, and so sensible ' she never goes into a club without a pack of Maximum in her handbag ' she has told me that she doesn't like to rely on the men carrying the condoms, because they always forget, and she can't rely on going past me or any of the other guys on her way off wherever with a client. I have talked to her many times now, and she has always struck me as being unique ' though I hate what she does ' what she has to do to make a living ' she seems to hate it just as much, and she has always struck me as the only girl who works around here, in Alpha Bar, Zenon, and the Boom Boom Room, who is not a crook, who is honest as far as she can be, and who wants to get out, wants to do something else with her life. I have seen her with a few muzungus, more than once, and I think that's her plan, if she can hook one. And I tell you, I see so many of the girls who work around here, I am quickly becoming something of an expert on the way they work and what makes them tick.
If any one had told me, back when I was starting secondary school, that this would be where I would end up, selling condoms and cigarettes out on the street at night to the working girls and the cab drivers, I would have laughed at them. Back then, I wanted to go on, finish grade 12, then go to UNZA or college somewhere, and become a lawyer or accountant ' those are the jobs in this country where you can make some real money, in the millions. But that never happened, it could never happen, and sometimes now I think that it was the will of God, that He has other plans for me. My father died when I was in Grade 10, and then my mother became too ill to work or to look after the family, so my brother had to leave Bible College and I never went back to school ' we had to go out and find money to support the family. I started out by hustling customers for the minibuses in the market place in Petauke ' that's my hometown, in Eastern Province ' I would make a couple of pin on each full bus that left. After a few months, I managed to get something better ' I saved up enough money to buy sonme stock and sold a few things in the market on my own account ' have you seen the markets here? No? Well, you should go to them. Though I was more in control of things in the market, it wasn't enough for me ' it's a tough environment, very competitive, and you can really only do well if you have a good stall in a good position. I didn't, so I was struggling, just about making enough to cover my stock and keep alive, but not really going places, which was what I wanted. All of a sudden, without me really doing much or realising what was happening, without really making a conscious decision, I found myself here in the city, hustling for money, and trying to get things together. What happened was, I came up here to get some goods, and never went back.
After Petauke, this city is a tough place, hard work all the way. Out there in the Boma, even if you have a bad pitch, it is much easier to make a living, but here you really have to live by your wits if you are going to get anywhere ' there are so many people like me coming in from the villages each year, and all of them want to make a few pin. It is easy to see how people can drift into crime here in the city ' if you don't see that you have any other option, the tsotsis and the people like Mulenga can be quite persuasive. When I first arrived here, for the first few weeks, I hung around with a bad crowd, and could easily have wound up in jail ' but then, I made a plan and stuck to it ' I had to ' I have all my younger brothers and sisters to think about, and they are going to have the education me and my brother didn't get ' we are going to make sure of it. I got to know the guy who had this stall ' we were both lodging with the same family ' and he wanted to get out, he wanted to go back to his village, so he passed the pitch on to me. I paid him out, and had enough money left over for the stock for the first couple of days, and I was away. The margins are OK, and over the last few weeks I have been scouting around town for a plot of land for my own shop. I am living cheaply and saving money, so over the next year I should be able to open up in my own building. Bricks and mortar, my friend ' then, if you want to move on, you have something real to sell, something you can get some real money for. You know, in this city, if you are going to succeed, you need to make a plan, set some goals, and stick to all of it.
Anyway, that's kind of how I ended up here, sitting on my little stool on the pavement outside the Northmead Bakery, selling condoms and cigarettes to the working girls and the cab drivers and the customers who come to Alpha Bar and Zenon and the Boom Boom Room looking for business and a good time. That particular night, the night you are interested in, was busy ' by 23:00 there were cars all across the street and people everywhere, wandering around the street, hanging out by their cars, and a group of working girls standing on the patio outside Alpha, hanging out, smoking, talking and laughing. I always try to keep an eye on the door, I reckon that if there is any trouble in the street that is going to be where it will come from, but it's hard ' one of these days I'm going to find someone else to work the stand for me, so I can just sit back and watch what is happening on the street. Most people arrive at the clubs by cab or on foot ' there really isn't anywhere on the street to park, and the traffic is terrible ' but every now and then a private car goes by, usually full of wazungu or Asians. Or coloureds. They are the ones who really push their weight around, who cause all the trouble from what I can see ' it seems to me that they are always trying to prove something to everyone ' that they are better than blacks, that they are as good as whites ' whatever. I don't know whether that was the case on that particular Saturday night, but there were plenty of them around and I guess it had something to do with it. Most of the night, for me, was business as usual, sitting out here on my little stool, selling cigarettes and condoms and talking to the people on the street.
Then, at about , a couple of 4x4s drove past me, and pulled up in the car park outside Melissas, you know, the supermarket just back there? They blocked in about six other vehicles, and three coloured guys, all obviously drunk, got out. They walked determinedly to the entrance of Alpha Bar like a flying wedge, mewn on a mission, not looking at anyone or anything as they walked. I watched them from my stool as they went into the club, thinking that they would probably end up causing trouble ' they were the most likely crowd I had seen all night to do so, and they didn't even look at the guys on the door as they went past. I don't know, maybe I had some kind of premonition or something, I just had a bad feeling about things that night. But I didn't have time to even think about it ' things were kicking off in the street. Across the road, on the steps of Family , a mwenya Muslim ' sorry, Indian, Pakistani ' we call them Mwenya ' was waving his book around, shouting and raving at all the people in the street, and the tension was rising. That was a weird night ' the street was more crowded than any other night I remember, and the tension in the air was thick and heavy, with a touch of menace. I wanted to go over and reason with the preacher man, but I couldn't leave my stand. As I watched, a crowd of heavies, I think they were Mulenga's lot, crossed the road from the club and beat the man to the ground. I never saw what happened to him next ' all of a sudden my stall was surrounded by wazungu, all wanting cigarettes, and I had to turn my mind back to business. I sold them what they needed, then watched them as, lead by a tall dreaded Jah-man, they went into the club. I had seen him, and another of that crowd, with Gertrude before, and they had three or four great looking white chicks with them. Maybe you should try and trace those guys ' maybe they were the cause of the fight? Wouldn't be the first time people have fought over a beautiful woman in Alpha bar. The next person I saw going in ' the last person I recognised going into the place before it all erupted ' was that coloured guy, Peto, with a tall, glamorous, sexy coloured woman holding his hand. The word on the street afterwards was that she was his wife, but I had met him a few times when he, the Jah-Man, and the English kid were all struggling for Gertrude's favours. And I knew she was inside the club ' she hadn't come past, I hadn't seen her leave, so she probably was ' you see, the work Gertrude does is dangerous, she puts her life on the line every time she leaves the club with a client, so we have an agreement that she will try and let me have a good look at everyone she picks up in there, just in case something happens, and that night I hadn't seen her with a client.
I stayed where I was and carried on with business, which was very good, but then all hell broke loose. When I looked at the door of the club again, neither of the doormen were there, and people were coming out fast, looking behind them over their shoulders as they poured out onto the street, pushing and shoving each other as they tried to get away. As she ran past me, dodging the cabs, Cleo, one of the working girls and a friend of Gertrude's, shouted that there was a big fight going on in the club. She didn't stop to say more ' her date, a big fat muzungu, was dragging her along by the hand. That was all the news I needed ' as fast as I could, I packed up my merchandise, loaded it all into my wheelbarrow, and got away as fast as I could, dodging away through the traffic. It wasn't till I went back on the Tuesday night that Gertrude told me a bit more about what had happened, but you really ought to talk to her for that, to get a clear picture of what happened inside the place.
You really are more interested in the fight than in my life, aren't you? Well, try and catch that guy Peto, asnd the other coloureds as well ' I don't know who they are, but I am sure they will be able to tell you what happened. That crowd of white people who went in with the Jah-Man, they should also have an idea of what happened. And of course Gertrude ' she will know, she got quite badly beaten in the fight, so she will know. I am sure that if you talk to Phiri, the barman in there, he should be able to point her out. I think she is in there now.