I love the beach sellers! The men and women who sell beautiful things on the beach ~ turtles carved out of wood, silver bracelets and earrings, lovely scarves and Mexican blankets. I know most tourists do not share my love. They think the beach sellers are a nuisance. They avoid eye contact, and wave them away.
But I admire the beach sellers’ determination. They have to pay a fee to the government to sell to the tourists. Every day they trudge through the sand, often carrying heavy objects and awkward sacks, hoping to make enough money to feed their families. I enjoy talking to them, looking at what they have to sell, and buying something if I can. Or, I tell them that what they have is “muy bonita, pero no hoy.” (Very beautiful but not today.) I smile and wish them good luck.
My favorite sellers, the ones I can never ignore, are the children who sell in the plazas and restaurants. The little boys and girls with tiny toys and Chiclets for sale. The beautiful girls, who go from table to table selling roses.
Ernesto was a beach seller when he was ten years old. One of my favorite chapters in his story tells of the summer he sold peanuts on the beach and learned to speak English. Here is part of that story:
The summer before sixth grade, I walked to the beach every day on my travels around the neighborhood. One day I saw a grown man selling salty peanuts and sweet bubble gum. He looked tired and sad. His back was stiff as he bent over his tray of peanuts that no one was buying.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “You look tired. Do you need some help?”
The man looked up and saw a boy standing in front of him. “You are right. I am tired and I am old. I’m going to be here all day. Would you like to help me sell some peanuts?”
“I can do that” I smiled. “I am Ernesto. What should I do?”
“Thank you, Ernesto. I will fill these little cups with warm peanuts and put them on a tray for you. Each bag is five pesos. When the tray is empty, come back for more. At the end of the day, I will pay you for being my helper.”
The vendor and I made a good team that summer. He toasted the peanuts on his grill and poured them into tiny paper cups. Twenty cups on my tray. He gave me a quick lesson on how to sell peanuts and how to speak English. I was happy to be a beach seller. It was my first paying job. It was a good job for a boy who was ten years old.
At first the only English phrase I knew was “Peanuts! Peanuts! I have peanuts for you!” Gradually I learned more words that I practiced until they became part of me.
Every morning I set up my tray on a stand under a palm tree and watched for people to flag me down from the beach. Then I would pick up my tray and run across the sand. Most days I earned fifty cents. Once in a while, Señor would give me an American silver dollar to take home to my mother. I was happy to help my family. But mostly, I was happy to work with my new friend, the peanut vendor.
I liked being around the tourists. They were kind and generous. Their happy, healthy faces were a reflection of the ocean to me. They liked to tease me and make me smile. They treated me with tenderness that I had never felt before. The women, especially the American women, said they liked my dark brown, curly hair and soft hazel eyes. They called me comico y lindo ~ funny and cute. Sometimes they called me Honey. They said they wanted to adopt me and take me back home with them. They loved my hustle and my sassy smile.
If you are lucky enough to be on a beach in Mexico, remember Ernesto and smile at the sellers. You don’t have to buy anything, if you don’t want to. Kindness goes a long way.