The level crossing at the intersection of Main Reef and Roodepoort roads, west of Johannesburg, might seem an unlikely site for a 24-hour fresh-fruit market driven by market mammies from Mpumalanga.
But the 20-odd women know their market — they’ve set up shop on the main taxi and bus route to Soweto from central Jo’burg. When trains stop the traffic, they’re in business.
From December to March, it’s mangoes, brought in trucks in huge scarlet and golden mounds from the fat pastures of Nelspruit. Then it’s avocadoes, and in winter, oranges.
Forty-six-year-old Sarah Nkosi, a single mother of three, started selling mangoes at the intersection in 1999.
The previous night, Nkosi stopped trading at 2.30am. She and the other merchants sleep in a warehouse rented from a nearby building supplier for R1 000 a month.
As the white owner has strict moral standards, their five or six male helpers sleep in the open. The younger men and women are responsible for protecting their elders from thugs and for organising firewood for night-time bonfires.
“This morning we were late — we started at about 10am, not the usual 6am,” says Nkosi, carefully removing mango fibres from between her teeth.
They continue to sell at night because there is nothing to do after a long day except sleep. “When business is slow, we just sit around the fire and sell to the few motorists who pass at night.”
She buys about 20 crates of mangoes every two weeks from farmers in Nelspruit who sell to the mammies at discount prices. “I buy a large crate for R50 and a very large crate for R60.”
Despite what appears to be a brisk trade, she still finds January a difficult month “because people are broke from all the December spending”.
A major cost is transport. “I pay between R500 and R650 to transport the mangoes to Johannesburg, depending on the number of crates.”
Nkosi says the money she makes at the intersection supports her and her three children back home. “I’ve never worked before — employment is scarce in Nelspruit. But the money I make here is enough to buy my children mealie-meal.”
At 29, Nomsa Themba is one of the younger merchants. “Back home, everybody has enough mangoes to last them the whole harvesting season and there are no employment opportunities,” she points out.
“I prefer being a hawker here in Jo’burg than staying at home doing nothing, like some of my friends. Most young women my age end up being prostitutes or dating ‘sugar-daddies’. Some even fall pregnant on purpose to qualify for government social grants.”