The Opa-Locka Flea Market is a place where people come to shop at a cheaper cost. It smells like wet vegetables and old clothing, but it is also a place where you can meet some good people.
I have to admit I dreaded the idea of having to do my listening post at a flea market, especially in Opa-Locka. The area is not one I frequent often.
The first time I set foot there, I felt a little emotional and frustrated. I could not believe I had to do this for school.
I recall making my way through little shops and a diverse crowd of people. Eventually, I found myself in a corner like a puppy with its tail between its legs, telling myself to relax and pull it together. It really was not all that bad. People mind their own business; they come to shop. Some men come to stare at women, but most people were really shopping.
That first time, I only toured the place making my way into the food court.
The food court is a small section with about seven food vendors. There was also a live band on a small stage and two provocatively dressed dancers entertained the crowd.
I took a seat on a deteriorated little bar and ordered a $3.00 Presidente.
Carmen is the name of the bartender. I managed to introduce myself and had a brief conversation about the market and the people that hang out at the food court.
I began to build the courage to engage in a conversation with someone else, but each direction I turned to, men were just sitting there and staring.
I was excited to have found one person at least, but then I realized that Carmen was preoccupied with her customers and did not have much time to converse, and besides, the music was way too loud making it difficult to have a conversation with anyone. She asked me to visit the following weekend and I agreed.
I finished my beer and left.
My second attempt, I dreaded as well. I felt intimidated by a place. I forced myself to get up and made it to the parking lot.
This time I walked in feeling a little bit tough with a carefree attitude.
Throughout my second visit, I found myself smiling at vendors and inquiring about some of the products. I still had not built enough courage to converse with anyone.
I made my way to the food court again hoping I would find Carmen, the bartender. She was not there. The live band was present again and I figured it would be too loud for me to carry a conversation with anyone. I finished a beer and walked through the shops. That is when I met Dania and Ana. The conversation evolved so naturally with Dania. Dania is a woman in her mid-thirties from Cuba. She has been working at the flea market for six years.
She told me that when she first started, people were able to make a living with what they earned here. Her and her husband began to see the decrease in sales three years ago. “Sales have dropped like 60% and the rent keeps going up,” she said.
Ana is Dominican. She is Dania’s ex-sister-in-law. Their shops are right across from each other. Ana lives in an apartment in Miami and inquired if I knew anyone who had a room for rent in Hialeah because she needed to move.
Both women were extremely nice and humble. Ana even invited me to meet her at her second job, Pio-Pio, a Dominican restaurant in Hialeah.
I happen to live in Hialeah, which was great.
I went to visit Ana one week later, on a Friday. I ordered breakfast and looked around casually. Ana spotted me first, but I don’t think she remembered who I was. I refreshed her memory and reminded her we had met at the flea market. I felt a little awkward and nervous. She was nice though. We began talking about the flea market and then she inquired about my life and unfortunately, because she was busy, I was not able to ask her much.
After finishing my breakfast, I said good-bye and told her I would be dropping by again some other day.
I have not been back to the Dominican restaurant, but I went back to the flea market again.
Still smells.
My visit would be a short one this time since I had to work.
This time, my approach was more open-minded. I was not looking for anyone to interview, but I happened to run into George.
George is a 26 year-old male from Cuba. He was nice and friendly. He is part-owner of a furniture shop located at the entrance of the market.
“Sales have decreased too much, but I have another job working for a body shop,” he said.
We were interrupted by a customer who wanted to purchase a couch. George must have given him a really good deal because the customer’s face lit up after he asked for the price.
I will continue to visit the flea market periodically. Throughout the time I have been there, I have met really good people.
The market is organized in its own special way. Most of the shop owners know each other. It’s like a small village. My perspective on the market has changed. I do not judge the place or the people that work there. I have been humbled by my listening post experience and feel grateful to have met such good hard-working people.
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