Walking around a Jos city block, a day after Democracy Day

This Wednesday, while in Jos, I walked by the market. All the stalls were gone. The traders were sitting under the sun, their vegetables covered by burlap. Dalhatu Umar, the Chairman of the vegetable market told me that three weeks ago, the Jos Metropolitan Development Board told them to take the shops down. Malam Dalhatu, […]

This Wednesday, while in Jos, I walked by the market. All the stalls were gone. The traders were sitting under the sun, their vegetables covered by burlap. Dalhatu Umar, the Chairman of the vegetable market told me that three weeks ago, the Jos Metropolitan Development Board told them to take the shops down. Malam Dalhatu, 62, was born in Jos, and has been selling vegetables from his family farm since he was ten years old when his father taught him the trade. He started his career on Ahmadu Bello Way in Jos, and has been selling vegetables in this market for 21 years. He is eager to rebuild his shop according to government regulations as, currently, the vegetables spoil quickly in the sun and the rain. “We thank the government for giving us this place to stay,” he said. “If they give us permission to build, we will look for money to build.”

Sani Auwal d’an Mati, the youth leader at the market, described to me how the traders contribute to a fund at the end of every day. If one of them is sick or has an emergency, they receive assistance from the fund. Sani, 25, started coming with his father to sell vegetables when he was eight or nine. He said that his father, who was born in Plateau State, had been selling at that location for nearly 50 years. Before the stalls were torn down, Sani said, the produce would keep for three to seven days. Now because the vegetables are sitting in the sun, they spoil within a couple of days. At night and when the rains come, they cover the produce with plastic and burlap sacks. Now they keep most of the fruits and vegetables in storage houses on their farms and only bring a few items at a time. Sani is proud of his state of birth and of his profession. “God has blessed Plateau State. People come from many different states to buy our vegetables.” Despite the difficulties the sanitation exercise has caused, he said, “We are grateful to the government because they want to beautify the city.” He emphasized that they were ready to build their shops using materials required by the JMDB, and he hoped they would soon be given permission to rebuild. “We are praying for the government and that God will bring peace.”

Most of the other traders had similar stories.  Muhammad Ismail Umar, 23, who sells seedlings for herbs, spices, and fruit trees, said his father had his shop for about 35 years. Salihu Khamis, 25, said his father also started the shop about 35 years ago but now focuses on farming while Salihu runs the shop. Musa Musha Dariya, 35, is a comedian with Lion Film Production in Jos and also a Literature student at Abubakar Tatari Ali Polytechnic in Bauchi. He comes back to Jos to sell fruit in his brother’s shop during school breaks. Jamilu Muhammad, 30, also occasionally acts in films. But his full-time job is selling lettuce, cabbage, mint, zogali and other vegetables alongside his elder brother. He told me that it would have been much easier if the JMDB’s sanitation exercise had happened during the dry season because the rain makes the produce spoil more quickly. Like the others, he is eager for permission to rebuild.

After I passed the market and rounded the corner, I noticed that about three trees had been cut down in front of the old colonial building that is now a Union Bank. A girl standing close by volunteered her thoughts, “I think it’s terrible that they cut the trees. They were a source of shade, and people would come after a day’s work to relax on the benches under them. It’s hotter now,” she said. “They said they wanted parking for Union Bank, but there was space for parking without cutting the trees. I don’t think the government is aware they have cut them.”

Two men passing by, Solomon Labar, a retired Nestle company worker, and his brother Nanjul Labar, an immigration officer, added their opinions. Mr. Solomon said that he believed that the trees should be trimmed over the road but not cut down entirely. In regard to the JMDB exercise, He pointed out that zinc shops gave the city an ugly appearance but agreed that the owners of makeshift shops “are poor and it’s the only way to make their livelihood.” He suggested that government find another place for them. His brother Mr. Nanjul agreed that zinc shops were ugly but he believed that if shop-owners who owned containers were paying taxes it was wrong to remove them, especially as they were bringing revenue into the government.

As I continued up the road, I was dismayed to see a two-room wooden shop near the UBA Bank had also been demolished. Abdullahi Muhammad, one of the men who helps run the family business, is a recent graduate of Management from the University of Jos with a wife and a child to support. He told me the shop had been there since 1993. It was recently looted and vandalized following the February bomb at the COCIN church. He narrated how he was still at home when he heard about the bomb. Not long after, he received a call that the shop had been vandalized. Arriving later, they found over three million naira worth of merchandise looted and their freezers and refrigerators destroyed. They began to rebuild. A few weeks ago, they were given three days notice to take down the shop. “Before, many people were benefitting. We had diabetic customers because we sold unleavened bread without sugar and other sugarless items,” Abdullahi said, “But now, we have no space to sell it. We only sell kilishi now.” He said that they were law-abiding citizens. They paid taxes and removed the shop when given notice. But he advised that before the government took action, “let them think twice about how it will affect people. The government is supposed to be by the people, for the people, and of the people. I don’t go against them, but there should be fairness.”

I finally rounded the corner in front of First Bank, where across the street a row of old mango trees have recently been cut down. Matthias Nshem Hata, Acting General Manager of the JMDB says the trees were removed for road expansion. The fruit sellers, who used to sit under the trees, remain. They have fashioned seats out of logs and sit under umbrellas that they drape with plastic when it rains. “Eat, Talatu,” one trader said, gesturing at his fried yam and stew. Another insisted that I have some of his tuwon shinkafa. They told me the house down the street that had been burnt after the COCIN bomb had been rebuilt and the women are back to selling food again. I sat with them on the log, as the rain clouds grew dark overhead, and ate the food they offered me.