The woman who sells the flag hats
Reflections on a trip to Vietnam
I recently took a three-week trip to Vietnam and Thailand with my wife. It was an incredible, eye-opening experience. Many parts of the trip are worthy of written reflection, but one particular experience continues to surface in my mind. We spent a few days in Hanoi and had great fun exploring the city — winding through streets, eating at food stands, people-watching in the markets, and avoiding waves of motor bikes that never seemed to stop. Our primary activity was simply observing life happening around us — Hanoi is filled with a contagious energy that is hard to put into words.
Many Vietnamese street vendors were selling a variety of items from their Quang Ganhs. A lot of vendors sold fruits. My wife and I would peer curiously into the baskets to try to identify the fruit, buying some when we felt adventurous. Vendors sold many things that we did not want as well, such as hats. We encountered a woman selling hats with the flag of Vietnam on them. ‘Nice hat, cheap price! Nice hat, cheap price!’ she said, over and over again in decent English. I politely said no and continued. She was persistent. ‘Nice hat, cheap price!’ At a certain point, it was just easier to avert eye contact and walk faster. It felt wrong to do this, but also felt like the best alternative for the situation. We saw this same woman several times over the course of the day. She still had her stack of hats to sell each time we saw her.
The next day, we went to several museums, including the Vietnam Women’s Museum. Here, we watched a video that profiled the life of a typical street vendor. Many of the street vendors are women who live in the countryside. They have families to support, and need to supplement their family income, so they come to Hanoi to sell. They stay in Hanoi for 2-3 weeks at a time. During this time, they wake up early in the morning (as early as 2am), go buy their items wholesale, pack their Quang Ganhs, and hit the streets. They sell until their items are gone. Sometimes they get lucky and finish their sales in the mid-afternoon. On a slow day, they may sell late into the evening. When they are done, they go back to their boarding room, which costs 35 cents/night and is shared with other vendors. After 2-3 weeks, they take a bus back to the countryside with the money they have made (usually the equivalent of $20 USD). They give the money to their family, spend a few days at home, and then they head back to Hanoi —the story repeats.
I thought back to the woman who sells the flag hats. She has a story beyond that video — she has a name, she has a family that loves her and depends on her. She has a family that sees her for 2 days every 3 weeks — barely enough time to say hello before saying goodbye again. She recites the same 4 words to strangers every day, only to have most of them avert eye contact and walk faster. She gets up at 2am to do this. This is her life.
It seems like a hard and unfair existence, particularly when I compare it to my existence. I can’t help but think that, for the same price as a dinner, I could enable her to spend an additional 2-3 weeks with her family. Yes, we could argue about cost-of-living differences, average income differences, and other data points. — we can look at an endless amount of abstractions, but I’m thinking about it in the concrete: She is a human being, I am a human being. She has a family, I have a family.
The woman who sells the flag hats keeps surfacing in my mind because I keep asking myself ‘What can I do to help? What levers do I have? How can I help her have a better life?’
A complete answer is still murky to me, but I think the core activity to find clarity is observation. I believe that I have a unique set of skills which can be used for good in the world to improve other people’s lives. I also have a desire to use those skills accordingly. Chances are if you’re reading this, you have a unique set of skills too (do you also have the desire?). One certainty is that wherever you are, if you look for the women selling the flag hats, and you want to see them, they will be seen — because they are always there. If you observe long enough, you will find the intersection of your skills and your passions with their needs. If you fail to observe, it will pass you by — you will not notice this failure, but the women selling the flag hats will.
