Honestly, I cannot tell you how many times we have traipsed through this market...countless times. Every time we have a visitor, we take them to the market because it is such a part of our daily lives. It is an easy way to entertain. You have the mole lady, the butchers, the cheap plastic Chinese toy booth, endless half-assed booths selling this and that, the soap booth, apron booth, panty booth, loads of vegetable and fruit booths, cassette booth, the long line of chicken men, seafood guys, voodoo booths, herb booths, the embroidery booth, the bric a brac booth where we buy our peppers, and then the gut man.
I have stood and observed the gut man and his booth since the very first time I saw it. I know it may seem 'uncultured', but who buys guts? I know all about tripe and tongue and the obligatory pig's foot, but full on real guts? This guy is the dealer for guts. he's got the market cornered. There are no other gut stalls in the market...and in fact, I don't know if I have seen such a gut tradesman anywhere else in this city as far as I can remember.
He's got tongues, assorted feet, stomachs, intestines, brains, livers, hearts, heads, lungs. He is the gut man.
My question remains. Who buys the guts that keeps the gut man in business? Every time I am in the market, he sits alone. Many times I have seen his 'cashier', sitting down with her head in her hands, asleep from the lack of interaction. As Tonya buys vegggies at the opposite booth, I look and watch the sleeping cashier. I have tried time and time again to get a good photo of the guts on display, but i always feel she will wake to see me clicking away. The other times, I happen to do one last glance and see the chicken men watching from their counter and sometimes the fish man staring straight at me. One day, I did manage to snap a few pictures from the bean lady's stall. (see images)
What baffles me even more than who buys guts, is who buys unrefrigerated guts that have sat out all day. They sit there, on top of the counter, so everyone can see, touch and sneeze on them if they please. The flies love it, this is their golf green, so lush and full of proteins and sticky goo. I have looked from across the aisle and seen the edges of guts drying out. they wither up and turn colors. Literally, what life was left in them has now gone away. Still they sit, on an old tray and counter top. I am not sure if it is carelessness or merchandising, but usually the gut man has his intestines draped over the counter, hanging in the aisle. I wonder if kids ever tug on it when they pass.
One day while some visitors were here we were giving them the tour. I asked if they wanted to see the gut man. they did not believe me that guts were on display for all to see. Even Tonya thought I was sensationalizing the stall. The brave tourists said they wanted a closer view. We wound through the aisles and then came to the aisle. We started up and as we got closer, they screeched with horror. They could not believe it. Yes, it was like watching a car crash...they wanted to speed up and get away, but they were drawn to the guts, and found them selves clinging to each other staring as their pace slowed to a heavy plod. In an instant, when they realized they were at a snails pace, another gasp was issued and it was double time to get passed the poor gut man. It was at this very moment when I had a revelation. I myself, had never taken this path, and stood in front of the gut man's stall and looked at it full frontal. I also now understood why, in this brief instant it was obvious from the stench that you were standing in front of raw guts that sit out all day and no one ever chooses them to go home with them. It stunk. It stunk immensely...like rotting guts.
Is this why you never see any customers standing, casually chatting with the gut man? Is this the reason why no one wants to buy guts-because they stink! One has to feel a bit sorry for this field of work. How does one get into this racket? How does one decide to sell guts, rather than steaks? Do you brag to your friends that your dad is the gut man? Is he married? What woman would want to be with a man who peddles guts and comes home stinking of dried intestines and hard tongues everyday. Is this a profession to be proud of? Is he lonely? Does he need a friend? Maybe he likes his solitude. Maybe the gut man is truly happy, happier than us all, and he has all he needs.
Me? I will keep my distance and stand next to the tomatoes and cilantro rather than next to the guts. I hope he is ok and happy, but I will keep my admiration at a distance.
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