For years now, I’ve been reading about the gradual demise of the arabber; and for years I’ve personally not seen any evidence of this. I’ve seen at least one every day and have always heard a cart being pulled outside my window in the late afternoon for the past seven years. It isn’t that I haven’t believed those who have been singing the death song for arabber culture, it has just been that in my corner of the city, they have been a daily presence since the day I moved here.

This season, though, I have not seen or heard any. I can’t claim to be overwhelmed with a sense of loss over this. Other than being visually cute, arabbers have not had a negative or positive effect on my life. I’m not the world’s biggest produce buyer, and on those occasions that I have bought produce from arabbers, I’ve found them to be uncomfortably pushy while they’ve tried to force four times as much fruit on me than I could possibly eat in a week. I don’t really care for financial exchanges that demand that I yell that I do not need or want anymore of a given product. I can’t really jump on the preservation wagon for them, as if it isn’t financially worth their while to have a flea bitten, broken down old mare drag fruit around in a broken down old cart, I don’t really see the point. After all, they’re businessmen and they’re engaging in a form of capitalism. If it isn’t profitable, what’s the point?

Yesterday, while I was walking to work, three of the most stereotypical looking young thugs (walking slow and trying to look as tough as humanly possible, snarls practically tattooed on their faces, the center one literally wearing a “STOP SNITCHIN!" t-shirt) were walking abreast towards me in the opposite direction. Not being a complete moron, I got out of their way, hugged the corner of the sidewalk, walked as quickly as possible and avoided eye-contact. Just as we were passing each other, Mr. Stop Snitchin’ started yelling something completely unintelligible at me; so of course, I pretended not to hear him and continued walking. Again, he yelled at me, and again, I ignored him. Finally, on his third yell, I could make out that he was asking me if I wanted to buy some fruit... in as aggressive and hostile at tone as he could muster. The way he was speaking to me, you’d think he was asking me if I wanted to be his prison bitch. I glanced towards him, looked half way down the block and saw they had a pickup truck parked, full of fruit, corn and other wares, with a beach umbrella mounted in the center for some old fashioned arabber authenticity. I politely declined and continued to walk towards work.

So arabbers aren’t dying, they’re just modernizing. I’m glad for them, and I can’t blame them. Horses, I am sure, are an impractical pain in the ass. I’m glad to see them living on and updating their business model. But, if I was to give them advise, I would recommend they leave the “STOP SNITCHIN’!” t-shirt at home. I know I’m not going to buy anything from someone wearing one of those t-shirts, and it is probably a good bet many others won’t as well. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he was selling “STOP SNITCHIN’!” t-shirts as well. Maybe those shirts represent 60% of his gross. Far be it for me to tell an entrepreneur how to conduct his business. Long live capitalism and all that.