A Resilient Woman in the Rain at the Thu Duc Wholesale Market

SLO – Despite the stormy weather, the street vendors outside the gates of the Thu Duc wholesale agricultural market brace themselves under their umbrellas, waiting for the rain to pass so they can continue their hard day’s work.

The Thu Duc wholesale agricultural market is not just a place for buying and selling produce. This 20-hectare space also provides a livelihood for many precarious workers from all over the region.

Some come here to sell lottery tickets, others to drive motorcycle taxis. Those with a little capital might buy a cart to serve hauling goods within the market. Others set up small makeshift stalls with a few chairs and tables to sell drinks to the laborers.

On sunny days, no matter how hard it is, they don’t complain. But a single downpour can wash away their entire day’s work.

At 2:30 PM, my colleague and I, guided by Mr. L., a motorcycle rider (“lái xe ôm”) with over a decade working at this market, connected with Ms. H., a flower vendor outside the market gate.

Every day, Ms. H. rides her old motorbike with a rack on the back holding around thirty bunches of yellow chrysanthemums and red, orange gerbera daisies. She sells these flowers to passersby, with a white foam board on the back of her motorbike displaying “1 bunch 15” (15 thousand dong per bunch).

Every day, Ms. H. rides her old motorbike to the market gate to sell to passersby.” Photo by Quang Huy.

“Do you sell flowers every day?” I asked Ms. H.

“Yes, every day,” she replied. “I bring my kids to school, then come here to sell at 8 AM. I stay until 9 PM.”

“What do you do on days when it rains heavily? Do you stay home or still sell as normal?”

“I still come out to sell, but business is slower. If I stopped for every rain, where’s the money to live?”

In this vast market, Ms. H. is just one of the hundreds of outdoor workers whose incomes depend heavily on the weather.

“Many times, when it rains too much and I can’t sell, I have to keep the flowers for the next day. But by then, they’re old and customers don’t want to buy them,” Ms. H. shared.

After a few more words, I looked up to see the sky turning ominously gray. The dark clouds seemed ready to burst at any moment.

About two minutes later, a fierce wind kicked up, followed by a heavy downpour. My colleague and I scrambled, unable to find any shelter nearby.

Meanwhile, Ms. H. quickly donned her raincoat and set up a large red umbrella. We helped her secure it to a fixed pole on her bike, then asked to take shelter with her for a while.

The umbrella covered her entire bike and flowers, with just enough space for us to huddle under. But even this broad umbrella couldn’t completely shield us from the relentless gusts of wind and rain.

Amid the storm, Ms. H. struggled to hold the umbrella steady, preventing the wind from toppling her only means of livelihood.

“Days like this are tough, aren’t they?” I remarked, feeling a deep sense of admiration for her resilience.

Her determined figure left a lasting impression on us.

Once the rain let up a bit, we bought a bunch of red gerbera daisies from her, thanked her, and left in our raincoats.

From a distance, I looked back and saw Ms. H.’s silhouette gradually fading in the rain—a small but steadfast woman standing under her red umbrella.

A small woman firmly holds onto the red umbrella.” Photo by Quang Huy.

Beneath that umbrella lies a life of relentless perseverance.

Thuy An