We passed each other on the street with people who are still “from the time when brigades came to force people to close all their stores on Labor Day”. But also with those who are not going to march on this 1st of May because of osteoarthritis, “the osteoarthritis no longer allows these walks and I never liked tightness either”: “But nothing against it. Before the 25th of April, the 1st May was just Typographers’ Day, there was no Labor Day here. It’s May 1st, some celebrate by resting, others by marching and others by doing what they do every day – working. Why does it have to be, right?, they ask. It’s rhetorical – and they explain why. Report by Joana Azevedo Viana
Kumar is 65 years old and has lived in Portugal since 1982. When he arrived from Mozambique, he went to live in “the Champalimaud building”, in Praça do Forno do Tijolo, parish of Anjos, in Lisbon. “We had about 14 people living in three rooms. That was a building for returnees [das ex-colónias], I was not returned, but there was a family there who sheltered us for a few months until we found a home.” Years later, in 1993, Kumar opened a grocery store in the same parish – still in operation today, it is always open on May 1st. “We only close on December 25th and January 1st.” When we ask him why, he quickly responds: “Because the people who live here need us.”
The building where the Mozambican of Indian descent was welcomed more than 40 years ago is now abandoned, walled up. Over the decades, he saw the parish transform and go from a strictly residential neighborhood, with all types of families and “more complicated people” from Intendente and surrounding areas living in boarding houses, to a mix of housing, low-star boarding houses , Airbnbs and high-end hotels – and also traditional commerce right next to convenience stores and trendy cafes and restaurants where a ‘latte’ (aka gallon) costs up to 4 euros, frequented mainly by tourists and digital nomads.
As we talk, Kumar’s wife appears with a three-year-old child by her hand, still wearing pajamas, who asked to go “walking with Mita” when she appeared at her door, in the building next door, to deliver her shopping. of the day. “The neighborhood has changed, we have many tourists who only come to buy a bottle of water and two or three onions, not much for the few days they stay here. But we continue to have many regular customers who shop every day, some of whom we take their purchases home to. They have good bread here, it’s not like what is sold in supermarkets now… Look, we don’t even have bread to sell anymore today.” It’s 10:00 and they will close around 2:00, the only difference compared to normal days, when the grocery store closes at 7:00.
A few streets down, the Fonsecas stationery store is also open. Like Kumar, Lúcia Fonseca, 51, never closes her deal on Labor Day. “We have to pay the bills”, she smiles wistfully. “We work every day, including Sundays and holidays, the only exceptions are December 25th, January 1st and Easter Sunday. On Good Friday we are also open.”
Lúcia took over the business in 1992, when it was still operating across the street. “Then, in 2017, we had to move to this space because they were going to build a hotel in the other. I remember the year because I’m from the Pedrógão Grande area and it was when those fires happened.” For decades, this same store belonged to a large Portuguese clothing brand and it was there that Kumar bought the suit he wore to marry Mita during a vacation in Diu (formerly Portuguese India), where both their parents were born.
Lúcia Fonseca lets out a sigh when she explains the demands of managing a stationery store that operates 362 days a year. When we ask if it’s worth keeping the business open this holiday, a mother and teenage daughter go on an emergency mission in search of a scientific calculator, which they find for around 12 euros. The mother pays with a sigh of relief, while lecturing her daughter about “taking care of our own stuff.” On May 1st, the only difference is that the Fonsecas stationery store closes at 7pm and not at 8pm. “But it’s actually fun to work on this day”, says Lúcia, “you can see the Labor Day march there”.
In a few hours, Avenida Almirante Reis will be filled with people for the usual demonstration that has taken place on this day, every day, for 50 years, since the fall of the Estado Novo on April 25, 1974. But for now, the traffic is cut for another reason, no less common: the 1st of May race, which is in its 41st edition, and whose security is provided by dozens of traffic police officers, such as agent Simões. “Look, I’m working because the police don’t take days off”, he smiles as he directs cars, bicycles, scooters and tuk-tuks so that they don’t enter streets closed to traffic or cause disturbances in the race – “it’s a private event, unlike the marches in the afternoon, when it is the State that pays for public security”. And will you also be here at 3:00 pm working on the demonstration? He’s not going but he’s not going home to rest either, he has “another service at 1pm, also private”.
It’s also a working day for Mr. Carlos, 73 years old, Ardina
While we talk, a butcher walks back and forth, up and down the street, on one side and the other of Almirante Reis, in a hustle and bustle delivering orders. For the business, this is a day of great demand. Inside the butcher’s shop, operating on Rua dos Anjos for over 50 years, three men work frantically cutting and packaging meat, answering phone calls, delivering orders to a courier who helps them with distribution.
“Closing on May 1st?” asks one of them, laughing. “Aren’t you working too? Someone has to work”, responds another with a loud laugh. Between serving customers who come in to buy meat, sausages and local cheeses, Pedro, who manages the team, explains that they can’t even close on Labor Day, as in almost all other holidays of the year. “Have you seen what it was like? If we closed, the restaurants and cafes would also have to close…”
This is the case of Capri pastry shop – according to Mr. José, serving customers behind the counter, a “centenary café” owned by Almirante Reis – which, at the end of this morning, is still full of people, with “daily” tickets ready to leave. The menu features the typical bitoques, pregos and bifanas with meat from Mr.’s butcher’s shop. Pedro. “We don’t close on May 1st. There are expenses to pay and you can see: if we don’t serve the people here at Almirante Reis, who will?”
Nearby, between a large chain pastry shop that also doesn’t close on May 1st and a souvenir shop run by Bangladeshi immigrants, also with its doors open, a Brazilian boy driving a tuk-tuk waits for a drink from the agent Simões to be able to take a family of tourists to Graça, when he is questioned by a lady bent over with age.
“Do you know why the street is closed?” he asks. “Look, because it’s May 1st and there’s going to be a march in the afternoon”, she replies. “I’m still from the time when brigades came to force people to close all their stores on Labor Day, a while ago I told some Indians who have a store next to my house that they should close, because otherwise some people will still come to them. men with stones to force them to close.” When did this happen? “After the 25th of April”, he answers us. “But also before, with Salazar, there was no May 1st here, there were still sometimes groups that gathered in the street but there were always PIDE people around to see what they were saying…”
Watching the conversation is Mr. Carlos, a 73-year-old Ardina who has been selling newspapers, magazines and tobacco in this section of Almirante Reis for over 40 years. “I wasn’t always at this kiosk because before there were no kiosks, there was a stone stone behind it. sidewalk and that’s where he worked, that’s how it was, the Ardinas always worked on the streets…” Before finding this “retired part-time job”, as he calls it, Carlos worked at the kiosk full time; now it only opens from 7:00 to 12:00 and May 1st is no exception.
“Before this I was a soldier, I was in Chaves when the revolution happened. I did my military service between 1973 and 1975 but never fought overseas. With the 25th of April, they reduced my service from 36 to 30 months, I finished on March 7, 1975. I have worked here since then.” And it never closes? “I close on the 25th of December and the 1st of January but that’s because there are no newspapers to sell”, he replies with a smile. “I have to have this part-time because retirement alone isn’t enough”, she explains. And in the afternoon, do you plan to join the march? “I won’t, no, because osteoarthritis no longer allows me to walk around and I never liked being held tight either. [risos]. But nothing against it. Before April 25th, May 1st was just typographers’ day, there was no Labor Day here. I think they should celebrate!”