INSP

‘Fedél Nélkül’ vendor Aranka Halmi: “Sometimes things go sideways, but my take is that it’s all good”

BY ZSÓKA POLÁK

Aranka Halmi has been working as a vendor at Hungarian street paper Fedél Nélkül since 2020, and she splits her time between pitches at Etele Square underground station and Móricz Zsigmond roundabout in Budapest. Fedél Nélkül heads out to meet her at work to find out more about life as a vendor, selling a street paper much like The Contributor.

Fedél Nélkül: You are a splash of vivid color on the street and, what’s more, you’re quite a unique phenomenon among the vendors! When people buy the paper from you, they also get a show because you play the flute too, right? How did this routine develop? What came first — playing music or selling the paper?

In the past, I couldn’t find work, so I went out to sing in the street. Then after a while I could no longer sing: a piece of bacon went down the wrong pipe and slid between my vocal cords. This made my voice as high as a fairy tale character; the ambulance driver thought I was messing with him! I was not messing around; it had to be removed surgically, and I could barely speak for two years. My voice will never be the same as it was before the surgery, but I can perform a song or two again. Then I set out to play the flute, which didn’t work at all, so I enrolled in the District VIII music school. I’ve been going there ever since, once a week. Then it turned out that, besides playing music, I could also sell newspapers. That’s how Fedél Nélkül came into the picture.

What do you see as the charm and significance of the papers sold by the homeless?

Fedél Nélkül is awesome because it introduces people to the “cream” of the homeless, through whom they get to see that their existence doesn’t just mean that they wander the streets, pissing themselves, and being raggedy. A lot of people live in housing deprivation. To some extent, the paper raises awareness that many talented individuals are, in fact, living in the streets. They are down and out for some reason, people whose lives took a wrong turn — but they haven’t given up. They have refused to fall apart completely, and instead they fight. It makes me especially happy that street papers are a way that people learn that, yes, these individuals are homeless but, no, they don’t let themselves go and instead they make something out of nothing.

What do you get out of being a vendor?

This is the other thing that makes me love working in the street. People come up to me: they trust me for some reason, they start telling me their life stories, and they are waiting for my help — for us to find a solution together. I had a customer who complained a lot, and he visited me for half a year, just as one might see a psychologist. After a while he disappeared; he didn’t come again. Years later, he walked up to me and asked if I recognized him. “I’m the boy you helped,” he said. This is a second vocation for me — it’s a kind of spiritual aid service.

You clearly really value the feedback you get directly from your customers; recently, however, you were also recognized by your colleagues, when you came second in the Vendor of the Year category. How does it feel to be there among the best?

I don’t want to be first, and I don’t strive for that. I didn’t even expect to be nominated by anyone! It’s like when I used to do sports; I didn’t compete to win, I just simply did. I am not the competitive type. When I received the award, it showed that I’m not just a lame duck: I’m a top vendor who does her job well, and whose work is acknowledged. That does feel good, but I never think about rankings, about defeating others.

Even though you have had to overcome great hardship in your life, it is quite rare nowadays to see a person with such a positive and life-affirming radiance as you exude. What is your secret?

To tell you the truth: I hate complaining. Sometimes things go sideways, but my take is that it’s all good: the sun shines, the rain falls, the sky is blue, the grass is green, the plants grow, the animals live, the children are cute. It is violence that I loathe. War. I couldn’t even slaughter a chicken — I am emotional, I respect life very much. It would be nice if politicians would play chess instead of war, and then people wouldn’t need to get shot. I feel the same about abortion, except no one is horrified by the fact that the fetus is ambushed with an instrument, while it’s trying to protect its little life. I am certain that this topic hits so close to home for me because I experienced it myself: I, too, was aborted by my mother, yet I survived. Perhaps because I was meant to help others.

Translated from Hungarian via Translators without Borders. Courtesy of Fedél Nélkül / International Network of Street Papers