En masse in masks

THE streets of Port of Spain were abuzz with activity the day after masks became law – Monday – and many complied with the new "dress code."

Hustlers at the side of the road waved to get attention of passing pedestrians, hoping to make a sale. Gold chains, roasted nuts and face masks were all among the items different peddlers pushed.

“Darling, support a businessman,” shouted a masked nuts vendor who stopped roasting his nuts to get the attention of a woman passing by.

Two masked-face mask vendors chatted at the corner of Frederick and Queen Street.

“I’m happy they are making them wear the masks. It’s good for my business.

"People weren’t wearing the masks before. They weren’t listening and weren’t being safe. Now I have more sales,” the vendor said.

Her bestseller was filtered masks.

People wore masks of different shapes, textures, styles and patterns. Most were cloth, but some wore disposable masks. The cloth masks were superhero-themed, tie-dyed, patriotic, monochromatic and more. Many wore masks covering their nose and mouths, but occasionally, someone’s nose was poking over their mask.

With no in-house dining, some people stood and ate in the street.

A woman stood at the side of Frederick Street, huddled in a corner outside Excellence Centre, to eat a doughnut. Her mask was slung over one ear as she hurriedly ate. She wasn’t too sure what was the protocol if the police saw her mask off and eating, and she would rather not find out.

Two security guards walked along Abercromby Street drinking beers, their mask hung under their chins. As guards, their primary job has become scanning people’s foreheads, asking people to sanitise their hands and enforcing the "no mask, no entry" policy.

“I’m glad they made it law. People too harden. I spend whole day asking people to wear their masks. I don’t know why people didn’t wear the masks,” one of them said.

Smokers walked along the street with cigarette in hand, masks under their chin.

Men gathered at a rumshop huddling, outside for a quick drink. Masks slung under their chins, they laughed and talked, their chortles audible from across the road.

The only group of people not wearing masks at all were the socially displaced. Three were making Henry Street their resting place. They lay on lengths of dirty foam sponge in tattered clothes, all unmasked.

Keith Khan’s Bookstore had a strict "no mask, no entry" policy. A salesperson manned the door scanning each would-be customer with a temperature gun, ensuring each one sanitised their hands before entry. The cosy bookstore, on Frederick Street, opposite City Hall, made sure a limited number of people were in the store, workers included, so not too many people were in the space at the same time.

The bookstore has not experienced much activity for the past few months. Typically, it would be packed to capacity with back-to-school shoppers, starting from mid-August. Diligent parents who planned in advance would trickle into the store in July, but the mad rush to get children ready for school was August month-end.

This August, Keith Khan had no such activity. This August, the staff rearranged the store as they typically did, making the schoolbooks the priority, but few people walked in.

The manager figured many people were uncertain whether school would even open in September, and did not bother to buy books. Now that school would be online, parents then decided to buy.

As parents rushed for last-minute school shopping, a bookworm stood with fogged-up glasses perusing the store. She took time exploring every section. Young adult, fantasy, non-fiction, romance, mythology, children’s comics and history. She’s missed bookstores. Typically, she would pass by a bookstore on her way to work and be tempted to buy any book of interest she discovered, but working from home meant no chance encounters with a book store on her path.

She thumbed through each book she held, judging them by the first paragraph and delighted in the new-book smell. She mostly stayed home these days, venturing out only for food. She usually left her glasses home because all five of her masks fogged up her glasses. But that day, she happily read over the fog and made her first physical book purchase of the year.

Any other September 1 before 2020, Bradford Mall on Henry Street would be filled to capacity with parents in a frenzy trying to get their children’s uniforms before the start of term.

This year, the store was empty. It was easy to physically distance, as few parents trickled in. With students doing classes online, and no form one students yet, there was little need to buy brand-new uniforms.

An old man nodded off on a bench at the National Library on Abercromby Street. He was one of the only two people there not wearing a mask. The other was a middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes. Sitting behind the nodding old man, the other unmasked man stared into the distance.

Some drove with masks and others did not. A woman in the front seat of a St James taxi stifled a cough. There were four people in the taxi, driver included. It was a while since she had had anything to drink and she was parched.

She had walked up and down Frederick Street working and did not take off her mask. Usually, she would walk around with a bottle of water. But because she was wearing a mask, she did not stop to drink any.

Her throat became dry and she wanted to cough but tried not to. She didn’t want to frighten other passengers in the car.