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Many immigrants survive at poverty level by selling flowers on streets


By Joel Hood
South Florida Sun-Sentinel

February 14, 2006


West Lake Worth ยท Battered but not beaten, Nemer Morales is living his American dream on a crowded, noisy intersection in western Palm Beach County.

It's a few minutes past 5 p.m. on a recent Wednesday. A stiff breeze whips over the pavement, bringing the sharp smell of burnt rubber and diesel fumes. Cars and minivans rush by.

"It's not easy to be out here," Morales said. "Only the poor man does this, sells flowers this way."

The street light above his head flashes red and Morales hoists four bouquets of roses into the air. He wades across five lanes of frenzied traffic, cars screeching to a halt around him. After two hours on this corner, Morales has yet to sell a single rose.

"What can you do?" he said. "They don't buy, they don't buy."

Most days, flower vendors such as Morales are largely invisible in the larger picture. But on Valentine's Day, demand blossoms and they find themselves on the front lines of commerce.

An immigrant from Nicaragua, Morales, 34, is one of probably thousands in South Florida who make a living selling flowers, food and other items on street corners. The true number is unknown because nobody keeps track of them. Most are immigrants from Latin America. Many do not speak English.

One way or another, they carve out lives here at or below the poverty line, sending whatever extra money they make to their fractured families back home.

"It's a struggle, but not like what I faced at home," said Samuel Rodriguez, 43, another Nicaraguan who sells flowers across the street from Morales.

Each municipality sets its own rules regarding roadside sales. For example, it's illegal to sell flowers on the side of the road in Palm Beach County and Miami-Dade, but not Broward, said law enforcement officials with each county. While Miami-Dade officials say roadside vendors are routinely cited, facing jail time and fines up to $500, that's not the case in Palm Beach County, where they're typically left alone unless they're a danger to themselves or others, sheriff's spokesman Paul Miller said. There's too much else to do.

Hazardous job

About six years ago, Morales and Rodriguez said they left their wives and children in Nicaragua to come to Miami on working visas. They worked odd jobs for several months until a friend turned them on to selling flowers, which in Florida has no offseason. Street vending in Miami is so competitive that the two turned their sights north. For at least the past four years, they've driven 70 miles each way from their Miami homes to the same intersection in Palm Beach County.

The two are friends, they say, but fiercely independent, occupying opposite corners of the intersection. On good days, like those leading up to Valentine's Day, the pair can each sell between 25 and 30 packets of roses for $5 a piece. On bad days, they might sell only three or four. But over the course of a month, they say they each make enough to send a couple hundred dollars home.

For Rodriguez, that's more money than he made in Nicaragua, despite earning a business degree at a local university, he said. The money he sends home is helping put his son, Yader, through college. Like Morales, Rodriguez said he hasn't been home since he left for the United States.

"The life of an immigrant is hard," Rodriguez said, "but it's worth it when I can send money home. I'm proud of it."

Morales said he keeps coming to the same corner because motorists are more likely to buy flowers from someone they see every day.

But the working conditions are hazardous. School buses and diesel trucks emit noxious fumes. Motorists occasionally run red lights or zip around corners without looking. Morales said he has never been injured by a car, but he's careful. Rodriguez, too, has avoided injury but said he once was arrested and spent a night in jail for disrupting traffic.

Lately, Morales said, he's been thinking about taking a different job, possibly laying tile closer to Miami. Behind him, his Plymouth Grand Voyager shows the wear and tear of years on the highway. The back window is clear plastic held in place with duct tape. Morales has two kids in Nicaragua, ages 12 and 6, and a third in Miami, age 5. Tile work might bring in steadier income, he said.

12-HOUR-PLUS DAYS

Most workdays begin before 8 a.m. with a trip to one of the many discount flower suppliers in an industrial warehouse district near the Miami airport. Nearly 85 percent of the flowers sold here come from Colombia, according to the Colombian Association of Flower Exporters, with the remainder from Ecuador and neighboring countries. The flowers are harvested, stored in coolers and shipped overnight to Miami. Hours later, they reach flower shops, supermarkets and the hands of private vendors.

That the flowers and so many of the vendors come from the same part of the world does not surprise Morales.

"We know flowers," he said.

Morales buys flowers in bulk -- red, canary yellow, peach. Then he drives home to assemble the bouquets. He cleans the roses and removes the thorns. He'll roll five together in plastic wrap, making sure not to squish the petals.

It's a process that often takes two hours, Morales said, and is the foundation of a workday that typically ends after 8 p.m.

BE YOUR OWN BOSS

Part of the lure of this work is that Morales and Rodriguez are their own bosses. They set their own hours, make their own deals.

Morales even expanded his operation on this corner, paying others to sell flowers on other sides of the street. One of them is John Fraser, 42, a Chicago native who said he lives in a house not far from the intersection. Fraser has been buying flowers from Morales and reselling them, after he lost his job busing and washing dishes.

Fraser repackages the roses into groups of four and sells them at a discount: $4. The competition, he said, is good for business.

"You get harassed a lot, people yell things," Fraser said, standing on a 3-foot-wide median strip between 10 lanes of traffic. "People think you're homeless ... I have a job."

Across the street, Morales is weaving around cars stopped at a red light, juggling a cell phone with bouquets of roses. The demand for roses leading up to Valentine's Day has pushed the price from about 20 cents per stem to more than 75 cents. That means less profit on every packet.

"It's a living," Morales said. "Some days I get home I'm just so tired. I don't want to come back. But I do."

Joel Hood can be reached at jhood@sun-sentinel.com or 561-243-6611.