Introduction
✨ This story takes place in Hungary.
When my mom and my younger brother Zolika moved from Budapest to Békés thirty years ago, her income was already quite low. In order to make ends meet and cover daily expenses, she started going out to the local market to sell things. At the time, she had no idea that this wouldn’t just become a source of income—but a way of life, one she remains loyal to even today.
Hard work and perseverance have always been part of her nature, so she decided to give the market a try. She didn’t see it as a hardship, but as an opportunity—a way to support the family while also staying connected with people.
That’s how her market story began, right here in the town of Békés. And it didn’t last just a year or two—it has been going on for three decades now. The market has become a part of her life: a place of work, struggle, joy, and community.
The Old Market
Years ago, the market scene in Békés was much livelier. There weren’t so many cheap Chinese stores, and almost everyone came to shop at the market. It was open every day, and my mom was there every single day.
In the beginning, she sold used clothes, shoes, and household items. She didn’t have a spot in the indoor section—she was allowed to sell only outside, on the ground, alongside Romanian vendors. Even back then, there were good days and bad days, but the money she earned had far more purchasing power than it does today.
Given how difficult her life was, many people offered help. She often received donations of used clothes, shoes, and knick-knacks from people, which she could then sell. Years later, when I was working in Budapest, I also brought her things from my workplaces and friends—things she could turn into cash.
It wasn’t just the daily routine that made the old market memorable. There were also special market days and festive events, such as:
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- St. James Fair (Jakab-napi vásár)
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- St. Lucy’s Day Market (Luca-napi vásár)
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- Palm Sunday Fair (Virágvasárnapi vásár)
These were true market holidays that added color to everyday life. There were often stuffed cabbage cooking contests or baking competitions that anyone could enter.
At these events, folk dancers performed, music played, people celebrated a little, and all the vendors were treated to the food. These lovely old traditions still live vividly in our memories.
The Market Today
Over time, the market has changed drastically. These days, it’s mostly the older generation who go, and only Tuesdays and Fridays are considered “big” market days. Most shoppers come for fresh produce and meats like sausage and bacon.
Whereas people used to come for clothes and shoes too, now those can all be found in cheap Chinese shops. So my mom had to adapt to these changes over the years.
Just five years ago, at the age of 75 (!), she officially registered as a small business owner and took a new direction: she started selling small, everyday household items. Her products now include:
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- Batteries
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- Fly swatters
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- Lighters
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- Pens
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- Hair clips
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- Permanent markers
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- Super glue
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- Bike locks and lights
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- Dish towels
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- And various other small goods
She gets most of these from the wholesale Chinese market on Kőbányai Street in Budapest, where we go from time to time.
By now, she has built a loyal customer base. Some people specifically come back to her—often those she used to sell alongside in the past. They buy not only her goods, but also support her out of empathy, fully aware of how tough life at the market can be, and how hard-earned every single forint is.
She now has a spot at a covered table indoors, secured by an annual subscription. This gives her peace of mind, knowing she can always welcome old and new customers at the same place.
The Challenges of Market Life
My mom is now 80 years old, and even though we live close to the market, every market day is a real physical ordeal for her.
Early mornings: She has to be at her spot by 7 a.m. at the latest—otherwise someone else might take it. Waking up this early is always a major challenge.
Getting there and back: I help her take the goods out in the morning, but if I’m working, she has to get back on her own. She packs everything onto her bicycle and pushes it home with great difficulty. By the time she gets back and climbs to the first floor of her building, she’s utterly exhausted.
Weather conditions: The weather strongly affects her ability to go to the market.
Extreme heat and cold often prevent her from going—if she got sick, it would be a much bigger problem.
Rain isn’t an issue anymore, because she sells in a covered area.
The pandemic period was much harder, since her health was at higher risk.
Despite it all, my mom always finds the strength to get up and go—because for her, the market isn’t just about making money. It’s also about connection, meeting people, and having a sense of purpose in daily life.
The Market as Life and Source of Strength
For my mom, the market is not just a supplement to her pension.
No. It is her life.
It’s the place where:
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- she can talk with others,
- enjoy some social interaction,
- and still feel useful and valued.
It’s also a hub for local news—she hears all the latest happenings in town and excitedly shares them with me at night:
“Guess what happened today…”
If for some reason—bad weather, illness, or something else—she can’t go out, she starts slipping into a depressive mood. But once she’s there, there’s no greater joy than when someone comes back and says:
“You know, that thing I bought from you—
It was so nice!” or
“It came in so handy!”
That feedback gives her the strength to overcome her exhaustion and head out again, time after time.
Respecting a Life at the Market
My mom’s market routine is far more than a habit—it’s a life path that gives her strength and purpose.
Even her cardiologist, who’s treated her for years, always highlights this during checkups:
“It’s admirable that at 80, you’re still going to the market! As long as you keep doing it, you’ll keep on living—because this is what keeps you going. It gives you purpose.”
And when my mom hears that, her face lights up. It feels good to her—not just that customers see and value her effort, but that even her doctor recognizes it.
Because the market is the place that keeps her alive.
It gives her a reason to get up each morning, to push through the fatigue and the struggle.
That’s why I know:
As long as my mom can be at the market, among her customers, in the rhythm of daily life—she will truly be living.
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