When life gave rahman lemons and $150, he made a fruit stand

Rahman Md’s day starts early, and his night ends late. So he spends a lot of time standing. He laughed, calculating it his head. 

“It's like 12 hours every day– at least 10 hours. So, how many hours I stand one month? 300 hours. And one year, 3600 hours. So every year, I stand 3600 hours.” 

He grinned again, and turned back to the stream of customers approaching his corner store on the corner of 147th and Broadway, from the 1 train to upper Manhattan offloading from 145th Street.

As the evening buzz streamed by his shop, Md handed out free bananas to kids, and switched between, “Hello friend!”, “My friend!”, and Amigo!” for the familiar faces studying the latest fruit, giving each a big, generous smile.  He weighed tomatoes for a customer before addressing them in Spanish, “$5. Four for you.”

Despite his cheery demeanor—after spending a decade in the fruit business since coming to New York City from Bangladesh in 2011— Md, 48, has just about had enough. He’s thinking about closing ‘The Mango House.’

The tiny fruit store sits on the bustling corner of 147th and Broadway. Boxes of bananas, pears, and pomegranates loop the avenue, and onions, potatoes, and garlic continue down the sidewalk. Md has another fruit stand on 124th and St. Nicholas. It’s on the heels of Columbia University and there’s a new Whole Foods three blocks down– so he has a little more wiggle room with the prices.

“One banana like 75 cents, and grape like $5 per pound, $4 per pound.” He said, referring to Whole Food’s prices. “So all the time they come to me, because they get it cheap, you know?”

In general, the fruit industry runs on a tight margin. It’s one reason Md’s thinking about closing up shop now. Originally, the cheap rates were what got him into the market, back when he didn’t have much money to work with.

Md left his hometown of Rajshahi, Bangladesh after winning a diversity lottery in 2011. There, he said, he had received a masters degree in economics, and was the principal of a school. Though it hasn’t been easy since he arrived, he hasn’t looked back since. His mom is planning to visit for the first time this summer, but in his decade here, he’s never made the trip. He says he’s too busy with his businesses. 

When Md first arrived in New York, he said he had six jobs in six months– stints at the restaurant ‘Papaya’, one at a hardware store.  He decided he had to work for himself. He said he likes to try to the best of his best ability and give everything his all. He found working for people suffocating.

At the time, Md had $450, and rent was $300. He said with $150 of working capital, he opened his first fruit stand in June of 2012. 

 He worked about 20 hours a day there, but he was glad at least to work for himself–and without coworkers, who he said slowed him down. Still, he had bigger plans: to open a grocery store. So he had to expand. He ended up employing staff for a fruit store.

The Mango House is open 24 hours. He said that’s because there’s not enough space to pack the heaping boxes of produce lining the sidewalk outside into the narrow pocket of the interior store – which is already piled high with produce below shelves of instant ramen, paper towels, and eggs. Since it doesn’t all fit inside the store, Md said it’s easier to just never close the store.

It’s not easy to make ends meet. Md said, unlike grocery stores, restaurants, or other industries, customers haggle–a lot. The constant debates over ten, twenty cents has worn him out. Md doesn’t make much for his fruit in the first place.

“Only [when] they come to buy the fruit. Banana- ‘Oh can I have a less price?’ Apple, ‘Two for three?’” he said.  “But fruit and vegetables is better for the human life. It's more important than other food. But when they come here, they like to buy very, very cheap.” 

One man came in to check out the refrigerators holding the basics. He asked, “$3 for eggs?” 

 “That's cheaper than most!” Md replied.

Princila Garcia, a long time friend from the neighborhood, and a part-time employee at the shop, said – Md never changes his prices based on his neighbors. Sometimes she said she’ll tell him avocados are very expensive now at the stores, but he keeps his rates based on the market. 

His block, between 147th and 148th on Broadway, is covered with gray scaffolding until Broadway reaches a Dominican market clothing stores– with racks full of t-shirts for three dollars, and red, white, and blue bunting.

On the sidewalk just across 147th Street, on Broadway, a fruit stand set up shop recently.

Though Md’s coworker Garcia urges him to check out the newer fruit stand to compare prices and set ups, Md said he never does. He rarely leaves the store.

Still, though Md contends it is that fruit stand that feels competitive with him— he pointedly commented that they are just a stand, whereas he has an indoor space, heating, AC, and staff. He also has refrigerators with milk and eggs and other basics. He also pointed out that on a cold day recently, the outdoor vendors' shelter blew over, and they spent the day weathering the elements of a harsh day. And while he claims he doesn’t feel threatened by their parallel set up, Garcia said once when Md saw her chatting to the workers from that fruit stand, he inquired afterwards why she was talking to his enemy.

Though Md’s built his business up over time, he said he’s tired of the endless haggling of prices with passerby’s. He gave me a big smile. Then, he said,

“I made a pretty bad choice my friend.” He kept smiling. “I wasted a decade of my life,” he said.

Md’s hoping to switch industries. He’s planning to take classes to learn how to be a mechanic, who makes hundreds of dollars off little repairs. 

As it got later, more regular characters came by. 

 A lady entered with drawn-on eyebrows and a short pixie cut came- with a habit of bargaining. “Look, she has a big business,” Md said, before pointing to her beauty store across the street on 147th, that she had just come from. “You go to her, she charge $100. But when she come here, she don't like to pay.”  He laughed.

She protested, but soon agreed to pay $5 for three avocados.

The charade repeated as the night wore on, with reluctant protests over prices before reaching compromises. 

“You know what, I give advice– because this guy [is] nice, but cheap, cheap, cheap.” Md said, after a customer had left. “So I told him okay, you don’t have to buy nothing. You have to eat nothing. Because when you feel hungry, you open the wallet. You eat that.”