Today, everyone who goes to Seaqaqa, for whatever reason, will have to get permission to use the toilet and tap at the police station or a nearby supermarket. “We handle food and cooked meals and we need to wash our hands every now and then but we don’t have a tap.” It’s a pity we don’t have one,” she said, minding a baby in between sales. “As women vendors we need a decent toilet. “We deserve a proper market to sell our produce.”Īnother vendor complained about the toilet situation. The rain comes right through during bad weather and our food and clothes get soaked,” one vendor said. It had practically been in that condition since cyclone Ana in January 2021.Īn aerial shot of Seaqaqa’s business centre today. A gaping roof of torn tarpaulin peeped from above the table. The market was abuzz with the lively chatter of vendors and customers as they gladly exchanged cash for vegetables. Nearby, a crude shelter housed a few vegetable stalls - Seaqaqa’s version of a market and at the end of it was a congested shed that had the semblance of a bus stop. We just need financial support and infrastructure improvement.”Īdjacent to where the team met him between the Natua gas station and the police station, a space that looked like a bus bay had a few mud-splattered buses. “Life here is slow but it has great potential.

The food hawker lives with his brother on a cane farm a few kilometres away from the centre but catches a bus to ‘town’ every morning to sell “bean and peanuts”.

“Seaqaqa is a wonderful place because the people are friendly,” Gyan Deo told The Sunday Times team.

An early photo of Seaqaqa during its formative years.

Dusk and dawn times