SHAL­IZA HAS­SANALI

Se­nior In­ves­tiga­tive Re­porter

shal­iza.has­sanali@guardian.co.tt

There is no deny­ing that 72-year-old Gary Julien bears a strik­ing re­sem­blance to for­mer prime min­is­ter Dr Kei­th Row­ley.

Julien’s un­can­ny sim­i­lar­i­ty to Row­ley of­ten draws stares from mo­torists, pedes­tri­ans, pas­sen­gers and passers-by, as he hawks cold drinks and bags of hot nuts while seat­ed on a strip of con­crete be­tween Rail­way Road and Fifth Street in San Juan.

From qui­et­ly ply­ing his trade on the bustling streets to sud­den­ly be­com­ing a fa­mil­iar face in the busy com­mer­cial hub, Julien is liv­ing his best life.

Many have mis­tak­en Julien for Row­ley, who served as the Peo­ple’s Na­tion­al Move­ment (PNM) leader for al­most 15 years.

Peo­ple pass­ing by al­most al­ways do a dou­ble-take, as the two men bear a strik­ing re­sem­blance.

Be­fore the 28 April Gen­er­al Elec­tion, Julien said peo­ple be­gan call­ing him Row­ley.

He was even ap­proached by a group of women who be­gan gy­rat­ing in front of his stall.

“They said they want­ed to take out pic­tures with the prime min­is­ter,” Julien re­called. He oblig­ed. Be­fore leav­ing, Julien said, the women pur­chased all his drinks and nuts.

He proud­ly said that his looka­like im­age has brought him many re­wards, with his cus­tomer base soar­ing and sales in­creas­ing.

Among Julien’s reg­u­lar cus­tomers are politi­cians and crick­eters.

A 20-sec­ond video of Julien went vi­ral on the eve of the elec­tion, cat­a­pult­ing him in­to the spot­light. It showed him ped­dling bot­tled wa­ter on the street, while a voice in the clip asked if he was Row­ley.

The next day, Julien said, near­ly every ve­hi­cle that passed his vend­ing spot stopped to get a clos­er look—some even snapped pho­tos and took videos of him. Now, dri­vers reg­u­lar­ly honk their horns to get his at­ten­tion or send a friend­ly wave.

Up close, Julien bears a strik­ing re­sem­blance to Row­ley, with a sim­i­lar jaw­line, eyes, nose, lips, and fa­cial struc­ture. They al­so share a sim­i­lar height, com­plex­ion, and both wear spec­ta­cles. Julien, like Row­ley, is bald—but usu­al­ly hides it un­der a red base­ball cap.

Julien pulled out three pho­tographs of him­self in his younger days, show­ing he shared no re­sem­blance to Row­ley. His fea­tures, he said, be­gan to change about five years ago. He said that as he con­tin­ues to age, the re­sem­blance has be­come more pro­nounced and no­tice­able.

“They call me Row­ley right through. Row­ley straight, be­cause if you re­sem­ble some per­ma­nent fig­ure, you will take it as a plus and run with it,” Julien said.

Many peo­ple of­ten ask Julien if he’s re­lat­ed to the for­mer prime min­is­ter.

“Oth­ers would ask if I come from To­ba­go. Some would say, ‘Gosh, you look like Row­ley in truth.’ It’s just a Tri­ni thing, you know,” a smil­ing Julien told the Sun­day Guardian dur­ing an in­ter­view on Tues­day.

Those com­ments bright­en his day.

“Every day I am hap­py right here just meet­ing peo­ple and hear­ing their com­ments. I get a lot of good vibes out here,” the fa­ther of four said.

“You know, a lot of peo­ple come and they say, ‘Let me buy some­thing from the prime min­is­ter,’” he said with a laugh.

As Julien spoke about his life as a street ven­dor, dri­vers slowed down to of­fer warm greet­ings and words of en­cour­age­ment.

“How yuh go­ing, boss? Every­thing good? Glad to see you out as usu­al. Don’t give up the fight,” one mo­torist en­quired from Julien, who ac­knowl­edged the dri­ver by nod­ding his head up and down.

Two min­utes lat­er, an­oth­er dri­ver shout­ed from his ve­hi­cle, “Row­ley, give me a cold bot­tle of wa­ter dey,” while hand­ing Julien a crum­pled $5 bill.

Shad­ed be­neath an um­brel­la, Julien let out a hearty laugh as he reached in­to his ice cool­er for the drink.

While most of the com­ments have been re­spect­ful, Julien said that af­ter the elec­tion, one man threat­ened to shoot him be­cause of his re­sem­blance to Row­ley.

He not­ed that while some peo­ple sup­port Row­ley, oth­ers are crit­i­cal of him.

“They are still car­ry­ing bag­gage.”

Julien de­scribed Row­ley as a good man who did a lot for the na­tion.

“And I be­lieve he is the right man for this time we’re liv­ing in to run this coun­try.”

He added, how­ev­er, that Row­ley’s biggest fault was not pay­ing at­ten­tion “to the down­trod­den, to those that helped put him there. I think he went a lit­tle off-key and that frus­trat­ed the pop­u­la­tion to some de­gree.”

That frus­tra­tion ul­ti­mate­ly led to the PNM’s de­feat by the UNC in the gen­er­al elec­tion.

Look-alikes with very dif­fer­ent lives

What sets both men apart?

Julien, who grew up in Laven­tille, is a crick­et fan, while Row­ley, a To­bag­on­ian, is a golf lover.

While Row­ley, 75, is hap­pi­ly mar­ried to his wife, Sharon, Julien, by con­trast, is di­vorced.

Julien said he loves his job, stat­ing that if he can earn an hon­est dol­lar as a se­nior cit­i­zen, the younger gen­er­a­tion can do the same.

“I am out here to be an ex­am­ple. Let the young man out there look at this old man and say, ‘Yes, you know, if he can do it, we should be able to do it.’ Give it a try.”

He spends nine hours dai­ly in the blis­ter­ing sun or rain to earn an hon­est liv­ing.

His pa­tri­o­tism and love for the coun­try were ev­i­dent. Em­broi­dered on his white shirt was the T&T flag.

Af­ter re­tir­ing in 2010 as a lab tech­ni­cian at an oph­thal­mol­o­gy busi­ness, Julien be­gan sell­ing in San Juan.

He proud­ly re­called fit­ting cor­rec­tive lens­es in­to the frames of three for­mer pres­i­dents—Maxwell Richards, ANR Robin­son, and Sir El­lis Clarke—who were cus­tomers of the es­tab­lish­ment.

De­spite 43 years of ser­vice, Julien said he re­ceived no sev­er­ance ben­e­fits from his em­ploy­ers. With sup­port from a union, he took the com­pa­ny to court, and the case re­mains pend­ing.

“Every year they (union) telling me to hold on, I will get it (the mon­ey).”

Frus­tra­tion led Julien to be­come a ven­dor—a choice he doesn’t re­gret.

He said he hopes to meet Row­ley in per­son one day.