A market day

Well my friends, first let me say that I have the true answer to the question of what I said when I was trying to say thumb. And now I can't even bring myself to write the mistaken word. We'd gotten back on the subject because every now and then Marite likes to tease me by holding up his thumb and saying (correctly) "urukumu". And today I said in Kirundi, "I know, I know urukumu, not (the other word)." And there's Marite dying of laughter again. So I turned to Adonis and asked in French, "OK, what is so funny?" Adonis told me in English, "It's a very big sin to say this word" and then in French tried to explain a little more but was clearly too embarrassed to get further than to say it was a word for a feminine thing. "You understand?" he asked desperately hoping I did so he wouldn't have to elaborate. Abashed me said yes I did understand and I said in Kirundi, "Please excuse me." He told me it was ok because it was not my language. Still. So my advice to anyone coming to Burundi: to be on the safe side avoid speaking about thumbs at all.

After workcamp Red and I went shopping with Jocelyn. We both wanted to get some little gifts for friends and family before leaving so she took us first to the object d'art market. It's a couple of little stands grouped together which basically sell little gifts for people to take back to family and friends. Candlesticks and baskets and wooden carved things and jewelry and dolls and painted maps of Burundi and so on.

Now the majority of the things bought and sold in Burundi are bargained over. I've only ever seen fixed prices in the little grocery stores. Everything else is a process and Jocelyn near as I can tell, is a master of said process. I've even seen her bargain down our bus fare and you'd think that'd be a pretty firm standard. So first of all the merchant tells you a price. It is absurdly high (and we've been told that if a muzungu is the purchaser it's extra absurdly high) and Jocelyn laughs. Then she makes a counter offer which seems absurdly low and the merchant laughs or looks insulted. Then there's a lot of offering and counter offering which gets pretty creative as it's not just a back and forth of numbers but suggestions of other things to throw in and then different combinations of those things and explanations of what the things are made of as justification for price and so on. Then when Jocelyn is satisfied she turns to me and asks, "It's ok?" and I say yes and pay. The part that's hard for me to judge is that even the initial (I'm certain) absurdly high price, doesn't seem that high to me because I'm used to thinking in terms of American money and how long I'd have to work to earn that amount. To have any chance of bargaining well, you have to think of it in terms of Burundian money and how long a Burundian would work for that amount.
While Jocelyn was helping Vanessa bargain for something in another stall I tried my hand going solo. I'd been looking at a couple of things and asked how much (en francais). The man told me 25000f (about 25 dollars) for two. I said this was too expensive for me and was about to walk away. (Being about to walk away, I neglected to mention, is a key component in the bargaining processs). The man sighed a little and patiently explained that first I must make counter proposal- the clear subtext being, "Amateur." So I offered what I thought was an absurdly low counter of 15000f. He came back with 17000 and I knew I had not gone absurdly low enough. But again I have to say, 17 bucks for 2 of these things felt like a good deal even though in my head I knew as only the 2nd counter, it couldn't possibly be. So I was thinking about whether to counter back or hold firm at 15 when Jocelyn came in and put an end to my independence. She said many things to the man in Kirundi, ascertained the state of affairs and told me it was time to go. He tried to argue with her and I believe as we were walking out he said he would take my first offer of 15, but it was too late, the master of the bargain was having none of it.

We then went to the main Bujumbura market to look for cloth. We've been to the market twice before but always right at closing when most of the stalls have already been closed and even today we were only 20 minutes from closing so we've still never seen the market at full tilt. I've got to say, almost closed tilt may be enough for me. Picture a huge open building with a very high ceiling, like for example the United Center where the Bulls play. Now, cram it full of tall, narrow wooden stalls arranged in close aisles, with whole rows selling generally the same things so you've got, Shoe Row, Hat & Belt Row, Toiletries Corner, Wine Row and so on through all the things a person could ever need to purchase that can fit in a shopping bag. For bigger items like bikes or furniture there are other, open air markets. At least I've seen those things in other places but for all I know they DO sell them at this market, they'd just already packed up for the night.

Anyway we wove through the crowds past all these things and past the 4 or 5 kids with hydrocephalus who've been parked on blankets along the wider center aisle in hopes of wringing change from the hearts the stampeding consumers. We went to about the center of the market where African cloth and clothing are sold (distinct from the used Western clothes for sale along the outside perimeter of the market). We stopped a moment at one stall to look at some African shirts which Red wanted to get and in a matter moments we were surrounded with men holding up African shirts and saying things like, "Look at this. It's very nice. This is a nice shirt." Then, and I really couldn't tell you how this happened or what set it off but phalanx of women holding dresses came at me and in 1.5 seconds I was wearing an African print sundress over my clothes. They literally dressed me like a doll, six women at once picking up my hands, guiding them through armstraps and then pulling the dress down over me. There was no asking, I hadn't looked at a dress or even entertained a portion of the thought, I wonder if there are dresses here. I looked to Jocelyn and she didn't seem concerned so I decided, "This is just how this goes."

Now this is very interesting because this growing crowd of women do not work together, they each have different stalls selling similar dresses, the styles each a little different and the patterns. Their first job, which is a joint effort, is to convince me that I want a dress in the first place. They've accomplished this step towards this goal, I'm wearing one. Then everyone agrees, "It's beautiful. It's very beautiful. It's good for you this dress." And it works. I came with the intent to buy cloth and now I've shifted into dress buying mode. As soon as they read this in whatever signal I inadvertently send, it's every woman for herself and each one of the now 30 women around me is holding up a dress saying, "This one Miss. This is the dress for you. This is a beautiful dress. Very beautiful. " The lighting is a little dim so I hold up the hem of the dress I'm wearing and ask "Is this blue or black?" I'm told it's blue and I smile. There's a churning amongst the women and now all the women closest to me are holding up dresses that have blue in their pattern. I look more closely at one with a more squared off neckline and the women churn again and now I'm looking at square necked dresses. A woman holds up a dress to me and I say I think it is perhaps trop grande pour moi. All the women with smaller dresses agree and start up a babble towards the women holding large dresses, "Oui, trop grande, elle est petite. This dress, miss, this dress is the size for you." And again I don't know what starts it but someone decides it's time for me to try on another dress so 5 women pull off the one I'm wearing while 5 others hold down my blouse from underneath so it doesn't get pulled off as well and 5 more put a new dress on me and the whole operation takes about 3 seconds and requires not one iota of voluntary movement on my part. Now I'm wearing one of the smaller dresses. The whole time Jocelyn is bargaining and keeping an eye on me and waving some people away and examining the hem and casting aspersions on the workmanship which the sellers as another joint effort wag their fingers at and point to other parts of the hem. She gets a price of 30,000f for 2 dresses. But I only have 22500 with me so then she starts trying to get me both dresses for this price. And here at last a line is drawn, it cannot be done so I buy one- the 1st dress, for 15,000. 1 second later I'm no longer wearing the 2nd dress and the 1st dress is in our shopping bag. And still there are women holding up dresses as me, each of them saying, "This dress, miss, this is the dress you want. For 10,000 you buy this dress." Even though they know I don't have 10,000 left. I guess they wanted me to give back the 15,000 dress and buy theirs instead. I can only imagine how that would have gone over. But it's time for the market to close so we press out with the rest of the crowd and leave cloth buying for another day.

I wanted also to quickly tell this story from this morning. We're on the bus with Jocelyn and I notice that the conductor- who usually has a huge wad of bills of all different denominations has only a few bills in his hands. And as I watch people pay I notice that many people are giving him very large bills- 10,000 and 5,000f notes to pay a 300f fare. The riders had read the situation and were all pulling out their largest bills in hopes that he wouldn't be able to make change and would let them ride for free. He often couldn't make change right away but would take the money and keep track in his head, who he owed what amount and as other fares were paid he'd pass the money in installments to the people he owed. Everytime he got another 5,000f note he'd sweat a little more but he managed to stay ahead long enough to get to the Kamenge market stop where he dashed over to a stall and made change for 2 of the 10,000f notes he'd gotten. The riders knew the fun was over and after that the fares were paid in the usual clumps of 20, 50 and 100f notes. The games people play.