The Bargain

We had a mission: obtain appropriate attire for the big soccer match between Senegal and the Ivory Coast.

And in Dakar, there's only one place to go when you need to buy, well, anything you can imagine really: Sandega Market.
A couple friends, Luke and Kelly, and I set out from WARC. The driver of the  cab we hailed gave us the usual line, "Traffic is so bad in that part of town. I can't take you for less than 2500 CFA." We push in return for a more reasonable 1500 CFA and he feigns offense . We turn to walk away, another cab will be along in a matter of seconds we explain, but he calls us back and we pile in.

There is, of course, barely any traffic on the way to the center of the market. The driver drops us off in the central intersection and we are immediately swallowed up into the crush of bodies. The arrival of a group of Toubabs attracts some attention from new friends.

"Hello, my friend, Madame American!"
"Come see my shop, it's just here!"
"You need fabric/shoes/jewelry/souvenirs/chicken/coconut/spices? I'll give you a good price."

The trick is to never stop moving. You need to propel yourself with enough speed to outpace the sales pitches coming from all sides yet give yourself enough time to check out the wares out of the corner of your eye. We dart into the depths of the market and make a few quick lefts. Our herd of friends has thinned slightly and we're left with two friendly Senegalese gentlemen who are offering to show us around the market. Their pitches aren't too aggressive and a sidelong glance between Kelly, Luke and I agrees that their presence will be tolerated. It's practically impossible to find one's way through the market without a guide anyway. We reveal that we're looking for jerseys and our entourage whisks down an alley and directs us to a small stall that turns out to be owned by a good friend of our guides. Quelle coincidence!

Now we begin the real game. Poker faces on, everyone. The vendor has what we're looking for but we all feign disinterest. The ability to walk away is our best card but its strength depends on our acting abilities.

"Only the green ones, really? I suppose that could do."

We inspect the quality of the definitely totally completely legitimate jerseys and admit we're interested in buying a couple. Luke takes point on the negotiation, Kelly and I assume the role of tactical support.

The vendor causally tosses out his price, clearly hoping we're new enough not to haggle: 30 000 CFA ($60 USD) for the pair.

We don't have to fake our shock. "Mon Dieu! We're students! We don't have money like that!"  Luke throws in enough Wolof to show we're not fresh off the plane. This earns him 20 000 CFA as the new price.

Luke counters with a low ball offer of 5 000 CFA and now it's the vendors turn to pantomime a cardiac episode. Surely we're trying to bankrupt him! He leans into Luke and speaks in hushed tones saying if we keep this price to ourselves, he could let us go for 10 000 CFA.

Luke responds with 7 000 CFA, final offer. The vendor shakes his head. Kelly and I turn to leave ("C'est dommage!") strengthening Luke's bottom line.  One step away, two... the vendor sighs heavily and gives in.

Suddenly we're all the best of friends. Backs are patted, hands shaken. We hand over our money and promise to return soon. Ba beneen yoon!

Similar scenes play out at our next stops and we fall into the rhythm of the banter. We each take turns playing this game with the vendors, becoming more comfortable with the theatricality each time. Mock offense turns into generosity because we're students, because we're clever, because this vendor loves Canadians, because he can tell we know quality, because surely he's seen us before. I even get a discount for, if I understood correctly, having to eventually spend 9 months carrying a child. Turns out that's worth about $2 USD off some pants.

On our end, our disinterest always yields, our bottom lines always give slightly if our conditions can be met. Well if you hem that for me right now, if you promise this is your best quality, if you find this in another size.

And as long as the vendor calls us back before we get too far away, we'll eventually part as the best of friends. "Mon ami, mon ami, Jërëjef!" Until next time my friend, until next time.




PS On the off chance the Senegal/Ivory Coast game makes news: I was at the stadium but left as soon as the crowd got rowdy and am totally and completely safe and sound.