When you go to a traditional market, it is for two reasons. You either want to sell your horse or you want to buy a gun. That’s in some lawless country.
As you take your half-blind horse to the market, you don’t want people to know. Your horse runs like a lion. A spirited Arabian horse, you say. He has participated in many famous battles and has served his master faithfully. That’s what you have to say to convince the buyer.
“How much?” Asks a potential buyer.
The horseman does not want to talk about the price yet. He wants to sell the qualities and virtues of this horse before he decides to sell the animal. And it all depends on his power of persuasion and argument. With a bit of subtle lie and false honesty, one can even sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo or a heating stove to a Bedouin.
But it is normal to get cheated in a market, in other words to get outsmarted. And you don’t get angry for that. You had been given equal chance with the other man. You had your money, and he had his goods. In the end you let yourself be persuaded or even beguiled by the seller. It was a war of wits, and you lost. But it is worth trying, and in the process you learned a lot.
In mediaval Eritrea, people went to the village market to buy and exchange goods. The market day was more like a holiday, a sort of secular pilgrimage, where encounters with people from different localities enriched the mind and sublimated the spirit. You want to sell the whole world, and expect someone to buy it. Really, the world is a stage and mankind its sellers and buyers.
You want to buy a goat or a sheep for the feats of Meskel? Okay, you go to the weekly-held marketplace chosen by the surrounding villages. You get hold of a sheep or a goat you had been eyeing for some time.
“How much is this one?”
The seller doesn’t automatically tell you the price. He wants to hook you first, and that’s how the bargaining and the haggling starts.
Fortunately, haggling is not completely lost from our tradition. Although modern shops have contributed to the disappearance of the art of bargaining, there still remain traditional markets in Eritrea where one can haggle to one heart’s desire.
Once I went to a market in a certain Eritrean town with my uncle Biniam and wandered about in search of kitchen knives. Finally, we spotted a stand where they sold all sorts of cutlery.
“How much is this,” my uncle asked pointing at a knife that looked like a dagger.
“What do you want it for,” asked the seller.
“Just for the kitchen,” he said.
After being told the price which he thought was a bit expensive, he started haggling. The seller took the knife and brandished it in the sun and asked Biniam to feel the sharpness. He then gave the wooden desk a sharp blow with it, and the knife remained there stuck deep inside.
“That will be 150Nfa,” the seller said finally.
“100 will be enough,” Biniam asserted.
The man began to swear by St. George that he wouldn’t part with it for less than 130Nfa. And then swore on the tomb of his mother that he wouldn’t sell it for less than 120Nfa. And then on his sister’s bones that he would feel sick to see it go for less than 110Nfa. And then he began to narrate about how far he traveled just to obtain such quality knives, and how bad he felt now that he was selling them at a loss.
Biniam left the scene and moved to the next stand all the time perking up his ear to hear the magic words which usually come as a grand finale.
“Okay, come, and take it. I better sell it at a loss than leave it to rust here,” he said before handing the knife to my uncle. Somehow Biniam still felt that the real price was again much lower than what he had bargained for.
Bargaining and haggling are the spices that give flavor to a monotonous life. Just imagine entering a supermarket and leaving the place after 30 minutes without uttering a word. Everything has a price tag and the last thing the cashier wants to hear is remarks about the weather or the rising prices in the town. You just buy and leave.
And now imagine you are in a bazaar in Istanbul and you want to buy a set of silver plates for the missus.
“Marhaba!” will shout the owner of the open shop and then ask you to come in and make yourself comfortable.
“What is it that you want?”
“Do you have traditional silver plates?”
“You have just come to the right place,” and he orders two glasses of tea, one for you and one for him.
He asks you to take your seat and the bargaining has just started.
The idea is that when a seller and a buyer meet, it is like two generals in a battlefield facing each other. Both are armed with words and wits and there is a booty to be had at the end of the ‘war’. The price to win is the object for sale, either as it is or its value.
In the Arabian markets before the advent of Islam, even poets participated in the activities by declaiming their poetry aloud before people. It was normal that some merchants or hawkers tried to use that art in promoting their wares.
And then there are those who sing about their merchandise to passersby. Yohannes is one of them. He would say that his peanuts had come from the moon and that they were a sure medicine against all kinds of ailments and misfortunes including car accidents. People would laugh at these funny remarks and wouldn’t leave without buying.
Sometimes he would challenge them to come and make a profitable buy.
“Okay I will sell the whole lot (about a kilo) just for 20Nfa.” He would say.
And most of the time people bought his peanuts simply because they enjoyed his ‘show’ and he challenged them and shook them off from their slumber.
Once, there was a man who wanted his children to learn the intricate of life in a very strange way. He just gives them some money and asks them to go to any shop and buy him this or that merchandise. He tells them to make the best bargain and win the day.
“Why do you do that?” a friend asked once.
“I want them to be smart and come out winners in the future life,” he said.
He then went on to tell, being able to know while still a child the qualities of the things you are buying, mastering the art of bargaining, learning how to handle the seller who is there to make the utmost profit at your expense, ignoring his beguiling remarks, and promotional offers, etc. enables you to get armed mentally to the face the world in the future.
They say the Orientals are the best diplomats in the world. They are also the best shopkeepers.