Kenya 2023: Chapter 3 – When in Rome…

Shopping in 2019.

The Maasai market moves around Nairobi each day, bringing with it the dozens of vendors and thousands or millions of items with it. Jospat was my guide, Greg got another man named Harrison. We wandered aisle after aisle and booth after stall looking at things to buy. We were pulled in different directions, a tactic the hawkers use to manipulate us into buying and drive the prices higher, but we were experienced in the game. Part of our approach was not to have too much cash visible, so we both stashed money in socks and pant legs, with minimal cash in our wallet. The guides are extremely savvy and cunning, and they sweet- talk you and fast-talk you into picking the best things. We looked at blankets, shirts, painting, carvings, earrings, backpacks, hats, drums, masks, bracelets, necklaces, metalwork, woodwork, stonework, and beadwork. There were food stalls, blanket shops, and big displays of curios, trinkets, and tchotchkes. If you can imagine a souvenir, they have it. Ed tried his hand at Swahili, but with limited effect. Either they were playing games to try to make him feel dumb, or they were speaking other languages, perhaps Maa or Kikuyu. For example, Ed’s request for a purple blanket in Swahili “Je una blanketi ya zambarau?”, was met with blank stares and confusion. He struggled to make out the conversations around us, only catching a few words here or there, which made him start to question my learning the language at all. Our guides each have a sidekick, someone to hold all your wares until negotiations start.

Once again, we were separated for the negotiations, but unlike last time, we kept a close eye on each other and I did not leave him alone in the market. During the negotiations, the hawker will write down a price, typically very high. You write your counter-offer, crossing out their number. This repeats until you either reach an agreement or, as they say, “walk away as friends”. 

Playing the Game, 2023.

From Ed:

Jospat and I started the haggling in American dollars. We started with a Tusker shirt. He wanted $35, I suggested $25, we agreed at $30. A shirt for dad started at $75, I pushed to $30, he pushed to $50. I played hardball at $40, and we ended at $45, which I think is still reasonable. The two blankets (the kind the Maasai wear) are readily available, mass produced, and generally cheap ($10-20 for the cotton and double that for wool). He wanted $120 for two blankets and I declined them entirely knowing that we would not come anywhere close to the actual value. His assistant, Macau, insisted his father made the blankets, but I stayed put. We indicated to them numerous times that we would likely be back the following day, so I insisted that I would think it over. I skipped some banana leaf paintings in favor of a canvas oil print (that Jospat insists he did, but are all over the market and in other souvenir shops in the country). I can’t fault him, he’s trying to provide for his family, but the pricing is often so outrageous it can be off-putting. I pushed the canvas print from $150 to $30 and we settled at $40. In total, we agreed on $125. And although the price was still very high, I felt somewhat victorious that I had held my ground on a few items and pushed hard to get the pricing down. Last time, they had continued to vie for our purchases right to the very end, at which point they reached liquidation prices, so I had hope that I could still get what I wanted at rock-bottom pricing. I had placed my American money in a secret compartment in my pant leg, so I only had Kenyan shillings in my wallet and only $10,000 (which is about $71 American). I resisted their efforts to take me to an ATM or use their card reader with the “my cards don’t work here, I need to call the bank” song and dance. I offered to see what Greg had. He was only able to offer another $1,000 shillings and Jospat grudgingly took what I had with the intent to collect the remainder the next day.

 Greg shelling out cash on the streets in Nairobi, 2019.

From Greg

I picked out a few items to bring back as gifts: some earrings, a small backpack, and a piece of art. After Ed and I had seen enough and were ready to negotiate we each sat down with our respective hawkers within sight but separated. Harrison wrote down a ridiculous number. I tried to offer up a NYC tumbler as a bartering chip a few times but he wasn't interested at all. We went back to talking straight cash. The bulk price was way too high. I decided I would work this one item at a time. We started with the earrings. I figured the best way to get these guys to be more flexible was to play dumb, to make them feel like they were winning, so I paid full price for the earrings. I gave the guy the cash which quickly disappeared into his pocket and he moved to the next item.

“Woah woah woah, where's the earrings?” I asked him. He told me that we would go through the rest of the items before he gave me anything. “No no no no no thats not how I do things. Dude, I’m from New Jersey. In New Jersey I give you money, you give me the thing I paid for. That's how that works you have my money, now give me the thing.” His response was kind of amusing: “This is how we do this you know, sometimes in Rome you need to eat like Romans” 

“Yea well we aren't in Rome now are we? So I don't do any more negotiating until I get the earrings.”

He very begrudgingly handed over the earrings.  We moved on to the backpack. I only had maybe $20 American and $2,000 shillings left of the cash in my wallet.  He asked to see the money which, like an idiot, I handed over and never saw again. He wanted like $80 total for the backpack. I kept telling him that I was out of money and we went back and forth. He told me to ask Ed for more money, but Ed had just come over to ask me for more money. We both had tons of cash but we were playing the broke traveler card on these hustlers. So, back to negotiations.

He wanted another $3,500 shillings.

I said I could do $1,000 more.

Down to $3,000.

One thousand is all I have left.

$2,500.

One thousand shillings is all I got. I need to buy dinner.

$2,000 or no backpack.

I can scrape up $1,500.

Hesitation…

I argued that he already had a bunch of my money and that if he didn’t want the extra $1,500 that I would take back what I gave him and walk away. He finally agreed to take the extra $1,500. We shook on it to ensure that there wouldn't be any change in price after that. I reached down rolled up my pant leg and took a wad of cash out of my sock. Probably around 10,000 shillings. This man's eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock along with the three other men standing around watching our interaction. He began to stammer and stutter and argue the deal we had just made. I put the money halfway back and pointed at him “We made a deal! We shook on it and agreed 1,500 extra” He stammered again and said I had lied to him and I smiled as I counted out the money and said “sometimes in Rome you need to eat like Romans” He laughed as he took the cash, tapped the side of his head and said, “you're very clever, very, very, clever”, gave me a fist bump and shook my hand. He knew he had been beaten at his own game. I hustled the hustler and he respected me for it.

 We signaled that we would return the next day with the remaining money, Jospat asked for my phone number and I gave him one (obviously not my own), shook hands and high-tailed it back to the car, where our driver was having someone buff the scratches from her previous encounter with the front of another vehicle. Nairobi, seemingly, has no traffic lights and operates traffic flow through roundabouts or complete anarchy. We paid 200 shillings for the parking and got back into the fray. Safely back at the hotel, we had dinner on the rooftop: beef skewers in a Thai peanut sauce, T-bone steaks, and of course, we finished off the night with Tusker as we traded tales of how we beat the hawkers to get the goods for more reasonable prices.