A quiet and peaceful market in Yaounde
Negotiating in Cameroon can be a fun pastime, or a stressful one, depending on how you manage. Since almost everything you buy has no price tag, every day is a constant battle of figuring out how much everything actually costs. What’s even more exciting is that the game changes, depending on what region you’re in. Bargaining for an item in a market in the Adamawa region can happen quite quickly, as people tend to be more reserved and respectful, quietly agreeing to a reasonable price. In the west the market can be outright aggressive, with people grabbing you, or screaming at you as you try to figure out how much that piece of fabric is worth. A famous phrase is “tu veux me tuer?!” (Do you want to kill me?) My volunteer friends have adopted this phrase freely in their lexicon, which can be startling for someone who doesn’t actually know that it’s just an expression, especially when you were just lightly teasing them about something at the dinner table.
In the Centre Region, bargaining can be quite musical as well, but sometimes it’s a little complicated, since there’s quite a mix of people living here who come from different regions in Cameroon. I often try and fail to get the price I want, but sometimes I do alright. The strategy I have come up with is to keep cool and smile and try to enjoy the process as much as possible. It honestly has become one of the best ways to get to know people in town.
How it works for me is when I spot something I want (usually something boring like a garbage can or a hair scrunchy) I decide how much I’m willing to spend on it. Then I casually walk up to the trader and say hello, ask him or her how it’s going, and try to make a light joke. When I finally get to pointing out the item, I ask “how much?” and take whatever price they told me and cut it in half in my head. I then ask half below that, knowing that we’ll have to dance to the middle of our prices, reaching the halfway point. We usually sit down, and talk it out, it becomes like a conversation, laughing through the insults, but firm when it needs to be. We usually talk about other things in between, and I often explain who I am the trader tells his or her entire story before we actually get to a final price. When I do finally succeed, the trader looks at me and smiles, saying “You’re a dangerous negotiator! I can’t refuse you!” Then I smile and think of my father.
Whatever negotiation strategies I have I learned from my father, who once took me by surprise when we were in New York City. Admiring a camera in the window of an electronics shop in Manhattan, my dad looked at me and said, “Laura, I’m going to get that camera.” I watched his face as we slowly strolled inside, flashing a big smile at the men behind the counter. He started casually mentioning the camera, which immediately appeared out of nowhere, placed carefully in front of him for him to appreciate. I watched as he played with the camera a bit, turned it on, tried it at this angle and that, and then set it down, looking the shop owner straight in the eye and asking a price with a smile.
The rest was a blur as prices were somehow thrown out, high and low, somehow my father’s price almost meeting the owner’s price, but never quite. With a smile my father looked at me and said, “Well we can’t seem to agree on a price, so Laura, let’s go.” As we started walking away I remember seeing that same confident smile on his face as we almost reached the door. Confident for whatever reason, I couldn’t tell why, since I assumed he had just lost whatever game that was. Then, all of the sudden from the mumblings and negotiations behind the counter, several of the men shouted “Wait! Wait! Ok, ok!!” And frantically assembled the camera in the box as my father smiled. As he swiped his card he leaned over to me and said, “You see, Laura, that’s how you buy a camera.”
