Ramadan Special (Days 2-7): Let Go and Let God

Posted by Jemila On Friday, August 20, 2010

Before I start, just a quick 'thank you' to Moi for reminding me that I even intended to share my Ramadan experience/lessons on here. Like you said, God sometimes speaks through people :)

Okay, back to the scheduled program. Days two through five of Ramadan have been filled with so many lessons, I'm surprised I even have the energy to write this post. Unlike Day one which was essentially a physical test of my adaptation to the Senegalese sun and long hours, these three days have been a revolving door of churning out my thoughts and feelings. I keep going back and forth on this same issue, but this time it's a bit different.

Actually, let me speak plainly. That was lesson number one: Say what you need to say. Speak your truth. Not THE truth, mind you. But YOUR truth. Most situations involve many truths. Hence speak YOUR truth. And allow others to speak their respective truths as well. I don't want to believe that God made life out to be this complicated, it's our unspoken and half-said truths that make things so difficult.

So yeah, as I mentioned in my first post on Ramadan, this month represents peace for me. Here comes lesson two: It is not guaranteed that it (Ramadan or any other venture you might undertake) will be all that you expect it to be. What you put in is what you get out of it. Sure, maybe there are more blessings floating around because that's just how holy Ramadan is, but you've got to actively work for the rest. That means focusing on your objectives for Ramadan. In the past I have had one, two or three very specific things that I would pray/fast about for Ramadan. This year, I thought I had a pretty good list, and then life threw me a curve ball (it always delivers right on time, doesn't it?), and guess what? I lost focus, I panicked. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling too peaceful after that.

And along rolls lesson number three: Trust in God cannot be selective. If you really trust God like you claim to (and boy, have I made so many of those claims), then it should be complete. Why was I panicking? Because something came along that I didn't expect, most certainly didn't like, and didn't trust God to handle it. The realization that I tend to choose when and in what I will trust God, hit me. So now I ask, does half trust/half faith still constitute trust/faith? I'd like to think God is merciful enough to ignore all those halves, while guiding me towards the fullness of my belief and trust in Him.

Anyway, where was I? Yes, I panicked. And when I panicked, I lost focus and suddenly, the peaceful beach with palm trees and saline water gently lapping at the shore became a scary possibility that I would lose my footing on the summit of this volcano that appeared from nowhere and fall head-first into the burning molten lava below. Out went the peace with the panic, and once that delicate balance was disturbed, in rushed the adrenaline and its fight or flight tendencies. It's usually one or the other, in my case it was both. Talk about emotionally draining.

Now here's a key difference between this Ramadan and past ones, and also, in general. In addition to observing the month of Ramadan I've always had my support systems - family, friends, books, writing, prayer, etc - in place to help secure that peace. If anything were amiss, I would turn to one, some or all of those. Despite what some people think - and I always find it amusing when people come up to me and tell me "You always keep it together. Nothing seems to faze you." - I am pretty sensitive. I think everyone is affected by things going amiss in their lives. Some of us are just better at hiding or dealing with  it than others. I tend to be more private, but that doesn't mean I'm any less affected. So yeah, I just needed to put that out there.

Here I was, with a meddlesome issue disrupting my 'peace', and guess what? I didn't have half the tools I normally have. The friends I would confide in are not just far away, but hours away too. Include the costs involved if I were to pick up the phone and call, and you can understand why the option was unavailable. Sure there's gchat and skype and all that, but honestly, can any of those really substitute for having a friend talk to you on the phone or in person? Tool number two is my self-help books. Yes, you read right, self-help books. No, they don't have "self-help" written in bold on the cover, but that's what they do for me. Give me inspiration, help me sort out my feelings and thoughts, and give me some equilibrium. All those books- with the exception of "Eat, Pray, Love" which I borrowed from my dear soul sis (Shout outs 'Seina! ;) ) and happen to have with me - are in a plastic container in Accra. My Qu'ran, which I bought last Ramadan, is in that same container. Good thing I was able to download a Qu'ran software online. The only two tools I really have right now are writing (and no, you won't find those write-ups on here lol. Like I said, I deal with these things privately) and prayer. So, I cannot distract myself from any of this stuff. I have to face them headon.

Now you know it's never easy where human beings are concerned. I resisted, I fought, I went back and forth, I'm sure I've driven my flat mate crazy by now (Shout outs 'K!), I know I've driven the people involved half-mad, I rationalized (If there's one thing I'm great at, it's analyzing and rationalizing. They used to call me "Analyzer" in high school, LOL), all of that. And then, after all this roundabout stuff, I finally prayed. I prayed and I prayed some more. And at one point, when I didn't have the energy to actually stand on a shajadda (prayer mat) and pray, a voice told me, 'Go ahead and say what's in your heart. That too is prayer.' So I talked to God/myself in my head - this wasn't rationalizing, it was stating the facts - and when I was done, that same voice said 'Go get the Qu'ran and read.' When you're awake in the middle of the night or early morning and you start hearing voices in your head, you tend to listen to them. So that's what I did.

Which brings me to lesson four: God speaks to us all the time. Most times we just hear and then go right ahead and ignore. When we listen however, we'll find it's exactly what we needed. And lesson 5: After all is said and done, you will have to face the hard facts and present your case to God. Save yourself the time and energy and just go straight to Him. I opened up the Quran software - which, I must say, I totally love. It has a clean interface and the translation is great! - and somehow found myself to the bookmarked page, only to find that the software came with default bookmarks. What were the three categories?

- The Compassionate
- Trust in Allah
- Miscellaneous Ayahs (found out recently "ayah' literally means "miracles" and refers to the Qu'ranic verses)

Long story short, I read all those bookmarked verses and they were basically telling me "Don't worry. Allah is Compassionate. Trust in Allah to forgive your shortcomings and do what is best for you. Allah is sufficient for you and the best one to trust."

That last sentence "Hasbunallahu Wa Ni Mal Wakeel," or "Allah is enough/sufficient for me" was something my dad sent to me about a year ago, and I'd been tryna remember it, but couldn't. And here it popped right up at me at the moment I needed it the most.

[I'm continuing this post 3 days later since I started telling myself this is waaaaay too private to put on here, and I'd be making myself vulnerable. But hey, this is how I deal with stuff and of what worth is life if we don't give of ourselves? Hopefully, it will go beyond being therapeutic to me and help someone else too.]

So, where was I? Oh yes, "Allah is enough/sufficient for me." In that moment, those words were what I needed and they helped a ton. But it was by no means the end. I went through the whole cycle of wondering, doubting, asking, crying, all that. But this time, I had a quiet voice reassure me that "Allah is enough for me." Which brings me to the next lesson: Live in the Present. Enjoy the memories of the past and revel in the hopes for the future, but never substitute either for the present. How many times have we heard that? I've always wondered - how exactly do you live in the present when your mind is like an excited child always running around, skipping from past to present to future, trying to figure one thing or the other out? I'm still wondering on that one, but I think I have a better sense of it. Yesterday was a good day. It's interesting to note that in the midst of all this emotional turmoil raging within, I had moments of undeniable happiness and laughter. I was quite surprised. I also got to sleep which is a HUGE thing for me. I never sleep when I'm in disharmony or disequilibrium (if something's bothering me). So, already, I can tell that God's answering the prayers I said within bouts of tears. And yes, miracles are still happening. Now, for the final and most poignant realization (so far): True Peace is not the absence of turmoil. It is the silence in the midst of cacophony, the security amid danger, the knowledge that God exists.

Anyway, I'm still hoping, still praying, still thankful and still living. I think at some point between Day 2 and Day 8, I resolved that this situation wouldn't rob me of the opportunity to commune with God. So here I am, searching again for the peace that I've always known during Ramadan, and trying to really trust Allah and have faith in His knowledge of what is unknown to me. Alors, I guess this is a long enough post and I definitely feel like my thoughts and feelings are under a microscope. It's weird, lol. But hey, it's done. Also, check out the Nasheed (Islamic song) 'Allah Knows' by Zain Bikha (heavenly voice!). Juma Mubarak to my Muslim peeps and have a lovely weekend to everyone else!


Photo Source: Photo 1
Photo 2


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Poetry/Prose: Becoming (The Tradition of the Pearl)

Posted by Jemila On Saturday, August 14, 2010

"Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death."
- Anais Nin


At different points of the earth, there once lived two oysters.
Both were oysters, true.
Yet one hailed from a small, pond in the middle of a grand forest, while the other rode the waves of the Atlantic.
Conspicuously the same, inherently different, it so happened that the currents decided to let chance take course.
--

A fisherman, well known for his skill on the high, reined in his net on a particularly promising day.
However, try as he might, he caught naught but a single oyster.
'What a curious thing', he thought to himself
'The light is right, the winds on course, the shrimp is particularly fresh, yet the fish resist'
Out went the nets again. And a second. And a third.
But each time, only the oyster remained embedded in the criss-cross of coiled twines.
'Very curious,' he mused to himself
'Oh well, might as well call it a day.'
And with that he retracted his net, retrieved the oyster, and proceeded to the shore.
--

"Daddy!" a gleeful young voice called.
Smiling to himself, Mr. Fisherman, or rather, Daddy, set down his tools, and opened his arms to embrace his little girl
"You came home early today, daddy!" she exclaimed
"Yes I did, my love. And I brought you something too!"
 With that, he reached through his car window and retrieved a small pail full of water
"Wow, daddy. Is that a fish?" his little girl asked in awe
"Yes my dear. It's a special kind of fish. Like you're a special kind of girl."
"But it's not moving. It's just...there."
Daddy smiled.
"Yes, that's true. It looks like it's doing nothing, but a lot is going on inside.
Just give it some time, you'll see."
With that, he picked up his baby, set her high on his shoulder, and they marched towards their small, backyard pond.
 --
"Would you like to do the honors my lady?"
"I'd be delighted my lord."
Such was the ease of their banter.
Each down on both knees against the soft earth, a mini-ritual commenced
The little girl reached into the salt water with her chubby hand and gently lifted the oyster
Staring at it, she whispered to it
"My daddy says one day you're going to be something amazing. I think so too."
Raising it to her lips, she planted a soft kiss against its hard, slimy, shell.
"All set now, my baby?"
"Yes daddy"
With that, she eased the oyster into the pond, as Daddy emptied the pail water onto it.
Heading back to the house, the little girl asked
"Why did you pour the pail water on the oyster? There's already a lot of water in the pond."
"Because, my inquisitive one, this oyster has only known salt water.
Going into fresh water can be scary for him, so we had to introduce him to it gently."
"Aah," she replied in wonder. "You're very clever Daddy!"
"Why thank you, my love."
And with that, he picked up his little girl and off they went to spend the delightful day.

***


'What is happening to me? I can't breathe.'
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Yet it wasn't enough
First, he had been entrapped in that web of God-knows-what
Then, he had heard and felt the most violent storm imaginable (the car in motion)
And finally, after staring up at some creature with the blackest, most penetrating, eyes,
he found himself here
It was like home, but not quite. There were other fish, but nobody like ...
If only he could breathe!
'Help!' he screamed silently
"Long and slow," a quiet voice said.
"Take long and slow breaths."
Glancing out of the corner of his shell, he saw the most beautiful creature imaginable.
Glistening white shell with elaborate designs, she was one of his kind.
Long and slow. Long and slow.
After moments of burning pain, the roar in his ears calmed and finally, he knew he would live.
Turning ever so slightly around, he felt another tremor approach.
Heart beating wildly, he didn't even have to utter a word, he was a goner.
--
Ever the same, ever different, their journey together was one of a kind.
Each had a vastly different experience, yet both were quiet souls.
And unlike other oysters in the world who sometimes lived in communes,
Until then, they had each ventured separately.
Yes, their union was a fulfilling one and they spent many a night gazing up at the moon through the warm pond waters.
But it was also tumultuous, for never had each had another challenge them so.
"You don't listen to me," "You're being insensitive" "Can I have some alone time please?"
It was never ending.
But regardless of how tough it got, they always pushed on.
They knew they had some purpose in each others' lives, but they were yet to find out just how much.

***


On a day that could only be described as bad from the start, our two oysters had a terrible fight.
Sand rising from the bed, it got under both their shells.
Angry words hurled, the painful irritation of the sand, and a feeling of helplessness dawned.
They'd had enough.
No more trying, no more crying, it's all for naught, they decided.
Each ventured to a separate section of the pond and although they could have crossed the threshold and forgiven each other,
They remained as stubborn as *moules.
And so it went. He in his corner, her in hers, longing for one another, but resisting the urge.
Tides changed and years passed, and fish came and went from that small pond of theirs.
Still begrudging, still wary, they each held grains in their heart.
--
On a regular Sunday afternoon, they felt the current change.
Confused, the entire community of fish looked around in panic.
"Net!"
The alarm was sounded and all went awry.
Now, remember our friend from the Atlantic? He didn't know what "net" meant,
But he did remember what it looked like.
'It can't be happening again. Not now. Not so soon.'
He rushed around the pond-turned-madhouse,
Desperately in search of her.
They hadn't spoken in over two decades and he couldn't remember the last they'd uttered those three words to one another.
"Where is she?"
Finally, he opened his mouth and called out her name.
His ears might not have heard a response, but his heart did.
Instinctively, he looked up.
Caught in the coil of twines was his love
Scared as she was - he could tell from her eyes - she remained brave.
Net retreating from the pond, there was naught they could do or say.
Each knew this was it. The end had come.

***

“Daddy”
He looked up from his reading to the familiar voice and there she was.
All grown up and heavenly, but still his baby girl
“You look beautiful, my love, as always,” he replied and motioned to her to come over.
She turned to look at the other love of her life, who gave her a reassuring smile.
“Go on, I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
She walked across the room and sat on her daddy’s bed as she had done so many times before.
“Come closer, my child, so I might see you better,” he ventured with emotion in his voice.
She arranged her white wedding dress about her and eased herself into the pillows and against her daddy’s chest.

 “Look at you. It was just yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time and looked into your eyes.
Then, as now, you captured my soul and you changed my life. You taught me to treasure life as I’ve never treasured it before and you helped make me a better person.

Look at you and how you’ve grown. It might seem like you’re still that little girl, but you’ve become someone even more amazing. You’re a blessing and a gift, and I’m glad for the opportunity to call you my little girl. I’m proud of you.”

“Daddy…you’re going to make me cry,” she whispered. “Who cries on their wedding day?”
He smiled and continued, “I have something for you.”
She looked over at her husband-to-be and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
With that look and not a single word, she asked: “He’s already given so much, what more could he be offering?”
Her soon-to-be shrugged.
Such was their connection and understanding of one another: unspoken.
--

“Close your eyes, my child,” her father said, drawing her attention back to him.
She obliged and he took her hand.  Something cold rested in her palm.
“Open”
Her eyelids fluttered and she looked down at two silver wedding bands.
“Oh Daddy, you shouldn’t have…” she started.
“Ssh. Take a closer look.”
Raising the rings towards the light, she noticed that embedded in the tulip-like detail of her band was a white pearl.
Confused, she looked over at her chosen life partner.
“Is this why you refused to let me help with the ring choosing?”
He smiled mischievously and winked at her dad who continued:

“Remember. About twenty years ago, I brought home an oyster and we released it into the pond out back. We could not see it then, but something amazing was happening within. It might have undergone a drastic change in circumstances, and a huge part of its life might have seemed static, but an amazing transformation was taking place. We’ll never know exactly how tumultuous dealing with grains of sand might have been, but we’ll know this: those struggles helped form the oyster and led to this pearl. Its situation might have changed, but its essence was never disturbed.”
--

She gazed at her father with tears in her eyes and as she made to speak, he held up his hand.
“I almost forgot.”
Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out a small black suede box and motioned to his son-in-law to join them.
Once at the bedside, he handed over the box.
As her husband pulled out a silver watch, her eyes widened.
Like the rings, this was no ordinary watch. Embedded on the mantle face beneath the numbers 12, 3, 6, and 9 were little shards of pearl
Not too much tackiness, and a whole lot of class.

“That is for you my son; a gentle reminder of your connection with my daughter. Days will come and days will go, but what is true will always remain. Time is relative and will sometimes get tough. But if you both remember that there will always be a new day and another opportunity, you will be fine. Be patient and gentle with each other. Because although you might not always see it, things will unfold as they should. There will be irritating grains along the way, but they will only fashion you to be stronger and better. So long as you love and remember from whence you came, you will not only succeed, you will go beyond the ordinary.”

A wrinkled old hand reached over and gently took the wedding band from his daughter. He handed it to his new son. He repeated the action, this time placing the watch in his daughter’s hand.
“Go on. You know what to do.”

Undoing the watch strap, she smiled as she reached for her husband's hand. The watch fit perfectly.
Then, he held up her hand and slipped the pearl ring onto her finger.
When they were done, they both looked at the Fisherman-Daddy-Turned Wise Ol’ Man.
He reached first for his daughter's hand and then for his son’s and placed the watch adorned hand on top of the ring adorned one.
--


At that very moment, the oysters awoke. Only, they were no longer oysters living in water. 
They were precious stones symbolizing love.
What they were meant to be all along. And they were together.

“I don’t understand,” she started to say. “I thought we had lost each other for good.”
“I thought we had too. But a few minutes after you left, I heard a voice say, "Look, I think there’s another one in there. Can you see it glistening in the sunlight?" And here we are. Together, right where we’re supposed to be.

And so they were.
For many years and even generations, the wedding bands and the watch got passed on down the line, and the story was always foretold in what came to be known as the tradition of the pearl.

The End.

--
*Moule is the French word for 'mussel', another kind of shell fish. In this case, the word moule was used more for its phonetics and closeness to the word "mule", from the expression "As stubborn as a mule".

Read more about oysters & pearls here: http://animals.howstuffworks.com/marine-life/question630.htm

Photos: 1, 2, 3 4 
5, 6, 7, 8, 9


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Ramadan Special (Day 1): Words Are Not Enough

Posted by Jemila On Thursday, August 12, 2010

I'm tempted to agree with those who say that silence is the language of the soul, because words are not enough. I'm sitting on my bed, mac on lap, tryna think up the best way to express what I'm feeling right this moment, but I can't find the words. They don't do the feeling any justice.

After a little hide and seek with the moon, Ramadan finally came upon those of us in Senegal. Others in France, Saudi Arabia and Ghana started yesterday, but we got another day to "prepare". But tell me, can you ever adequately prepare for Ramadan? Each year, it's the same, but slightly different. For me the consistency has been a calmness of mind, heart and soul that I can only call peace. I can't explain it fully, but over the past couple of years, my entire system kicks into auto-gear with the arrival of Ramadan and I just trust. Yes, there are still hopes, there are still fears, but over that month, it doesn't matter.

Maybe its because of the heavenly presence on earth? 
Abu Hurairah, (may Allah be pleased with him) quoted the Prophet (PBUH) as saying: “When the month of Ramadan comes, the gates of Paradise are opened and the gates of the Hellfire are closed, and the devils are chained.” (Reported by al-Bukhari)
 
Just as Angel Gabriel appeared to Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him [PBUH]) that night many years ago when illiterate him was commanded to "Read in the name of your Lord", our heavenly neighbors are said to frequent the earth during Ramadan. And as to the question of whether the devils are really chained up during Ramadan, I must say I believe they are. Coming home hot and tired around 10pm, after a long first day, I was highly tempted to go straight to bed after showering. "You have all those prayers to say," a voice whispered. "It's hot, you're tired. Take a break." Maybe if there were more mischievous creatures making trouble on the land, I would have. But I didn't. And guess what? It didn't feel half as hard as my mind was making it out to be. With each prostration, I felt lighter.  I know this probably sounds mumbo-jumbo to some of you, but like I said, even these words cannot adequately describe it.

All in all, I can only say Alhamdulilahi (thanks be to God) for seeing us through day one. It was so hot, by 3pm I thought I would faint. Now to my Ghana peeps, yes, Ghana is hot. But the heat doesn't compare to here, trust me. To my U.S. peeps, yes, the length of day is longer, but it's about the same length of day here coupled with all this heat. To my Senegalese peeps, all I can say is I admire your fortitude. On the way to Dakar, people were going about their usual business. There were construction workers on the roads, working. In the burning heat, no A.C., no water. It could almost be regarded as impossible. But, I think it has to do with the feeling of community. Knowing that just a stone throws away, there's someone who's experiencing the same pangs as you are. It makes all the difference. 

Before I end, here's a Qu'ranic verse I found in this HuffingtonPost article earlier. It spoke volumes, and the way I see it, it could be in any religious or spiritual book. Not just the Qu'ran. Stay blessed all!

"True piety does not consist in turning your faces towards the east or the west -- but truly pious is he who believes in God, and the Last Day; and the angels, and revelation, and the prophets; and spends his substance -- however much he himself may cherish -- it -- upon his near of kin, and the orphans, and the needy, and the wayfarer, and the beggars, and for the freeing of human beings from bondage; and is constant in prayer, and renders the purifying dues; and [truly pious are] they who keep their promises whenever they promise, and are patient in misfortune and hardship and in time of peril: it is they that have proved themselves true, and it is they, they who are conscious of God." (2:177 [Asad])
--
Photo Source: http://www.myspace.com/theartofrelaxation


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Poetry/Prose - Paralysis: Mannequin on Fashion Ave.

Posted by Jemila On Tuesday, August 10, 2010

 Inspired by a condominium of thoughts, and stylistically influenced by my interpretation of Regina Spektor's "Eet"


They call it an outer body experience. And they're right, that's exactly what it is.
It's like floating out in the universe, and watching the earth chug along on its axis.
Like planning a speech to the very last detail, only to be tongue-tied when the grand moment arrives.
Kin to doing the very thing you said you would never, ever, for the life of you do, and being achingly conscious as you're doing it.
It's like being a mannequin on Fashion Ave. in NYC, oohed and aahed at, but never quite understood.

--
They call it an outer body experience, but they forget the inner-body element.
The fact that each is a universe onto themselves, and that's what makes living so 
annoyingly complex.
Eerily similar to that Grey's episode where a woman awoke during surgery and stared 
down at her entrails.
Unable to move, unable to scream, unable to stop the many fingers from prying within.
Having to balance the outer universe, with the internal wonderland, and oh, make sure you smile while you're at it!
 

--
They call it an outer body experience, yet they haven't the slightest idea themselves.
About how you haven't a say in what you wear on this day or that
Or how you would trade in all the bling and fur they so admire, for a moment under the warmth of the sun,
And would give up your coveted post in the concrete jungle, for a minute with 
someone you love.
Oh, what you would do to explore the entire spectrum of emotion! 
To laugh, to cry, be happy and sad.
Yet all you're stuck with is lifeless, glazed over eyes from your numerous attempts to 
have a good cry.
--
They call it an outer body experience, but it's really a lone planet thrown out of orbit.
A constant maneuver between what's beyond the glassed window display and what's embedded in your fiberglass structure.
A haphazard interaction between the wants, needs, dreams, hopes, fears, goals of Earth's inhabitants and their yet unknown "alien" neighbors.
Somewhere between here and there, yes and no, future and past.
You know exactly which key needs to be played to reinstate the harmonious melody, 
but you can't do a damn thing about it.
Paralysis.

--
In all this insomnia and disorder, there comes a merciful moment of nothing but silence.
An overflowing vacuum of The Love that is, has been, and will always be.
When all care is tossed from within and upward, and you just trust.
For two or sometimes three glorious hours, you escape the madness into the 
silence of your heart.
And in that moment, paralysis is the liberty you've been seeking all along.




--
Photo 2
Photo 1


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True (W)African Sport: The Art of Bargaining

Posted by Jemila On Monday, August 02, 2010

Jemi: You are soo cheating!

RealJemi: No, I’m not.

J: Really?

RJ: Yes. I think.

J: Didn’t you feed the same lines to the other fella from yesterday?

RJ: Yes…but, it’s not the same.

J: [Raised eyebrow]

RJ: What?! This interaction has the potential for something much more different. Much better. Much more…challenging and stimulating.

J: Doesn’t change anything. You’re still cheating.

RJ: Ei, why? Did someone patent the lines I’m using and hire you to police the rest of us? No? Well, last I checked, there was freedom of expression and association. So mind your own business.

J: What do you think they will say when they find out what you’re up to? Two-timing them the way you are.

RJ: [Mischievous grin] But who says they ever have to know?
--
And so it goes. The guilt-trip that follows the ritualistic love dance, mating call, whatever-you-want-to-call-it, that is West African price bargaining. They say everyone likes a good bargain. But what they don’t mention is that the true art of bargaining can be found in West Africa. So, consider this the ad that runs in the local newspaper after a gross omission has been made.

If you want true bargains, get out of Filene’s Basement and trek to Sandaga, Madina Market, or whichever your nearest West African market is.

Mind you, the operational word is market. Not mini-market or mini-marche. Shooting for the minis? You’re better off staying at Filene’s. They ain’t budging on the prices either.

If however, you want to hit the town, indulge in spontaneous and witty tete-a-tetes with strangers, and see how far flattery will get you, then jump aboard the bargain express.

Okay, that definitely sounds too PR.  Back to what we were talking about: the love dance. You can’t avoid it. At some point or another, you’re gonna have to get off your high horse and admit that the love (bargain) bug bit you. And you’re still falling.

True West African Sport (Forget Football)
If you’ve never been to West Africa or if you’ve spent a huge part of your life in the U.S. or Europe, this whole phenomenon might sound alien to you, but don’t worry, you’ll catch on soon enough…after overpaying for one, two, or three items of course. That’s the way they break you in. Been away from home for a bit and still in that constantly-converting-everything-from-one-currency-to-another-zone? They got a special kind of love just for you as well. Hey, what can they say? There’s a lot of love to share. 

It might sound unbelievable, but bargaining is more popular than football. Regardless of what you do, you can’t escape it. If you actually do, it means you’re overpaying for practically everything you’re getting, or you haven’t really looked for the bargain spots. If you’re cool with that – maybe you have more than enough to share or are riding on an abnormal (luxury) demand curve? – then quit reading. If, however, you would like to be introduced to a much more interesting way of doing business and experiencing W. African culture, read on.

Alors, here goes.

Pandora’s Box: A Bargain or Not?
Let’s have a story, shall we:
- Newbie enters market (that would be you). Newbie has newcomer written all over him/her (that’s your I <3 NY t-shirt giving you away) and is overly conspicuous (that’s you stopping to allow every single person to bypass you on that small path).

- Bargain professors (that would be the salespersons) notice newbie and figure (s)he needs to be taught a lesson (that’s your first (overpriced) buy coming your way). Newbie sees bargain prof coming with pandora’s box and expresses interest.

- Prof heads over, all smiles (that’s him sizing you up to determine how much to overprice) Newbie smiles too (that’s you thinking about how lucky you are to have chanced upon this item [forgetting that nothing truly worthwhile comes easy and quick]) and asks how much it costs. Prof assumes a serious stance and mentions 10,000 CFAs.

- Newbie (you haven’t been in the ECOWAS region for a while) does a quick calculation of the amount and arrives at $25! For an entire outfit? Not bad! Newbie pays, prof smiles, hands over pandora’s box. Everyone’s happy. Only…you just missed out on a bargain!

The Art of West African Bargaining
So, backtrack.

From living in Ghana and spending some time here in Senegal, I’ve found that there’s somewhat of a general rule to bargaining on prices at a local market. Considering the fact that 90% of the time I get what I(a friend) want(s) for exactly the price I’m((s)he’s willing to pay or even less, and considering the salespersons usually end up saying “You, you know money eh. You’re my sister/friend!” or something to that effect, the general rule has proven its worth.

Whether its for taking a taxi, purchasing jewelry at the beach or getting that African print material from the fabric section downtown, you generally have some leeway with how much you pay for something.

General rule (and considering how much I try to stay away from math, I’m only writing this once, so pay attention  ): Take amount proposed by salesperson, divide by two and then divide one half by two. (I believe the mathematicians call it dividing the total amount (proposed) into quarters.)

OR

Tip 1: Decide on how much you’re willing to pay before you start talking/bargaining - Remember to keep it to yourself, or if you’re with a friend who’s gonna do the talking for you, keep it between the two of you!- THEN apply the general rule. Only, make sure whatever you propose is a couple of notches BELOW how much you’re really willing to pay. That’s your bargaining power.

Let’s have a real-life example:
- You want to take a taxi 40 minutes out of Dakar. You stop the taxi driver and tell him where you’re going.

Tip 2: If you have an accent not native (foreign) to the country you’re in, you might wanna cover it up as much as possible. It’s a glaring “newbie” sign. And please, if you’re a local who has an “acquired” foreign accent, save both you and the driver/salesperson some time and money and just speak in your local language.

- Driver proposes 10,000CFAs as the price. By now, you should know/have already made up your mind that you’re not paying more than 3,500CFAs or 4,000CFAs if you’re pressed for time. Here’s the kind of exchange that would ensue:

You: 10,000CFAs? C'est pas vrai! D'ici a ...? (10,000CFAs? For real? Just from Dakar to…?)

Driver: Oui, c'est le prix. Aucune bleme? (Yes, that's the cost. Any problem)

You: Bah, oui (Of course). C’est trop cher! (It’s too expensive! )

Driver: Bon, vous donnez combien? (Ok, how much will you pay?)

You: 2,000CFAs

Math fact >> You took 10,000CFAs, divided it by 4, which is 2,500CFAs and went down a couple of notches, allowing yourself a bargaining power of 500CFAs. Since you’re really willing to pay 3,500 or 4,000CFAs, you have a REAL BARGAINING POWER of 1,500CFAs or 2,000CFAs.



Driver: 2,000CFAs? C’est trop petit (2,000CFAs? It’s too little). Je pars (I’m leaving)

You: Ey, attends (hey, wait). On parle, non? (We’re talking, no?) Alors, diminue le prix un peu (Reduce the price a bit)

Driver: Bon, tu es ma soeur, alors donne-moi 5,000 (Ok, you’re my sister, so give me 5,000)

Math Fact >> He halved the price. 10,000/2 = 5,000CFAs. He realizes you know (of) the rules and he’s not gonna get a huge overprice on you.

Tip 3: Once they play the sister/brother/friend card, you can use the same card as well. For example: You said I’m your sister, so be nice to me and reduce the price eh. However, it’s advisable to use it as a last resort.

You: Okay, je te donne 3,000. (Okay, I will give you 3,000)

Driver: Non, c’est pas bon. D’ici a…c’est trop loin. Il y a l’emboutaillage. (No, it’s not enough. From here to …. Is too far. There’s traffic)

You: Mais 5,000 c'est beaucoup eh. Chaque jour je prends cette route et je paye 3,000, ou 3,500 maximum. (But 5,000 is too much eh. I’m on this route every day and I pay 3,000 or a maximum of 3,500)

Tip 4: Even if you’ve never taken that route before, you need to let them know that you know how much the charges are. And in order to know, you need to ask around. No, not from the taxi driver! He's tryna see how far he can go on overcharging you, remember? Ask a local - a friend or family you're staying with, a neighbor, etc. Asking questions is part of travel 101. You won't know until you ask.

Driver: Ok, paye 4,500 et on part (Ok, pay 4,500 and lets go)

You: C’est trop pour moi. Toujours je paye 3,500, alors c’est tout que j’ai avec moi. Eh, je suis ta soeur, eh. (It’s too much for me. I always pay 3,500, that’s all I have with me. I’m your sister, am I not?)

Driver: (Most likely silent) [Congrats! U used tip 3 and checkmated him on the sister/brother/friend card!]

You: Okay bon, je prends un autre taxi. (Okay, I’ll take another taxi)[Turn away from the taxi and walk a short distance.]

Driver: Bon, donne 4,000 et on part. (Okay, pay 4000 and let’s go)

You: Sigh deeply. And enter the taxi. Bingo! You just bagged yourself a bargain :)

Tip 5: This entire exchange should take no more than 5 minutes. If it takes anywhere past 10 minutes, then you have yourself a stubborn salesperson. Find another one.


In Conclusion...
Alors, there you have it! The art of bargaining. Please, this is supposed to be a light-hearted exchange. No fists involved. Go with the flow and if you’re not ready to have some fun with it (if you’re in a hurry or a bad mood), please pay the overpriced amount and let everyone have some peace of mind.

That said, I cannot guarantee that things will play out exactly as this post depicts. For instance, if you’re a girl trying these tactics on a female salesperson. Not sure what it is, but for some reason, the girl on girl action just doesn't cut it. LOL. But seriously, its different for different people, and yes, even I have overpaid on some stuff (I paid 4 times the amount for an outfit my first time in Dakar and then vowed never to overpay again! The way it pained me eh!) and you will most likely too at some point. But don’t dwell on it too much. (It took me MONTHS to get over that swindle) You’ll make up for it, and in due time you’ll be a master bargainer. Like me :)

Tip 6:  While bargaining is a norm in West Africa (and probably other parts of the continent as well), you shouldn't use that as an opportunity to pay less than the value of an item/service. As the case may be, the greater percentage of Africa's population lives on less than a dollar a day and so most likely than not, the sale of the day makes a huge difference in that person's life or that of his/her family. In this regard, try to be fair and follow the golden rule: do unto others, what you would have others do unto you. Or, as my favorite author puts it in the story below, pay the right price.

Paying the right price (Paulo Coelho)

 Nixivan had invited his friends to supper and was cooking a succulent piece of
meat for them. Suddenly, he realised that he had run out of salt.
So Nixivan called to his son.
'Go to the village and buy some salt, but pay a fair price for it: neither too
much nor too little.'
 His son was surprised.
 'I can understand why I shouldn’t pay too much for it, Father, but if I can
bargain them down, why not save a bit of money?'
 'That would be the sensible thing to do in a big city, but it could destroy a
small village like ours.'
 When Nixivan's guests, who had overheard their conversation, wanted to
know why they should not buy salt more cheaply if they could, Nixivan replied:
 'The only reason a man would sell salt more cheaply than usual would be
because he was desperate for money. And anyone who took advantage of that
situation would be showing a lack of respect for the sweat and struggle of the man
who laboured to produce it.'
 'But such a small thing couldn't possibly destroy a village.'
'In the beginning, there was only a small amount of injustice abroad in the
world, but everyone who came afterwards added their portion, always thinking that it
was only very small and unimportant, and look where we have ended up today.'


Bargain Tips, Anyone?
If you already consider yourself a pro at W/African bargaining, do share some of the more eccentric experiences. Did you ever have a bargain go wrong? (Like after you decide on the price, exchange whatever service/item it is, and when its time to pay up the salesperson tries to double cross you) Which tactics worked the best? Ever been to an African country where there isn’t a culture of bargaining? Let us know! In the meantime, happy bargaining!

P.S. I can’t believe I talked so much math in this post!


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