Just call me 'Wanjiku'

My Kiswahili vocabulary is expanding slowly. I now know enough words to con a local for about 5 seconds. I don't use 'Jambo' often as I gather it marks one out as a tourist.  General greeting 'Habari yako', response Nzuri sana'. If you don't know what to say but are general happy with what's going on, then 'sawa sawa' will usually do. It's my favourite term. It means, ok, cool, fine, sorted, I agree, I'm with you etc. etc. Such a convenient term. Other terms:
asante = thank you, but as Kenyans love emphasis, asante sana is better (thank you very much);
karibu = welcome;
la = no, but as Kenyans are generally polite, you say, la asante, no thank you.
Kwaheri = goodbye

Feeling that I have enough Kiswahili to venture forth safely, I decided seek out some Maasai souvenirs. A friend mentioned a roving Maasai market that moves around the city so on Saturday I took a taxi to downtown Nairobi to the Maasai market in the high court car park.

We took the scenic route, past the state house and through the commercial / business districts. Downtown Nairobi on a Saturday morning is pleasant; the traffic is reasonable, the roads are in good condition and there's a lot of greenery and flowers on the verges. We drove through Nairobi's equivalent of Whitehall - where all the ministries and infrastructure of government are based. It all looked remarkably familiar, like the post war parts of London. In fact, I am certain that the Nairobi international conference centre was designed by the same architect that built The Barbican Centre in London (must check that).

I commented on how clean everywhere looked and how impressed I was with the state of the roads and the clear signs of continuous maintenance. To which the taxi driver responded with a derisory laugh, that it was all 'because of Obama'. At my clear lack of comprehension (I haven't indulged in much TV or radio news since my arrival), he explained that Barack Obama, the president of the United States of America was about to make his first official visit to Kenya. So everywhere was being spruced up in his honour. Whatever was spurring the activity, the result was very pleasing.

We got to the market and I was given very stern instructions by my driver, Steve:
Do not to pay the first price
Do not give money to the beggars, no matter how sad the baby looks
Watch your purse

 He should have warmed me not to be open to flattery as well.

We women of a certain age especially those of us who've been married for many years to men who are rather miserly with compliments (you know what I mean ladies, don't you?), don't realise - until we are paid a compliment - how much we appreciate it. Despite my feminist opposition to it, I confess to hiding a small smile when I get the occasional cat- call when walking past a building site. Now don't get me wrong; I am a confident, self-assured woman. I know what I'm worth and don't need anyone to validate me (my favourite poem after all is Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Phenomenal-Woman-by-Maya-Angelou). But being admired for your physical appearance, particularly when one has worked hard to loose weight and get fit, does cause a frisson of pleasure. (Note to self: remind husband that paying compliments is a good thing)

Well, I walk into the market and am accosted by two good looking men, a young one and a slightly older man nearer my age, who offer to show me around the market. I quickly figure out that they are some sort of brokers. They seem to have arrangements with various crafts people in the market and gather everything I show the slightest interest in, with the assurance that when I've finished looking around the whole market I can chose what I want to buy at leisure. The older man, let's just call him TDH (tall, dark and handsome), declares that I am his soulmate and that he will call me 'Wanjiku'! He offers to divorce his wife and marry me. When I inform him that my husband may take a dim view of that arrangement, he offers to settle him with as many cattle as he asks for, and will throw in an elephant as well!

Despite knowing that this was all a sales ploy, I found myself totally charmed by it. It is a very effective sales ploy, no pressure, no aggressive sales chatter, just a seemingly natural charm offensive. And it almost worked until he told me what my selection of items would cost! That made the Igbo woman in my sit up and pay attention. At this point I reminded him that I wasn't a 'mzungu' (Kiswahili term for white person, usually one who is just arrived and is therefore an easy con), and that I'm not made of money. Then the fun part started with my counter offer of 10% of his opening gambit.

We eventually settled at a mutually acceptable price, though I suspect that I was more generous than I might have been had I not been so thoroughly charmed by the compliments I received. So my sister now has a Maasai table runner and mats, amazing daughter has a Maasai blanket, I have a kikoy shawl, and a selection of carved elephants and cattle to show my husband that my Maasai suitor means business!

Today's lesson? Flattery works.