"Mepaakyew, Eye sen?"

Something that is standard in Ghanaian culture, and something that I will miss greatly, is the practice and art of bargaining. With the exception of foreign, manufactured goods nearly everything is open to bargaining. One must bargain for a taxi, clothes, fruits, vegetables, jewelry, food at a chop bar, and if you feel you are being cheated by the mate, you can even bargain for your tro-tro fare. I am a young man of modest travel experience. But in my short time in Ghana I have already come to realize that you will only get out of the culture as much as you want. And no matter how much you want, you will only be able to get as much as you can understand. If you do not know the language, no matter how much studying you do, you will be limited. You will be limited in the depth of your conversations and interactions with locals. You will be limited as to what you can read on the signs and billboards. You will be helpless when you know that people are talking about you, sometimes in a slanderous manner, but you have no idea what they are saying, nor can you do anything about it. And quite frankly, if you do not know the language, you will be limited in your bargaining potential. Whether I like it or not, Ghanaian’s, and most people in developing countries for that matter, view white people as rich. Whether I am trying to catch a taxi, or inquiring about the price of six yards of fabric in the market, I can expect to be overcharged. So it is imperative, and the culture demands, that I be able to bargain. I believe that the best way to illustrate the bargaining experience is through a personal anecdote. The anecdote takes place at Makola, Accra’s largest market located in the central of the city. Traders there sell everything and anything. It is quieter than it used to be as stall holders are no longer allowed to set up in the streets around the market. Nevertheless, the rabbit warren of aisles inside the market still holds plenty to see…

The markets are split into sections. There are no signs that say, “This is the fabric section,” or “This is the produce section.” However, with a few trips to the market and some time an patience, one will gain a grasp of where everything is located. Two Saturdays ago I went to Makola Market with my host father, Charles. Charles and I have quickly become best of friends so I was happy that he could join me on my trip to the market. But more than that, I was extremely fortunate. It is always wise for a foreigner to go to the market with a local. Locals have a sound grasp of the language, the prices, the lay of the land, and appropriate bargaining techniques, so I was thankful that Charles came along. As I made clear in my first blog post in Ghana, I am a man after my mom’s own heart. As is the case, I become insatiably excited by the prospect of shopping. The swarms of people crowding the walkways, the diversity of goods, and the personalities one meets at the market all energize me. On this particular Saturday Charles and I went both “pleasure shopping” and “necessity shopping.” We finished our pleasure shopping first, and then had to go buy oranges and pineapple so that my auntie and I could make our own juice at home. We needed enough oranges and pineapple for two batches of juice, and we wanted to have enough so that there would be leftovers to eat should we please. We found a lady who was selling both oranges and pineapple, and we approached her stand.

“Mepaakyew, Ankaa wura ete sen?" (Excuse me, orange seller how are you?) I said. As has become the standard reaction whenever I open my mouth and speak Twi, the woman looked at me with an illuminated face of surprise and yelled, “Oburoni ote Twi” (White man understands Twi). We continued conversing. She asked me what my name was, both my real name and my Ghanaian name. She asked me where I was from, about my family, and what had brought me to Ghana. In order to effectively bargain, especially as a foreigner, it is important that one first establishes a relationship with the seller. This makes for a comfortable, easy-flowing exchange, and it insures that you don’t come across as a flippant and ignorant tourist. People are much more open to negotiating with customers if they feel like they are gaining a friend and loyal customer in the process. After introductions and some small talk, I explained to Ese (I came to know her name) that I wanted to buy some oranges and pineapple. “Mapaakyew, meto ankaa ne aborobe” (Please, I will buy some oranges and pineapple). “Wope ahe?” (How much do you want?) she said. I told her that I wanted forty oranges and six pineapples. Ese told me that forty oranges would cost four Ghana Cedi (roughly $2.74) – ten Pesawas per orange. Pineapple varies in cost depending on the size. Ese told me that the ones I wanted would cost one Ghana Cedi each. Six would be six Ghana cedi. Ese was a nice vendor; she was not trying to rip me off. We agreed on the price. Usually when buying food, it is customary for the buyer to ask for what is referred to as a “dash,” or a little extra. I was about to ask Ese for a dash since I had was buying so much fruit. “Mepaakyew, to so kakra,” (Please add a bit) I was going to say. However, before I could ask, benevolent Ese beat me to it. She told me that because I spoke Twi with her she would give me ten extra oranges and an extra pineapple free of charge. This was very generous of her, and I thanked her for her generosity. She told me that I should come by her stand whenever I return to the market. I happily agreed. “Yebehyia bio,” (We will meet again) I said. “Yoo, mate,” (All right, I hear you) she said.


My story recounts an experience I had in bargaining for fruit. That was not the only bargaining I did that day. Prior to that, I bought two football jerseys. Nicer clothing items such as this require more shrewd, patient, and skilled bargaining. Charles spoke significantly more in this encounter as my Twi skills are too novice at this point to be able to engage in a fifteen minute bargaining battle. He did marvelously and showed me how to operate with patience, kindness, and sternness. The seller initially wanted thirty-five Ghana Cedi for one jersey, but we ended up getting two for twenty Ghana Cedi. I could never have gotten this good of a price on my own. To be honest, I probably would have given in too soon. But I am learning by experience. After all, as goes the Akan maxim: “Culture is caught, not taught.” You must be nice so that the seller finds favor with you; however, you must also have the willpower to commit to a price and not allow any efforts of man to change your mind. It is understood that when buying luxury items (such as football jerseys) the seller will mention a really high price. If you pay it, then it is his lucky day and you are a softy. It is expected that the buyer then returns with a very low offer and through patience, time, and some witty banter a “fair deal” is met. Goods sold in the markets and along the sides of the street do not usually have fixed prices. One is therefore expected to bargain with the seller. However, the prices of goods in shops are fixed, so one does not normally bargain in shops. Occasionally, especially if it is a small shop, a customer may ask for a discount or a reduction of the price. Fruit and vegetable sellers usually add a few of the items they are selling as a gift, especially if the customer buys a sizable quantity. Ese was kind enough to do this for Charles and me. We walked away content with our jerseys, fifty oranges, and seven pineapples. I plan on returning to Makola and bargaining with Ese and vendors like her some day soon.