The Art of the Barter

On the narrow streets of the Moroccan medinas, a lesson in culture is easy to learn. All you have to do is go shopping. 

The word medina literal means “town,” and represents the older portions of towns, which current cities have grown around. The center of each medina is the mosque, and the medinas are usually surrounded by gates or ramparts. Within the walls of the medinas are a maze of winding roads and alleys, with shopkeepers selling goods of vibrant colors, from rugs and jewelry to hand-blown glass lamps and exotic spices. Owners call out in a variety of languages to lure customers, declaring their shops are good luck, and have items as beautiful as the women who stroll by. 

Buying anything in the medinas is a lesson in culture. Bartering is the standard, and the price on the tag is never the price. Bartering is not for the faint-hearted. Fully armed for barter battle, I entered a shop with Career Consultant Robyn Walter, who works in the Career Center at Illinois Wesleyan. Robyn came to Morocco to study the efforts to combat white-collar unemployment in Morocco. As it turns out, today she did a bit of combat of her own. Robyn is a master at the barter.

The savvy shopkeeper offered a price, and gasped in horror at Robyn’s counter-offer. I watched in awe as a mini-drama unfolded:

SHOPKEEPER: This is the best quality, the best quality you will find.

ROBYN: (cool and collected) I’m sure. It is lovely. Just too much.

(The shopkeeper lowers her price a bit. Robyn shakes her head no.)

ROBYN: It’s not that it’s not nice. It’s a matter of what I have in my wallet. No.

SHOPKEEPER: Please, please! Now it is not a matter of price, it is a matter of karma.

(The shopkeeper lowers the price again, but not to Robyn’s price.)

ROBYN: (calmly) No, no thank you.

(Robyn turns to walk away. The shopkeeper dramatically turns to a man sitting near her and shouts in Arabic. Without looking up, the man gives a curt nod.)

SHOPKEEPER (smiling): Okay.

THE END 

Bartering itself is just another social interaction, a sign of friendliness and respect. When I tried moments later, and caved miserably soon, the same shopkeeper laughed and shook her head in mock shame for me. “Bad deal!” I could not help but laugh and say, “Bad deal, but good karma?” She agreed with a laugh as well. Robyn gained her respect, and she and I both gained a story to tell others. Shared moments between people are part of what makes Morocco special. 

The medinas differ greatly from town to town. The hectic life of Casablanca is never far beyond the walls of the medina, but life seems to come to a stop once inside the medina in the coastal city of Azemmour. There, the steep walls are interrupted by a few shopkeeper stalls and the ornately carved or decorated doors, often painted green or blue for good luck. Residents walk to the bakery to have their flatbread warmed. Young girls take great pleasure in calling out “bon jour” to us as they carry trays of dough on their heads.

Like Azemmour, the town of El Jadida is a former Portuguese stronghold. A baker in El Jadida points to where the ships would come in the 15th and 16th century to load up their bread right from his ovens.  His shop is in the Cite de la Portuguese, the neighborhood around the old Portuguese fort, which still carries the decaying cannons on its ramparts. The steadfast cistern, built in the 16th century, still remains in the Cite de la Portuguese, and is a historic site. In a cool underground cavern, held up with austere columns, the sunlight pours into the cistern. We tread lightly through the water, in which shines the reflection of the vaulted ceiling. The group finds it nearly impossible to capture the reflection in photo. Another hidden treasure of Morocco.