Bargaining for Bed Sheets

Let me tell you a story about bargaining. When I was about 10, my dad, sister, and I were in New Orleans. We were on our way back from Houston after visiting family and had stopped for the day. My sister and I were far too young to enjoy the real New Orleans, so my dad took us around town sightseeing. At some point, he got it into his head that we should get t-shirts.

It all went horribly wrong from there.

My dad also got it into his head that he would get more shirts than we needed ("I can give them to friends!") so that we could get some sort of deal for buying in "bulk." I don't remember exactly what price he wanted to pay, but I remember he wanted to buy 12 shirts in all. I also remember that he didn't want to talk about the deal right away. Instead, he wanted us to carefully select each shirt and then try to bargain.

I can't tell you how many t-shirt shops are in New Orleans, but that day I went to all of them. At first, the owners politely declined, only for my dad to try and convince them that this was perfectly reasonable and a good deal for them too, at which point the owners told him to get lost. And on and on this went. I kept finding the shirt I really wanted (it said "crocodile victim" with big chunks ripped out and red dye splattered around the edges. In hindsight, this may have been a poor choice as it was more of a $10 rag than a t-shirt), only to have the shop owner tell us to take a hike.

After several hours, one shop relented. My dad was thrilled. The shop, of course, did not have the shirt I'd wanted. It was then when I realised that all this "bargaining" still hadn't gotten me what I wanted and we'd wasted hours in the process.

Since then, I have avoided bargaining for virtually anything. Sure, I'll ask if something is available or speak up if I'm overcharged, but bargaining? Forget it.

Enter the souk.

The souks (pronounced sue-k) are the markets in Sudan. You've seen something like it in the movies - the place where endless stalls are selling anything and everything you'd be able to carry away. The catch? You have to bargain; nothing is marked with a price. It might take a little work, but if you want something for cheap, you want the souk.

I wanted bed sheets. After three weeks of sleeping on what can only be described as a rejected hotel blanket, plus the blanket I stole from Lufthansa, I desperately needed something more proper. I'd also procured a mattress from someone moving out downstairs and so, as I'd upgraded from springs and a board across my back, I figured I should upgrade my sheet situation.

With this in mind, my friend Carly and I ventured into the souk searching for sheets.

I'd been to the souk about a week ago during the day. As it's Ramadan, many Sudanese are fasting when the sun's still up and often trying to sleep away the time. As a result, few people are around and the merchants sleep under under tables or on small rugs. At night, however, the souk is alive with the ebb and flow of hundreds of people. We went at night.

We entered one of the covered areas and began trying to navigate our way towards any stalls that might have sheets. Luckily, there is some method to the madness and all the stalls in any given area tend to sell similar things. Somehow, we managed to enter the souk at the section where dresses are sold. Around us, hung hundreds of dresses as far as the eye could see. We walked in further, but could still only see dresses. We kept walking - still dresses.

I cut left and we wound up at the edge of this particular market. Now we were somewhere between toiletries and prayer hats. Looking around, it was amazing at how much stuff was packed into such a small space. Each stall is somewhere around 6 ft (1.8m) wide and 12 ft (3.6m) long, but is packed to the top with items. As we walked, it felt like the souk might swallow us up in a wave of curtains, shampoo, watches, and shoes.

Finally, we found about a half dozen stalls devoted entirely to bed sheets. Each stall was packed with sheets wrapped in plastic. After some gesturing, I found which would fit a single bed and began to pursue my perfect set of sheets.

They were all horrible. To say that I've rarely seen uglier patterns doesn't paint a good enough picture. Let's just say that the set featuring Santa Claus looked like my best option - by far. Given this, I wasn't even worried about the price; I just wanted to find a decent set.

After some looking at the first stall, I managed to locate something decent. It was at this point that I remembered my earlier conversation with Carly. A bed sheet set, I'd told her, should contain three pieces - a pillow case, a flat sheet, and a fitted sheet. She'd looked at me like I was crazy. Then I remembered, the stupid Brits and everyone they've colonised don't believe in the top sheet. They just settle for a flat sheet over the mattress and the pillow case. After that, they cover themselves with a duvet (comforter/ doona/ you know what I mean). That might work in Britain where it never gets above 30C (86F), but here in Sudan, I don't want a duvet; I want a fucking sheet. This meant I needed to buy not one, but two of the same set of sheets. Given my options, that would be hard to find.

After looking through more stalls, I found some I liked. It was time to bargain.

"Bekam?" I ask. This means "how much?"

"Ashra," the merchant tells me. "Ten."

"La." I reply. "Shokran." "No. Thank you."

I just wasn't interested in paying 10SDG (ten Sudanese pounds) per set, so I walked to another stall.

This process repeated itself a few more times before I figured out that they were all going to start at 10SDG and this was where the bargaining came in. Perhaps by buying two, I'd increase my odds of getting a better price? Reluctantly, I went back to one of the stalls where I'd found something I'd liked. I picked up the sheets again and started the process.

Mind you, my Arabic skills are just above the level of shit, which is right below the levels of terrible, horrible, and no good, so I can't have a detailed discussion on pricing. Instead, I had to do the best with what I knew and muddle through when I can hardly understand what he's saying. Imagine now that, instead of Arabic, the conversation was in English. I think this is what it would have sounded like:

"Hello," I say to the merchant.

"Hello. Weren't you just here looking at these?" he replies. Unable to answer, I skip forward.

"How much?" I ask.

"Like I said before - ten each. Ten pounds." he answers.

"Ten?" I ask. I hold up my fingers to indicate ten.

"Yes."

"Five? Five?" I ask. I hold up each set as I ask if each is five.

"No. Ten each - I just said that." he replies.

"Ten? Ten?" I ask.

"Yes. What do you not understand about this?" he asks.

"Ten? Ten?" I ask again.

"Are you retarded? Ten each. Twenty total." he responds.

"No. Fifteen." I counter.

"What? Not fifteen each - ten. You suck at this." he tells me.

"No. Fifteen." I say.

"Dude! Ten. Twenty total."

"Twenty??" I exclaim.

"Yes, finally! Twenty."

"Fifteen?" I ask.

"Twenty," he says firmly.

"No, I'm leaving." I say.

"OK. See if I give a shit. It's only two sheets." he responds.

At this point, I walk away expecting him to wave me back and settle. I'm told this is how it works.

It doesn't. Oh... sheet (come one, you knew the shit pun was coming).

Calling my bluff, he watches as I walk to the next stall only to find out that their sheets are even more expensive (because, as they specifically pointed out as though it was special, they're made in China). Now I'm stuck. I like the first guy's sheets the best and he knows it. Tail between my legs, I return to his stall.

"Ten? Ten?" I say sadly.

"See. I knew you'd come back. They all come back," he tells me with a smug look. I stare at him blankly. "Yes, twenty," he finally tells me.

"No. Not twenty. Ten." I whine.

"Please don't ever have children. It's ten each; twenty total. Now pay me and leave."

Finally, I understand. I hand him 20SDG and sulk away from the souk.

So far: Souk, one. Me, zero.

Next time, I'll stick with hotel rejects and stolen Lufthansa goods.