The Barrys go to market.

Le 24 fevrier   Any muzungu in an African market will stick out like a sore thumb. The three of us Barrys (especially now that Dad has his notebook) tend to make a spectacle.

It’s been an interesting transition from being a local in Rwanda and trying to blend in as much as possible from touring the country with my parents. I’ve been trying to balance being friendly and being safe – as a girl and a white girl, in certain situations I feel like I need to tone down my friendliness. These last days with my parents, however, I’ve thrown all caution to the wayside and it’s back to being the Barrys Unleashed.

In any type of market in Rwanda (and I’m sure in the rest of Africa, too), vendors’ entire being goes into trying to sell their goods. This may be bananas, fabric, wood carvings, you name it. With whites and black alike, the vendors are full steam ahead, trying to persuade buyers to go into their area and buy from them. Being white makes it worse. Being friendly makes it even worse. God forbid you actually go into the store – that becomes another whole problem. It’s hard to look and survey, because the shopkeeper will assume that this muzungu will buy from them. Much to the owners’ dismay, my parents and I like to see all there is to see in the whole market and come to a decision later.

It’s an intriguing dynamic, too, trying to bargain with the vendor while at the same time chatting to them and learning Kinyarwanda from them. It’s a very interesting game, bargaining, and it’s one that many Americans might not be used to – I know we’re not. You get caught somewhere between getting ripped off and decent price and possibly not helping the vendor to make himself a living. It’s really hard to know, and it’s not the most comfortable of situations either. My dad noticed that if he showed very little interest in the item, he was able to drive the price lower – even if that wasn’t his intention. Before leaving a handicraft market in Kigali today, we’d just about had it with shopping and were getting quite impatient. This is perfect for getting bargains, as it turns out.

I’m not quite sure what to say about our market experiences together – all I know is that they’re tiring. It’s so wonderful to go in and socialize with the people, but unlike in the United States, you can’t just window shop. Here, the vendor really hopes that you’ll buy something and will push until you do so. I did get quite a kick out of watching my parents –especially my dad with his speed-walking – stroll through the market and chatting with each person they met. He learned more phrases in the markets! And I’m very proud of him – my mom and I each like shopping and it was still stressful, my father usually sits in the car at CVS when we need to run in. Talk about stepping out of your comfort zone!