I love going to the Masai markets. Glittering beads reflecting the sun, woodcarvings, silk scarves, confused tourists accepting the first offered price, “Hallo sister! See my…Looking is free!” creating an echo effect as the sounds of hawking melt into this confusion of ordered chaos. Above all this mess, I love the market because it is the one place where I use my Kiswahili uninhibited by self-doubt. Rather, the language speaks through me and does all my bargaining. Succinct to say, I am a market junkie. However, this past Sunday was different. When I was walking away from the market, I replayed the events in my head, and in that moment I experienced African capitalism from the vantage point of the disadvantaged vendor. But, I suppose I’ve gotten ahead of myself now…
After Kiswahili bargained for me two beautiful scarves, I stashed the loot in my pack and carried on with my expedition through the market jungle. I came across a tarp island covered with beaded bracelets, not unlike the thousand other bracelets showcased on the scores of other tarp islands. I pulled ashore at this vendor and a man struck up conversation with me about his great merchandise, even better prices. I explained to him that I prefer to buy from women vendors in support of their enterprises, and, as though the director of a play spoke those words, a woman behind the tarp emerged from the glaring sun and entered center stage. Let the bargaining begin. I asked the lady how much for one bracelet – shilingi mia moja na kumi (110). “Kweli?! Uweze punguza!” (Really?! You must reduce the price!”). Then I explained to her my current dilemma: I only had 100 shillings left and I still needed 20 bob (yes, they call shillings “bob” sometimes – maybe it’s like Uncle Sam…just kidding, but I would really like to meet Bob, whoever he is) for the bus ride home. I really wanted two bracelets, though. To complement each other. To keep each other company on my wrist. Because, let’s face it, two is so much better than one. At that point I really didn’t know what the “market price” for these bracelets were. Even that concept sounds silly from this perspective, though – I mean, I was in the market, so I guess me and her were setting the market price at that moment. Well after about fifteen minutes of tossing prices back and forth like a tennis rally (interrupted only briefly by her request that we swap phones), I walked away with both bracelets and 20 bob for the bus.
And then it hit me.
I had undercut this woman. The materials and labor for these bracelets probably just about matched the price I paid. Her net benefit from the exchange probably amounted to zero. Most capitalists would argue that in the free market, where prices are set by that collision course between supply and demand, that the high number of suppliers in the Masai market probably drove the prices down. However, I’m quite certain (a couple of days after the fact) that the going price for those bracelets was actually much higher than what I paid. So, if this was a “free” market, why did she undersell her merchandise?
Is the African microbusiness market actually “free?”
And then (still walking to the bus stop) this is what hit me: Poverty takes the freedom out of “free markets.” Without stereotyping too much, the vendor’s low socioeconomic status limited her freedom to sell goods at even the market price. Faced with the choice of receiving 80 shillings at a net-(or maybe sub-) zero profit or receiving nothing, she inevitably had to choose the former. She faces the imperative of filling needs most of us would consider basic; this imperative takes away her freedom of exchange and compels her to sell at any price, even at a loss. Poverty precludes her opportunities to market her products. Moreover, poverty contains all her entrepreneurial endeavors at the micro-level; her business is not free to expand because, rather than invest her profits back into the business, poverty is an insatiable thirst that her measly earnings must constantly quench.
The optimist that I am, it peeves me to end on such a down note. So, I will add here that next Sunday I plan to return to the market (with the company of enough Bobs to pay for all my merchandise and the bus) to buy more bracelets from the same vendor, at the free and fair market price.
