WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE
Bangles, Bottles and Baksheesh
An Article by Paola Fornari
I've just closed a deal. Carpets.
I dismissed the wheeler-dealer who draped overpriced and low-quality carpets all
over my house, changing them every few days for two weeks. The carpet shop
upstairs at my local was far more inspiring.
Negotiations took a week. The first day, Ahmed, a toothless old man with
bloodshot eyes, dressed in a grubby T-shirt and lungi, took me into a cramped room
at the back of his shop, sat me down, offered me sweet milky tea, and proceeded to
display his wares. 'Double knot silk and cotton from Iran. Pure silk. Wool from
Turkey. Bokhara. Kazan.’ My head was reeling, but I managed to shortlist six, which
Ahmed said I could take home (in exchange for a mobile phone number) to think
about.
Over the next couple of days I stroked them, walked barefoot on them, danced on
them, and decided on four. I went back to the shop. As soon as it became clear that I
was serious ('Maybe I’ll buy two,' I said), two younger, smarter men in suits
appeared. I brought them home to talk.
We pored over a piece of paper, with their figures on one side and mine on the
other, attempting to meet in the middle. They promised me certificates, guarantees
and receipts.
'Okay, maybe I’ll buy three.' That helped reduce the gap a bit more, and when
they realised that I might actually take four, the negotiation became more interesting.
But there was still an abyss between us. I had no idea what the price of a good
carpet should be, but I knew these cost much less that they would in Europe, and
were superb.
I told them I would think about it, and returned to the shop a couple of days later
to close the deal. After negotiating with Ahmed and the younger ones for half an
hour, we came to an agreement.
‘You happy, I happy,’ Ahmed said.
When I asked for my documents, he brought me a blank sheet of paper.
'You write, I sign’, he said. I did as I was told.
'Do I get a present?' I asked.
‘Obviously.' He brought me a delicately woven one-foot square carpet in bluey
greys and pinks. Just right for under my phone on my desk.
'And bangles?'
'You like bangles?'
‘Yes, coloured ones.'
Ahmed handed me two.
'Kubh shundar. Very beautiful. More, please?’
He gave me two more.
'Now my baksheesh,' he said. Ah, he wanted something extra.
'Your baksheesh? You have just sold four carpets. You have my cheque.
'Yes, but I need baksheesh.'
'I don't think so.'
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