I was a bargain demon, then this happened.
A bargain-hunter is a person who looks for a place to buy something at a cheaper price than usual. I became a bargain demon after being often told I have paid too much for a product or service.
According to the book the 48 Laws of Power, Law 40 says: Despise the Free Lunch and describes the bargain demon as someone ‘Wasting valuable time digging for bargains, they worry endlessly about what they could have gotten elsewhere for a little less.
The bargain item they do buy is often shabby; perhaps it needs costly repairs or will have to be replaced twice as fast as a high-quality item.
The costs of these pursuits — not always in money (though the price of a bargain is often deceptive) but in time and peace of mind — discourage normal people from undertaking them, but for the Bargain Demon the bargain is an end in itself.’
I won't view myself in this harsh light as described above, thank you. But the way I managed interactions with the informal street sellers changed after being ‘cheated’ several times, and after a while, I succeeded in paying ridiculously low amounts compared to other people. Hurray! It took practice though. This also reflected in the way I shop, acutely aware of sales and clearance items.
However, this badassery was shortlived.
In Lagos, we don't just pay the first price when told, we ‘price it’.
We bargain just for the heck of it. Modern trade is relatively not widespread. This means that traditional markets are still predominant in many parts of Nigeria. Many items are still sold without price tags, on the roadside, in the local market.
According to a Nielsen Nigeria study in 2019“Nigerian shoppers have become more cautious with their spend, they are pre-planning their category choices prior to shopping visits and once in-store; mostly buying essentials and switching to cheaper brands.
Let me break down what it means to buy on the roadside in Lagos
The means that the price of an item is largely derived from the seller's rough estimation of what he needs to sell to make a profit. Also, their shrewdness in determining how much you're worth after an evaluation of the car you drive or how rich you appear. A shabby looking girl or boy can get an item for half the price the person who comes wearing high heels, clutching an expensive plus and god help you if you are wearing expensive sunshades as well pays.
The seller ‘smells’ affluence and usually hikes the price. if the buyer doesn't agree to this price, the price reverts back so the sale is not lost.
Another instance is going to an area you are unfamiliar with when the Okada (commercial motorcyclist) senses your naivety, his fare price goes up by at least 500–1000%.
A typical example is a woman selling bananas by the bus-stop tells you the banana you picked up is 200 you know you haven’t bought banana this cheap. Ever. But you still haggle. ‘Madam no be 135.. (people mention odd sums too). Sometimes she has been worn down by the familiarity of your attempt at bargaining, she agrees and advises you to pay.
Other days, a dam breaks, she gets exasperated, collects the offending banana and shoos you away, in her native dialect. Calling you names as you either ‘reject it (being the insults or curses) in the name of Jesus, say ‘back to the sender by the blood of Jesus’ or scurry away.
In Lagos, if you are not a bargainer, then you are a mumu (street word for a fool). My husband told me that whenever I ask how much he bought something, he will think of the lowest amount to tell me yet no matter how low he goes, I will still say ‘ha, they cheated you o.’
This is the bargain-hunting experience that I 'll never forget.
One day everything changed
Several years ago,I think I was still a youthcorper was with a friend at Stadium Bus-stop, Surulere here in Lagos and the trip to Bode Thomas from there usually cost between 50–80 nairas. That night, the bike men said there was an expected fuel scarcity, so they hiked the rides to between N150 to N200.
I wasn’t prepared to pay that much, at least mentally. I continued to haggle with the bike men parked along the road hoping for a deal. Suddenly an okada came ridding towards me, I mentioned N50 and he nodded. He wasn't older than 18, still quite boyish.
He never mentioned a word. Just nodded in agreement. I hopped on the bike and before he zoomed off, I asked my friend how much she negotiated with her own rider, she said N150. I told her my own okada charged just N50. I now rewarded her with that half pity, half-mocking look we reserve for those who waste money in Lagos.
She also looked at me as if she was ashamed of herself for not having tried harder, haggled better.
Scarcely did I know I was in for the ride of my life? I observed moments before I hopped on the bike, and he was severely cross-eyed. I was still too gleeful at the deal I cut for myself to pause.
I was this person who was always told that I didn’t haggle well. My mum would say ‘ chichi I na tufu ego’, meaning I waste money. So I developed the habit of reducing the price I paid for items when asked. I hated hearing the ‘so you paid N3,000 for this ugly blouse, you cannot you price?’ this would be one of my relatives shaking their head at the hopelessness of my street clumsiness?
This evening, as we zoomed off, it drizzled and my first introduction to my unique predicament was the fact that he drove in a zig-zag fashion. Like a child learning to ride a bicycle, the only difference was that he was as fast as he was unstable.
I held onto him and shouted, ‘stop turning from one side to another na’ he does not flinch or turn, Within 30 seconds he almost knocked off the side mirror of a car, the driver screams invectives, to which he still didn’t react. It is rare to find bike drivers that are this calm and unperturbed.
Lagos is full of opinionated people who are never mistaken, try asking two motorists the cause of their argument you will face the dilemma not knowing who wronged the other.
He was riding too hastily, running into at least two other bikes, and the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he began determinedly aiming for the massive truck in front of us. I screamed and screamed, no response, then I hit him and motioned wildly with my hand for him to stop. He slows down, and I am sure I flew off his bike, already dizzy with dread.
Then petulantly shoves at me what looked like an ID card. I peer at it in the darkness, the boldest letters jumped in my face ‘Deaf and Dumb Association of Nigeria’… the rest is a blur. I give him N200 expecting a change of N150 as per our agreement, but he collects the money and zooms off. In hindsight, I don’t think he ever agreed to N50.
Whoever gave him a bike perhaps intended to play an evil prank on bargain demons like me; I don’t think he was only deaf and dumb; he was also at least 80% blind.
I learned something that day. I could have died at his hands. A man(boy) with a questionable ID and even more a questionable state of mind just because I didn't want to feel swindled. I wanted to prove, to apparently no one, that I could do ‘this’.
