Monday, December 14, 2009

How things work.

I think my recent experience in an unnamed airport lends some insight into how things work in the developing world. The airport will remain unidentified to protect, well, lets say the involved, since no-one in this story is innocent, including me.

I had arrived at said airport early, way early, and so had seen a couple of waves of passengers come and go, and one of the curious airport staff, the manager of a cafe/bar came over and started chatting. Later in the day, he mentioned that he could bring me some lunch if I wanted.
"There's chicken and fries, sandwich and fries, whatever you want." he said.
"How much is chicken and fries?" I inquired.
"Eleven dollars."
"Wow, kind of expensive, isn't it?" I replied
I should note that all of this is in the local language; an important factor which I'll elaborate on in a minute. Furthermore, I had seen he himself eating a plate of rice and beef just 5 minutes before, which I was guessing came from the airport staff kitchen. I was also guessing this was free for employees.
"What if I order rice and beef, like what you had?" I asked.
He chuckles, and then says."Rice and beef is 15 dollars."
"Fifteen?! Well, what about if I order just rice and sauce, no meat." I counter-offer.
"Maybe 3 dollars, No! 5 dollars." he says, with little hesitation.
"Come on," I say,"how about 4 dollars."
"Let me check with the cook." he responds.
I then thank him and retreat to my airport bench located slightly away from the cafe.
The cafe manager then carries on with his day, apparently not inquiring about my rice and sauce at all. I wait patiently and after about a half hour, he comes by my spot and tells me he is going to check with the cook now. Five minutes after this, he shows up with a steaming plate of rice and sauce; there's even a little meat in there, and hands it to me while informing me that the cook says 5 dollars. I nod and gratefully accept the plate.

Here's the thing. The food I got was tasty, 10 times better than the plastic wrapped sandwiches that are normally offered, and likely free to airport employees. I'm assuming that the cook probably did agree to 4 dollars, and the cafe manager with whom I negotiated, added an additional dollar for a 'handling fee'. And although I am paying for what is technically free food, I am paying one third of the official price if I had ordered something similar off the cafe menu. So everyone wins right? Not quite, I don't think. It seems like an ethical gray area, and one might argue that it's actually some subtle form of corruption.

Regardless, like I said in the beginning, it does provide some insight into how things work. One could probably try to analyze the haziness of the whole scenario, the non-linearity and randomness, and how what occurred was based more on the apparent established relationship between the cafe manager and myself, rather than any kind of menu, or marketing structure etc etc.

I wanted to come back briefly to the whole language thing. I am pretty sure that what occurred would have had a much lower chance of happening if I had been trying to make the transaction in English. In general I would say speaking English probably costs twice as much as speaking the local tongue, even just a very few words. For whatever reason, the majority of people respond to hearing a foreigner struggling to communicate in the local dialect. I mean, I don't try to learn language to save money, but it does seem to be a side benefit.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Christmas

I think I just heard my first Christmas carols of the season being sung in Swahili by a group called Maimbo Pamoja, on a TV mounted in the lobby, next to the oscillating fan in the Muslim guesthouse, while waiting for my room receipt for 8000 Shillings. The guesthouse is in a dryland plain area in the town of Boma, about 15 minutes from the Kilimanjaro airport. For some reason, experiencing 'Gloria in excelsis Deo" completely cut off from all my normal cultural cues, without any fanfare or flourish, made it a moving moment for me. Now I begin my long journey home, including the not to be missed extended layover in the Nairobi airport, where I am beginning to recognize some of the employees and vice versa. Perhaps I will wish them a Merry Christmas.