by Taki Drake
Mary nodded in agreement but remained silent. Standing in the aisle of the bus as Abdul slipped back into the driver seat, the group leader held out her palm where the three tokens recited and asked, “What about these? I have no idea what they are and how to use them!”
Breaking into a delighted laugh, Abdul answered, saying, “Those are friendship tokens that will get you favorable deals from the markets where you choose to negotiate. Bibi told Fatima to tell you that you should be the one negotiating for your sisters’ spices. At least you will prevent any of them from being cheated.”
Somehow Mary knew that this was not the end of what Fatima had said and queried Abdul once more. Their devoted driver and guide turned and looked Mary in the face, letting his admiration for her show as he said, “Fatima told me that Bibi had never given friendship tokens out before. None of the women have ever done so. But they have given you three of them, and they will open doors for you anyplace you go in this area.”
Chapter 8 – Dyeing to Learn
Even though the tour bus had pulled into the hotel late the previous night, the next morning found the women up early, eating a simple breakfast and getting back on the bus for the new day’s adventures. Conversation over the breakfast table had been intense and lively. Patty was rhapsodizing about the food and talking excitedly about developing the recipes for her own restaurant. Geri had become quite interested in the whole subject of spices and proved to be knowledgeable in her own way about the herbs and flavors she had known growing up.
Mary knew that Naomi had spent most of the night sorting through and winnowing out the photographs that she and Geri had collected during the day. While they were eating breakfast, the avid amateur photographer had been running the slideshow on her laptop that kept everyone enthralled.
Even the waitstaff was amazed and complimentary. Furthermore, two of the other diners had diffidently approached Abdul asking the young man if the woman were willing to share the pictures with them.
At first, Mary was a bit offended that they had chosen to speak with Abdul rather than asking Naomi. However, the situation reminded her of the different cultural expectations, and she finally understood that the men were being respectful in the way they had inquired. None of the American women particularly liked this facet of Afghani culture. At least now, they understood the background and motivation, which helped keep any anger or disdain out of their interactions.
Abdul keyed his headset as the bus pulled out from the hotel, announcing, “Today we will be going to two locations. The first is a village that has many different weavers and rug production locations. Each of them would be happy to negotiate with you, but this village was selected because of its extensive number of dyers who color the yarns and fibers used in their textiles and rugs. All of these people are employing traditional Afghani minerals and plants to achieve their colors.”
Naomi stopped burbling about her photography and exclaimed loudly, “Yes! When I told my sewing Guild that I would do some research into the dying techniques, they were blown away. They have already scheduled me as a speaker with a possible workshop after it if we can come up with a way of teaching them some of the dyes that are used.”
Pam spoke up, saying wistfully, “Some of the colors that I have seen are very subtle and would be beautiful in painted fabrics, or to dye yarns to produce shaded needlework. I hope we learn enough that we can experiment with them when we go home.”
After that point, the conversation became general, with discussions that ranged from over-dyeing quilting fabric to the effect of organic dyes on handmade paper. Mary was not drawn into any of the topics, still ruminating over what happened the previous day.
Jean slipped in the seat next to Mary and stayed still, the two women just enjoying each other’s company. Finally, one of Mary’s oldest friends asked her, “What are you worried about? I can tell you have been concerned about something most of the time we have been in Afghanistan. Something that happened yesterday has tightened up the tension that you are carrying around, and I am worried that you could make yourself sick.”
Mary answered slowly, “I am not totally sure. I have felt an increasing pressure as if something will crash over us, but I do not know what it is. I am reacting by spending more energy worrying about what-ifs to see if I can minimize the risk we encounter. The man that was so angry at us yesterday for just being there seems to have triggered something that even trying to sleep at night did not resolve.”
There was silence between the two old friends for a while as the spectacular scenery drew everyone else’s attention to the world outside the bus. Quietly, as if she was talking to herself, Jean said, “It has taken me a while to understand that trying to make everything perfect is a futile gesture. The world we live in is imperfect, and if it turns out that we encounter violence and hurt along the way, I just want you to know that every second of our friendship has been worth it. And that is true no matter what or who gets injured.”
Mary spent the rest of the travel time to the second village in quiet contemplation. Watching the hazy dust trails of their forward escort and the stark, unrelenting majesty of the scenery through which they traveled filled her with a sense of proportion. Too often, she thought to herself, we are wrapped in the false thought that we can control everything. Realizing that there is very little that we can regulate and the rest is a matter of deciding how we will survive is freeing.
When the outskirts of the second village on their itinerary became visible, Abdul got on the bus sound system and announced, “This village is known for its rug market and its dye works. We have arranged three personal tours of the dye works, allowing each of the groups in which we have been divided to get the full attention of the workers and management, as well as providing plenty of time to ask questions and take pictures.”
At the pleased murmurs behind him, their devoted guide and driver added, “We will be spending about three hours here. A picnic lunch has been packed on the bus for your consumption as we travel from the village to a renowned spice market. Considering the interest of various members of the tour in this locale in the goods sold there, a full five hours is anticipated at the market. With any delay in leaving the village, the time we have to spend to shop for spices will be reduced. After the bazaar, we will be traveling on to our reserved hotel for the evening meal and rest.”
There were small cheers from the people in the back of the bus in response to Abdul’s announcement. Double-checking their bags and fanny packs to ensure that they had both trade items and funds available, the women prepared themselves for another power shopping trip.
To Mary’s relief, the stop in the second village was not as emotional as their visit with Bibi and the villagers. Although the dye works' tours were fascinating and Naomi got tons of pictures and notes, there was little or no emotional connection with the people of their first stop.
Mary made careful notes of what spices and other materials were used for the dying and knew that the process, including mordants and other fixatives, had been documented in detail by Naomi and other people. However, on this stop, Mary concentrated on the exquisite rugs offered for sale in the bazaar that ringed the village.
Losing herself in the thrill of negotiation, Mary was cognizant of the difference in the negotiators' ability in this village compared to that of Bibi. The woman almost felt guilty as she intimidated and overwhelmed the merchants in this more affluent village. Moving from vendor to vendor, the group leader was almost pleased to realize it was time to complete their visit here and leave.
Deciding that it might not be fair for her to be this jaded, Mary thought to herself, I am not sure that it is reasonable to expect everyone to honestly know how important it is to bargain to conserve your available resources. It is probably reprehensible on my part that I only want to tussle against somebody who I consider a worthy opponent, someone who understands the dynamics and precisely what is at stake.
After they had gotten underway to the next stop, the s
pice market, Patty made sure to distribute the picnic lunch that had been packed for them. Somewhat disappointing after their meal at the Afghani village the day before, the food was still filling, and the water and other liquids very welcome.
Mary had moved from the rear part of the vehicle, where she usually sat to the empty seat at the front of the right side. She and Abdul had found it useful to consult with each other before the group left the bus at their stopping locations. Today, the woman thought it would be pleasant to share some time with him while she ate. The group leader and the driver chatted idly about various topics, ranging from Abdul’s own history to Mary’s remarkable success in her shopping.
The American women had barely enough time to finish their meal before Abdul pulled up into an area outside of a bustling market. He did not automatically open the door for a change until Haji and Jumal parked their motorcycles and came over to enter the bus.
Somberly, the typically cheerful guide announced over the bus intercom, “This is an extremely busy market. It draws many people from the area, and some general safety rules are critical so that you can avoid possible unpleasant experiences here. First of all, do not stray very far from your escort's presence. Many of the merchants here follow very traditional religious and political views. Women that are without so-called protection will offend them strongly and provoke an adverse reaction.”
Once he had everyone’s version of acquiescence, the guide continued, saying, “We will be dividing up into the same groups that we had before. Haji will escort Naomi and Connie, while Jumal will attend Patty and Pam. The remaining three ladies will stay with me. If you purchase so many goods that we cannot carry them, I will ask you to stay with one of the other groups until your escort comes back from the bus.
“Please allow the translation to be handled by your escort. The exception would be Mary, who has shown that she can communicate well without speaking a single word of the language. Those of you with less awareness of the bargaining dynamic should listen to what your escort tells you rather than pushing on to attempt to set prices and conditions with the hidebound vendors here.”
Patty raised an immediate hand, asking, “Does this mean I should not walk around the market without Mary? Or is it alright for me to walk around with Pam and Jumal to decide on what I really want to be making offers before calling for Mary to do the negotiations?”
Before Abdul could answer, Mary cut in, saying, “It is better for negotiations if when you look through the booth, you look at everything. Do not indicate any significant enthusiasm for a particular item when you do. If the merchant knows what you really desire, it will be harder for me to negotiate, and the merchant will take a harder line. Since we are all trying to conserve our funds, this is especially important.”
When Mary was comfortable that everyone understood, the group leader nodded to Abdul, and the guide continued, stating, “We will have approximately four and one-half hours here at the bazaar. Although it is known as the spice market, there are many other things available for purchase. Remember that here barter is just as powerful, if not more so, than paying for something with currency.”
Mary could hear her friends murmuring to each other but was waiting for the moment she knew the group understood and would comply. When that indescribable moment passed, the woman returned to her preferred seat in the back of the bus and once more packed her tote bag and fanny pack with the essentials she knew she would need.
Moving cautiously into the market when they emerged from the bus, the three groups of women moved off in significantly different trajectories. Mary knew that she would get involved in whatever Patty wanted to purchase once the woman had made her initial evaluations, so she quickly tried to take care of her desires.
Chapter 9 – Dragon Games
Mary’s attention was caught by a dense clump of people around a rough table where six men were seated. Moving slightly closer, the group leader whispered to Abdul, “What is going on?”
Equally quietly, Abdul murmured, “This is a typical gambling game. Each of the seated men is designated as a dragon lizard, and the plaques in front of them contain different markers relating to forces and elements. Whenever a small gong sounds, each of the men turns over one of the plaques in front of him. The pile of coins in the middle, also called a hoard, is divided among the men who have turned over the highest card.”
The American woman watched as a small gong sounded, and the six men flipped their plaques over. Two of them leaned forward with satisfaction while the other four made various dismayed expressions as the winners quickly split up the stack of coins. Mary’s eye was also drawn by a flurry of activity at an even smaller table adjacent to the main table.
Leaning even closer to Abdul, Mary asked, “What is going on at the smaller table? It seems to be somehow included in this game.” The driver's eyes widened slightly in surprise before the man answered, “Truly, you see clearly. This market is typical of many in my country. Traders quickly move from one bazaar to another, and there is no overall way of saying who is a reputable and profitable trader and who is not.
“Those people that want to be considered as capable merchants, possibly even what you would call master merchants, have to conform with whatever controls the market itself requires. In the case of this market, anyone who wishes that distinction wagers on this game. The smaller table holds an area for each of the dragon lizard players. Merchants desiring to be classified as master level make small bets on which of the players will belch fire first.”
Slightly confused, Mary asked, “How does a player belch dragon fire?” When Abdul explained that it meant when there was only a single winner in a round, the woman began to closely observe the gameplay.
Geri and Jean had been silent up to this point, just listening to the conversation. However, Jean was compelled to speak, whispering, “Mary, there are only men here. It may be something that women are not allowed to do.”
Mary looked at Abdul quickly, and the driver responded immediately, “While it is unusual, there are women that are considered expert traders, in fact, some of them are the most feared. They also play this game.”
Suddenly looking determined, Mary edged closer to the small table. Watching another new arrival at the market place his bid, the woman saw that each stack of coins had a different color of yarn or string stuck in it. An older man standing to one side of the small table held a handful of colorful yarns and carefully watched the bids.
Moving toward him so suddenly that Abdul almost tripped in his hurry to follow her, Mary placed herself in front of the older man and calmly extended her right palm in a nonverbal demand. Taken aback, the old man looked first outraged. Barking a phrase at Abdul, the driver's response changed the atmosphere.
First examining the trading tokens that hung around Mary’s neck, there was already a look of respect in the old man’s eyes when he finally met the woman’s resolute stare. The official's dark brown eyes warmed with amused acknowledgment before he carefully extracted a bright red thread and placed it gently on her palm.
Just then, a gong sounded. There was a shout from the main table, and one of the players yelled in triumph before sweeping all of the coins in the middle of the table to his own side.
Simultaneously, the old man in charge of the trader table examined the standing bets and began to apportion winnings to those whose bids were placed in the corresponding player position. Mary noticed a careful tithing of the stakes, with one in ten of the coins being slipped into a sack that was then handed off to a young boy. As the young boy took off, Abdul leaned over to Mary and said quietly, “That is the market’s share. The runner takes the winnings to the headman every time a dragon lizard breathes fire.” The woman nodded but kept her focus on the actions going around her.
The action around the small table swirled as men came in to place their new bets. Mary watched until the activities slowed before threading her way through the onlookers to put a small pile of currency on an empty player square.
Making sure that her bright red yarn was visible, the woman stepped back, meeting the incredulous look of the old man in charge of the table with a calm, confident manner.
Abdul was so surprised that he forgot to keep his voice down when he said, “Mary, no one else is betting on that player. That usually means that he is not very good.” Murmurs from the men around them ranged from contemptuous to amused in tone, but Mary did not lose even the smallest bit of her confident manner.
Answering Abdul in a clear contralto that carried over the lower men’s voices around her, Mary stated assuredly, “Everyone deserves someone to believe in them. That man is no less competent than the others, nor does he deserve to be discounted. I have made my wager, and I am leaving it where it stands.”
Feeling the pressure of poignant regard, Mary looked up to meet the searching gaze of one of the men at the main table. The woman noticed that he was neither the youngest nor oldest player there, slender in frame and dressed conservatively. Driven by a power she could not identify, the American woman offered up a small encouraging smile to the Afghani man searching for her motivation. For a brief moment, there was a connection that transcended cultures and language before a gong sounded and the players flipped their plaques.
Again, two players roared in triumph and divided the pot. Mary watched some of the traders placing alternative bets and other squares, while others supplemented their wagers on the table. Many of them did not change their stakes at all, content to watch the next action round.
When Mary began to move toward the table, the men around her fell silent. The woman could feel the pressure of their gazes, the curiosity that was reaching the burning point as they try to understand her actions. Ignoring all of that, Mary calmly placed an even larger wager on the same square, supplementing her lonely bid.