Day's Diary

January 25, 2007 ~ The Vendors

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I have been in Malawi almost a month now and in that time I have become well known to an entire cadre of vendors – individuals selling everything from mops to madonnas (wood carved, not the human!). On any given day, I will have at least three vendors at my door. And these are the ones who get past my house help, who does a wonderful job of intercepting vendors and others seeking help, but some always get past her. That is what the vendors who come to the door want, more than to sell their good. They want financial help. There is not a vendor who has come who has not had a story to tell of his hardships and why I should buy from him to provide for his needs. This is a most unusual sales approach, from an American perspective, but not from a Malawian. The individual standing at my door, usually a man in worn clothing, begins with, “Abusa,” – pastor. Now how they know I am a pastor is purely word of mouth. I don’t wear a clergy collar at home to answer the door, but the word has gotten out that there is a female abusa from America living at Zomba Theological College. I will admit that I do stand out when I go to town. I am one of a small number of mzungu in Zomba, so I am easy to spot, but they have to know where I live to make the “house appeal,” and they do.

Actually, they know all of the mzungu and who knows whom in the community, it would seem. They have a very effective communication system. One said that he had come to see Dr. Paas (the Dutch lecturer who lives just down the road), but he wasn’t home so he was now coming to me. This, I think, I was to take as an honor, to be next in line, after Dr. Paas. Another reported that he had recently been in Blantyre and had spoken to the Canadians (Joel and Rebecca Sherbino), so I could be assured that he was respectable in his request. I was more assured that he was well traveled in his appeals.

Some are selling vegetables, some fruit, many wood carvings or hand made stationary, and all have a story. They begin their sales pitch with their story. After greeting the abusa, they begin:

“I have been to the hospital for my eyes and the doctor has given me a prescription that I need to have filled, but I don’t have the money for the medicine. Please buy one of my wood carvings so I can afford the medicine.”

“My sister-in-law just died and we used all our money to help to bury her, and now the daughter’s school fees are due and I have no money to pay them. Please buy my carvings so that I can see that my daughter is educated. You know how important education is for a girl child.” (This was an especially nice touch for the female abusa’s benefit.)

“Please, Abusa, I need transportation money to get home. Won’t you buy some bananas today?”

“No thank you” is not a phrase that any of them easily accept. It must be repeated at least five times before the vendor begins to get the idea that I am really not interested. Each time I say “No thank you, I’m not buying today,” I get an expanded version of the original story, with increasing details. Saying “no” is not easy at any time for me, but especially when I hear the stories that go with the sales pleas. I try to turn away, but it is difficult. I know some of the stories are just that. The first week I was here the same fellow came three days in a row, each day with a different story. I didn’t buy any of the three days. (Ella, my house help, had “warned me” that he was not reliable.) He was particularly frustrated with me by the fourth day, and I with him. I finally said I would buy one of his carving, on the condition that he did not come back again. He agreed, but then as he was leaving he said maybe in a month or so he would try again and I might want to look again. I reminded him of the condition of the sale and he just smiled. He’ll be back. He wore me down once; he will hope that it may work again.

Many times the vendor is not the craftsman, but only “his agent.” One fellow came with Noah’s Arks and I told him I wasn’t interested. He asked what I might be interested in, in the future. At that time, I could have used a candle holder. I was naïve enough to tell him that and an hour later he was back with three sets of candle holders from which I could choose. I asked him where he had gotten them so quickly and he replied, “My brother also carves.”

Actually, I have a slowly growing collection of lovely wood carving and paper products. The fruits and vegetables are being consumed regularly. It is hard for me to continually say no. Silas laughs when he comes and sees a new carving. We call them my charitable contributions to Malawi. My rationale is that they will make nice presents. Some of you may have some of these lovely carvings in your own home by this time next year. As you enjoy them, you may know that they have provided medicine, hospital costs, school fees, transportation and the like for the craftsman or his agent.