Like My Sister-in-Law

It's just a few months before I move back to the States.  I'm out shopping for gifts to bring my family.

There's a little market - le marché artisanal - over by the beach.  It's a touristy sort of place, the kind full of beautiful jewelry, carved wood animals, and hefty prices.  You have to be prepared to bargain well.

I walk into a little boutique.  There's an array of different things to buy here, but I'm interested in the batik wall hangings.

The boutiquier, who introduces himself as Mamadou, offers me a stool.  We exchange greetings and I tell him what I'm looking for.  He pulls a stack of the colorful fabric from a shelf and plops it on my lap.

"Are you American?"
"Yes," I chuckle slightly.  I'm never sure what direction that answer will take the conversation in.
"You're like my sister-in-law - my brother's wife.  He married an American."
"Oh, really?  Do they live here?"
"No, they live in America.  In Boston.  You know it?"
"Yes, it's a big city.  I've never been there before, though.  I'm from the other side of the country - my state is called California."
"Ah.  Well, when I look at you, I think of my brother's wife.  She's very kind," he added.

He tells me how, when she came to Senegal for a visit, she tried all the food, carried water from the village well, and even tried eating with her hand.  Clearly this made a big impression on him.  I tell him a bit about my own experiences here.

I look through wall hangings.  "I'm trying to think of what colors they'll like," I explain.
"Who is it for?  Your mother?"
"My mother and my two sisters.  I'm returning to the States soon and want to bring them something from Senegal."
"This one is really pretty," he offers, unfolding a design of several women pounding with mortar and pestle.  "It's very Senegalese."
"It is.  But...I think they'd like something with less yellow.  Maybe this one?" I hold up another piece, this one in purples and greens.
"Oh, yes, that's a good choice," he nods.
"How much?"

His price is high - ridiculous, really - which of course I expected in a place like this.  He knows he won't actually sell it for that price, and I know I won't actually pay that price.  I laugh.  "Oh, that's way too high!"  I name a price, equally ridiculous, and it's his turn to laugh.
"No, no.  That's too low."

I continue looking through the stack, and he asks a bit more about my family.  I tell him one of my sisters is a nurse, that my youngest sister is married and has a little baby.
"Boy or girl?"
"A little boy.  His name is Malachi."
"Oh, that's a good name," he says emphatically.  "I wish him health and a long life."

By now, I've selected four wall hangings I really like.  We have to talk prices now.  He inches down a bit from his original price while extolling the virtues of the batiks.  It's still too high.  With a mischievous smile, I remind him that I'm like his sister-in-law, and because of that, he should drop his price even more.  We go back and forth for a bit, knowing we'll meet somewhere in between.  At last I'm satisfied that he's reached his final offer - and that it's a fair price.

I pay him.  He hands me the fabric in a plastic bag and shakes my hand, smiling broadly.

"My sister-in-law, I wish you and your family health and many good things."
"And to you," I reply, turning to leave.