Africa: part 2 of 4
Victoria Falls, upriver
One of the seven natural wonders of the world, Victoria Falls churns out clouds and rainbows as fast as local villagers weave baskets and carve wood figurines. It is a remarkable sight: the wide, slow, meandering Zambezi River — Africa’s fourth largest — suddenly pouring over a wide, spectacular cliff to a distant canyon more than a football field below.
Victoria is, in my opinion, the best of the world’s three great waterfalls. To put its rainy season water volume in context, 3 1/2 days of runoff could supply all of New York City’s water needs for an entire calendar year.
Iguasu Falls, which straddles the Brazil/Argentina border, is a bit wider than Victoria but has breaks in the fall line and is not as tall. Less water tumbles over, too. And as impressive as Niagara Falls is for Americans and Canadians, Victoria is twice as big.
The Zambezi River divides Zambia and Zimbabwe, with the best view of the falls coming from the national park on the outskirts of the Zimbabwe town of Victoria Falls. A row of small shops line the parking lot across the street, with vendors offering two things — souvenir curios and rental raincoats. Fork over the three bucks for the raincoat. You’ll need it. But don’t take your camera. It will get soaked and possibly ruined.
Zimbabwe recently switched to the U.S. dollar after hyperinflation necessitated the printing of $5-billion markers, which are now hawked by aggressive street touts as souvenirs but did nothing to stop the economy from total collapse. I bought five of various denominations — $100,000, $50 million, $5 billion — as souvenirs. The tout asked for twenty bucks. I paid $5, which I felt was generous considering the bills are worthless and teachers and government workers earn barely $200 per month. He winced, complained, and grabbed the Lincoln.
The park entrance fee was $30, which at the time I thought was absurd since I had paid less that morning to play 18 holes of golf at nearby Elephant Hills. Nose wrinkled, I forked over the cash and went inside.
I quickly learned that the only downside to touring Victoria Falls is that, if anything, you’re too close. Iguasu keeps visitors far enough back to see the full cascading falls from crest to canyon. At Victoria you are face-first right up on them, front row to the sound, power, mist, rain, and sensory overload. The sudden, no warning contrast between the slow, clear, easy flowing Zambezi River and the thundering force of the falls is, in a way, almost religious. No one talks. Everyone stares. It is no wonder British explorer David Livingstone was so taken aback when he first saw the falls in November, 1855. Everyone who’s seen it since feels the exact same way.
Twenty or so sequential viewing spots run opposite the length of the waterfall face, the path lined by a tree branch-and-thorn bush fence. Workers with machetes continually repair it, thanks to warthogs and other creatures of the bush that don’t pay attention to fences. Arm-thick limbs are hacked down, whittled to length, stuck in the ground in a hip-high picket row, and then interwoven with thick thorn bush limbs to keep people corralled.
Opposite the middle of the falls you can stand at cliff’s edge on a rock precipice and look down to the canyon gorge below. I’m scared of heights, so I inched out, stole a glance, immediately felt squirrely, and retreated. It rains on you here — heavily — so the rocks are very slippery. The raincoat delivers a very fine return on investment. This is Victoria’s best view and it is extraordinary.
When I exited the park two hours after entering I was no longer grousing about the $30 it cost to enter. Instead I was thinking, “If Disney owned this, it would cost 200 bucks.”
I walked back across the street to return my raincoat and browse the vendor stalls while waiting for the Elephant Hills shuttle van. I feared the salesmen would be jackals of aggression. A hand-carved wooden tureen featuring Africa’s Big 5 animals (elephant, lion, Cape buffalo, leopard, and rhinoceros) caught my eye. The shopkeeper came over. I braced for the hard sell.
“Thank you for considering my shop,” he said. “If you find an item you like, we will work something out. I appreciate you taking the time to look.”
I smiled and nodded, thinking, “Here I am, half-a-world away at a roadside stand, and this guy is role-modeling the precise sales behaviors I try to teach corporate clients back home: from hello, manage the customer’s emotional experience.”
I have haggled with shopkeepers on every continent except Antarctica and was surprised by the vendor’s customer-empathetic approach. We cut a deal for the carved tureen, shook hands, and said goodbye. He politely thanked me again as I left.
The buying process was simple and straightforward: I asked how much, he gave me a high number, I countered with close to what I was willing to pay, he countered down, and I bumped up slightly and showed him the cash. He was never confrontational or aggressive. Nor was I anything but respectful. We both knew the product was a want, not a need, and had a floor value to him and a ceiling value to me. As long as the purchase offer is between the two, we both have reason to close the deal.
My buying price was 40 percent of his original ask. I may have been able to go lower but there was no need. I would have happily purchased the item a hundred times in a row for what I was willing to pay.
Wondering if this shopkeeper’s approach was an aberration, on my last day in Victoria Falls I went shopping for gifts at the Elephant Walk artists’ area, a guarded “no tout” cluster of buildings that keeps street people like the currency vendor from bothering the tourists. Outside the Elephant Walk boundary is another line of shops, where it’s open season to haggle with street hustlers. I enjoy the gamesmanship of those negotiations but realize it’s uncomfortable for many who prefer to buy according to price tags.
Elephant Walk is a more traditional store experience that caters to visitors. You can barter for some things but not all. It was fun to learn that the customer-centric professionalism of the vendors held true. All extend respect. To buy effectively, you must reciprocate. Respect the shopkeeper, the shop, and the merchandise.
I had more fun out in the pit, across the street where prices are flexible and everyone wants a sale. Money is hard to come by in Zimbabwe and the shopkeepers have learned that success comes easier by managing the emotional experience of their prospects than by hounding them. Most were excellent salesmen who were (for me, a sales coach) a lot of fun to banter with. Engage. You and they will really enjoy it.
Here are 10 suggestions for dealing with shopkeepers:
- Arrive with sufficient small bills to pay in exact dollars for any purchase transaction. Cash talks. Change is in short supply. Put different amounts or denominations in different pockets. Know what cash is in which pocket.
- Remain respectful at all times. Avoid critical remarks about the shop, merchant, merchandise, or asking price.
- Politely ask for space and the freedom to carefully look with a purpose. Study what you see.
- Gauge quality. How much skill was required to produce the item? Is it handmade or mass-produced?
- When you spot something you like, decide what the item is worth to you. Once you have that figure in mind, ask how much. Never tell your number first. Insist the shopkeeper reveals his first. Their price will be way high. Rather than argue, nod and move on to look at other things.
- Carefully cover the inventory of the merchant’s shop. If another item catches your interest, follow the same process: gauge but do not disclose its value to you, and then ask the shopkeeper how much.
- When you are ready to make an offer for one or multiple items, treat your value estimations as your ceiling. Regardless how high their initial price quotes were, offer slightly less than you are willing to pay. The shopkeeper will counter. Smile and counter back to your ceiling price with a polite word that your number is the best you’ll go. Avoid the term “take it or leave it.” Since cash is king, show it.
- Seek a win/win resolution. A dollar in our lives is worth less than a dollar in theirs. If you negotiate a price you are happy with, do the deal. There is no need to squeeze nickels and dimes out of hardworking people struggling to get by. Their economy is in terrible shape. Life is hard. Given the chance, be kind. Help a brother out.
- If you can’t get to yes, be willing to walk. And prove it. A deal for three items did not close until I stepped outside the shop and started walking away. “Elvis is leaving the building,” I warned. “Do not let him go!” The shopkeeper came after me and accepted my final cash offer. If what you offered is fair to you but unacceptable to them, that’s okay. Keep walking.
- End each encounter with a smile, a sincere “Thank you!” and a friendly wave or handshake. Whether you buy something or not, being nice is always free. Role-model kindness whenever and wherever you are given the chance.
Zimbabwean workers have a very tough road to hoe. Have fun shopping and reward good merchants. You’ll feel good knowing you helped them hoe theirs.
Travel gives us all a chance to be a positive force in the universe. Take full advantage.