We arrived home from PPST Sunday evening around 8:00 to spend our first night in our basically empty apartment. We had a 4 hour layover in Agadir before catching the bus back to site so we went to Marjane (Moroccan Wal-Mart) to pick up a few small essentials, such as a pot, a pan, some silverware etc. Luckily, most stores in site tend to be open more in the evening then they do during the day so we were also able to procure a small buta (butane gas) tank and fitting to cook on for the evenings meal. Although by the time we actually got our purchases unpacked and the house cleaned just a little bit, we were both way too tired to even think about eating. At least we would have something to boil water with for coffee in the morning.

Before we had left for PPST we scouted out a place in the next town, 10km to the West, where we could buy a bed, a fridge, a stove (basically a multi top gas burner hooked up to a larger buta tank), a table and possibly a bookshelf all with free delivery. We got prices for everything and budgeted ourselves accordingly. The plan was to get up in the morning and start making our way there as it can sometimes take a while to find a taxi going in that direction. We figured if we got there early enough in the day we might be able to get them to deliver same day.

By 11:30 Monday morning we were in the cab and on our way. I was dreaming of cold Fanta and juice, having a place to put eggs and a freezer to make ice, a stove to cook our first real meal and a table at which to sit while we ate said meal. As we walked down the street towards the store I just kept thinking about what we would make for our first dinner, since we hadn’t eaten the previous night. Although I knew it would probably not be anything elaborate and would most likely be delicious but easy macaroni and cheese mailed from my parents in the U.S., I guess it was just the idea of cooking in general that made me excited; until we reached the blue awning and turned to walk into the store. Where just 2 weeks prior there had been 5 different models of refrigerators there was now only dust bunnies. As we continued into the store we also realized that all the stoves and the table were gone. Eventually the store owner came in to confirm our fears, that indeed he was completely sold out. Maybe people were buying second fridges to prepare for Ramadan, maybe with the heat old ones were breaking. Whatever the reason I couldn’t fathom one store selling out of that many fridges in only 2 weeks time. As I stood there in awe and devastation the man said he would have more in tomorrow afternoon. This, too, seemed an impossibility to me but I skeptically took his word. We went down to the home-wares store around the corner purchased a few more small items (tea kettle, plastic 3-tiered shelves for the kitchen, plates and excitingly 2 chairs for our non-table) and headed home.

In Morocco, time is something of an oddity. The word for tomorrow is also the same word for morning and the actual time denoted by the words evening and afternoon are vague and highly misconstrued at best. So what time should we head westward? It’s actually a strategic and complicated decision especially given trying to find a taxi. We started to leave around 2:00 but 2-4 being the hottest part of the day and the streets being silent when we walked outside we retreated until 4:00. In the taxi, we texted Alex, another PCV located in that town that we were on our way. He met us on the corner and we all walked toward the blue awning. I tried to give up the idea of sitting at a table and eating anything not cooked in 1 pot on the small buta but my dreams lingered. As expected, disappointment set in as we turned into the store. The owner wasn’t around but his brother said once again, that they should be coming in from Agadir tomorrow afternoon. Fortunately, he did qualify his “afternoon” with “around 3:00”.

As we left the store the grand idea of asking Alex to check the store for us before we taxied in again for a 3rd day of disillusionment, dawned on me. Alex said he needed to go to Tiznit in the morning but he would check for us when he returned. Satisfied that we wouldn’t come back until we were sure the store was stocked we headed to the stairs to wait for a taxi heading East. I remembered seeing stoves and fridges in the shop next to where we were sitting and figured we had some time to spare. The owner in there told us he too was sold out of fridges and as we were walking out the door Dave spotted a box off to the side with a picture of a stove. It was the brand we wanted but a little smaller then we had hoped. While we were contemplating the purchase the owner disappeared behind a stack of other boxes and re-emerged with the stove we wanted. Of course, he was charging 50dh more then it was worth and more then we wanted to pay. Contemplation continued but eventually gave way to let’s at least get something. With Ramadan looming on the horizon we gave in so at minimum we would have something to cook on. Things were starting to turn around, little by little, at least we didn’t leave town empty handed.

We ended up staying home on Wednesday since Alex didn’t get back from Tiznit until after the store was closed and couldn’t tell us whether our desired items had indeed come in. He said he would check the following morning and let us know.

While we were up most of the night chasing mice out of the apartment we heard the 3:00 am Mosque call for the start of Ramadan. Our first souk (market) day, in which we actually needed to buy things, and the first day of Ramadan, the makings of a notable day. We headed out to souk but decided without a fridge and plans to go to Tafraout on Friday that we should hold off on buying any vegetables. We bought a few more small items from the home-wares guy and started back to the apartment when we ran into our host father sitting in his friend’s wood shop. We noticed he had a few ponj benches and a nice round wooden table on wheels. With our host father standing there he quoted us really good locals prices. We decided to go drop our few souk purchases off and head back to buy 2 ponj benches, to be used as a bed stand, and the wooden table, in lieu of the larger plastic one from the other store in the neighboring town. When we got back our host father was gone and when we re-asked about the prices they had practically doubled. The table that moments ago was 350dh was now suddenly 650dh. Outrage was a mere understatement, but when we reminded him that Mohammed, when he was here had said that everything was 650dh, not 950dh, he agreed. So continued our little by little furnishing of our apartment.

Around 2:00 on Thursday afternoon we got the text from Alex that the fridges looked like they were in from what he could see, but the store wasn’t open. Even though they told us they would be open regular hours during Ramadan it was 2:00 and they were closed. We headed over there around 3:00 hoping they would be open by then and figured we would hang out at Alex’s place if they weren’t. As we approached the blue awning the doors were open and indeed all the same refrigerators were once again covering the dust bunnies that had been exposed in their absence.

The owner came in and in a last moment effort to make our final decision on which fridge to purchase, we asked the prices. In classic Moroccan fashion the prices had magically changed. The smallest by 100dh and the largest, that we were looking at, by 500dh. Again outrage started to boil. Not wanting to go crazy just yet, I walked away from the fridges to ask about the beds. Those, too had unfoundedly increased from 900dh to 1200dh and the mattress he was now claiming to be 900dh was the worst one they sold. Now I was pissed. We tried every tactic we could think of. We dropped names, we tried compromising and bargaining, we tried nicely explaining that we weren’t tourists, had limited money and that he told us they were different prices the last time we were in. Nothing. He wouldn’t budge. Outrage became fury. At this point I was so mad about the principle of the whole thing I couldn’t think straight.

Alex suggested we go to his place for a little while to think about it and discuss our options. So we left and after a few hours decided we would offer 3700dh total, only 200dh less then what they were really asking which we knew was still too much, and walk away if they stayed firm. When we went back the owner was gone but his brother was there again. He told us he wasn’t involved in the prices and we would have to wait until the owner got back. We stood talking to the brother for awhile who spoke fairly decent english. We talked about fasting and Ramadan and learning Tashleheet. We hoped we were building a rapport.

When the owner returned we again tried our best tactics, including having our host father talk to him and explain that we were volunteers and that we weren’t making any money. Nothing fazed him. He stayed firm. We probably would have walked out but our host father said we should just pay him the extra 200dh. I was torn between just wanting to be done with this entire charade, have a bed and fridge and move on with my life, and going through this all again, with another store further away, that wouldn’t deliver for free just out of spite, but not giving these guys a dirham of my money.

To be honest it was a really difficult decision. I knew I was being wronged and had been insulted in the process. During our negotiations, or pleading really, the brother had called us greedy. He told us that there were plenty of people in the country with no money and that they didn’t try and buy things they didn’t have money for. The entire time I bit my tongue, thinking to myself that they were the ones upping prices for foreigners and lying about quoting us lower prices earlier. We are here working for them, to try and help better their communities, their neighbors and their environment. Changing our lives to help improve theirs and they won’t compromise or budge 200dh and we are the greedy ones.

In the end we bought the bed and fridge for the full price they were asking.They delivered it immediately and gave us a ride home. The entire time I just kept playing the whole thing over in my head. I was so livid, but yet I had said nothing. I paid their price and kept my mouth shut. Luckily, Dave was there to do the rest of the talking. I guess I knew if I opened my mouth it wouldn’t have been good, not for getting our purchase and not for our integration into a highly conservative corner of Morocco. Maybe it was a bad idea to try and negotiate a price at the very end of the first day of Ramadan, maybe he knew we were desperate since we had been into the store almost everyday for the entire week. We knew there was no guarantee we wouldn’t go through this same thing with another vendor. Although it was a painful and disheartening experience, I know that not all Moroccans are like that and for all the people who take advantage of us their are more that have and will look out for us. I’ll find comfort in cooking dinner and drinking a glass of juice with ice in it.

It took us a while, but little by little our empty apartment has begun to fill up. We have the few creature comforts that make living a little easier and as time passes we will little by little continue to make Morocco our home. Hopefully not all future transactions will be this trying.

*check out the video in multimedia for a short tour of the apartment