1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.5 An Idiosyncratic Interlude
1.2.5.2 The great lokum negotiation
As soon as Kafana saw that Vedad and Harun were standing next to her tall earthenware jar of foil-wrapped desert sweets, she could guess they arguing about lokum. Lokum was sometimes known as “Turkish Delight”, but you wouldn’t spot anyone around here referring to it by that name. She made five varieties: green mastic, yellow bergamot, pink rosewater, brown cinnamon and white walnut. Everybody had their favourite and her regulars, when bored, could get quite intense when negotiating the rate to trade one flavour lokum for another. It had never caused a physical scrap so far but Vedad, though legally an adult at nineteen years of age, was still a child in many ways - his temper grew frayed when he felt he wasn't being treated fairly, and his injured tone seemed to bring out the worst in Harun. She went over to sort it out, before things grew worse.
Nadine: “What seems to be the problem?”
She put a friendly smile on her face. When she’d first set up Kafana Sabanagic she would spend ages hunting through the jar she stored them in, to find each patron’s desired colour. Unfortunately, if someone was off visiting relatives for a month, that resulted in the jar filling up with the absent person’s favourite colour, and the hunt for everybody else’s became harder and harder. After two years of increasing frustration, she’d started wrapping each one an anonymous foil and had instituted a strict policy of dealing them out at random. Her rules was that a customer could eat what they’d ended up with, trading it away, or let it go to waste - but then, if it didn't get eaten, she wouldn't serve you another that day. It wasn't a perfect rule, she told her regulars, but it mostly worked and, at their discount, they could like it or lump it. Stubbornly, they found a third option: they all gave Bosnian shrugs then turned it into a game they could bet upon.
Vedad: “He’s got a cinnamon, and he won’t trade it to me. He knows it’s my favourite!”
Harun: “Why should I? I’m happy with cinnamon.”
Vedad: “Yeah, but you prefer walnut, and I’m offering to give you my white in exchange for your brown.”
Harun: “It is true I enjoy the walnut, and if you were to make a gift of it to me, I’d give you thanks.”
Vedad: “Just thanks, not the cinnamon?”
Harun: “As the wise man said, ‘better two than one’. If my thanks are insufficient, then eat the white yourself, and hope for a brown next time.”
Vedad: “But I can’t! If it were a mastic or bergamot I’d certainly eat it, and even though I’m not partial to the taste of rosewater, I could chew through a pink rather than give in to your blackmail. But walnut makes my throat swell up - it isn’t healthy for me to eat it.”
Vedad looked over at David, who nodded in confirmation of this. Most of the other regulars had finished eating and had also come over to spectate. Harun smiled beatifically.
Harun: “Then I guess you either give up on having any chance of a lokum you like for the rest of the day, or I get two lokumlari.”
Vedad looked around for sympathy from the others, but they were all enjoying watching Harun’s artistry far too much to interfere. Daris gave Vedad a kindly pat on the back.
Daris: “You’re on your own, lad. Stand tall.”
Vedad looked desperate and turned to her.
Vedad: “Miss Sabanagic, may I feed my lokum to Daris’ pony? Would that count?”
Harun: “Use human food for an animal, who is already surrounded by luscious grass? That would be a waste. Not to mention an insult to Miss Sabanagic’s cooking.”
Harun sounded positively pious, and the spectators drew in closer, like vultures anticipating a predator’s kill, waiting for Vedad to crumble like he always did. Nadine needed to appear impartial, but she secretly hoped Vedad would tell Harun where to stuff his one-sided deal, or he’d get taken advantage of the next time too.
Nadine: “Vedad, would you like my advice?”
Vedad looked like a drowning man seeing a lifebuoy being thrown towards him. He nearly babbled out an acceptance, but then remembered Daris’ advice and drew himself up, gaining a little dignity.
Vedad: “That would be very kind, Miss Sabanagic. Yes please.”
Nadine: “Imagine you wanted to buy a horse, but you didn’t know much about them, and you thought you might do badly if you tried negotiating the price yourself. Would there be any shame in hiring an expert to negotiate on your behalf? Someone who might even end up also teaching you a bit more about horses and how to bargain over them?”
Vedad thought about it for a bit, and then his face lit up.
Vedad: “Would anyone be willing to take over negotiating with Harun on my behalf, in exchange for my next lokum?”
Four or five hands shot into the air and Vedad started to pick between them, but then an authoritative voice cut through the air.
Bahrudin: “For your next two lokumlari, Vedad, not only will I take over your current negotiation with Harun; I will also guarantee that within a week you will have improved your bargaining skills sufficiently to save yourself three lokumlari.”
Harun kept a poker face, giving not a hint of nervousness.
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Vedad: “You are asking more than David is.”
Bahrudin: “And, if you accept my offer, does that not prove I am a better negotiator than David is? Here is my first piece of advice: always learn from the best.”
Nadine: “Vedad, Elder Bahrudin is a wily old man, but an honest one in his own way. If you pay him, he will be loyal to you and will deliver value for money. I suggest you accept his offer and then listen very attentively while he bargains.”
Vedad stood up, bowed to Nadine and then to Bahrudin, gesturing to his now empty chair. Bahrudin nodded once to Vedad and then turned his attention to Harun, sitting in Vedad’s place and leaning his cane against the table. He didn’t speak, just sat sipping Vedad’s coffee.
Jasic and Cosic whispered to each other, making a bet, then shook hands. Tarik, who was standing next to Muhamed the poacher, tried to bet on the outcome too, but Muhamed shook his head as he agreed with Tarik on what the likely outcome would be.
Harun: “The same deal as before. Give me the white or don’t.”
Bahrudin smiled, deducing from Harun speaking first that Harun was now slightly unnerved and feeling the pressure, though Harun gave no outward signs of it.
Bahrudin: “Miss Sabanagic makes very fine lokum, does she not?”
Harun was cautious about conceding anything, but couldn’t find grounds to deny it. “Yes.”
Bahrudin: “The brown it is good. But the white, ah, only the most perfect white walnut halves, carefully rolled in lokum that has just the correct amount of ‘give’ to it, then delicately frosted with icing sugar and sliced so cleanly. I don’t know how she does it, exactly two halves to every slice, the fragrance, the crisp sound as you bite through the nut, and the taste.” He lifted Vedad’s lokum up to his nose, closed his eyes and inhaled reverentially. “Just the right amount of tang to balance the sweetness. Heavenly. Far too good for ponies, don’t you agree?”
Harun whispered “Yes.”, his mouth salivating.
Bahrudin: “Now, I appreciate your desire to have two lokumlari, I truly do. Nobody here thinks less of you for it. Nobody believes you really want to see this fine lokum, this magnificent work of art just dropped on the floor like trash.” He suited his actions to his words, holding out the white lokum over the floor between two fingers as though about to drop it. “You want it, you really want it. The question you’re thinking about is how much you’re willing to pay, how much it is fair for you to pay, yes?”
Harun, sounding uncertain: “Yes?”
Bahrudin nodded gravely. “Yes. Now last week you traded a brown to Omar in return for his white, so we know that’s a price you are willing to pay in general. But Vedad has more to lose than Omar if he refuses the trade, so you think the price you pay Vedad ought to be lower. If it were Tarik you were trading with, who also doesn’t eat nuts, you might offer him half your cinnamon lokum in return for his walnut, and accept that as fair, yes?”
Harun eyed Tarik then turned his attention back to Bahrudin. “Maybe. But I know Tarik wouldn’t accept getting nothing in return. He’s stubborn enough to refuse the deal, rather than let himself be seen as being weak, even if he loses out by doing so.”
Bahrudin turned to Vedad: “Take note. A reputation for being willing to walk away from a deal is a valuable thing. One that is worth gaining, even if the cost of doing so is actually walking away from some deals which might be slightly profitable. In the long term, you’ll regain the investment.”
Bahrudin placed the white lokum back on the plate and returned his attention to Harun.
Bahrudin: “So let us take it as read that I’m at least as stubborn as Tarik and since Vedad has hired me to strike a bargain in his place, you are willing to pay half your cinnamon in return for Vedad’s walnut, yes?”
Harun said, not nearly so happily, “I suppose so” and reached towards the plate.
Bahrudin slammed his cane down between Harun’s hand and the plate. “Not so fast. I do not like that deal. These fine fellows, Tarik and Vedad, are being discriminated against not for their personal choices but upon something they did not choose, something medical. Is that fair? Is it even legal? Harun, you want to eat lots of sweeties, but think of the cost to your reputation. Do you wish to be seen as the sort of person who would discriminate against his fellow Bosnians, do something even big corporations are too ashamed to do?”
Bahrudin shook his head and, not giving Harun a chance to answer, continued by addressing everyone in the audience: “We’re better than that, aren’t we?”
He got a chorus of affirmation, followed by a mumbled agreement from Harun.
Bahrudin: “So, on an ongoing basis you’ll treat Vedad and Tarik as you would treat Omar, and exchange one cinnamon for one walnut, like a decent Bosnian?”
Harun, having had time to get used to the idea, smiled gracefully: “Yes, of course.” He reached for the plate again. Bahrudin pulled it back out of his reach, to Harun’s consternation.
Harun: “What now?”
Bahrudin: “We’ve reached a deal about the ongoing basis, but for today’s particular exchange, there’s another factor to take into account.”
Harun: “Oh?”
Bahrudin: “This afternoon we’re going to be deciding who is worthy of being on this village’s Drone Driving Fraternity team. I won’t just be looking at drone driving skills; teamwork is also important.”
Harun: “Huh?”
Bahrudin sounded stern, now: “You have been taking advantage of Vedad’s youth and inexperience, and doing so publicly in a way designed to make him lose face and feel humiliation, just for your own amusement. That is not an act of friendship. That is not how a good comrade behaves.”
Harun: “Hey, sorry Vedad, no harm meant. Just a bit of fun.”
Bahrudin: “Is that all your friendship is worth, a brief apology? When you took advantage of Vedad, you made this deal about more than just sweets. It’s about friendship now. How sincere are you? What will you offer him to demonstrate that you do really want to be on the same team as him?”
Harun: “Ah…”
Bahrudin: “How about, in exchange for that lovely mouthwatering walnut lokum and his true forgiveness, you give him your brown and the next two lokum you get that are not white?”
Harun: “The next one lokum.”
Bahrudin: “Deal.”
Harun: “Deal.”
The two plates were ceremoniously exchanged, and money changed hands among the audience. Both Bahrudin and Vedad received congratulations, as Bahrudin used his cane to lever himself up from the seat, letting Vedad sit back down to eat his hard-earned cinnamon Turkish Delight.
Bahrudin: “Never forget, lad: if you’re losing a battle, change the battlefield. Harun lost the moment he let me change it from being about the supply and demand of sweets to being about fairness, then discrimination, then pride, reputation and friendship.”