By the horns

“How about thirty-five?” “No. Thirty-six,” the counter offer came almost before the offer was made. The vendors expected bargaining and always rejected the first offer. The volunteer remembered his tutor making an offer for ninety som on an item tagged at eighty. The vendor had refused. He continued on through the mal bazar looking at the braying, shuffling mass of animals for sale. Most of the cows were going for six to eight hundred dollars, the horses more. A few horseshoeing stands had been assembled and a horse struggled on the leather belts holding it from its underbelly. A man born blind was led around playing an accordion. Both buyers and sellers dug deep and chipped in a dollar or two, the sounds of the worn soviet box weaving their way through the steady buzz of the bazaar.