Post-Communist Capitalism in Albania, as illustrated by Cinnamon-Flavored Gum

When I go to the supermarket in Leskovik and I pay for items, I sometimes receive both coin and gum as change. This occurs when, at the end of a transaction, I am due a fist-full of coins that should include five or one cent pieces—baby leke. Instead of baby leke, the cashier gives me one, two, or sometimes even three, pieces of chewing gum. I balked at first, confused by what appeared to be a pseudo trade system. Actually, I have no idea what that is – the unwanted tender for unwanted goods system? But now that I better understand the reasoning behind this perfunctory disregard for the least-used units in the Albanian monetary system, I am inclined to just laugh.

In Albania, most prices ignore the singles place value and scoot a zero into that spot. This is partially a side effect of the old leke versus new leke phenomenon, compensating for old leke mental calculation when confronted with the new leke exchange of coin and bill. It’s also a way to neatly ensure that 10 is a factor of all prices. It follows that one and five cent pieces are in circulation, but are rarely used. Since prices only stray into awkward territory, like, oh gosh, 487 or 53 leke, on those rare occasions when irritating shoppers purchase produce in non-kilo increments (a-HEM, if you live alone and are buying food for just one person!), no one wants to give or receive these pesky buggers. How to get rid of them once they’re in your pocket? Do you even want to get rid of them; do they really have value in Albania?

Elsewhere, the entire interaction might have potential to break down. Here, a simple solution is handily slapped onto the problem, and we all carry on with life. You get gum—even if you don’t want it—instead of money. It’s a duc tape sort of approach to post-Communist capitalism.

Case in point: Today, I was owed 182 leke at the supermarket after buying bleach, some sponges, toilet paper, three peaches, and one cucumber. Sofika, the gruff and probably chain-smoking cashier who introduces and re-introduces me to everyone, took my 500 leke note and gave me 180 leke and one or two pieces of Chiclet-style gum in return. I thanked her, hurled a couple of mirupafshims over my shoulder to the general audience, and fumbled the gum into the palm of my hand as I headed out the door. The gum then proceeded to sweat up against my plastic bag handles, smearing traces of red food coloring and cinnamon flavor on the inside of my knuckles. Awesome.

I attempted to pass off this sugary treasure, cozy in its little wedge of shiny foil hacked from a pack ensconced in the change drawer by the Sofika’s knee, to a convenient child or fly-ridden dumpster. Both work – I’m not a fan of super sugary gum. But I am a fan of Sofika, and I like this ritual. It makes for all kinds of excitement.

I always wonder how Sofika calculates the value of each piece of gum and what color my palm will be when I get home. To whom should I try to give the gum? Little kid, older kid, my neighbor’s son’s colleague’s kid? I would be a creeper in the United States; never accept candy from people on the street! And if I succeed in foisting the gum onto a kid, I am perpetuating poor dental health habits! Can I even justify throwing the gum away if I can’t find a handy child willing to rot holes into his/her teeth? Oh my, waste, waste! Additionally, chucking it into a dumpster just contributes to the national trash problem! Escalating guilt, guilt! Internal debate and berating ensue.

And finally, the ritual reminds me that we’re still in a post-Communist state of transition where private businesses inevitably engage in a little artistic manipulation of financial transactions. Ah, behold, macro-level problems playing out at the micro level! But hey, from the perspective of people just trying to function in a country where money and relative value are still a little fragile, if this practice makes for a more efficient transaction at the local supermarket store…who’s complaining? Really just PCVs protective of their teeth, I would think. It’s gum, after all! CINAMMON-flavored gum!

Note: This supermarket observation was written shortly after I moved to Leskovik. I have since learned that Sofika is a covert, as opposed to chain-smoking, cashier and that I can receive match boxes instead of gum if I smile winningly and ask about her migraines.