-Brian Mendonca
If you step into the Panjim fish market on a Friday at 8
a.m. you see a burgeoning stream of buyers. Looking for that prized fish which
will meet their budget, they scan the displays the vendors have placed to
entice their clients.
Far from the tantalizing shapes, smells, and sizes of fish
that end up on your plate in some swish joints, to see the fish in the raw is a
bit bone-chilling. There they lie, fresh from the waters, some twitching as
they gasp for life. The crabs particularly show a lot of mettle as they extend
their claws desperately for some means of escape from the plastic containers
which imprison them.
As the sun climbs, vendors look to make brisk business,
calling out their fish by their Konkani names as you pass by. Bangde (mackerel), bangulo (small mackerel), visvon
(kingfish), pamplet (pomfret), sunkta
(prawns), khube (cockles), tisreo (clam), tarle (sardines), lepo (sole) and vellio (sardines) are all there for the asking.
As I entered the market my eyes were glued to a crate of
specimens which was being measured out into another vessel. Whitish and veiny
the prawn-like fish had a sac-like casing. I asked what fish it was and was
told that it was mankio (squid).
Just behind the fish market, on a raised platform, sit the
sellers of poultry, beef and mutton. Once the hens, and goats are killed, grimy
labourers with sacks on their heads carry out the bloodied carcass – or string
it up on hooks.
No children can be seen, for they are safely at school. This
spectacle of gore is best left to people who can stomach it.
Though the vendors sitting beside the main lanes in the fish
market get the most views by the buyers, the sellers who sit on the fringes ply
their trade on their mobile phones. On a stool - so difficult to come by here –
a middle-aged gent is scribbling something in a small notebook amidst the
pandemonium. Others peer into mobile phones dissolutely.
Most of the ladies who sell the fish are large –
understandably because they spend the day sitting. Young, wiry, youth also sell
the fish and promote their catch. Gents seem more comfortable with the lads who
sell the fish – striking up a conversation with them - while the ladies are
more comfortable with the female fish vendors.
A great place to bump into friends, the fish market is full
of energetic souls who are up early to do the shopping for the house. I was
delighted to meet Francis who I had been meaning to call. He gave me some
useful tips on how to organize the house party at the weekend.
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Published in Gomantak Times, Weekender, Panjim, Goa on Sunday, 1 March 2020. Photos (top) Vendor at Panjim fish market; (below) Ruined house opposite the Panjim fish market on General Costa Alvares road. Both photos taken by Brian Mendonca on 10 January 2020.
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