In the late afternoon, on a hot and humid day, I hear the conch shell call. The fish van is on its' way into the village. There is still plenty of time to find my purse and hold a bowl. I feel for some jacks, small jacks, well seasoned and fried in a little oil, to a crisp. The conch shell blows, louder, nearer. Peeping out from the kitchen doorway, I can see the little red fish van, parked up by Waist's Shop. T, upstairs, and not one to wait until they reach our gap, shouts "What you have?"Being downstairs, where the house is of wall, the reply is muffled. T shouts again, " How much for it?" The van pulls up on the road above our house. The conch shell calls loud, loud, loud. T takes the bowl and returns with two pounds of Rock Hind and a smile as big as if he had caught them himself. "When last girl?"
With thanks to Guyana Gyal for the inspiration.
Read about the famous Gouave Fish Friday.
You won't believe this, the week before last, my mother travelled to her children overseas. What did they want her to take for them? FRIED FISH! She fried it, froze it and took it, they were so happy, up to recently I got an email about that fried fish.
ReplyDeleteI can still hear that fisherman's conch shell from my childhood days, a long drawn out sound, stopping suddenly.
Oh yes, but I do believe it.
ReplyDeleteNo Grenadian traveling to visit family away,EVER leaves here without;
Fish, cooked and frozen
Wild meat, preferably Manicou
Bush tea,
whatever fruit is in season
Clarkes Court Rum
and, of course,
New Zealand Cheddar Cheese.