The waves have a way of releasing an aura of bliss that captivates the human soul. They gently remind us that life is a relentless journey, which carries us to a destination. For us sun tanned citizens of this exotic island, the sea and her shores continue to impact us in many ways, including the soaring price of fish! As for myself, there is an element that is even more intriguing within the sea, and that is the varied choice of fish and all other edible life form under the culinary spectrum of seafood! Whilst many folks enjoy a succulent dish, the greater experience is certainly in the buying-bargaining process. Fishing is not a common hobby today among young people, but it was quite cool 20 years ago. A fishing rod was the perfect getaway accessory on a nice weekend.
My late father was a man who had mastered the skills of both bargaining and identifying the right kind of fish, due in natural season. I recall with much delight the days we used to go to the beach in Mutwal (Colombo 15), walking along the harbour and the short cut via College Street, adjacent to Christ Church. There was a fisheries harbor, and hence hundreds of small fiberglass boats and canoes would keep invading the shores, laden with many kinds of fish. The sea-going community had its own rules and customs. The rustic statue of a Christian Saint, rose above the seaweed covered rocks, a silent sentinel of hope and divine protection. These humble yet bold men took to navigation like dolphins and sail in search of a bountiful catch. We used to walk along the shore, in earnest anticipation, as the pungent scent of fish permeates the morning air.
An old man, his skin tanned by the radiant sun, keeps uncoiling a green net, proudly displaying a ‘thora’ fish its blue flesh deflecting the sunlight. A dozen or more swordfish are for sale. A cynical ‘Malu mudalali’ clad in a white sarong and shirt, his teeth stained red by betel, scouts around. Under his arm a black leather pouch, filled with money and betel leaves! This worthy attempts to strike a conversation and we keep our distance. A basket draws my attention - it holds captive live sea crabs. A young girl boldly takes each crab and rapidly ties its defiant claws with string. Beside her a well nourished tabby cat yawns and contemplates if he would be bestowed any fish. Felines live in clusters along the shore depending on the left over fish, which is fed to them. A pyramid of sprats keeps piling up on the other side, as another boat has just come ashore, with its oil lantern still aglow. Sailing into the deep at night is a risk.
This busy atmosphere is suddenly halted as a crowd has gathered. In the midst stood a fat woman, who probably would respond to a name such as Rosalyn, Imelda or Elizabeth. Her wholesome figure, further accentuated by large breasts and hair blowing in the wind was at her wits end, so it seemed. She was accusing her husband, in uncouth Sinhalese, with the tenacity of a black panther. The ‘accused’ a timid looking thin soul-remained silent as the other ‘wadiya’ women also vented their judgment. At this important juncture, my father wisely summoned me away! As I turned back I saw a fish being thrown at the accused, amidst hooting. Some more foul words are released with glee by the bevy of women. Suddenly peace is restored among this wired community.
I am somewhat taken back as we encounter a large helpless turtle, ensnared in a nylon net. Frenzied crows fly around. This poor creature had been accidentally dragged ashore. Turtles are endangered and protected. Reluctantly the fisherman had to cut his net and loosen the dazed turtle, who finally managed to enter his ocean domain of safety. Away from the selling and buying, were others men sporting tattoos, using large knives obligingly cut your fish into desired portions for a small tip of coins. They had cast iron buckets where they collected the fish heads and roe (fish eggs). The fish head curry I tasted in Jaffna last year was a culinary masterpiece. In the recent past I used to frequent the Dehiwela beach with my uncle Justin from Canada, who has a culinary lust for ‘Gal Malu’ (red mullet). Going fishing with your fishing rods can be another fun form of entertainment. I recall years ago fishing at the Hamilton Canal when my uncle Anthony Coulton, after being patiently seated for an hour was jolted by a massive fish, causing him to fall into the canal, amidst much laughter. The fish was grilled and eaten with relish.
Today many obtain their fish from frozen seafood counters. For me the bustling seashore, adorned with nets is a preferred choice. The Negombo fish market is another cool place to buy fresh fish. The candid comments and harsh humor of the fishermen is entertaining, supplemented by having a glass of plain tea and indulging in a ‘lavaria’ (string hopper based sweet delight oozing with caramelized coconut). The beach encounters taught me a valuable lesson as a youth: learn to be content with what your nets yield, for each day. You can always aspire for tomorrow’s catch!
