Fishing

I do not know how to title this bit. Smoking herring? Fishing village? Oxford street on sea ?
I am quite glad I missed this bit about the fishing and wrote about some humor and light laughter at our own expense in the in between bit.
To be honest the first few days here were really upside down . I have always had a dream about coming to Africa. I was born on this continent. I have always felt the music in me comes from here. But what did I know? As it turns out , I knew nothing at all.

Our compound is in what might be described in UK as " An up and coming area" if I look out of our bathroom window on the first floor I see plots of land divided up by walls of gray breeze block. These are "Compounds" or plots of land as we would call them. Our "Compound" is lovely , soft yellow two story round houses with sage green corragated tin roofing , five in all, a lovely swimming pool with sunbeds, all set in a 3000 sq meter ish plot. There are African murals painted on the high walls ( topped with jagged broken glass) and glossy painted yellow and green solid steel security gates at the entrance , plus 24/7 security guards.
However.. ... Many of these plots are the homes of groups of extended families. Nievely I thought they might own them but I realise that maybe they are rented . It is hard to know . There are some with large completed houses on them , others which might be described as "on going projects" and finally bringing up the rear, just "compounds" with families living there in the space. They maybe have a hut or a room out of breeze block , it is hard to see the real picture without being invasive.
Our taxi driver invited us to his house for dinner which we accepted. It was agreed that we would go and see the landing of the fish , buy the fish and his wife would cook it for us the next day. It all sounds so idillic doesn't it?
We arrived at the fishing village in the area where they dry the abundant catches of herrings. There was a foggy mist as we got there , we couldn't really tell from inside the car why it seemed so misty.
It was the smoke from the smokeries. I cannot describe this, I will post photos when I get home.
We walked through this area about 30 yards further down to the beach where the fishing boats were landing their fish. The best way I can describe this beach is Oxford Street on Sea. Possibly as long as Oxford Street and with as many people as a busy December shopping day but it is like this e-v-e-r-y day. The sea is the ocean so the waves are constant and strong. The long highly colourful wooden boats which are , hmmm, maybe 30 or 40 ft long, I am guessing are hand made by the fishermen them selves on the beach.
There were possibly 100 of these long boats bringing in their catch and they get about 30 yards from the shoreline, the waves are strong and the boats ride up and down , close together in a turbulent crush. Women wait on the sand amougnst a throng of er "colleagues "? with their large tubs at the ready . They wade out to the boats, fill the containers with fish and bring them back to shore , the tubs the size of a family laundry basket ON THEIR HEADS IN THE WAVES. As payment for their work they get some fish to take for their families to eat. I watched a group a five young girls in a group their eyes assessing which boat they were going to target for their collection, survival of the shrewdest.

There was such a melee of humanity , the only people not working or dodging or planning were fast asleep , crashed out where they landed. The ladies seemed to run the catch once it was landed. They networked the deals. They were adamant they did not want their photos taken.
Behind this 20ft deep front line of landing, displaying and gutting of the fish there was a band of sand . There were piles of smouldering rubbish one even had sheep grazing on it. Dogs eek ing out a living .
Then there were the piles of clothing. Yes, these are your Oxfam donations. Lying in mounds on the sand and for sale. I never really gave it a lot of thought as to where my donation of old jumpers or t shirts would end up. But if you had asked me I think I would have replied that they would be donated directly to where needed. I do not believe that Oxfam or whoever shipped them over here, intended them to be dumped like that. I asked myself if these had fallen off the back of a lorry. I suspect that is correct.
We agreed in advance with our driver that we would choose the fish and let him know what we had chosen and then he would go back and buy it Gambian price. It did not turn out quite like that but pretty near.
Whilst we waited for him we bought some peanuts off a young 8 year old girl who was selling them from a stainless steel tray balanced on her head, eyes as large as 50p pieces boring deep into you, she needed books for school she said. This action opened the flood gates and pretty soon we were surrounded by dozens of children all wanting to study and needed school bags, footballs. It became quite uncomfortable and we were glad to leave.