Monday at the Fish Market

So my host mom told me that we had run out of fish – now this cannot happen to a Senegalese household! My morning French class was cancelled so that she could go to the fish market. I thought that I might as well join in and see what it was like there.

I must tell you that was the grossest thing I’ve done since being here. As soon as we stepped into the fish market I managed to avoid stepping on a bloody fish head lying on the floor. I soon realised it was impossible to avoid getting my feet wet in the dirty water littered with fish scales that covered the floor.

Really gross floor

My host mom was completely unperturbed so I put on my bravest smile and followed. We went around to a couple vendors all side by side with fish so huge that they were half my height. 

Don't know why he picked up his smallest fish when I asked to take a picture - but here is a vendor at his stall

There was fish of every size, colour and shape but it was the really big fish that got to me. My host mom was bargaining with a few vendors until she got the best price from one of them for a huge white-fleshed fish.

The first fish that my host mom bought!

She also bought a few other fish (what I would call normal sized) and put them in a bucket that she had carried. Actually there was a man helping us carry the fish from the vendors and I later realised that altho he sold no fish himself, he was very much a part of the market since he cleaned the fishes that people had just bought.

Where the fish was being cleaned

So we went to this man’s stall area to get the fish scaled, gutted and sliced. All very graphic. I managed to hold onto my breakfast and even somewhat smile for some pics.

I feel that this pic is so awkward - smiling altho I was freaking out inside still

Ha this is not a graphic pic, lovely slices of fish - what was gross was gutting the fish - this aint so bad

By this time the smell had so consumed my lungs that I had forgotten what fresh air smelt like, I just took a bunch of videos of the man cleaning the fish as a result of what I can only call incomprehensible fascination.

My host mother deciding to kill two birds with one stone, stopped at a market on the opposite side of the fish market to buy some mangoes for the house.

Me and the regular market in the background where we got some mangoes

When I reached home, I felt that I could not use enough soap to get the fishy smell off of me. The very smell had permeated my already destroyed sandals which have seen its last days thanks to all the walking I do in Dakar.

After a nap, I headed off to La Poupponiere by car rapide. I was taking care of my twins as usual when Yacine and her adoptive mother came by. She was saying goodbye as it was her last day at the orphanage. I couldn’t help but be happy that Yacine had gotten lucky. But as I stared down at my twins, I wondered if they would ever be adopted – the both of them, because they couldn’t just be separated but I’m sure being twins made them less likely candidates for most adoptive parents unfortunately.

  

I returned home utterly exhausted from my day – and in part from the weekend in which I had been running on minimum sleep. But it was certainly an interesting day – I laugh when I think of how my Auntie G would react if she had gone to that fish market in my place. Ha, the things I experience here!