Story: Female Fish Mob

Hoi An was a town full of photogenic historical sites; a town untouched by the destruction of wartime. However, as usual, my favorite place to visit was the morning market. I got up early to wander through the market; hoping to see some of the local cultural flare that Asian markets offer. As I walked through the crowded market I pushed my way through people. Suddenly I heard a horn blaring behind me as a motorbike tried to squeeze through a non-existent space. I’m not once to mess with a motorbike so I slid my body in closer to the masses of people as if they were a love-interest of mine; a common situation in Asia. Say goodbye to personal space. I noticed a bit of a clearing to my left towards the river and tried to edge my way to the space where I could presumably breath and take out my camera.

As I slinked towards the river I noticed a mass of conical hats gathered on the pier so I went closer to get a good look at all of the people. Many of the women were rolling up their pant legs before they entered into the crowd. I was painfully aware of the air; it was thick and full of humidity. The high humidity showed up on my fogged up camera lens. I stepped in to throngs of women carrying baskets of fish. Unknowingly I had wandered into the fish market. This wasn’t just a market - it was a sort of wholesaler as this is where the fish came off the boat. I realized that the market was run solely by women. The men were nowhere to be seen presumably catching the fish and not involved in the high finance of selling and distribution.

I tried to find a small space where I could observe and be out of the way but I was jostled on all sides with women pushing past me with fish. I held on to my space firmly as I am a good 6 inches taller than them and have at least 30 lbs on most of them - but these fish ladies were scrappy. In fact, as I stood and observed I started to feel like I was watching the Sopranos. It was like a female fish mob. There were wads of money being exchanged in groups, and cigars were being smoked as they were all yelling at each other.
“The grouper is 10,000 dong a kilo.”
“But Godmother - the price is so high - all I have is this water spinach that I picked by the side of the road - how will I feed my children? Please Godmother, have pity.”
“Fine, I’ll do you this favor once, you can have the fish in exchange for the spinach - but you will remember this favor.”
“Yes Godmother”

Ok - so when you don’t know the language you can create your own conversations - these are the things I do for fun when I travel.

A boat pulled up to the dock and there was a scurry of conical hats rushing it. Baskets of fish were unloaded on to the dock and the Godmother starts distributing it out again yelling orders with a fist of dong in her hand. I was intimidated by this 5 ft. tall woman. She would sell to women (presumably her captains) and they would turn around and sell to others a few feet away in their corner. These women wore conical hats, smoked cigars, and had their pants rolled up above their knees and tucked into their knickers….they were rough.

I hung out there watching the fish mob for about 30 minutes. Even though I was clearly the only Caucasian person there and the only one taking pictures, they completely left me alone. I was like a pillar that was simply in their way. Then again if one of them yelled obscenities at me I wouldn’t have had a clue…sometimes ignorance is bliss.