Taking the Bait

by Anne Rothwell

The sand was soft and warm underfoot, but we gradually edged nearer and nearer to the sea until we were paddling in several inches of water, in order to escape the touts on the beach, who didn't seem to like getting their trousers wet. The water felt silky and warm against our skin.

Set back at intervals along the beach were occasional beach bars - basic huts, each of which had a rough menu on a board set several feet in front of it, close to where people were walking. There seemed little to choose between them, each having fish, usually ladyfish, jumbofish and prawns.

We approached one to read it and a figure magically appeared, offering to provide us with a wonderful meal. We agreed to come that evening and gave him our order for jumbofish as he needed to buy it from the market.

At the appointed time, we set off along the beach with our torch - strange how different the beach looks on a cloudy, moonless night. As we approached our chosen bar, we were met by a boy who told us that the owner had had to go to visit his mother who was sick and he led us next door. As we sat down, the original owner, now irate, shot out, shouting that we'd promised to eat with him. Not a very nice trick to try to poach a customer, but all was soon forgiven as we went back to the original place and the two were soon talking and laughing together.

All the bars had fronts which were open to the ocean, but we hadn't bargained for the gusty wind which had sprung up, so we had to go to a sheltered spot behind, where we sat on a bench overlooking stacks of rubbish - very romantic! A boy was despatched to the nearest shop, about half a mile away, to bring us a beer, while the man did his cooking inside on a fire on the floor. When it was ready, we went inside through the smoke and sat at a small table. The hurricane lamps, which that morning he'd assured us he possessed, were candles on saucers covered by bottomless plastic water bottles. Two foil parcels were lifted on to the plates in front of us and, on undoing one, he managed to spill some of the boiling juices onto Marven's trousers. We immediately threw the newly acquired beer over it and the hapless boy was sent for some more.

The fish had been cooked with onions, tomatoes and other vegetables and was the best I've ever tasted. Altogether, an unforgettable evening!

First published in VISA issue 70 (Dec 2006)