of time and tide | atsiri thammachoat

57 In the new era of the sea, it looked like money went into the hands of women more than men’s, so long as they were strong and willing to work ‘day and night’, as Granny Chaem put it, because the trawlers brought fish and other sea creatures of all kinds to the shore without stopping for the waxing or waning of the moon as in the past.

Everything was changing. Take the guts and gills of the fish whose gooey piles flanked Noi: in the old days, they were at best marinated in salt to make raw fish sauce to use at home, but now there was a processing plant beyond the market over there which bought the stuff wholesale from the sea factory to produce fish sauce. Even the muck and blood sticking to the flesh of the fish was valuable.

Another example? The kinds of fish fishermen used to think were useless and throw back into the water were now gobbled up day in, day out by a fish-processing plant which made animal feed.

The concrete pier which stretched out to receive the flux of sea creatures was never bereft of the roar of engines, as boat after boat of young male crews with backs sweaty and oily came and left round the clock.

Battle lines of trucks waited at the foot of the pier to take the fish to Bangkok and to the main provincial towns, while wheelbarrows competed helter-skelter to reach the factories behind the market. Chunks of ice spurted forth from the grinders and were scattered about. Fishwives OF TIME AND TIDE | ATSIRI THAMMACHOAT