MINIMALIST FISHING

Unique to Sri Lanka are the stilt fishermen of Ahamgama, a pimple sized town on the island`s palm-lined derriere, roughly 100 miles south of capital, Colombo.

It is a thrilling sight when driving along the coast to come upon a group of them perched on poles  and flicking their rods in and out of the surf.

The remarkable thing about the stilt fishermen is that they don’t use any bait. A tenacious local fish like a small herring, or a sardine, bites on a bare hook and is whipped up and dropped into a bag: the best fishermen can catch as many as fifty in an hour.

Stilt positions are passed down from father to son and good sites are highly coveted. Jammed into the reef, the poles protrude about ten feet at low water when the men wade out and climb up to fish the incoming tide.

Their only equipment is the cane rod and  a hook tied on a length of line. Being  constantly drenched by spray means that dress is also minimalist - a turban, a g-string and the odd T-shirt donated by a tourist who was grateful for the picturesque photo opportunity. 

Photos: Dominic Sansoni and Christine Osborne

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PAKISTAN FLOODS: DON'T LOOK AWAY

Last night I listened to an OXFAM director saying the call to aid Pakistan flood victims has not received a good response, something I find hard to accept, even given the multiple world emergencies of recent times.

I have travelled the length and breadth of Pakistan, a rugged, vibrant country with spectacular scenery and some of the oldest sites in the civilised world and wherever I went - from Karachi to the Khyber Pass and the mountainous Northern Areas, I was well received although it is also true to say - not without a degree of curiosity!

I found the average person friendly, courteous and kind, especially the poor rural villagers of Sindh the southern province, my favourite part of Pakistan, facing inundation by the swollen Indus river.

Hospitality was a second nature, even if it was a family's last drop of lassi. And well I recall an occasion when my suitcase wouldn't close at Karachi Airport and an observant porter whipped out the rope supporting his trousers and strapped it around the lid.

Sindhis number the Indo-Aryan tribal peoples known as Jats and the Mohanas of the preceding blog, to the urban elite in Karachi, but your typical Sindhi is a hard-working peasant, usually mortgaged to a wealthy landowner, living in a mud-house with his animals - chickens and a few water buffalo - all now lost in the floods.

Can anyone watching the desperate images beamed nightly into their living room imagine what it must be like to have nothing? And be denied because you happen to be of Muslim persuasion with an odious government accused of supporting terrorism.

Those among you who have not dug into your pocket may answer somewhere deep, dark and guarded by Cerebrus, the three-headed guardian dog of the entrance to Hell.

An Insight and Guide by Christine Osborne (Longman Group) 1983.

WAITING FOR THE FLOOD

The Mohanas on the river Indus in Sindh have a novel way of fishing when bad weather prevents their boats putting out. They keep pet birds to do it for them.

The birds, mainly herons, cranes and cormorants, perch on a plank suspended from the gunwale. A length of string attached to one leg allows them to dive, but not to escape with a fish. When they break surface, they are robbed of their catch until the family has enough to eat. At this point the birds may swallow their prey and satisfy their own hunger.

Several hundred Mohana fishing families work the Indus where it flows past Sukkur, an historic town in upper Sindh province of Pakistan.

They live on bulky wooden houseboats, 60 feet long by 12 feet broad. The khasti`s most characteristic feature is a bluff prow to deflect the shock should a boat strike a submerged sandbank when it swivels around and gradually becomes dislodged by the current.

Kashtis are made locally. Craftsmen take special care in carving decorative motifs and inserting small tiles, shells and tiny mirrors in the pattern. Some older vessels may display rose-patterned crockery stacked neatly in the galley - china once used by British civil servants manning the Indus canal posts.

An average Mohana family numbers 6-8. All the relatives moor together in a group with their domestic stock- water buffaloes and chickens - kept beside them on the bank.

Women are responsible for the usual chores. One of their first tasks is to draw fresh water from the middle of the river, away from the banks where people defecate.

Mohana men fish from a smaller boat, paddled with a single oar, towed behind each kashti. Working together, in good weather they may net 30 kilos of fish a day, the Indus river catfish being greatly prized.

Meals are cooked over a small charcoal fire on the open deck with everyone sitting around the dish, digging into the fish and rice with their fingers.

Following this year’s monsoon which has devastated NW Pakistan, the Indus is running at an all-time high. But while Sindhi farmers are packing and leaving the riverbanks, the Mohanas can only sit on their boats as water levels rise.

Images: www.copix.co.uk