The Running Fishmongers

by

Lillian Gowans

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Every time my younger sister, her family and I get together she seems to want me to talk about the Running Fish Mongers. I think this is because she never saw them. As with some customs, changes occur. Some improve, others are phased out. So by the time she came along, these colorful interesting vendors were about gone and replaced by trucks with refrigeration on board.

Although Jamaica is surrounded by the ocean, people living twenty or thirty miles inland would find it difficult to get fresh fish during the 20's and 30's. Motorized transportation was scarce or non-existent. So a couple of times a week the mongers would leave our village very early in the morning carrying their trays, a scale for weighing, and very sharp knives for slicing.

Reaching the beach at daybreak when the fishermen were pulling in their nets and canoes were full, the mongers would buy all they could carry. They cut large fish into chunks and put smaller ones onto strings. Then they would return home running all the way.

These strong comical-looking men were padded on the head, shoulders, neck and waist. They would carry large amounts of fish, and their trays, belted with strong broad straps, could be swung easily from head to shoulders, around the neck and down to waist level for sorting and sales.

The Fish Mongers sounded a couple of blasts, blowing from a large shell. Then they would rhyme the type and price of their fish.

No snapper to be found
But the king fish is sixpence per pound.

I can remember running alongside one of them calling out what and how much I wanted. He would toss me fish and I would toss him what we called a thread bag containing the money. This little bag with the family name stitched on it would be collected later.

The mongers were well liked, especially by children. It was not unusual to see children trying to imitate them. We had plays in school where we tried to run with the same gait. Our padding never seemed to turn out anything like theirs. The rhymes were the only part in which we always seemed to succeed.