Fishy fundraising

Chinese fishing nets in Kochi

We make an escape from our mosquito cultivation lab of a hotel room and head out to see what Kochi has to offer the discerning sightseer. The city is the third largest in the state of Kerala, on the south-western coast of India, and according to the brochures, it’s home to some giant Chinese fishing nets which are well worth a look. 

Kochi was the first of the European colonies in India, and over the centuries it has been occupied by the Portuguese, Dutch and British, all of whose influence is pronounced in the city’s architecture and culture. There’s also an international feel to the touristy area of Fort Kochi, where the 20-metre Chinese fishing nets are located. The nets are huge mechanical gadgets consisting of a cantilever, an outstretched net hanging over the sea, and large boulders suspended (somewhat dangerously) from ropes as counterweights. The weight of a man walking along the main beam causes the net to descend into the sea, where it’s left for a couple of minutes before being pulled up so the catch can be retrieved and sold. Some of the local restaurants even let you bring your fresh fish in and they’ll cook it however you like. 

The nets are fun to watch for all of five minutes, but then we head off to walk the city, feeling like we need something else. With the help of a local auto-rickshaw driver, we work out which bus we need to get to the airport the following day. He asks where we’re from, and before we can finish saying “Zealand”, he exclaims, “Ohhh! Stephen Fleming!” He’s clearly a big fan. He goes on to list Adam Parore, Chris Cairns – all the big names. The driver introduces himself as Sainu, and then offers to take us on a tour of the city for just 50 rupees each. With not much else planned, we decide to give it a go, and he leads us to his Spiderman-decorated rickshaw – known (possibly only to him) as the ‘Kochi Ferrari’.

Joyriding in a rickshaw

Sainu, who's been driving rickshaws for 13 years, is a pretty cool guy. He insists we each have a go at driving his Ferrari, and the lesson includes the message that tooting is compulsory. We stop by the Dutch cemetery, St Francis’ church, and – randomly – an outdoor laundromat. There are bays of people knee-deep in pools of water repeatedly rinsing clothing and slapping it dry on stone blocks in front of them. We see dozens of piles of white sheets being ironed with an original, heavy, wooden-handled charcoal iron, and I’m then asked to pose for a photograph with the iron. Clearly India still thinks women belong in laundries and kitchens only.

Women's work

Sainu tells us that Kochi’s hospitals and hotels get their washing done here, and when Barn and I walk out to the field and see hundreds of washing lines full of tourists’ smalls, we realise the laundry we’d had done the day before was almost certainly slapped to buggery on slabs of stone. We both agree we won’t be sending off our Icrebreakers for the washing torture treatment any time soon. 

We also visit temples, a spice shop and a Catholic church that Sainu points out was named after Pete, and then the tour concludes with a few stops at Government-approved souvenir shops. Sainu openly admits that if we stop at four of them, he gets to collect Government petrol vouchers, even if we don’t buy anything. So, armed with the knowledge that we do not have to purchase any souvenirs and that we simply need to walk into the shops and out again, I promptly go and get sucked into buying scarves and trinkets at three of the four. Reverse psychology of some sort, I suspect.

Mastering the art of chapathi

The day ends with a cooking class recommended by all the guide books at a guesthouse called Leelu’s Homestay. Leelu, the woman of the house, teaches us how to cook a Keralan fish curry, pumpkin masala curry, a sambar, dahl curry and chapathi bread. And then we get to eat it all – easily the best part of the lesson. 

On the way home, Pete and I stop for a beer at one of the only bars in town – actually, it’s the first real pub we’ve come across in India. It’s already well into the second week of January and I haven’t yet made any New Year’s resolutions, so over a drink we hatch a grand plan to help raise funds for Illam Trust’s new school buildings. We decide we’ll cook all our new South Indian dishes and charge our friends an arm and a leg to come over and eat them, and then we’ll donate the proceeds to the Dream School. I feel a new fundraising focus coming on – looks like it’s out with the African camels and in with the children of Tamil Nadu for 2012.