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    The taxi driver came out of his cabin to check with the hotel porter, destination I gave him. The San Pya fish market is located in the suburbs o… Read More
    The taxi driver came out of his cabin to check with the hotel porter, destination I gave him. The San Pya fish market is located in the suburbs of the capital, but for him it is not really a suitable place for the passing tourist. The road runs along the docks already animated. Convoys of rickshaws loaded with ice blocks, converge on the docks. The driver halted for topping petrol. The precious fuel is sold on the black market at the roadside. Arrived at destination, the taxi stops at the edge of a muddy path down to the river. My arrival did not go unnoticed. The sun rises on a platform where the activity is at its highest point. I seek in vain the handling means, I only see the tops bulging muscles and women who wield the ice pick and grapple with great tenacity. The bottom of barges, a brigade of dockers strives to raise funds on the platform about 700 pounds filled with fish. Inside the building, the floor is now covered with blood and viscera. The smell became troublesome. Boards on their platforms, girls are responsible for recording weighed. Imperturbable in their tidy place, they continue to align the numbers. Read Less
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