The fishermen are back!
Tales of Axel Hubler
The shouts echo! The fishermen are back!
Children, with our little arms and big joy, let's help pull, hoist the boats.
In return, we have the right to retrieve the escaped, lost, frantically jumping fish. Here are some "pisquettes," there a trunkfish.
Flying fish appear, and over there, a frightening congereel!
The metal bucket fills up. Mom will be pleased. Sharing is all around.
I see my mother again, I see grandmother, in the tiny kitchen overlooking the sea. Cleaning, stirring. The stove with its capricious flame blackening the pots. The big cauldron quivers. The enormous wooden spoon amuses us... The scents of "blaff," or perhaps stew. The overpowering basil generously growing in the garden, the scallions, the grated nutmeg...
The crackling radio accompanies the day.
Saint Martin, my island, my childhood. French West Indies. 1970s.
