Oman: a nice bit of Somali beef

As today was another public holiday, I drove the sowing machine to Seeb fish market where even the locals were melting in the ridiculous humidity. I met Yousef in between a mountain of sardines and a pile of dark red fish entrails and we wandered among the tightly packed boats. Standard Arabic is useless here as every fisherman uses local fish names, which means learning virtually another language. I was further linguistically flummoxed by a group of Somalis in the meat department, resorting to English and advanced gesturing to negotiate the price of a lump of Somali beef.