Ghosts of the Spice Trade

March 30, 1999.. 13 Nissan 5759 Issue 036
IsraelWire- "Focus"

Cochin is one of those historic port towns that never quite made it in the modern world. Unlike Bombay, its colonial sister to the north and now a bustling international city, Cochin is a place in
retirement, as comfortable and unassuming as an old pair of slippers.

It is hard to believe that this overgrown village of dusty roads, colonial mansions and ancient frangipani trees was once the center of the international spice trade, the cosmopolitan haunt of merchants and traders from China to Arabia. But walking around Fort Cochin, one feels certain
that behind its whitewashed walls and creaking gates, curtained doorways and shuttered windows, lurk a thousand ghosts with a thousand tales to tell.

Like most towns on the Malabar Coast the fertile strip of land that hugs India's southwestern tip Cochin has a long history of trade and contact with the outside world. It is also part of India's most radical and
advanced province, Kerala, which boasts the highest rates of literacy, education and health in all the subcontinent.

During my first week there, two strikes were called and the inhabitants obligingly pulled down their shutters and closed up shop in a seamless display of solidarity. As one local put it: "We are more educated. We are not willing to work for nothing like others."

The first Europeans to claim Cochin as their own were the Portuguese, who sailed into Cochin harbor on Christmas Eve 1500. Not much remains of the Portuguese these days, but what does is magnificent. St. Francis Church, the oldest European-built church in India, is one of the few remaining
buildings to survive from that time. On its worn stone floor lies the tomb of Vasco da Gama, the Portuguese explorer who was buried here after he suddenly died during a visit in 1524. His body was later taken back to Portugal.

The Portuguese seem to be remembered with a certain fondness. At least they built schools, churches, a hospital contributing something to the community on which they grew rich.

The Dutch, on the other hand, are remembered only for their slavish adherence to the demands of commerce and profit. When they attacked Fort Cochin in 1663, many of the churches, schools and other charitable institutions were either destroyed or turned into warehouses. They even burned down the library, said to have been the finest in Asia, housing Indian, Chinese, Persian, Arabic and Hebrew manuscripts. When the British arrived at the end of the 18th century, few tears were shed.

The colonial conquerors all had one interest in common, however: spices. The heart of the spice trade is down a maze of labyrinthine alleys just south of Fort Cochin, leading to the nearly extinct neighborhood that is today the home of the last aging members of the town's Jewish community.

A quick auto rickshaw ride deposited me in the center of its early morning chaos. Under a blistering South Indian sun, men glistening with sweat loaded heavy sacks onto brightly colored trucks, ignoring the shouts and horns of vehicles struggling to squeeze past. Through the open doorways of
shops and warehouses painted in tropical blues and yellows lay stacks of bags filled with ginger, turmeric, pepper and cloves.

The spice trade was dominated by Cochin's Jewish community, one of India's more unusual minority groups. Jews have been living on the Malabar Coast for at least 2,000 years. Fleeing persecution further north, they settled in greater numbers in the 16th century when the local raja, exercisingin
the words of one historian "a liberality that can be hardly understood" promised protection and gave them land to build new settlement right next to his palace. Mattancherry Palace still stands guard over the neighborhood today and is famous for its exquisite murals.

Today, Cochin's Jews are more likely to be involved in medicine, education or law, if they are young enough to be still working at all. Of the estimated 300 Jews who lived in Cochin when India gained independence in 1947, less than 20 now remain.

Down a narrow alley filled with tiny shops I found Cochin's 16th- century synagogue, famous for its 18th-century blue and white Cantonese floor tiles, of which no two are alike. The synagogue has no rabbi and performing the sacred rituals rests on the shoulders of the community's men.

These days, however, it is more likely to be filled with curious tourists than worshipers.

Just up the street, in a whitewashed house sporting a Star of David, lives J. Cohen, a retired lawyer and tax consultant and unofficial spokesman for the city's Jewish community. "We had a very good life here," he said, "Everyone was very happy. Then disaster struck in 1948 when the state of Israel was created."

Ironically, it was the offer of passage to Israel in the 1950s that marked the beginning of the end for Cochin's Jews. "Israel is my spiritual fatherland and India is my motherland," Cohen said. "But I love my mother more than my father. The others, they all think Israel is the land of milk and honey, especially the young. But I will tell you this: India is the only country where the Jews have never been persecuted. The only one!"

Although the tourist facilities in Fort Cochin are limited and many visitors prefer to stay in nearby Ernakulam, it is worth making an effort to find somewhere local to stay. If the clutch of small, family-run guest houses clustered around the tip of old Cochin does not appeal, the plush Malabar Hotel on Willingdon Island, just a pleasant ferry ride away, is the next best choice.

Cochin's greatest Ghosts of the Spice Trade lined with Chinese fishing nets said to have been introduced by traders from the court of Kublai Khan. Worked by groups of Indian fishermen, the giant nets are raised and lowered into the sea, scooping up any fish swimming close to the deepwater shore in the process.

Steps from the shore, a small fish market is up and running by late afternoon. There you can choose from fresh fish, prawns, crabs or whatever else has appeared in the nets that day. An open-air stall nearby promised to "bake, fry or steam" your catch for a few pennies, but it is probably worth asking a local restaurant to cook it for you instead. When my "baked" fish arrived glistening with oil from the frying pan, I protested. "But it is baked!" the owner insisted indignantly. It was worse for the
French couple sharing my table: Their two-kilogram bag of giant prawns, handed over for gentle steaming, came back as a plate of tiny pan-fried shrimp.

In the evenings, you can explore Cochin's Keralan roots by attending a kathakali performance. Kathakali, which means story-play is a 17th-century art form that includes mime, drama, song and music. Before each performance, visitors are invited to come early and watch the dancers
apply the elaborate face paint for which the dance is famous. The actors also explain the meaning of the facial expressions and body movements used in the dance.

As the lights dimmed, and the sweet, lilting music began, the actors took to the stage. Through mime and dance they told the story of an evil demon who, disguising herself as a beautiful maiden, attempts to seduce the noble prince of heaven. But the prince, fooled at first, soon sees through the
disguise and defeats his dreaded enemy. With its timeless themes of desire and avarice, duplicity and triumph, it seemed a fitting tale to tell. (International Herald Tribune)

Taken from Israelwire 30/3/99
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GHOSTS OF THE SPICE TRADE