Watching the Fishermen

This afternoon I’ve been watching several young men from the village fishing in the sea in front of my fale. The water inside the reef is so shallow that you can walk all the way to the reef (about ½ mile) in water only about waist deep. It’s crystal clear – like a huge swimming pool with no deep end. There are seven of them in their 20’s, bare to the waist with their traditional lavalavas tied a little shorter than usual to give them more agility in the water. Two men are holding the net – imagine a rectangle about 20 feet long and six feet wide. One is paddling in a traditional dugout outrigger canoe which is painted a bright turquoise – a brilliant contrast and compliment to the aquamarine sea. They walk along in the water looking for fish. Two of them have spears and some carry sticks. When they spot fish, they point in that direction and the men with the net begin to ease up toward them. When they are in position, the others run toward the net, beating the water with their hands and the sticks, shouting, chasing the fish toward the net. Occasionally one of the men leaps out of the water and dives forward, face down into the water, arms outstretched, scaring the fish toward the net. Then they all charge to the net trying to spear the fish or hit them with the sticks to stun them to be able to get them out of the water and into the canoe. In between, as they walk along, they sometimes push each other into the water, or throw their sticks into the air and try to catch them on the way down, just like young men everywhere. Two young boys about 10 or 12 years old float on pieces of salvaged wood a little distance away – watching, learning, When they finish fishing for the day they will divide the catch amongst themselves, and maybe share with other families depending upon the success of the day.

This morning I also watched a mother and her children walking in the water inside the reef looking for sea cucumbers, clams, or other shell fish. When they spotted something they would go under the water to gather it up. The boy, about 7 or 8 years old, alternately pulled along, and floated on, a white plastic bucket in which they placed their catch. When I saw them go out, I thought it would be interesting and maybe fun to go with them some time, but they were out there for about two hours in the water and the direct overhead sun beating down. It is after all, dinner, not amusement.