A government mandate threatens hoteliers with prosecution if they buy seafood from subsistence fishermen
James Black and Arlene Cameron
Conrad Winterbach, like all other hoteliers on the Wild Coast in the Eastern Cape, has been banned from buying fish and shellfish from local subsistence fishermen. Surely this must be a good thing – to reduce the pressure on an over-exploited coastline, and to give marine animals a chance of survival?
But as Winterbach points out, while prohibition offers a simple remedy to the plundering of the seas, life rarely is that simple. He sighs and takes the party of local women who have been waiting for him on to the lawn in front of the Wavecrest Hotel.
“I am very sorry to tell you this but I have been told I cannot buy my oysters from you,” he apologises.
“But we did a course with you; you gave us a certificate and allowed us to harvest your shellfish,” the women respond angrily.
“I know, I know, but the government has told me I cannot buy them from you any more, otherwise we all go to jail.”
“You gave us a certificate and now you take it away. What will we do now?” they ask.
What will they do now? Fisheries scientists around the world seem to share one common belief: that humans are taking far too much from the seas while putting very little back. It has long been known that the South African coast is being plundered for its bounty, so who can disagree with any controls to help reduce this relentless assault?
However, this new mandate from the Department of Environmental Affairs and Tourism may not be to the benefit of any parties – including, most importantly, subsistence fishermen, or the sea. It’s not that the department is wrong in trying to bring order in an arena of greed and ignorance, but in attempting to avert a common tragedy it is reducing the chances of introducing successful fishery management.
The Wild Coast is renowned for its fresh seafood, served against a backdrop of beautiful beaches. Growing numbers of traditional Xhosa fishermen share their waters with an army of recreational anglers, all pursuing their own interests, paying little heed to the health of the resource they exploit.
A decision had to be made to do something before it was too late, and last November the order came to curb fishing along the coast.
Hotels and guest houses received correspondence informing them that they will no longer be allowed to purchase fish from subsistence fishermen, and that they will be prosecuted if they continue to do so.
This provision may appear to be workable in the corridors of power, but what real effect will it have along the coast? What advantages does this hold for subsistence fishermen, the resources and for business?
How will this regulation be enforced, particularly in the former homelands? Will there be sudden swoops on hotels and guest houses? Will trailers be searched along the highway?
Will hotels who bought fish from Xhosa fishermen now turn their backs on fresh fish and oysters, and will the pressure on these stocks ease? This outcome is unlikely, for the unscrupulous will surely continue as they did before, with the lure of financial gain far outweighing the minor inconvenience of prosecution.
The new law will simply join countless others on the unenforceable pyre. The rocks will continue to get barer, and the fish smaller. The beginnings of success stories may be nipped in the bud, just as they begin to produce the results that the Department of Environmental Affairs and Tourism so desperately desires.
A number of hotel owners have begun to take an interest in looking after the marine resources so that guests will continue to visit their establishments. In effect they are becoming responsible for their own “marine orchards”.
Winterbach is one of them. Over the past few years he has stopped 4x4s destroying the delicate dune systems along his beach, he is fighting mining companies and the potential devastation they may cause if they win mining rights to the dunes surrounding the estuary near his hotel, and he has begun to help the local residents to fish and harvest shellfish sustainably.
“I put them through an environmental course about marine life and showed them which oysters and mussels to harvest,” he says. “Of course it’s not perfect, but I was really surprised how much interest they showed and how, since the course, their harvesting methodology has been so much better.
“Once villagers completed my course, they received a certificate and I then allowed them to collect my allowed quota, paying them above average rates, in return for their adhering to the terms of my course.
“Now it’s all gone wrong, all respect is lost; it’s a disaster.” His despair is compounded by the fact that he has continually sought to improve relations with his neighbours and this setback is far more ominous than it seems.
So what will they do now? Winterbach’s credibility is gone, the villagers have lost their source of income and also their will to comply with their fledgling philosophy of sustainable fishing. They will simply find another, less scrupulous buyer who will give them less for more and the pressure on oysters will return to its previous untenable levels. The sea has, therefore, lost too.
The department’s letter reads: “Local communities suffers the most when such practices exits, markets are created and when the law is inforced they believe that they are targeted which we know is not true. They then believe its there right to fish and sell and not a privilege. This gives the local communities uncertainty and false expectations. This situation leaves us with very little room to develop local communities and endangers future tourism and development. This office is busy investigating this situation and will report to hotels as soon as possible [sic].”
What exactly this means is a little uncertain, and alternative, more desirable developments do not yet appear to be around the corner.
The real tragedy is that the new law will only affect those who were trying to bring order to the chaos. People such as Winterbach can no longer support those they encouraged to improve, and resorts that no longer supply fresh fish will be at an extreme disadvantage compared to those who flout the law. If hoteliers like Winterbach are “caught” buying fish they will not only face a fine, but their reputations will be jeopardised. His reply to the department contains many pertinent points, the strongest being that “the imposition of your new laws has unilaterally rendered thousands of subsistence fishermen, totally dependent on their income from this source, as either unemployed or criminals”.
There are many other obvious irregularities and flaws within this new legislation and, as Winterbach points out, the only people who will be penalised are those who have become the custodians of the area and have actually done the department’s work for them.The Marine Living Resources Act states that people who live in a subsistence fishing zone have the right to fish according to the rules for subsistence fishers, and any extra fish that is not eaten by the community may be sold in the subsistence fishing zone but cannot be moved to another area and sold.
The Wild Coast is one of the country’s poorest areas. If this is not a subsistence fishing zone, then it is time for the department to reassess its map and reconsider its strategy. Prohibition has no chance of success when there is no law enforcement.
Only when people start to learn about their resource, when certification gives them pride in their work, will they begin to care for their orchard, and reap rather than rape the bounty of the sea.
James Black, assistant editor of Earthyear magazine, was tragically killed in a road accident shortly after writing this article