Some of David’s* earliest memories are of huddling around a paraffin stove, eating his grandmother’s fishcakes, while his grandfather kept him enthralled with ghost stories and old fishermen’s legends.
David is one of the many Rastafarian fishermen who live in the informal settlement of Hangberg, above Hout Bay harbour, which is home to a community whose families have been fishing, illegally, for more than three generations.
Under apartheid legislation, a once-thriving and vibrant community was forcibly removed from Hout Bay village and, as non-whites, were also excluded from legal fishing rights. In post-1994 South Africa, little has changed for these traditional fishermen, despite the government’s promises to uplift impoverished coas-tal communities through a restructuring of the fishing industry. As a poor and marginalised community, fishermen such as David are struggling to secure fishing quotas in an industry dominated by powerful commercial and political interests.
Small-scale or subsistence fishermen such as those at Hangberg, who depend on fishing as their main source of income, became legally recognised in 1998 under the Marine Living Resources Act. Despite the introduction of legislation to help meet the needs of previously dis-advantaged fishing communities and the subsequent creation of a limited-commercial fisheries sector in 2001, Hangberg fishermen are still left with little choice but to keep poaching illegally. This is largely because, historically, the government has focused on the commercial fishing industry at the expense of the small-scale sector. This has meant that there is now a huge disparity between policy and implementation when it comes to the Hangberg fishermen.
The livelihood and the rich historical tradition of these fishermen remain under threat for a number of reasons. One is that Marine and Coastal Management (MCM), a division of the Department of Environmental Affairs and Tourism, has been slow to implement recommendations made by the government-appointed Subsistence Fisheries Task Group to ensure that legislative policy translates into rights for small-scale fishermen. Another is that Hangberg fishermen are dependent on the sale of high-value species such as crayfish and abalone, which, according to the MCM, means they fall outside the category of ”subsistence” and are regarded as being closer to commercial fishermen.
But the costly and extremely bureaucratic process of applying for a limited-commercial quota means that this is not a viable option for the majority of Hangberg fishermen, who do not have the resources to harvest on the scale of other small commercial fishermen. Since 2001, an application for a limited-commercial quota involves an up-front, non-refundable fee ranging from R500 to R7 000, depending on the size of the allocated quota. It excludes the majority of Hangberg fishermen, who cannot afford the fee. In addition, most of them lack the education and skills to secure the quotas themselves and have had to enlist the help of consultants, which has made them vulnerable to further exploitation. In some cases, they have had to rely on educated, elite members of their community, who subsequently conned fishers out of their money or secured quotas for themselves.
”If I could choose, I would have a subsistence permit instead of a quota,” says David. ”They should give subsistence permits to everyone who makes a living from the sea. This leaves the door open for new people who want to become fishermen. This is a fishing village,” he adds.
Like many informal settlements, the Hangberg community faces problems of unemployment, alcoholism and lack of education. For the majority of these fishermen, risking their lives by poaching under extremely dangerous conditions has, historically, been the only way in which they could support themselves and their families. But, as David is quick to point out, ”It’s not just that there are no other options for jobs, it’s [fishing] part of our heritage. Some people don’t want the complications of ‘the system’ — they just want to take out what nature allows.”
The MCM is currently in the process of issuing long-term fishing rights. If the Hangberg fishermen are unsuccessful in securing these rights in the next few months, they will have to wait another 15 years before they get an opportunity to try again.
Apart from the legislation that leaves them straddled between two categories, Hangberg’s fishermen also have to contend with the issue of conservation. The area they have traditionally depended on has been listed as a sanctuary zone within the Table Mountain National Park Marine Protected Area, making it off-limits to any fishermen. Although the task group has recommended that exceptions could be made in the case of subsistence fishermen who have been fishing for longer than 50 years and harvest ”culturally important” resources, the MCM has not issued any such exemptions to date.
There is a strong sentiment among the Rastafarian fishermen that they have been racially marginalised and, as coloureds, continue to be excluded from — and criminalised by — the restructuring process. They say the gov-ernment has succumbed to mounting pressure from the large-scale commercial fishing industry and has intro-duced reforms that only benefit big business or those who have political leverage within the African National Congress. ”The government must come out, find out why people are poaching, who they are and create a platform to debate the situation to find a way forward,” urges David.
As is the case with the majority of the coloured community in Hout Bay, many of the fishermen are resentful towards the government, which they feel has not made good on any of its promises of jobs, housing and access to marine resources. For Rastafarian fishermen such as David, who is actively involved in uplifting the youth of his community, the issue is not just about getting legal recognition as a fisherman. He is fiercely proud of his fishing heritage — one which he traces back to his Khoi ancestry — and believes that the stigma around poaching makes people in Hangberg ashamed of their past and, as a result, who they are in the present.
As a boy growing up in Hangberg, his father taught him how to survive and live off the sea, just as his father did before him. ”I have been fishing my whole life,” says David’s father, ”I would rather die at sea. When fishing is in you, you will never stop.”
It is a cultural legacy that David believes is his right to own and to pass on to the next generation.
* Name has been changed. Greg Nicholson from the department of environmental and geographical science at the University of Cape Town provided access to his research for background information used in this article