Empty nets, heavy hearts: The fishermen's struggles at the sea
In a recent conversation with fishermen in Cox’s Bazar, they reminisced about their glory days. The dire state of their current world soon becomes clear caused by the depletion of fish stocks in our seas
Since the days when fish boats were rowed with oars, Rahmat Ullah has been going to the sea.
In 1987, a 15-year-old Rahmat would be on sampan (boat) that would fill up with fish as he passed near the coasts of Dhalghata, Kutubdia, Chakaria and Sandwip. Then, passing through Bhasan Char and Hatiya to reach the estuary of the Meghna, he often had to leave behind many of the low-priced fish.
During these times, Rahmat would use various types of nets to catch hilsa, pomfret or mackerel — some of which would be exported to Singapore or China. Some were four fingers wide, some were eight. At the time, the price of a 'mon' (approximately 40kg) of pomfret ranged from Tk1,200-1,400.
Back then, 500-700 boats would head out to the sea per day.
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Rahmat Ullah worked on a boat owned by Nurul Ambia Company. The peak season for fishing lasted from the month of Ashwin to Magh.
At the fishery dock, there were many 'mahajans' – the boat owners who assigned duties to the boatmen for organizing the crew. Some mahajans specialised in the pomfret trade, others in mackerel, but the majority dealt in hilsa.
Fishing continued as long as the wind blew from the north. When the southern winds blew, the sea became rough. Then it was necessary to be very cautious when going out to sea. A lot of fish were caught in the sea back then, even in the month of Baishakh.
However, that is no longer the case.
Recently in April, I met Jabbar Ali and Shahid Hossain. I joined them for an evening gathering (including Rahmat) atop a hill near Sugandha Point in Cox's Bazar. A significant portion of the hill is currently under the control of the Navy.
When Rahmat Ullah's family first came to this area from Teknaf, there were only 10 to 12 houses in total. After sunset, most people would not leave their homes, recounted Rahmat. On the other hand, Jabbar Ali came from Maheshkhali in 2003 while Shahid Hossain came from Chakaria in 2005.
Now, there is a bustling market and multiple mosques here. And in some parts of the sea, there used to be so many hilsa fish that their smell could be detected from afar. But again, that is no longer the case.
Rahmat Ullah has been away from the sea for 10 years now. Currently, he earns his livelihood by catching Bata fish near the shore.
Jabbar's story is different. Although his house was in Ramu, he lived in Maheshkhali due to marital ties. He was associated with various works at the fishery dock, but as he didn't find convenience in any of them, eventually, he went back to catching fish in the sea.
In 2006, there were reports of a decline in fish population in the sea.
According to Jabbar Ali, fish is found abundantly in the surrounding areas from South Hatia to Saint Martin's Island. The first round of dropping the net takes place around 4 pm. The boat moves along and pulls the net to the destination the boatman sets. The process of pulling the nets usually continues until around eight at night.
After pulling the nets, the fishermen select suitable fish and put them on ice to keep them fresh. At midnight, the nets are spread again, and the engine starts. By 4 am, the fishermen finish pulling nets, mainly because fish are more active at night, said Jabbar.
Rahmat and Jabbar's company Shahid Hossain has an even more different life story.
Shahid had an accident some time ago. Their boat sank in the deep sea. There were 16 fishermen on the boat. Eight of them were never found. The remaining eight managed to swim to the border of India.
Reflecting on that day, Shahid said, "The sky darkened, and a fierce storm arose. All our efforts were in vain. After the boat sank, I and another person held onto a water drum and kept floating. I saw two others holding onto two floats (plastic balls used to keep nets afloat). We were only calling out to those above and trying not to let the water fill us."
"Without half-pants and the inner t-shirt, I had soaked all my clothes. At around four in the afternoon, the boat sank. At 11 pm, the Indian Navy rescued us from the ship. After boarding the ship, I lost my senses. The next day, they provided us with clothes. The food was good too. They sent us to Delhi. From there, the company's people brought us back four days later," he added.
"Do pirates exist in the sea?" I echoed the question for everyone. Joynal Abedin Bhutto, who works as a lifeguard at the beach answered, "Yes, they do, but less than before."
"In 2022, one day I rescued an old man in a tied-up condition. My duty was almost over then. Suddenly, I noticed someone drowning at a distance. I quickly took the rescue boat and rushed towards him. I brought him ashore," recounted Bhutto.
"The tied-up man had injuries all over his body and was unconscious. After getting extensive treatment in the hospital, he got his senses back. We came to know that their boat had been attacked by pirates. They didn't leave any other fisherman alive."
The old man pleaded, "I have three daughters; if I die, they will be left alone. Have mercy on me." So, they didn't kill him but tied him up and threw him into the sea. One or two such incidents of piracy occur every year. They used to happen more frequently before," Bhutto said.
Three years without hilsa
Bhutto said with regret, "I haven't eaten a single hilsa fish in the last three years. However, our hilsa fish goes abroad, and people there enjoy it. We spend our days eating small fish like bata, cheuwa, and loitta," he lamented.
This was not the case earlier. He explained, "20-25 years ago, we used to see piles of hilsa fish and its eggs at the fishing dock. Despite consuming so much throughout the season, hilsa fish never ran out; it was preserved. Now, I don't see that anymore."
On the other hand, Shahid and Jabbar are privileged in that they can eat hilsa almost every time they go to sea. Unfortunately, the boat they used has been sold by the company.
Previously, where they used to catch 8-10,000 fish in one trip, but now they struggle to catch even 2,000. So, how will the mahajans cover the expenses?
Except for the monsoon, Shahid and Jabbar earn their livelihood by day labouring for the rest of the year. Jabbar manages as his son has grown up and he has married off his daughter.
But Shahid's four sons and daughters are all dependent on him. He continues to struggle to make ends meet. His monthly house rent alone is Tk4,000.
Where have the fishes gone?
"But why has the number of fish decreased in the sea?" — Bhutto responded first, "The mood of the sea is not the same as before. Sometimes it becomes harsh. Climate change could be one reason. There used to be continuity and intensity in the duration of the seasons of winter, summer, and monsoon. Now that is no longer there."
Jabbar said, "There is no fixed schedule for rain anymore. Sometimes it rains 10 days later or earlier than expected. Nature is not as predictable as before. Additionally, there are now many more boats. Hundreds of boats can be seen in the same area. I feel like there are hundreds of thousands of fishermen in the sea at the same time. Everyone wants fish. Previously, not so many boats would go out. With less competition, everyone could catch more or less fish."
But Shahid did not answer. He doesn't have time to search for answers. He feels uncertain even about how things will unfold tomorrow. He hopes that the sea will soon calm down. Then there will be an abundance of fish to catch. The opportunity to eat and survive will return for people like them.
When the issue of declining fish stocks was raised with Dr Shafiqur Rahman, the chief scientist at the Cox's Bazar Marine Fisheries and Technology Center, he said, "Climate change also affects fish reproduction. When the temperature rises, fish eat less, so they don't get proper nutrition, and without proper nutrition, egg production decreases, which is natural."
"Fish release eggs at specific temperatures in specific environments. Rainfall is essential for that. This year, there hasn't been any rainfall yet [early monsoon] in Cox's Bazar, so there's less fish in the upstream areas," he added.
