Durban - TWENTY years ago, Shabeer Khan’s wife had just given birth to their first child and he was concerned his salary as an events co-ordinator was not enough to take care of his family.
So he quit with the hope that he would find a better paying job.
“I applied for other jobs in the events and decor fields but it was difficult,” said Khan, of Crossmoor, Chatsworth.
“A few men in the area were subsistence fishermen and I saw how well they were doing and how comfortably they were living, so I asked around about subsistence fishing and I liked the idea of becoming one,” recalled Khan.
“I knew nothing about fishing but I had to find a way to make ends meet. I bought a fishing rod, some reel and hooks and took a chance. Initially, learning the techniques to land a fish were difficult but now I am a pro. I sell what I catch door-to-door and I take what I cannot sell home to my family.”
For 20 years, Khan has been leaving home at 4am on most days with a group of fellow fishermen from the area. They take two trains - one from Crossmoor to Clairwood and then to fishing spots on the north or south coasts.
“Sometimes we fish on the pier at the beach or at Isipingo or Ballito. We do not fish at a specific beach. We fish in all areas,” he explained.
On the days they could not access the trains, they pooled their money and hired a car, which costs between R130 and R250, depending on their destination.
“We fish up to 12 hours. Sometimes we fish overnight and return home early the next morning with our catch. We then sort through the fish to sell them while they are fresh.”
This has been his routine.
“Every day that we fish, there is no guarantee of how many fish we will catch and how many we will sell. On a good week, I can make up to R1000.”
The 46-year-old said they often braved the worst weather so they could earn money.
“We only carry our rods, tackle box and a cooler box for our catch. We cannot carry umbrellas and stuff because we often use public transport. When we fish, we concentrate on getting a fish. We do not lie down to rest. We only cast and reel.
“Sometimes we stand in the sun and other times we stand in the worst of the storms. There’s no shelter to hide. We endure everything, keeping our families in mind.”
But since the lockdown was implemented in March, Khan and his friends have not been able to earn a living.
“It’s important for us to fish. I am the sole breadwinner in my home. My wife is a housewife, my son is unemployed and my daughter is in school.
“We knew only essential services would be allowed to operate but being subsistence fishermen, who rely on this for money, we did not expect to be affected. Fishing is not a social gathering. We fish meters apart from each other. So we were shocked when we found out we were not allowed to fish.”
He said by the third week of the lockdown, his family were struggling as they were running out of food. “But thankfully we received food hampers.”
Khan said he approached the KZN Subsistence Fishermen’s Forum, of which he is a member, for a permit to fish but was told he could not get one because the permits were for small-scale fishermen and not subsistence fishermen.
“I was told that if I attempted to fish, I could be arrested.”
When the lockdown was relaxed to Level 4, Khan said his spirits were lifted.
“We thought we would be allowed to fish again - but still nothing. We are not asking for a grant or for handouts from the government. All we want is to fish so we can earn a living. We have already missed the salmon run, which was in March. We are nearing the sardine run where we see a lot of game fish.
“This time of the year, the size of the shad is bigger and people in the Indian community love shad. With one shad, we can make a few hundred rand. It’s a quick sale, but it looks like we will miss out.”
His fishing companions are facing similar hardships during the lockdown.
Akbar Khan, 61, who fishes at Durban’s south pier and the north and south coasts, said he was also struggling financially.
“The company I worked at was liquidated. I started fishing 35 years ago and my family depends on whatever I make. Without permission to fish, we are going to bed hungry.”
Timothy Chinna, 31, a married father of four, added: “Finding a job has been difficult. Fishing is my bread and butter. It pays our bills, pays for food and also for my children’s diapers.”
Salim Khan, 75, said he was still the breadwinner in his family.
“My father taught me to fish. This is the only thing I know. I feel lost because I cannot do anything for my family.”
Jakes Bacus, 57, said they were not looking for handouts but permits to fish.
“We need to fish for our families. We understand the government’s concerns with the coronavirus and we are willing to comply.”