Sunrise on the Caribbean Sea

It seems amazing that this week is the last of my time in Barbados! Tomorrow I will board the first flight of my journey to Tanzania’s capital, Dar es Salaam.

After five weeks of reading, talking about, and observing fishing all over the island, I was finally able to actually fish! A friend from the Walkers Regenerative Agricultural Reserve (not related to fishing, but a cool organization nonetheless) introduced me to one of her fisher friends named Laddy at a rum shop on our way back from volunteering. I asked him half jokingly if he could use an extra pair of hands, to which he replied that he did, and would I mind waking up at 3am that next morning?

I didn’t mind, and in fact if I lived here longer I might make a habit of it. The wind was cool coming off the sea, and the nearly full moon cast shadows on the empty streets and glimmered on the waves. By the time we made it out to the fishing grounds, the sun was just starting to light up the sky in pinks and blues. We fished for hours, dragging lines fixed with

bright yellow rubber lures behind us in the water and hauling them in hand over hand when something bit. This method of fishing with no rod or reel took a bit of practice, but once I got the hang of it I enjoyed the way you can directly feel the fish’s movements on the other end of the line. Laddy has reeled in enormous 100 lb tuna by hand, in a feat of upper body strength that I can only imagine. Apparently the key lies in listening to the movements of the hooked fish through the line, understanding how its behaving and thus when to give it slack and when to haul it in.

I also experienced first-hand the obnoxious reality of fishing amidst sargassum seaweed, nicknamed “moss”. Fishing in areas where the mats converged was impossible, (picture half a football field of open water obscured by brown, clumping seaweed). The lines had to be constantly hauled in to pull handfuls of the pale umber-colored moss off the hooks. Nevertheless, we caught two mahi mahi and several small tuna that will be put on ice and used as bait for larger fish such as marlin and kingfish. As payment for my labor I received several filets of fresh tuna, which I fried up with salt, lime, and bajan seasoning for lunch. Farm to table!

We also caught an amberjack, one of the species that fisherfolk have told me is new to Barbadian coastal waters in the past decade or so as the flying fish effectively disappear. It was a strange feeling, holding this fish that (admittedly in a very tiny way) signifies the unpredictable environmental changes that are underway in the Caribbean sea.

One of the key questions of my Watson is: how are fisherfolk, particularly women, thinking about and preparing for future changes in marine ecosystems? I recently had a conversation with fisheries management consultant Dr. Shelly-Ann Cox about the future of insurance for Caribbean fisherfolk, currently being hashed out as the government decides how to revamp the state-operated National Insurance Scheme (NIS). This national pension and insurance system is especially controversial for fisherfolk and other self-employed workers with seasonal, highly variable incomes. They often cannot make regular payments into the system, and without the aid of an employer they cannot easily access or are not eligible for many benefits (such as workplace injury coverage, sick leave, etc) that other sectors receive.

Dr. Cox brought up alternative, private insurance schemes such as Caribbean Ocean and Aquaculture Sustainability Facility (COAST) that are designed for fisherfolk and offer coverage for relevant environmental risks. Because the dangers they insure against are targeted and pre-defined, these types of insurance can quickly allocate money to fisherfolk to cover lost income and damage to vessels and equipment in the wake of bad weather or tropical cyclones. Perhaps these types of schemes would provide the type of stability fishers need to avoid financial ruin at the hands of future disturbances, which will become ever more destructive as climate change progresses.

An abandoned house near Bathsheba

One last note! If you ever come to Barbados, please let me know and I’ll connect you with Virgina, the best landlady in the world. A special huge thank you to The Voices From the Shore Collective for letting me join your sessions, and witness the amazing work you are doing to share your stories and fight for a better future in your industry.

See you in Tanzania,

Grace