Fishy Thoughts
by Anonymous
There´s no doubt about it- Puerto Cayo is a fishing village. My host father was a fisherman until two years ago, when blindness forced him to give up life on the sea. Almost all the men I talked to fished. In the late afternoon from my host family´s porch, the fishermen would put on their rubber boots, climb into the back of a pickup truck, and head to the other side of town to set out on their pangas for a long night of fishing. Sometimes there were lots of fish, sometimes there weren´t. The excitement or disappointment upon their return in the early morning was a pretty good indicator of the catch.
Relaxing on the front porch of my host family´s home afforded me many opportunities to learn about the fishing lifestyle. Neighbors, all fishermen, would come up to the porch to converse about their work. They told me the fishing used to better before, but that there´s still lots of fish in the sea. At night, fishermen encircle a large group of fish with a 1000-meter long net. If the fish notice and escape, the entire catch disappears.
After having heard so many stories about fishing, I was excited to finally have the opportunity to fish with the locals and see how it is done. I did not fish at night, but rather in the afternoon from noon to sunset. A night of no sleep did not sound the best, especially since I was awoken every morning at 6am by the return of the fishermen and loud reggaetón music from up the hill. So, I went fishing for camarón, which is done in the afternoon.
We boarded the small panga around noon with two local fishermen who happened to be brothers. We quickly motored to a mile further behind from the islote. They shut the motor down and tied a buoy to their net, only to turn the motor back on and slowly drop the rest of the 1000-meter long net into the water perpendicular to the current. The net was weighed down to sink to the bottom of the ocean. An hour later, we had laid down all four nets.
After resting and conversing for another hour, the fishermen pulled the nets from the water. I was amazed at what I saw. There were very few camarón, but the variety of other sea life that we caught was incredible. Every foot or so of the net had a fish or crab. Some were quite large, about a foot in length, while others were quite small. Nonetheless, the variety of species and quantity of sea life amazed me. The unfortunate part was that about 99% of it was removed from the net and tossed back into the water because it could not be sold. The net, of course, killed all of the animals it caught.
The ocean close to Puerto Cayo is full of life, especially considering that fishermen take from the sea day in and day out. This form of fishing is unfortunately highly destructive. Even fish which can´t be sold are killed by being caught in the net. Considering that we only caught about 20 shrimp, the amount of destruction for such a small quantity amazed me. I regret not asking if there are alternative, less destructive ways of fishing.
Unfortunately, there is no other option than fishing. Puerto Cayo´s economy is based on fishing. If a fisherman does not catch fish, his family goes hungry. Unless there is an alternative, such as tourism, this situation will persist. I enjoyed my day (beside the sunburn) and learned more about fishing, but it also made me realize that it is important to bring alternative sources of income to Puerto Cayo.
Family and Food
by Anonymous
Dear Diary,I don’t eat fish at home. I never have. But ever since I first arrived in Puerto Cayo in June, I’ve been eating fish. Before returning there this December, I whined to my friends about how much I didn’t want to resume force-feeding myself langostino, calamar and caballa. But really, my complaints are undeserved. Food has been my best opportunity for making connections. And here, la pesca es la vida. So eating it and enjoying it is the least I can do for the families who have invited me into their homes, cared for me and taught me about true generosity.
Several days ago, I lugged my backpack into the colorful, but modest, home of my new host family. I had practically forgotten how uncomfortable the first couple of days with a homestay family can be. Spot the family from a distance. Kiss some cheeks. And then toss yourself and your stuff inside. Of course, no one knows what to say or how to act. I sat across the table from Susana, my host mother, in silence. So inhibitions and Spanish errors ignored, I peppered her with questions. But, she was a stranger and I didn’t know what I could or should ask her. So I started with what was in front of me—a glass of juice.
What kind of juice is it?
Where does the tomate de arbol grow?
And from there, we’ve continued for days. She told me about her brother who grows organic green beans on his farm and showed me how she liked to wipe the grease off muchines (fried yucca and cheese balls). She explained herself by citing the various dietary health problems in her extended family, diabetes included. I responded by telling her about my diabetic grandfather and about America’s obsession with prepared foods along with my mother’s crusade against those foods. So, together we shared food: both the bites and the stories. I taught her my mother’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe, and together we baked them using the chocolate chips that I had snuck into Ecuador from the US. Amidst our food sharing, we discussed the joy we both find from sharing food. I told her how my mother’s cookies were the mark of my friendships, for I share them with all my friends. She had to be my amiga, since I had shared the cookies with her.
So even though my grandma at home will never understand how I refuse to eat shrimp in the US even though I eat it in Ecuador. I’m convinced that it is these shrimp, these stories and these moments of sharing that enable us to try to make a connection. Savoring fish is the best I can do to return the generosity and love I have been shown.
With love,
From Puerto Cayo