Fishing with Hamadi

Those who know me, know I have a thing about the sea and all things sea-related. This includes the work of fishermen, which I find fascinating, though I have never aspired to the profession myself.

True to form I stalked the fishing harbour of Houmt Souq around sunset for three days in a row, looking for that elusive perfect shot of fishermen at work. 

Fishermen clearing the nets, 

painting intiials onto  some of the thousands of clay pots used for catching octopuses, 

or just fishing by moonlight from the tip of the pier.

And then there are the cats on the wharf. 

These cats are of a superior intelligence compared to their mainland bretheren, more self confident and definitely better fed. After all, for a cat, a fishing wharf is just about as close to food heaven as they are likely to get.

At even a cursory glance it became apparent, that the fishing nets were full of crabs. Apparently around 3-4 years ago blue crabs suddenly started to appear in these waters, which they had never inhabited before. Now they abound.

This is truly bad news for the fishermen, since the crabs tangle up the nets terribly and getting them out tears the nets badly. Nowadays nets have to be replaced evey year, whereas before you could use a net for three or four years. An unwelcome extra cost in an already struggling profession.

Some crabs do come loose from the nets intact, but many are so tangled up in the netting, that they have to be hammered to bits while still in the net to get them out.

Futhermore, the blue crab, though, as the fishermen grudgingly allow, delicious in taste, is undervalued here and the sales price is very low - if you can find a buyer at all that is. As one fisherman answered when I asked him if he ate blue crab every day, ”No. It’s not our tradition”. Tradition is indeed overly strong in Tunisian cuisine. I could by now rattle off with the fingers of two hands all the dishes that are served in any non-touristy eatery in this country. The appearance of a tasty new crustacean in local waters cuts no ice round here.

The wharf cats do everything they can to help the poor fishermen - such as eating up the chunks of blue crab. A particularly industrious individual was caught on camera in the act of eating crab straight from the net. There is a very dashing pirate-like air to him. Or possibly the hair net is for food hygiene?

Another option of getting rid of the blue crab is giving them as presents to passing photo-snapping travellers. That was the method adopted by these hard working fishermen. 

Unfortunately, though they insisted the cooking was easy, I had to decline. I’m not sure my hotel has a crab-cooking service.

Finally my perseverance paid off, since talking to mr Hamadi as he was untangling his nets one evening resulted in the invitation to go fishing with him the next morning. 

A huge added benefit was, that mr Hamadi spoke good English. He’s a retired teacher, whose passion is fishing - which also provides a welcome addition to the family income. 

So bright eyed and bushy tailed I met him at the fishing harbour at 7.30 am. And off we went on the good boat Sabrina. Maybe not the biggest of the fishing vessles in the harbour, but obviousy the best.

We (and by we, I mean mr Hamadi) cast some nets. 

In the good old days around four years ago you would leave the nets in the water for around three hours, but since the crabs are quick to arrive on the scene to eat the fish caught in nets, now the nets have to be pulled in after a mere 30 minutes or so. Even so, there was sorry evidence of good fish gone to waste (or rather, gone into crab) as we hauled in the first net. 

Pickings were quite slim, since the wind was from the South - the worst wind for fishing for local fishermen apparently. The fishermen of Lampedusa would, on the other hand, expect to get a good catch that day. The prettiest fish award went to this lovely green chap, who was practically the first fish we hauled in. Apparently he’s good eating as well.

The second net was an even sorrier sight - not a fish in sight, just some tangled crabs. Suddenly a back broke clear of the water around 6 meters from the boat. ”Dolphin!”, cried the happy traveller. Hamadi was less happy - since the dophin had been feasting on the standing buffet offered by his net. ”There’ll be no fish now”, he muttered - and indeed there was none in the whole net. Apparently dolphins are very neat eaters. Not, unfortunately, very considerate of a fisherman’s feeling though, because apart from eating their fish, they rend great dolphin-sized holes into the nets. There’s not a lot of love lost between these two species - at least on the fishermens’ part. 

The final net yielded the best catch of the day, but even there the pickings were slim. Enough to pay for the petrol out to the nets, but little more. So disallusioned by the South wind and the dolphins, we headed back to harbour.

Some of the smaller of crab-nibbled fish went into the fisherman’s pot, but straight on landing, Hamadi pedalled off to the market with the few prized rougie -fish that he had caught that day. 

From net to sales stall in around an hour. Further proof, that the fish in the markets is certainly fresh here!

I’m thankful to mr Hamadi for allowing me a glimpse of the life of a fisherman in Djerba, as  well as interesting discussions we had. 

I am also thankful for the on-board breakfast of eggs, youghurt, bread and jam that mr Hamadi had thoughtfully provided. As every seafarer knows, you’re always hungry at sea! 

P.S. I stand corrected: in a previous entry in this blog I assumed the repeated bashing of an octopus on the stone floor by a fishmonger was either an attempt to get the ink out, or an indication that the fishmonger had serious anger management issues. The real reason, as mr Hamadi informed me, was that if you don’t give an octopus a jolly good bashing, the fibres in the meat remain intact and the meat is too tough for human consumption. One wonders who was the first person to work out the solution to this particular problem.