‘Our only livelihood’: Zimbabwean fishing communities fear for future as stocks dwindle | Global development


Ona stool on a fishing rig floating near the shore of Lake Kariba, a woman is furiously scraping off the scales from a fish. Eyes bloodshot after a night on the lake, created when the Zambezi River was damaged in the 1950s, Esnath Munkuli is not happy.

More than a dozen of the pontoon boats have docked at the village of Simatelele, the crews warming themselves in the morning sun while others paddle wooden canoes perilously close to a hippo herd.

“I always get on to the waters with hope for a good catch, but sometimes it is disappointing. There is no kapenta these days,” Munkuli says, referring to the tiny Tanganyika sardine (Limnothrissa miodon) introduced to Lake Kariba decades ago as a food source.

Tiny silvery fish lying on a net

The 52-year-old from Binga, about 250 miles (400km) west of Zimbabwe’s capital, Harare, is one of the 10 pioneering members of a women’s fishing co-operative, which had seen them all put children through school and invest in their families. But that success is now in danger of being reversed.

Munkuli has a crate of about 20kg (45lb) of fish to show for her night’s work. The merchants want a 90kg bag for which they pay US$150 (£124). As poor rainfall affects water levels on the Zambezi, one of the continent’s longest rivers, kapenta are scarce, and with winter setting in, those who rely on fishing are worried.

“We let down our nets five times every night. Last night we only managed one crate after four lifts,” says Munkuli.

A woman looks on as a young man anchors a fishing boat made of a covered platform between two metal floats

  • Talent Siyakanyowa, the skipper, anchors the pontoon boat at an inlet of the lake near the village of Simatelele, while Esnath Munkuli looks on

Sometimes the Bbindauko Banakazi Kapenta Co-operative crew sail north across the border running through the middle of the lake into Zambian waters but a better catch is never guaranteed.

In 2011 Zimbabwe charity, the Zubo Trustwith help from the agency UN Women, built the pontoon boat – a platform resting on cylindrical metal floats, a metal sunshade and a sleeping hut. A light, which is fixed to the rods holding the nets, attracts fish.

Munkuli and two crew, including the rig’s captain, Talent Siyakanyowa, 28, are waiting for the kapenta merchants to come.

Esnath Munkuli gestures to Talent Siyakanyowa as they set out for a night of fishing on the Zambezi River
Esnath Munkuli and Talent Siyakanyowa working on the rig on the Zambezi River
Jimmy, a crew member, and Esnath Munkuli pull up anchor before a night of fishing on the Zambezi River
Esnath Munkuli with Jimmy and Talent Siyakanyowa on the rig on the Zambezi River

Ten women signed up to form the co-operative and take it in turns every month to live on the boat, where there is a toilet, a makeshift bed, and a fireplace.

“I don’t go back home until the 24 days have elapsed. After that, we call it a full moon, so we won’t be allowed to fish any more. Fishing will be open after seven days; the authorities will be guarding against overfishing,” Munkuli says, adding that there were now too many boats on the lake.

The Zimbabwe National Parks and Wildlife Management Authority (Zimparks) charges $300 for fishing licenses lasting three months and the fees for Munkuli’s co-operative are overdue.

“The authorities are always breathing down our necks for license fees. If we don’t pay, they will chase us out of the water. Right now, we haven’t paid, and I fear they will stop us from fishing,” she says.

Most women in the co-operative say fishing has improved their lives but they face challenges, such as the boat breaking down. Nevertheless, Munkuli, a divorcee, has been able to send her children to school and has built herself a home.

Esnath Munkuli on the boat on the lake

“It is very important to work for yourself. I put my three children through school. I am very proud of what I have achieved. Some women my age ask me how I have done it. There are younger women who want to help.” She says there is another threat: “outsiders”.

“There are other people from Harare and other areas who are also into this business,” Munkuli says. “They are undercharging for the kapenta, which makes theirs cheaper, driving us out of business.”

Co-operative member Sinikiwe Mwinde, 45, says: “Everyone now has their own rig, and we fear that one day we will wake up and there will be no kapenta left for us.

Docked boats seen from above on an inlet of the lake

“When we started the co-operative, we used to catch about three tons of kapenta every month, but due to the poor rains and climate change, these days you would be lucky to catch a ton,” Mwinde says.

“Between 2011 and 2018, the business was lucrative. but not any more.”

A spokesman for Zimparks, Tinashe Farawo, confirmed that studies showed depleted fish populations in Lake Kariba, with a lack of rainfall reducing the algae that is at the base of the lake’s food chain.

Zambia and Zimbabwe have agreed to reduce the number of boats fishing their shared waters, but poaching is rife.

“Research shows that we are experiencing overfishing,” he said. “Fish catches have been on the decline since 1989, when a peak of 30,000 tonnes between Zambia and Zimbabwe was realised.”

Two men carry a crate of small fish off the boat
A man lays out a net with fish seen drying in the background
Two men shake fish out from a crate over a net
The men lay out the fish to dry in the sun

  • Clockwise from top left: Siyakanyowa, right, and a colleague carry a crate of kapenta caught during the night’s fishing; nets are laid out on the lakeshore to dry the kapenta; the crate is emptied of the night’s meager haul; the men spread out the small fish to dry in the sun

“Zimbabwe has reduced its fishing rigs from a peak of 560 to the current 445 [and] is also implementing the seven-day, ‘full-moon’ period, reducing fishing by 23% as well as increasing law enforcement to curb unregulated fishing.

“Water temperature has increased over the years, exceeding the 28C [82F] threshold for certain algae to thrive. This algae is food for zooplankton, which is in turn food for kapenta,” Farawo said.

Fish farming is a lucrative venture in some parts of Zimbabwe but a project by the co-operative to build fish ponds failed.

An empty cement-lined pool

“Our project was not successful because we failed to get enough funds to pump water from the river into the tanks,” says Mwinde.

“We were also getting the fish [food] pellets from Harare and Victoria Falls, which are very far, so the project suffered.”

In 2015, Mwinde built a small shop with the money she had earned from fishing, and now, when she is not on the lake, she sells groceries.

An older woman sits behind a shop counter with a few shelves sparsely filled with goods behind her

“When we started this co-operative in 2011, I never thought my life would change like this. All my children have gone through school; the eldest, who is 22, is about to go to college,” Mwinde says.

Her cousin, Sophia Mwinde, 49, adds: “I have taken my orphaned grandchildren to school and built a home for my family through this project. I am proud of myself.”

But the future is uncertain for both of them. “If it does not rain, our business will be ruined,” she says. “It must rain.”

Sign up for a different view with our Global Dispatch newsletter – a roundup of our top stories from around the world, recommended reads, and thoughts from our team on key development and human rights issues, delivered to your inbox every two weeks:

Sign up for Global Dispatch – please check your spam folder for the confirmation email

Jimmy lays out kapenta to dry in the sun after a night of fishing on the Zambezi River



Source link