A
fishing life simply means a difficult life'
Fishing villages nearly gone
Kwok
Tai Yau, a fisherman since the age of 5, works almost 24 hours a day.
To him, a fishing life means a difficult life. (Cindy Pat)
By
Cindy Pat
Water,
water everywhere. Boats bobbing along to the rhythm of the ancient sea.
Could this be Venice? Wrong.
This is Hong Kong.
Hong Kong, which literally means "fragrant harbor" in English, was a
fishing village when the British colonized it in 1842.
Its name suggests that this international metropolis is inseparable
from a harbor, boats and fishing.
However, the fishing village started to dry up during the 1950s, when
a population boom led to the reclamation of the harbor. As a result,
the harbor and the fishing industry shrank.
Today, Aberdeen and Tai O are the two biggest fishing villages still
afloat.
Kwok Tai Yau, 50, owns a fishing boat in Aberdeen. He started life as
a fisherman when he was 5.
"I lived on the sea at that time with my parents and my seven brothers
and sisters," Mr. Kwok said, pointing out to the water on the horizon.
"The boat was about 40 feet long," he recalled.
"All the fishing gear was stacked on one side, and a tiny dining table
was on the other.
"There were only two cabins. One was shared by my parents and two of
my younger siblings. I slept with five other siblings in the other cabin,"
he said.
Sleep was scarce for Mr. Kwok and his family, who had to keep watch
over their nets through the night. They had to lower the fishing net
into the sea four times a night, each time for 2 to 3 hours.
"Actually, we did not get enough sleep," he said, anxiously biting his
lips.
"I cannot tell you exactly how long we worked," he said. "The condition
of the sea changed every minute.
"Sometimes the net was ready to be pulled up in 2 hours. Sometimes it
was only one-third full when half the night had already passed.
"We started working at 6 p.m. every day, and no one knew when to stop.
Our work would come to an end only when our mother announced ‘Enough!’
or when we noticed sunshine.
"After pulling up the net and setting down the struggling fish, we mended
the net and other
gear.
"We slept 2 hours on average every day. If there were strong waves,
we would be awakened.
"But we were very used to these conditions. We couldn’t do anything
about it anyway."
Sighing, he continued, "Life was really tough and painful at that time.
"Without electricity on the boat, we used oil or kerosene lamps. We
had no television or computer. Swimming was our biggest entertainment.
"Since our home was on the sea, it was very inconvenient to get to other
places. Sometimes we had to take a connecting boat ashore, so we almost
never left home.
"Sometimes, big waves rocked the boat so fiercely that we could not
even eat. Therefore, we usually went ashore for meals.
"We were used to it. What could we do about it? Grumble all day long?"
About 20 years ago, the government started a project to develop Aberdeen
and build housing estates around the harbor. Mr. Kwok then moved ashore.
He now owns a mechanized fishing boat. With the help of workers and
machines, he does not have to do the entire job by himself.
"Don’t think that conditions have greatly improved with new technology,"
Mr. Kwok said.
"It is not true.
"I now have to work almost 24 hours a day, but business is just the
same.
"A fishing life simply means a difficult life."
Of the eight children in his family, Mr. Kwok is the only one still
working in his father’s industry.
"What else can I do?" Mr. Kwok said. "I did not have the chance to go
to school, and I do not have any other skills. All my friends are fishermen.
I have been stuck in this place all my life.
"This is what life has offered me. I do not have the ability to strive
for other things."
Also in Aberdeen harbor, there is another story.
Andy Lai, 24, a computer engineer, is a modern waterborne inhabitant
of Aberdeen harbor.
The Lai family’s fishing history started with one of his grandfathers.
Today, Mr. Lai’s mother still runs a seafood wholesale stall. The family
has maintained its tradition of living on the sea.
Mr. Lai’s floating home is different from Mr. Kwok’s. It has four floors,
each spanning 1,000 square feet.
"I live with my parents, my brother and 13 workers. The home is large
enough for us all."
The first floor serves as a storeroom for fish and food. Sacks of rice
and bottles of oil are stocked for their personal use.
The second floor is the working area. There are machines and gear for
holding and moving fish.
The living room is on the third floor, and the rooftop is used for drying
clothes.
Electricity, fresh water and most household appliances are available
here.
"The only thing I find inconvenient about living on the sea is that
a bro-adband In-ternet connection cannot be set up he-re," said Mr.
Lai.
"Otherwise this boat would be perfect.
"I lived on land for 2 years before, but I truly think that life on
this boat is more convenient.
"You can go anywhere.
"Imagine going to the outlying islands without even stepping out of
your home. Isn’t that attractive?"
Mr. Lai’s mother makes her living by buying seafood from local fishermen
and then selling it to restaurants.
"Seafood varies in price every day, depending on the supply of each
species. We usually make a 30 percent profit. We are a bit better off
than those who catch fish themselves."
When asked if he would succeed his parents’ business, Mr. Lai shook
his head.
"I am an engineer, and my brother is a university student. We have our
own dreams and work," he said, laughing, "but we consider the harbor
our eternal home, and we will always be loyal to it."
Along the Aberdeen shore, locals are working. Some are knitting, some
are salting egg yolks, and some, kneeling down, are checking on dried
shrimps.
Cheung Chin Hung, professor in the Anthropology Department at The Chinese
University of Hong Kong, said, "The fishery in Hong Kong changes with
society.
"We do not know whether it will vanish in the future, but fishing villages
in Hong Kong are dying out.
"There are very few people living on the sea now."
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