When the north-west current hits the waters of Langebaan, they chill the expansive

waters of Langebaan Lagoon and scare the Harder's and Snoek into seclusion, busy in
the process of renewing a life cycle. The same current dries the land and violently
raises sand particles in the air that beat on the skin like small needles. Some fields and
hills are covered with short tufts of grass, grazed daily by the dairy cows. The
children of Langebaan, with their small sun dresses and tiny school boy shorts, brave
the harsh, cold weather, indifferent to natures' brutality. Bare foot and grubby-faced
they play between the deserted houses with cracked windows and sprouting grass
patches. They dart behind and in between the small shacks behind brick houses, all to
the melodic beat of a ghetto blaster playing the songs of Bob Marley in the distant

Things are different when the warm south-easterly comes. The Harder's and Snoek
jump out of the water as though in jubilation of the new summer season. Sometimes
it's warm and sometimes it's cold and the rain hangs in a curtain of expectation above
the small town. The flowers blossom on the hills and engulf the air with a subtle and
sweet aroma, painting the surrounding hills of Langebaan lagoon with thick brush
strokes of yellow, pink and orange. The children, like sprites, play in the fields
wearing flower necklaces made of bold orange flowers. On Sundays some women sit
by the grass on the beach-front quietly reading their bibles and conversing in soft
muted tones. When night falls, the Milky Way is visible in the naked night sky, and
the wind brings the scent of the salty lagoon inland.

Forty years ago, fishermen like Norton Dowries, Solene Smith and Koos Mills*,
would each wake up between 0200 and 0400 and walk down to the beach to prepare
their boats for a long day of fishing .They would be at sea for many hours before
returning home with a catch that was more than enough to provide for them and their
families without disrupting the delicate eco-system of the lagoon .Fish were abundant
and available all year round. Fishing was hard work but it was a way of survival that
the fishermen of Langebaan were accustomed to. The money they earned from
catching fish paid their bills, sent their children to school and mostly provided a
means for fishermen in Langebaan to feed themselves. This was of course before
things changed.
Today is Wednesday 13 September 2008; it is another day in Cape Town. The
frenetic energy of pedestrians is coupled by the excessive hooting and hum of warm
motor engines in the aural cacophony of an urban landscape. The sound from the
pavement in front of St Georges Cathedral competes with the city's disharmonious
noise. Hundred's of men and women ranging from the young and rebellious to the old
and.. wise, wear uniformed blue t-shirts, written "fisher’s rights", and chant loudly:
"We want our fisher’s rights" and "No fish No eat!". This crowd consists mostly of
poor fishermen from along the rural West coastline of South Africa who have come to
protest against The West Coast Rock Lobster Associations' (WCRLA) decision to
take Minister Van Schalkwyk to court. This was done in a bid to prevent the minister
from issuing, 'Interim Relief' (subsistence fishing without selling catches) to 1 245
poor traditional fishermen and women along the West Coast line. These fishermen
won this right as a result of an Equality Court order in May 2007 in which the then
Minister of Environmental Affairs was taken to court for inaction over the fishermen's
lack of access to the sea..

Within the chanting crowd of largely coloured fishermen stand Norton Dowries,
Solene Smith and Koos Mills. Solene Smith is a cheerful and plump woman of 58,
whose energetic movement, is akin to that of a sprightly 20 year-old. She shouts at the
top of her voice cheering her peers to sing along, "Sondela, We Want Our Fisher
Rights!" 200 voices sing in unison and fervently wave banners in the air as they move
from St George's Cathedral to the Cape Town Supreme Court. Norton Dowries is a 64
year-old man with a slight limp. He sings along and occasionally shouts in support in
Afrikaans. Norton pays no attention to his limp and easily keeps up with the brusque
steps of his more youthful peers. Koos Mills walks right at the back and holds his
poster firmly above him. He is a reserved man of 47, who sings and shouts to the most
his introverted nature will allow. Jackie Sunde, is the head researcher and coordinator
at Masifundise, (an organistion that has established Coastal Links, an association that
helps fishermen across South Africa communicate and acknowledge their fishing
rights).She is a short, blonde, bubbly 48 year-old woman who darts from the front of
the group of demonstrators to the back ensuring that everyone is together and
encouraging everyone to sing. She joins in the singing and sometimes forgets the
words but continues anyway, more understanding of the strength the defiance of the
words bring.
As the crowd settles in front of the Cape Town High Court, the legal representatives
of the WCRLA arrive wearing pristine Saville Row suits, sleek silk ties, mint crisp
white shirts and polished black leather shoes. The fishermen chant louder and louder.
The court guards look tense and shift in their positions but the group does nothing
menacing. They are only struggling against violations of human rights and dignity,
and even as the court proceedings continue inside the fishermen stand outside for
three hours, holding their banners and chatting to friends as Solene does or smoke a
cigarette and converse as Norton and Koos do. Although they appear relaxed, the
decision that is made in the court room may be a step further in their fight for
resources, rights and ultimately for food.

Langebaan Lagoon is South Africa's only true lagoon. According to Jackie, "The
lagoon and the areas around it have been home to and have provided sustenance for
local indigenous communities for years". Following The Group Areas Act of 1960,
residential areas were divided along racial grounds.10 of the 19 fishing households
were forced to relocate from their homes adjacent to the Lagoon, to Langebaan North,
far away from the view and access of the sea. From 1976 the area was declared a
National Park and Marine protected area which meant that the already now
inaccessible and distant fishing lands were restricted further. Jackie states that from
2000, the Park was declared under new fisheries management. "This lead to the
completion of the systematic dispossession of Langebaan's fishermen from their
culture and tradition by SANPark (South African National Parks) and the WCNP
(West Coast National Park)."

Although Interim Relief' was granted to the fishermen in 2007, most fishermen had
already been disadvantaged in the restructuring of the fishing industry and rights
allocation system in 2002.This re-allocation of fishing quotas with a limited TAAC
(total allowable annual catch) was mostly held by white commercial enterprises
during apartheid. The process of re-application established in 2002 and the General
Long Term Fishing Rights Policy established in 2005 thus hoped to redistribute the
unfair balance of quotas and fish licenses in the industry. However, because many
traditional fishermen could not afford the R300, non-refundable fee required for the
application process and because the majority of Afrikaans speaking fishermen also
found it difficult to understand the lengthy legal documents in English, most
fishermen had their livelihoods taken away from them. Now fishermen without
fishing licenses can only fish in a small area of the Lagoon, which is already over-
crowded with sailing boats, water skiers and kite-surfers. Moreover, Langebaan's
fishermen can only fish on the rare occasion that they procure a sporting fish license;
when they fish on a combined quota; when they poach or when they occasionally get
work fishing for larger commercial trawlers.

As one drives into Langebaan, the jarring dispossession is noted in the small brick
houses that are being built for the largely coloured population of the town. The
already crowded houses are built directly opposite the large and spacious two-storey
holiday homes aptly titled 'The Aegean Heights', holiday homes for the rich that are
occupied for less than a few months of the year. The irony seems cruel when one
notes that the Langebaan fisherman no longer have a view of the sea. The areas they
claimed as theirs are now holiday homes and up-market restaurants, accessorized with
swanky cars around their entrances-the playground for those with power and money.

Today Norton Dowries waits calmly by the Langebaan Shopping Center, with his
friend and fellow fisherman, Samuel Smith, a quiet and reserved man of 57, whose
time weathered face betrays the struggles he has faced. Norton is slow and deliberate
in his actions; from the way he stands, perched on a shops' ledge, to the way his words
slowly and rhythmically leave his mouth, as the cigarette smoke billows out of his
mouth in wispy undulations that give him an air of sage-like mystique. Norton and
Samuel are waiting for the driver from Masifundise to arrive. Norton rubs his bald
head and shares a Rothman's cigarette with Samuel until the silver Sedan arrives.
Sitembhiso, the 36 year old self confessed chain smoker, gets out of the car to greet
the two men. They all enter the car and drive off to another fisherman's house to drop
off donated goods. This man identified only as Willhem is a fellow fisherman, who
has nothing now, and lives in a metal shack behind a neighbour's house. He survives
on donations and unlike some fishermen without licenses, the impact of not being able
to fish has hit him very hard. His two small children play by the house’ entrance
oblivious it seems to the daily struggles their father has to face to feed them.
Norton wears a striped shirt and a pair of black tracksuit pants, all slightly worn but to
him still useful, a sign of his sometimes dejected yet triumphant nature. He speaks
English with a heavy Afrikaans accent and ends every sentence to an English
speaking woman with 'lady', a trait indicative of his youthful charm and the respect he
has for women. Norton, like the 34 fishermen who did not receive permits works odd
jobs as a foreman, part-time fisherman (for commercial trawlers) and various other
jobs to support his family. "The quota system affected our lives a lot and excluded
those who did not get permission. We have no capital to form a cooperative." As
Norton speaks of his family his eyes glaze over in a faraway look of nostalgia, at
times he pauses between each word, as the emotions become too overwhelming for
him to speak. "It's hard you know, my father and grandfather worked in this lagoon.
The day I finished high school I started fishing. We all depended on the resources of
the lagoon. We sold the fish and used medicines from the roots that are now in the
prohibited park." Norton becomes more pensive mostly because it seems he cannot
believe to what extent things have changed. Norton has lost every trace of his former
life as a fisherman, even his small fishing boat. "When most fishermen lost their
rights, they were forced to sell their traditional fishing boats for survival as it would
be costly to transport them from their homes to the Lagoon every day". He falls silent
and the crunch-crunch of sea shells breaking under the pressure of his weight is heard
as he walks on the beach, echoing the sense of dejected hopelessness he seems to feel.

In addition to the quota system, the limited resources and space in Zone A (the limited
area the fishermen share with holiday makers) upsets Norton. “Now even the tourists
have more rights than us. They make noise with their boat engines and scare fish
away. They also fish more than they are supposed to and load fish into their boots
then return to the sea”. He points to a small boat in the distance, “I’m not even sure
those guys have a permit”. No one is here to monitor them because the SANPark
offices are far away in Saldanha (a fishing village 40 minutes from Langebaan).
Although Norton does state that there is still a lot of fish in the Lagoon, he does admit
that unlike before the fish are “not as many as they used to be”, an aspect Jackie states
can be blamed on the over-crowding in the Zone A area.

For the other fishermen with permits who can afford to hire 4x4's to carry their boats
home after fishing, things are going relatively well. They are however mostly doctors
and lawyers with alternative means of income. Norton states that the majority of his
friends are now gardening, painting or doing domestic work just to make a living.
Norton is not bitter or angry and although at times he may seem disappointed by his
unfortunate circumstances, he channels all his energy into activism for fisher's rights
and participation in Coastal Links. He spends most of his days facilitating workshops
and group discussions and has found a way to improve his life and the lives of others
in this way. He however laments the fact that his sons cannot go to sea, as he himself
did at the age of 17. Although the activism Norton is involved in brings some
semblance of hope in his life, this is quickly diminished by the constant destruction of
his life’s history that happens right in front of his eyes, and that he cannot stop or
rever.se. Norton points to a patch of grass and a building that now houses Spur Steak
Ranch; “My teacher used to stay there and I used to play beyond that grass as a child,
I don't think they informed us really about the relocation”. The presence of the
menacing construction cranes and the shrubs covering former housing sites is an
insignia of a time now buried firmly in the past.

Hope still however prevails even though the changes it affects may take long to be
realized. Jackie revealed that the park in line with SANParks has “an overt policy that
aims to promote stakeholder participation and benefit”. Moreover, over the past six
years the Park, “has engaged in a number of developments aimed at the expansion of
the parks tourism facilities and at the promotion of poverty relief for the larger
population”. Sixty-two local women have so far benefited from SANPark's
programmes and have found employment as brick layers and other building related
occupations. Jackie however states that, “unintentionally it seems that none of the
direct family members of the traditional fishermen have benefited from these
opportunities, therefore most fishermen don't see these programs as beneficial at all”.
Jackie further states that the discourse on rights has become distorted the Parks
authorities appear to believe that their task is to balance the rights of different user
groups, that is, the protection of 'rights' of the wealthy elite who come to Langebaan
to holiday and enjoy a range of water sports at the expense of the poor fishers who
depend on their use of the resource for their livelihoods.

The average income of a Langebaan fisherman has dropped to an abysmal R280 per
month, on a bad month for those without fishing rights. Those with fishing rights can
expect to earn anything between R2900 and R8000 a month. The main question in the
minds of most fishermen is how they will feed their families. Statistics South Africa
estimates that the ‘very poor’ spend 51% of their income on food, a factor which
heavily compromises and endangers the food security of most poor fishermen in
Langebaan. Norton states that on a good day, if he catches enough on the commercial
trawlers, he is allowed to keep some of the fish and sell them. On a bad day he and his
family eat instead and do not make any money from fish sales. “Everything is going
up now and you can only afford the basics, you cannot afford any luxuries the way
you used to be able to a long time ago. I don't know how we survive it's by the grace
of God but we do”.

The same history of displacement rings true for Koos Mills* and his family. Koos is a
man who prefers to listen more that he speaks as most introverted individuals do. He
shares one of the small houses in Langebaan North with his two younger brothers.
When he isn’t working he sits quietly in his living room, his lean and tall frame
relaxed on the sofa. He speaks softly as his small television plays in the background,
and one has to lean in closer to hear his words that are dotted with numerous
colloquialisms in Afrikaans. Since the court case with The West Coast Rock Lobster
Associations' (WCRLA), he has become increasingly concerned that the difficulties
his family has faced in the past will get worse.

Koos’ family is the oldest fishing family in Langebaan. Koos’ father worked as a live
stock watcher whilst his sons caught fish for the farmer. At 17 his family moved to
Seeberg (part of Langebaan) and worked for Willem Van Rooyen. Koos and his
family took care of the farmer's animals without compensation. The farmer however
took all the pigs from Koos' family without giving them anything in return. Moreover
the family had to supply the farm with fish without compensation. Koos states that in
1985 the farmer sold the farm to the National Park. “Mr. Van Rooyen continued to
farm for five years before the Park took over. We as the Mills families were given 5
years grace to stay on but the Park kept changing managers. In 1994 after my father
died, we had to vacate Seeberg even though our five years was not up. The Park
Manager decided to force us to go and we had to abandon everything including our
boats and what little livestock we had”. Koos has since moved to Langebaan North
and currently tends the garden at a Bed and Breakfast close to the Lagoon area. Koos
has admitted to poaching on several occasions. He is not proud of his actions, but has
been left with no other choice. He thus participates in illegal activity to survive, an
action he knows could get him arrested and that has eaten away at his pride.
Even though Koos did find a job at an oil refinery at one point he had to continue
fishing illegally to supplement his income “as it was only R240 at one point”. Koos
reiterates Norton's words and is understandably more depressed as he speaks. “We
really do eat the basics, sometimes just one or two meals a day .The portions are very
small because we cannot afford more”.

Unlike the slow methodical motion of Norton and the reserved calm of Koos, Solene
Smith is a robust and energetic maternal figure. Her Afrikaans accent is deep and she
prefers to speak English slowly, as though testing each word to make sure it is
appropriate in a sentence. As she sits on her lawn in front of house she plays with her
children's puppy and smiles as it plays by her feet. When a visitor arrives, she briskly
retreats to her kitchen to offer them something to drink. Even in her unfortunate and
disadvantaged circumstances she still thinks of others. Her conversation to Samuel,
her husband, and Norton is peppered with smiles and laughter. As she speaks, she
smoothes out the folds in her skirt and adjusts her hair cap; a yellow, blue and white
hair cap with hundreds of flowers sewn on it. Occasionally, she day-dreams and
watches the wind picking up her clothes on the washing line, gently fluttering them in
the cool summer breeze.

As a counselor for Coastal Links Langebaan, Solene plays the dual role of mother and
confidant. Although a few women in Langebaan went to sea (including Solene) at
some point, women's involvement in fishing has in the past been limited to drying fish
known as 'bokkoms' whilst the 'kinders dra die mandjie' (the children carry the
baskets). In other areas women's roles were limited to fish cleaners and mussel
harvesters in areas like Kalk Bay and Sodwana. Many women work as seasonal
workers in the industrial processing and packing plants ,such as the I & J chip factory
in Patinosta, with the rest of the women contributing as fisherwomen. Unfortunately,
some men in isolated communities have expressed strong resistance to women getting
equal fishing rights. According to Jackie, many debates within the Coastal Links
community have, "often lead to the expression of negative discriminatory and limited
ideas about women, their roles and capabilities." Men use excuses such as, women's
menstrual cycle and the age old suspicion of 'women as bad luck at sea to prevent
them from fishing. Some men do not support the presence of women at provincial
Coastal Links meetings whilst some women equally don't feel comfortable in the
presence of men.

Solene's main role as counselor in Langebaan's Coastal Links helps her to assist her
fellow fisher-men. “I see a lot of suffering and it's sad to see the pain in these houses”.
She points to the quiet houses around her that suddenly seem gloomier in light of her
words. “Husbands cannot take care of their families and it is very discouraging and
demoralizing for them. It affects the children very badly but the fishermen have been
affected the most, and some have resorted to alcoholism and drugs”. The constant
presence of men loitering around the Langebaan's Shopping Centre's main local bar
confirms this addiction and whilst some men drink occasionally during the afternoons
as Norton and Samuel do, others carry the dank stench of alcohol everywhere they go.
According to Solene it is these men that commit crimes of theft and aid in fuelling the
already thick tensions between coloureds and whites in the area. As in most small
towns in and around Cape Town, whites, coloureds and blacks are still largely
separated in apartheid-style segregation and still live in absolute ignorance and dislike
of each other.

As with Norton, Solene's main concern is the cost of food and survival in Langebaan.
“Now we have to buy fish from other fishermen to survive on all the days we don’t
catch any”. Sports fishing licenses cost between R60 and R100, a sum which is too
costly for most people to purchase every day. “I don’t know how people survive in
these houses, but I'm not angry; I just want our story to be heard”. She sounds
saddened and for the first time the sadness inside her breaks through her exterior
veneer of happiness and the Solene that bears the pain of a community is seen.

The relationship between land ownership, access to resources (such as fishing waters
and food supplies) and food consumption is a relationship that determines the amount
of food that is consumed by poor subsistence farmers and artisan fishers. Andries Du
Toit, the Deputy Director of The Institute for Poverty, Land and Agrarian Studies at
the University of Western Cape states how “South Africa urgently needs a debate not
only on the 'land question and the distribution of natural resources' but a debate on
how we feed our people and care for the environment”. He believes an ordered
redistribution of land is needed “to right the wrongs of the past and to address racially
skewed land ownership patterns”. He states that equal land and resource redistribution
should be done imminently not to deliver social equality but to give land and
resources to those who already know how to use them such as the fishermen in
Langebaan. The situation in Langebaan points to the urgency of Andries Du Toit's
words as access to land will somewhat guarantee the food security and general
livelihood of Langebaan's fisherman.

Easier access to resources will also allow fishermen to return to the livelihood they
have known for hundreds of years and will ultimately allow them to provide for their
families. Famed 18th Century English demographer and mathematician once stated
'food is essential for the existence of man' and without access to fish, natural resources
and land, there is truly 'no eat', and the fishermen on Langebaan face extinction in a
world where the paradox of development and increased poverty levels seems to offer
little hope to the many that need it.