Mexico and Fishing in Tabasco
March 15, 2002
Exploring the Gulf Coast of Tabasco, Mexico, the highway disappeared into the surf at the little town of El Alacran. Located due south of about the longitude of Beaumont, Texas, El Alacran – or what is left of it -- can be found on the coast of the southern Gulf of Mexico. Evidently, a hurricane back in 1985 washed away part of the coast here and the highway disintegrated. An un-maintained dirt road through a coconut plantation continued on east to the town of Paraiso, but it looked rough, and a rope tied to coconut palm trees blocked the entry. The guard told us that a 10-peso toll was required to use his private road. We had been looking for an excuse to turn around, but the views of the remote beaches, gentle surf, coconut palms and interesting people had kept us going longer than planned. We found our excuse.
But then, we saw a group of fishermen pulling on a rope which led out into the surf. On a whim, we decided to help, and in the process, take a few photos. We had watched other fishermen use their boats to deploy the long nets, which circled out about a kilometer and back to the beach. So we sorta knew what was going on. But pulling this long net and its captured fish is much more laborious than we had imagined. Guess they could not afford a tractor to pull in the nets.
We started with the idea of taking turns on the ropes so that we could have photos of ourselves pretending to be fishermen. But then we became more and more interested in the drama that would transpire when the fish were pulled up on the beach. At the beginning, the nets were too far offshore to be visible. Even the floats holding up the net were invisible. All we could see were ropes leading far out into the waters of the Gulf. The cool appearance of the blue-green water contrasted with the mostly breeze-less heat and humidity on the beach. We could only assume that there was a net at the end of the rope. The workers used broad, homemade harnesses which looped around their waists and attached temporarily to the main net rope. They pulled on the rope using this harness while walking back up the beach. When soft sand was reached, the harness was detached and the worker rotated to the front of the line, in about ankle-deep water, and re-attached the rope. The strategy seemed to be to always pull on firm sand and waste no energy slipping in soft sand. Before re-attaching the harness, they rubbed a handful of wet sand on the main rope to ensure a better grip by the attaching device. When a wave or swell moved toward the beach, the pulling became temporarily easier, but generally, the pulling was hard and slow. Pat and I continued to take turns on the rope, but without harnesses, we depended on pulling by hand.
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| Pat helping pull in the net |
The crew was composed of about five men, a couple of women and a handful of kids. When the kids got hot, they would stop pulling and frolic in the cool water. Then they formed a circle around me to see the photos of themselves on the LCD screen of the digital camera. With each photo, they became a little braver and animated in performing for the camera. They laughed and kidded each other about the photos of themselves. The men and women threw cool water on their heads and arms when they rotated to the front. Pat and I regretted that we had not worn bathing suits so we could cool off with the kids. Instead, we cooled under the shade of coconut trees, where a young man was trying to open a coconut with a ballpoint pen. The pen was destroyed in the process, but eventually, a hole was made big enough for a straw. He seemed to enjoy the drink.
The “work” continued for over an hour. Our hands were red and our shirts wet with sweat. As the net came closer to the beach, other local folks drifted out of the village to help. At long last, the first part of the net reached the beach and some fish were removed. A few small fish could be seen jumping over the net to freedom. Finally the net – heavy with fish – was drug onto the beach by the 30 people now assembled. The birds, which had been watching from offshore, now became braver and circled closer and closer to this abundant source of protein and the people nearby. Royal Terns, Forrester’s Terns, Laughing Gulls and Frigate Birds were somehow programmed to circle primarily in a counter-clockwise direction, out over the waves and in upwind, over the beach. Brown Pelicans, apparently not so adept at pilfering fish off the sand, simply waited out in the water for their turn. The Frigate Birds were the most adept at picking the small “trash” fish off the beach without even having to hover like the gulls. They simply flew low over the fish and reached down with their long, hooked beaks to pluck the fish -- much like a Skimmer catching fish while flying along the surface with its lower mandible in the water – both use their incredible reflexes to secure a hold on the fish.
Most of the fish caught in the net were too small to keep. They were simply left on the beach for the birds. As the tide rose, their dead bodies were washed out to the waiting Brown Pelicans. Of the keepers, a fish they called the Cerro (maybe a mackerel) was the most abundant, followed by the La Peye fish. Several boxes were filled with these fish and carried to a waiting pickup truck for transport to the local market. When I asked about the value of all these fish, the answer was, “About one thousand pesos,” – roughly $110. Of course, not all the fish were sold, some were kept by helpers from the village as payment for their assistance. The kids took home bags of fish too little for the market, but big enough to put into a pot of fish soup. Other fish caught were Ribbon Fish, Needle Fish, Perch, Sheep’s Head and other colorful little fish we could not identify. I didn’t ask why they chose not to use a net with a bigger mesh that would allow the little fish through and catch only the bigger fish. After all, if they left the little fish, some would someday grow into more desirable larger fish. I also wondered why the small fish did not have some value as bait fish for fishermen who use line and bait techniques for fishing. Certainly, the birds seemed to benefit from the free lunch -- or does this easy source of food impair their natural fishing skills? Anyway, I guess we are not immune from the tendency of cultures to criticize other cultures that they know little about.
As we prepared to leave, I offered the boss twenty pesos for the photos I took. He looked sort of embarrassed and, unlike Mexicans in the tourist areas, refused. Then he offered us some of the fish. I was afraid the fish might spoil in our hot car before we could return to the motorhome, so we declined his offer even though our labor might have actually earned a couple of fish.
When we said our goodbyes, the primary fishermen still had to clean the nets, boat and prepare/repair the nets for fishing another day. The life of a fisherman in Tabasco is certainly not easy. They engage in strenuous labor for very little pay. But they all seemed happy and healthy and are very friendly folks. Seems that Mexicans that live way off the tourist track are more naturally and enthusiastically friendly than those in the tourist areas.
We left with red hands, sweaty bodies, lots of photos and very satisfied with the experience. The temporary bond that we shared with these folks seemed mutually genuine. It reminded me of the good-natured exchanges that I had with the Mexican laborers that worked on our farm during my youth. However, I was also smugly content with the notion that fishing for a living on the coast of Tabasco was not necessary for my survival.
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