I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life; To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover; And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.¬ John Masefield.
By Tony Deyal
As we headed to the fishing village in Tobago where our friend the fisherman, Nkosie Walker, was waiting for us, I was glad that my son Zubin was driving. I was tense and had to work off the anxiety with jokes like, “Zubin. What happens when you mix a fish and a banker? You get a loan shark.” “How do fish go into business? They start on a small scale.” “So why are they called sperm whales? Because seamen discovered them.” “Do you know that fish sleep in a waterbed? And fish pray to COD almighty?” Then my favourite question. “What’s the difference between roast fish and pea soup?” I waited and then laughed, “Well even you can roast fish, but since you are small, I never see you pea soup.”
That was enough. We had arrived with all our fishing gear, ready to rumble. The first thing I said to Nkosie was, “Long time no sea!” Eventually, the boat came close to the seaside for us to get in. The good news this time was that I didn’t miss the boat and tumble into the water and sand. The bad news is that it happened after. I had caught over twenty fish and was so anxious to go home and show off to my wife, I jumped out of the boat not knowing how deep the water was. This was “The Old Man And The Sea” again. This time, despite my clothes getting totally wet, I didn’t mind. I had too many fish to fry.
This was because the first thing Nkosie did was throw his cast net to get “bait” for us to use. I told Zubin that it is a skill he should learn, especially since he is taller than me and if he falls into the water he could swim. In my case, the lady teaching me to swim at the University in Canada told me bluntly, “Tony, there are two kinds of people, those who swim and those who sink. You’re a sinker.” Well, the only consolation was that after the first time I fell in the water and smelled, not like a fish but like a whole fish market, I was not a stinker either. I got a life jacket.
The second thing was that Nkosi knew the best “banks” that had fish at that time of that day, and while he managed the boat, he handed me a trolling line which I held in my finger rather than on a rod. Zubin had his rod and caught a kingfish. “Better than a queen fish”, I said, remembering a story that a friend had told me when I was at University in Canada. He said that a colleague in Canada, Jack, loved fishing.
Eventually, Jack found a lovely girl and they got married. With the honeymoon over, Jack was in his garage sorting out his rods, reels and other stuff when his wife joined him. She watched on for a while and then told him, “You know darling, I think that now we are married you wouldn’t have to spend time by yourself in the garage messing around with those rods and smelly stuff. You could sell them and the old boat you have, and we could use the money to buy a really fancy bathroom.” Jack was horrified and just stared at her. She asked, “Darling what’s wrong?”
He replied, “Nothing really. But I can tell you that for a minute there, you started to sound like my ex-wife.” She screamed, “Ex-wife? You never told me you were married before!” Jack looked even more closely at her and replied, “I wasn’t…” It reminded me about a story a priest-friend once told me. God asked Noah, “Hey, have you been out in the Ark lately?” Noah replied, “Yes Lord, I went out for a bit of fishing yesterday.” God asked, “Any good?” Noah shook his head, “No Lord. I couldn’t stay out long. I only had two worms…”
Unlike Noah, I learnt that good things come to those who bait. I also found out that friends like Nkosie are happy where they are and what they do. It is a life and not just a job. In the boat with him, he continues to help us learn and improve our skills. On Monday, my best fishing day in a long time, Nkosie was even happier than I was when I caught three red snappers, one on each hook, twice. For Nkosie, fishing is not an escape from life but a deep immersion into it. If, like him, the rest of us concentrate on the really important things in life, there will be a shortage of fishing rods and equipment. It makes me share with all of you a story that fits the way Nkosi looks at his world.
An English banker was at the bay in the Trinidad Marine when someone like my friend Nkosi came with his small boat trying to sell the fish he had just caught. The banker asked the fisherman how long it had taken him to catch the fish. The fisherman told him: “Not long. Just a little while.” “So why you didn’t try to catch more?” the Englishman asked. The fisherman laughed, “Nah, that is enough to sell and still have a few for my family and my friends in the village.” The Englishman was surprised: “But what you do with the rest of your time?”
The fisherman responds: “Well I sleep late, spend time with my children, go in the rum shop for a while, play some cards, and hang out until it’s time to go home.” The Englishman was concerned, “Listen buddy, you’re a man with real talent and I can help you. The first thing is you have to spend more time fishing and then use the money you make to buy a much bigger boat. Then with that money, you can buy a whole fleet of fishing boats, open your own factory and control the whole thing. Next thing, you will move from here to live in Port-of-Spain and make plenty money.
Then after about 15 to 20 years you will become so rich that you can sell your company for millions and then you can retire and move to a small fishing village where you could sleep when you want, fish when you want, lime with your friends, spend time with your wife and children, and drink your rum, play your cards and totally enjoy yourself.” The fisherman replied, “Listen mister; I already doing that without any advice from you.”
*Tony Deyal was last seen asking how fish, instead of fishermen, go into business? They start on a small scale.
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