June 10, 2014
Meera Srinivasan
The HinduFisher folk of Pesalai, Mannar, are among those worst hit by the Indian trawlers that trespass into their waters. Photo: Meera Srinivasan
Unless India acknowledges that fishermen from Tamil Nadu trespass into Sri Lankan waters, the northern province fisher folk will have no hope
“I will have a job only if the Indian trawlers stop coming.” Gently nudging a reluctant crab out of the fishing net with a stone, J. Rajeswari speaks of the acute impact the Indian trawlers have had on Pesalai, one of the biggest fishing villages in Mannar, Sri Lanka.
“On the days that the trawlers come our fishermen don’t go to the sea. If they don’t go, I have no job.”
Removing the fish and crab entangled in the muddy net seems a tedious task, but on a good day the seashore has many women like her doing that for hours together to make LKR 500 (about Rs.225) a day. Ms. Rajeswari, who heads a family of five, depends on her daily wage to make sure her school-going children have at least one proper meal a day. Increasingly, fishermen are unable to employ her.
“How do we employ her unless we have a substantial catch? The situation has become worse in the last year and on many days we return from the sea virtually empty-handed,” says Newton, a fisherman. The Indian trawlers, he says, have spelt misery for his village.
Standing under an airy shelter on the Mannar shore on May 31 — the day that the 45-day ban on trawlers observed by Tamil Nadu fishermen ended — he was sure that the Indian trawlers would return. “Come after 7 p.m. tonight, it will resemble Madurai town there,” says Newton, pointing to the emerald sea barely a few yards away.
The Indian fishermen proved him right. Early next morning, 33 Indian fishermen were arrested by the Sri Lankan Navy on charges of poaching. Newton compares the view from his shore to vibrant Madurai, for he has fond memories of the temple town from the mid-1980s, when he spent almost five years there as a refugee.
Issue of survival
Trapped between a natural affinity for Tamil Nadu and growing anger over its response to the fisheries issue, he says: “They [people of Tamil Nadu] are our people and we have very strong links with them. They always speak up for us. But the Tamil Nadu fishermen should realise we are just piecing our lives together after a brutal war. We need to eat. We need to live.”
Of the nearly two lakh people — a fifth of the Northern Province’s population — who depend on fisheries for their income, fishermen like him living in Mannar and Jaffna are among the worst-hit by the Indian trawlers. Mannar alone has nearly 40,000 people whose lives are tied to fishing activity along its 163 km long-coastline. Compounding the issue are a few local fishermen engaging in banned fishing methods, including bottom-trawling, citing the Indian trawlers as the reason.
Meera Srinivasan
The HinduFisher folk of Pesalai, Mannar, are among those worst hit by the Indian trawlers that trespass into their waters. Photo: Meera Srinivasan
Unless India acknowledges that fishermen from Tamil Nadu trespass into Sri Lankan waters, the northern province fisher folk will have no hope
“I will have a job only if the Indian trawlers stop coming.” Gently nudging a reluctant crab out of the fishing net with a stone, J. Rajeswari speaks of the acute impact the Indian trawlers have had on Pesalai, one of the biggest fishing villages in Mannar, Sri Lanka.
“On the days that the trawlers come our fishermen don’t go to the sea. If they don’t go, I have no job.”
Removing the fish and crab entangled in the muddy net seems a tedious task, but on a good day the seashore has many women like her doing that for hours together to make LKR 500 (about Rs.225) a day. Ms. Rajeswari, who heads a family of five, depends on her daily wage to make sure her school-going children have at least one proper meal a day. Increasingly, fishermen are unable to employ her.
“How do we employ her unless we have a substantial catch? The situation has become worse in the last year and on many days we return from the sea virtually empty-handed,” says Newton, a fisherman. The Indian trawlers, he says, have spelt misery for his village.
Standing under an airy shelter on the Mannar shore on May 31 — the day that the 45-day ban on trawlers observed by Tamil Nadu fishermen ended — he was sure that the Indian trawlers would return. “Come after 7 p.m. tonight, it will resemble Madurai town there,” says Newton, pointing to the emerald sea barely a few yards away.
The Indian fishermen proved him right. Early next morning, 33 Indian fishermen were arrested by the Sri Lankan Navy on charges of poaching. Newton compares the view from his shore to vibrant Madurai, for he has fond memories of the temple town from the mid-1980s, when he spent almost five years there as a refugee.
Issue of survival
Trapped between a natural affinity for Tamil Nadu and growing anger over its response to the fisheries issue, he says: “They [people of Tamil Nadu] are our people and we have very strong links with them. They always speak up for us. But the Tamil Nadu fishermen should realise we are just piecing our lives together after a brutal war. We need to eat. We need to live.”
Of the nearly two lakh people — a fifth of the Northern Province’s population — who depend on fisheries for their income, fishermen like him living in Mannar and Jaffna are among the worst-hit by the Indian trawlers. Mannar alone has nearly 40,000 people whose lives are tied to fishing activity along its 163 km long-coastline. Compounding the issue are a few local fishermen engaging in banned fishing methods, including bottom-trawling, citing the Indian trawlers as the reason.