While everyone sleeps they are awake, pulling food from the sea. Their lives are lived on the open swell, in the sea breeze, not knowing what will be filling tomorrows nets. The fishermen of Kep, Cambodia breathe life into the small fishing village which has become renowned for 'having the best crabs in Cambodia'. Cambodian tourists spend their holidays here, feasting on the squid and crabs of the mornings catch as they swing in hammocks under the thatch roofed gazebos that line the shore.
The fishermen come drifting in just after the sun rises, after fishing far off shore, overnight. They're mostly on long tail boats or Pangas, which are powered by old motors pulled from Toyota Corollas of the 90's. Some are powered by the fishermen themselves. They anchor their boats off shore and wade in, dragging behind them handmade cages made of bamboo filled with their catch. You can see if the catch is good on a mans face even before he reaches shore. Today there was a man who was absolutely beaming. As his basket of gold hit the deck, crowds rushed over to see not only a full stock of famous Kep crabs, but squid, octopuses, fish, and all kinds of wild undersea creatures that I have never seen before. Once they have made it to the small pier, the loot is usually passed to a wife or family member who is in charge of sales. Groups of women gather under sun umbrellas, talking and waiting for their fishermen to come back from the blue. There is a vibrant energy in the air even though it is only seven in the morning. Up and down the dock, voices shriek and shrill as they barter with customers, who are usually local residents or restaurant and hotel owners. The sun is hot even though it just broke over the horizon and almost everyones face and neck is covered by large hats and the typical Cambodian krama. Bits and pieces of old fish and crabs line the shores, along with plastic bags and styrofoam containers. They love to use plastic bags and styrofoam in markets all over S.E. Asia. The ocean pays the biggest price.
Its hard work dragging your pay from the bottom of the ocean. I am always curious to hear what fisherman have to say about the ocean, because I feel as though they have a uniquely close relationship with the sea, an unforgiving one of give and take. I asked Petra, who worked at the guesthouse if any of the fisherman spoke English, he laughed and said “if you speak English, you are no longer fisherman. You drive tuktuk!” There are inevitable changes rapidly happening in this small seaside town, and you can only hope that the fishing tradition that has made this town so famous will survive it.
Petra was kind enough to be my translator so that I could interview a fisherman named Vibom who is 22. Vibom told he spends more time on water than on land. He told of when he first started fishing after he was introduced to it by his friend, “I was afraid, but the fear slowly went away, storm after storm and before I knew it the boat and ocean felt more like home than land and the shore”. Vibom and the other fishermen spend their nights under the moon, humbled by the storms that pass. There is something so honest about a life lived on the sea, especially at this level, not taking more then you need, living simply in harmony with nature. Yet there is a dark side to this life. Petra and Vibom spoke softly about fisherman who were taken by Thai commercial fishing vessels and kept out at sea for years on end, as slaves. Petra said they are “kept so far out they can't even see the shore”.
For days I found myself wandering the shores of Kep, wondering what was so appealing about the town. Watching people who live in such harmony with nature is such a long way from the frozen food section in my local grocer in the United States. There are people here still fishing the old fashion way, just taking enough to make a living for their families. It's an authentic example of what sustainability and community really looks like. There is something about these men who pull their food from the sea. They are simple and humble and I am grateful to have spent some time in this small seaside town.