During my time at the Marine Research Centre of the Maldives as a research trainee, I was fortunate enough to go along on one of their reef-fish tagging expeditions to Baa Atoll in February of 2009.
We would go out with the fishermen on their fishing trips during which we would record the daily catch, tag specimens and retrieve tags from specimens which had been released earlier.
We would almost always leave in the early twilight hours and would often not return until it was nearly midnight; dropping off hundreds of kilos of fish to one of the many resorts in the atoll.
For me the most interesting part about all this was not how they catch tons of fish with their hands, instead of nets or rods, or even how they get paid next to nothing by greedy resort operators (more on that later in this article), it was how they would almost always start off the cycle with nothing.
They did not leave bait for the next day and they did not buy it.
Every morning they would head out to find a good reef and on the way there they would use trolling lines to catch that all important first fish. It would usually be one of the many predatory fish which lurk along the edges of the reef like a latti.
They usually only needed to catch one as their plan was much more elegant than simply slicing the fish into bait chunks.
Instead, they would grind it into a fine chum, which would then be placed inside a jar or similar waterproof container.
Once they were satisfied that they had enough, the search would begin for a reef which housed an adequate number of muguraan or fusiliers. They would usually do this by sight, slowly driving along the edges of different reefs, instead of relying on fish-finders or other devices.
One a shoal was spotted, the Dhoni would be left to drift near the top of it and a man would sneak into the water; making sure not to make too many splashes incase it scared the fish away.
He would wear a mask, snorkel and fins and in his hands he would hold the jar full of chum. He would slowly sink down until he hovered in the liquid space above the shoal. He would then open up the jar and release into the crystal water a few pinches of the grinded flesh.
A few resorts would even make the men de-gut and prepare the fish for free, which would leave them at the resort for many hours into the night of what had already been a long and exhausting day. All of the resorts made them thoroughly clean up after they were done but from memory there was only one resort which provided adequate space and hygiene facilities for this task. The happiness the men felt whenever they sold to that particular resort was obvious on their faces and the manner with which they handled themselves during the task. By comparison, when gutting fish at other resorts, where the facilities would consist of a tiled floor with a few taps, there would always be an unease hanging in the air; a sickly feeling of unacknowledged oppression, broken only by the cheerful wisecracks that the men would pull on each other to lift spirits and break out of their tired daze.
Hani Amir