Memories of a Goan Fisherman

The very first place I stayed when I came to Goa in 1995 at the tender age of 18 was in a little back room of a restaurant called the Sun n’ Sand. I paid 40 rupees for which I had the privilege of listening to the family’s TV at night but at least I was only a hundred meters away from the beach. The family took a liking to me when I tried to teach myself to walk the tightrope one day between two palm trees (a miserable failure) and henceforth called me ‘Mr Bean’.

I still go back sometimes and the family has an endearing lack of ambition. Whilst other restaurants have gone for loud music and sun beds, the Sun n’ Sand is the same as ever. In the early season I got talking to Mr Fernandez, the father of the family, a reserved man whose duties now only include going to Mapusa each morning to haggle on the market for supplies.

He wasn’t confident in English but I finally got him talking about the good old days when he first helped build the restaurant and when fishing boats were manned by oars, none of the noisy motors of today. Getting locals to talk about the changes they’ve seen isn’t easy, it appears they can’t really work out what has changed over the years. But on one subject Mr Fernandez was quite emphatic – the fishing these days was terrible.

“We used to walk around the rocks on the corner and pull out lobsters as big as your arm! 5 or 6 of them every time! And then in monsoon you only had to cast your net and bring home enough fish for several days – red snappers, king fish, you name it!”

Whilst it’s common news that fish stocks are in decline worldwide, it was touching somehow to hear it from someone for whom the catch of the day has always been an important aspect of life. Nowadays his son spends most of his mornings out on the rocks, trying out different baits and lures and he listened to the tales of the good old days of fishing with a wistful expression.