The Disappearing Role of Women Along the Coastline.
Janet Orlene, an experience designer and naturalist, solo walked down the coastline of Kerala to Kanyakumari to understand and collect stories of the bond between the ocean and local communities. This was across a multitude of terrains and people living on the coastline. With a team of two assistants for documentation and safety, the trio would ask the nearest community for accommodation or an area to pitch tents on, each night. This is her story.
Kasargod, Kerala
The author T.S Pillai has an interesting view about the women in his book “Chemmeen”. He talks about how the men go into the sea and fish, while the women collect fish from the men and sell them. Almost every research paper I read before I went to Kerala highlighted the same.
I knew exactly what to expect when I spoke to the fisherfolk in Kasaragod District. The men worked hard and were the head of the household while the women were in charge of the money – they sold the fish and were in charge of the household expenses. At Sharada Nagar, a tiny hamlet in Kasaragod that we stayed in, we spoke to two girls over tea the next day.
Their mothers had confirmed that they went to the markets to sell fish. The daughters, both of whom were studying graphic design near Mangalore, had no interest in this. They sold the fish during their holidays but preferred to get a job and settle down as soon as they could. “There is no fish left in the sea” they echoed each other, “There will be nothing left for us to do if we follow this path.” We asked them if they had no interest in following their fathers and going to the sea to fish. One of the mothers quickly answered for them, “Girls should not go out into the sea.” They looked at the ground sheepishly as they agreed that they had no intent to go either.
Sharada Nagar, Kasargod.
Girls of Sharada Nagar. With numbers of fish dropping drastically, their parents look to build a future for the younger generation in other spheres of life. In this case, graphic design.
As we crossed Sharada Nagar, across Kasargod, I saw baskets of fish being sold by women. A few had men loading or carrying heavier fish, but the women were clearly leading the process of marketing. They cleaned, weighed, bargained with the customers and then sold the fish. This, however, was not the same throughout Kerala. The numbers of women selling fish dwindled as we moved towards the south.
Towards Dharmadam and Kannur, I saw women drying large amounts of prawns and small fish. These were small groups of women spreading the seafood on the beach, or carrying the dried material on their heads, led by women who gave the orders. The same was followed by those who were mining sand – women leading women. They did not fish, nor were they inclined to. Instead women dug pits, filled gunny sacks with sand and loaded them onto lorries. In areas where the fish stock is dwindling, this is one way for them to feed themselves though in the long-run, large scale sand mining is detrimental to the environment. Crossing Kannur was confusing. After seeing, and reading about women’s role in the fishing industry, I was taken aback to see how they had forfeited this role after Kannur and were turning to other sources of livelihood.
Fish being dried in upside down umbrellas at Malappuram.
There was a big change once we moved from Kannur. Women no longer played a role in the business of fishing. They neither fished, or gathered Kallumakai (mussels), or sold anything. The harbours, which had women helping in the maintenance and sorting, no longer had any women inside. I also observed that the few women selling the fish towards the south of Kerala were much older. This was affirmed by the women near Thiruvananthapuram. I asked a young woman if she sold fish, she laughed and said “Selling fish is only for old women. The younger women are too busy running households to participate.”
A casual conversation with these women at Chirayimkeezhu, Thiruvananthapuram revealed that they considered the selling of the fish to be the work of old women.
I kept repeating the question throughout “Do you know any women who fish?” I was constantly told that you cannot find them here but yes, you do find them in Kerala or near Alleppey or near Thiruvananthapuram or in Tamil Nadu. It was exhausting to be on this wild goose chase. The idea of a fisherwoman who went out into the sea fascinated many people we met, but they knew that she did not exist in their territory. We chased the myth, hoping that we would ultimately find her and finally we found her in Rekha Karthikeyan, late one night, cleaning fish and preparing food for those who will go to the sea. She was set to leave the next day for a conference. Rekha of Chavakkad, as she is popularly known, is India’s only licensed deep-sea fisherwoman.
She spoke to us about how the community had ostracized her family because she decided to join her husband at sea. “I had no choice. We were so deep in debt that we couldn’t hire anyone else. I wouldn’t have gone out to the sea if I had a choice. In fact, I still don’t know how to swim. I leave my life in Kadalamma’s (the ocean) hands. But those around us have constantly harassed us because they believe that a woman entering the waters endangers the lives of everyone who enters the waters by angering Kadalamma.” She also told me harrowing incidents in which people threatened to strip in front of her to dishonor her and the times in which men tried to harass her daughters because she “dared” to enter the waters.
The answer to” Do you know of women who fish?” was always met with yes, but not here.
Fisherman at Vadanapally
Rekha, the myth, stayed as a myth once we crossed Chavakkad as well. Men seemed to be proud of this unknown woman, but also proud of the fact that their women do not do the same.
Around Kozhikode, women gather Kallumakai from the rocks for their family. They said that the population of Kallumakai had dropped because the number of people who gather them has increased due to which people now gather immature Kallumakai. They told me that most women don’t bother to collect this to sell anymore “Only some women do, but they gather so little, it is not worth the effort.” Overall, the number of women involved in anything to do with fishing has dropped (according to other women in the coastline) and they often remember a time when their mother or grandmother sold fish.
She tells me a story of her grandmother selling fish at Kadinamkulam, Thiruvananthapuram.
This is perhaps exaggerated by the dwindling stock of fish in the sea along with the sudden number of people/migrants who have returned back to the fishing community due to the drop-in employment opportunities overseas, mostly in the Middle East. Almost all the jobs that are required by the fishing industry such as loading, unloading, icing, cleaning, sorting etc. are handled by the men itself. In many harbors, one cannot find a single woman anywhere. I stood out often. As one member of a rather large group of women who had gathered for an evening of tea and conversation put “We want to work. We dream of working. But the men around us are struggling to find jobs, how will we take over?” Now, they are busy getting their daughters and granddaughters educated (most held a Masters, and some, even a PhD) to work in anything they wished to, besides fishing.
