Fishing (f)or pictures in Meponda, Mozambique
Stress in life seems to come in cycles and right now we’re in one of those cycles rather than out. Living in Africa certainly brings its own unique set of stresses, though in America we certainly weren’t stress-free. Planning time to get away is critical and life-giving and a few weeks ago as our family camped out on the beaches of Meponda in northern Mozambique, we hadn’t a care in the world…for a few days at least.
For me, Meponda presents not only sun and sand, crocodile hunting at night and wakeboarding by day, but a unique lakeshore opportunity for a photoshoot of Yawo faces. A few years back I went into the village and shot some images I still love dearly. I think it was a time when my D50 was still new; when I was still shooting in JPEG instead of RAW. (See my “Faces of Meponda” shots on RedBubble) So I was a bit eager to see what I could do this time with my D90 on RAW setting. I had already spent the night before trying, mostly in vain, to capture the excitement of being out on an inflatable boat with a spotlight looking for killer crocs. Perhaps the morning would be better?
I awoke earlier than the others and borrowed a bike to get to the top of town to a place where I could easily see each bay on the beach stretching out before me. I snapped a few pics for our host who wanted a shot like this and took a couple of snaps along the way back home. I was eager for a cuppa and thought I was done with the mini shoot. But then on the beach, just down from our camp, I saw a group of guys working hard at pulling in their fishing net that had been laid down the night before.
I walked over to them, greeting them in the Yawo language, and made a decision right then and there to set down the camera and take a place in line heaving the heavy load into shore. It was a conscious decision to not try to document it, but instead try to experience it. Why? I don’t know, but let me tell you this work was not easy. As I grabbed, time and time again, the rope attached to a net in the water, I became quickly exhausted. But refused to give up (though I’m sure they weren’t expecting me to do the entire job). One fisherman sat on the sand behind me, taking the slack rope and rolling it into a neat pile. Two men were ahead of me, closer to the water, and we all worked together in rhythym. Someone hummed a traditional tune of some sort and I smiled inwardly at the good naturedness I find all around me in Africa. Singing can go a really long way to making the tedium of life closer to enjoyable.
Eventually, we had to move closer to the same number of guys who were on another end of the rope further down the beach. And, panandi panandi (little by little), the net did come to shore with the night’s catch. It was a mix of a strange blue fish, brilliantly colored, and smaller varieties that added little to the color palette. The guys expertly separated the fish from the net and threw them into a makeshift hold on the sand while I struggled to get the fins unstuck from the net.
Finally, at the end, I grabbed my camera after asking permission to take their pictures. And, for my troubles, I was offered a fish (though I declined). My reward was already obvious. I had had an experience I won’t soon forget and felt that I understood just that much more about the life these fishermen lead along the shore of Lake Malawi. We shared moment in time, and I still got some shots. This time, with more of a connection because we were now friends. I wasn’t just some white stranger who walked up and shot pictures.
