Cristina DiRaimo

CMD@cc.usu.edu
Hyrum, Utah
Sophomore in Anthropology at Utah State University

"These courses are very self-motivated. If I want a good grade I know I need to work at getting the info I need from people....It was really, really great!"

What will Huanchaco have when it no longer has its fishermen?

“So, Cristina how do you like my life?”
“Well Armando, all I can say is it’s so different from mine.”

Armando Ucanan Gonzales wakes up at 5:00am gathers his fishing line, bait and nets and walks barefoot down to the beach from his small white home in Huanchaco, Peru. His boat, a Caballito de Totora (little reed horse) waits for him leaning against the white breaker wall that divides the town from the Pacific Ocean. Armando lifts the heavy boat onto his right shoulder and walks (slightly hindered) down to the edge of the ocean. He puts his small fishing net, anchor (just a large rock attached to a rope), fishing tackle and bait into the back of his boat. Then he pulls the bow of the boat into the surf.

Armando Ucanan was born November 21, 1981 to Alfredo Ucanan Gutierrez and Margarita Gonzales Espinoza. He lives with his parents and his two younger brothers Luis (age 16) and Franco (age 9). Armando is a fisherman just like his father, and his father’s father before him. The Ucanan name is one that originated with the ancient Moche people, and the Ucanan’s are proud of it. I often found him playing his pan pipe as he walked around town or sat on the breaker wall by the beach. He wore his blue and orange swim shorts and his green “Cervesa Bremen” hat almost every time I saw him. Nothing surprised me about his appearance when I first met him on the second day we were in Huanchaco. What did surprise me was his hard working attitude and the respect and trust I gained almost immediately from him. He gave me a glimpse into his world, one that is very different from mine, and he never wanted a thing in return besides my friendship.

Armando may be one of the last fishermen in Huanchaco who fishes for his income. This 2000 year old tradition began with the Moche and Chimu civilizations. The people fished and even carved their mosaics in their ancient cities with an ocean motif. At Chan Chan (a Chimu civilization) the mosaics depict cormorant birds, fish, and nets.

The boats are made from a reed called Totora that grows in salt water pits near the ocean. In modern days the pits are owned and continually harvested by families in the Huanchaco area. The reeds are taken from the pits, laid out to dry for several weeks, and then bound together with pieces of totora and transported a short distance to the home of the fishermen. The boat making process takes only a few hours. When I watched Alfredo Ucanan (Armando’s father) build his boat it took an hour and a half. Alfredo began by throwing five bundles of Totora reeds, about one armful in width off the roof of his house. He then began making a pile of the longer stalks measuring with “handfuls.” When the bundle reached the correct size he tied a nylon cord around the stalks. He did the same for the next bundle, and then began working on what he called “los hijos” (the children) bundles. These shorter, but fatter bundles fit inside the two longer bundles and are made the same way as the others. Alfredo wrapped cord around the two bundles and tightened it as he went. Then he wrapped the four bundles together with a black nylon rope.

A Caballito boat may last up to one month, and the fishermen can tell when they need a new boat if the caballito becomes too heavy to carry. The boat slowly soaks up the ocean water and becomes saturated and heavy.

When I arrived in Peru I had the idea of centering my project on the fishermen of Huanchaco and their thoughts about tourism in Huanchaco. I discovered when I got there that I needed to narrow my topic, because of time restraints and to focus on depth instead of breadth in my paper. So I chose to focus on the younger generation fishermen and their views on tourism in Huanchaco. Through my main informant, Armando Ucanan I found out that he is the only young fishermen in Huanchaco. He told me that the fishermen want better lives for their children so they push them to learn English and find work on a cruise ship. Alfredo wants the same for Armando, but Armando must fish in the mean time. Armando said “I want to work in another country so that I can help my family. I’m learning English and I want to work on a cruise ship.” So, once again I narrowed my topic even more to focus on Armando’s life and the future of fishing in Huanchaco.

The more research and the more time I spent with Armando gave me another reason to do this aspect of the project. I became very emotionally involved in the future of these fishermen. I worry that people will very soon forget the lives and ways of these men. I want to leave something behind for the future so that they won’t be forgotten.

Armando’s Story

“My life at sea began at five years old. I was very small and was a little scared, but I needed to get used to it to help my father fish. Little by little I lost fear and started going farther out and there began experimenting with how to catch certain types of fish.

Therefore as time went by I gained more experience and I knew that life in the sea was difficult because sometimes I had to face huge waves in order to go out fishing and bring back fish.

The sea teaches many things, how to appreciate the sacrifice of the fishermen to be able to survive. The sea is good and bad at the same time, because not only can it give you fish, but it can take your life. You don’t know how or where, but the important thing is to keep going and fight for what you want. I believe that as the years go by fishing in the sea has taught me many things, for example: how to respect the sea, how to ride a wave, and most important is to appreciate the sacrifice of my father for me when I was young.

I have realized that my life at sea isn’t very secure, but I feel happy because my life in the sea is very beautiful and tranquil, and at the same time you have many anecdotes during fishing. I have many: how to lose the fear of sea lions, and crabs, and many more.

For me the most important is that I’m alive and fighting for the goal that I have to finish and I believe this will come later on. All I want to say is that in the sea, life is more rich in flavor and you must risk it to live. Thanks.” (This is a written response (translated from Spanish) from Armando when I asked him to write his life story as a fisherman).

Money

Caballito fishermen make about 10 to 15 soles (about $5 U.S.) a day for their catch. So, they make about $130 U.S. per month. This doesn’t sound like much but, the average income per month at minimum wage in Peru is 400 soles ($100 U.S.). Armando told me that if you catch 20 kilos (about 40 lbs.) a day you can get 30 soles ($7.50 U.S.) in Trujillo. Some reasons for the meager income are:

? Over fishing-

Most of the fish that the fishermen catch are about 6” to 8” long. The fishermen also don’t usually go out very far from of the shore and the larger fish are farther out in the deep water. Also this area has been fished for hundreds of years.

? El Nino-

In a normal year the cold Humboldt current passes by Peru and keeps the water temp. lower than it would be this close to the equator. El Nino changes the water temperature around Peru, and causes the fish to die or move because fish that live in colder water cannot survive in the warmer water that El Nino brings.

? Mococho-

Mococho (a type of seaweed) was plentiful in Huanchaco’s coastal waters many years ago, but now it’s disappearing. This seaweed is eaten by both fish and humans. As the seaweed becomes more and more depleted the fish have less of a food source and will likely die or move elsewhere.

Small Changes in Fishing:

There have been small changes over the decades with the building of the caballitos and with the ways the fishermen bring in another form of income with the boats. Armando told me that within the newest generation the fishermen wrap plastic pop bottles or foam in the stalks of the Totora. This saves Tortora reed, so that there is more to build other boats with.

Fishermen often give rides to tourists and can make up to 80 soles (about $25 U.S.) per day in the height of the tourist season. I was curious about why the fishermen would rather fish than give the tourists rides to make more money. Armando told me that they can’t wait on the beach all day for a tourist when they could be fishing. Also, fishermen go out so early in the morning and no one is out on the beach at 5:00am. I noticed that while our group was there the only rides that we got on the caballitos were given by Armando and some of his friends. I think that the older fishermen are less interested in appeasing the tourists.

Average Day:

An average day for a fisherman in Huanchaco starts at 5:00am. They work for four to five hours fishing with just a line and bait. Then they return to shore at about 10:00am to either rest, eat lunch, fix nets, or do other errands. Then from about 1:00pm till 5:00pm they’ll go back out, check their nets or fish for stone crab. They return at dinner time and go to bed shortly after that (around 9:00pm), so they can wake up at 5:00am the next morning.

How I experienced it:

(July 13, 2002 Journal Entry) – “I was so excited to get up this morning and go fishing on the Caballito with Armando. Armando told me to meet him down at the beach at 9:00am so I quickly ate my breakfast and put on Angie’s black and green wetsuit. As I walked down to the beach I felt slightly foolish wearing only a wetsuit, walking around the town, but no one seemed to notice. I reached the spot where Armando and his father keep their Caballitos, but Armando wasn’t there yet. So, I continued walking to his house. Armando opened the door after I knocked, and invited me to sit and wait in their small restaurant in the front of their house. Armando gathered his fishing tackle, which consisted of fishing line wrapped around a small wood tablet, bait (some type of crawfish), and his small net to hold the fish we catch. Then Armando changed into his blue and orange swim shorts and a white t-shirt and we were ready to go.

We walked west from Armando’s house to the beach, my feet moving much faster than Armando’s because of my excitement. When we reached the beach Armando lifted his caballito above his head and walked to the water’s edge. Armando put the tackle into the back of the boat. He told me to get on the caballito with my body facing the back of the boat. Armando pulled the bow of the boat into the surf and I held on. Then he jumped onto the boat landing on his knees and paddling immediately into the first wave. I held tightly to the nylon rope that binds the Caballito together and lucky for me the waves weren’t as large as they have been the last couple of days. Armando seemed to paddle at a normal pace, but we seemed to fly out and around the pier. We headed south from the pier and entered what Armando called “the other part of the ocean.” He sang to me as he paddled, and I just sat facing the opposite way smiling and drinking in the whole experience.

Armando’s father, Alfredo approached us in his new Caballito and said greeted us as he paddled back into shore from his earlier morning of fishing. I like Alfredo; he has the same laid back and friendly attitude as Armando. Armando told me later that they (he and his father) look out for each other when they fish, and they always fish together.

Armando continued paddling and 10 to 15 min. later we reached the portion of ocean that Armando’s family fishes (the ocean is informally parceled out and fishermen are expected to fish only on their “informal property.”) Armando dropped his anchor (a rock with a rope attached to it) and he prepared the line. The trickiest part once we got there was to both switch the position we sat in. I carefully swiveled around to face forward and Armando did the same when I had finished. We straddled the boat with our legs hanging in the water and our bodies directly facing each other.

Armando handed me a fishing line tablet and showed me how to bait the two hooks at the end of the line. Then he demonstrated the correct way to hold the line…just over your pointer finger. Almost as soon as I dropped the line I felt a bite, and I tugged at the line. I did this several times till Armando looking slightly amused took my line and quickly pulled up the line hand over hand till the small (maybe 5” or 6”) fish appeared. I was ecstatic. “I caught a fish!” I yelled. Armando looked even more amused. He gave me back my line, and began fishing off the opposite side of the boat. We both caught several fish in a 10 min. period, and then as quickly as the fish began biting they stopped. So Armando decided to move the boat to a different spot. So he began paddling to another spot not far from the one we were at. At this spot the fish seemed to bite on the left side of the boat more than on the right. So Armando told me to fish on the side his line was on. I wondered how much a difference it could possibly make, since the Caballito is about 3 ft. wide, but as soon as I moved my line I started to catch fish. Armando and I both pulled up the same type fish (a borracho) at the same time, and once our lines became tangled and he thought he had a bite, so he pulled it up and it was really my line.

The only time during the fishing experience that I felt a little scared was when an irregularly large wave was coming in the distance and our fishing lines were out. Armando dropped his line and grabbed the paddle and began turning the boat to face the wave. The wave was almost upon us and began to break. I grabbed onto the boat, but wondered what to do about the net of fish that were right in front of me. I quickly decided to hold on to them too, because I didn’t want a lapful of fish. My eyes were huge as we hit the wave, and I thought for sure that the boat would flip over, but Armando’s skill and knowledge of waves saved us and we came out of the experience no worse for wear. Luckily we saved all the equipment, which I’m sure Armando was especially happy about.

We fished a little longer and then I asked him to go back to shore, I was a little seasick, and my legs and arms were covered in goose bumps. I counted the fish we caught, and the grand total was 15. I probably caught about 5 of them. Then we gathered the tackle, pulled up the anchor, and switched positions again. Armando paddled north, back around the pier, and then reached the shore where a man sat waiting for us. The man grabbed the front of the boat and helped unload it. He also took the boat back to the breaker wall that it leans against. For this Armando gave the man 3 fish (which is the custom for the “helper” of the fisherman).

This experience has made me appreciate and respect what Armando and all the other fishermen do. He realizes that he needs to help his family and rarely has any time for himself or friends. Armando is probably one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met.

How is tourism and fishing interlinked? :

As I interviewed Armando and talked to some of the other fishermen I often wondered what other local people thought about the fishermen and their link to Huanchaco and its tourism. Pedro Anhuaman, a local artist who paints in Huanchaco commented on the Caballito fishermen he said. “When the fishermen and the Caballitos disappear, so will the tourism.” His view is that the Caballitos are such an important town identity that if they disappear the town will have no identity anymore.

Also in the “Lonely Planet” Peru guide book it talks about how Huanchaco is such a tranquil little town and that’s why people like it. Most of the section on Huanchaco talks about the caballitos and only mentions one or two other things about the town. So even in the guidebooks there is not much more to say about the town other than its caballitos.

Future of Fishing:

I interviewed Armando on July 5th 2002, as we sat on the breaker wall by the beach. I asked him questions about what he wants for the future of Huanchaco and what his personal dreams were for his future. (Translated from Spanish)

“I desire that the fishermen of Huanchaco will be included in different activities (within the local government), and I want to go work in another country so that I can help my family. I’m learning English, and I want to go work on a cruise ship. The life of a fisherman is not easy.”

I also asked Armando about tourists in Huanchaco, if he liked them, and how tourists changed his life.

“Yes, I like tourists, because they have different ideas and the more tourism in Huanchaco the more it will help its development. The tourists have changed my life with their new ideas and customs. I believe that they’ve changed the lives of the people in Huanchaco with their arrival.”

My last questions were more personal, I asked if Armando would teach his future children to fish and if fishing is different from his father’s life than the present.

“Yes, I will teach my boys to fish, but only for sport, because I believe that they have to learn something, and fishing is not good work.”
“The life of a fisherman is not different for fishermen now, because we all fish equally and some fishermen have more luck than others. “
Alfredo’s idea:

Alfredo Ucanan feels that the future of caballito de totora fishing is in danger for several reasons. The first has to do with the actual reeds themselves. The totora reed pits are located north of the city next to a dirt road that is frequented by large diesel trucks and cars. Alfredo believes that the dust and diesel fumes that are kicked up every time a truck or car passes are slowly killing the totora. He suggested that the road be moved to the east to save the reeds.

The children of fishermen are learning how to fish on a caballito, but only for fun. Although they are being taught how to fish, no one is teaching them how to build the caballitos. Even Armando doesn’t know how to build the boat. People (including Alfredo) want more opportunities for their children, so they push them to learn English, and find work in the USA. The most common goal for an English speaking job is on a cruise ship. Most of the young men I talked to said they wanted to go work on a cruise ship. The idea is good but it’s a double edged sword… the people want better lives for their children, but the fishermen are dying out because they don’t teach their children the skills.

In conclusion, I believe that the caballito de totora fishing is slowly dying and as this happens Huanchaco will lose its most important identity. So what will Huanchaco have when it no longer has its fishermen? That question can’t be answered by me or anyone else for that matter; it can only be answered by time.