Jmayl Malekh and his wife Safia wake up at the crack of dawn almost every day, to prepare nets and bait before sailing far into the Mediterranean.
He began fishing as a boy, about 50 years ago, in the Tunisian town of Borj Salhi where he still lives.
Since they became married, Jmayl, 68, has been accompanied each time by Safia, 65.
But Tunisia is in the grip of economic crisis, with prices of food and other basics surging, making life difficult in their fishing town.
“We go fishing in the sea together. Sometimes we get lucky when we catch 10, 20 or even 100 kilograms,” Jmayl says.
Life in their town is far from the glitter and bustle of resorts elsewhere along the country's Mediterranean coastline.
Hidden between the sea to the west, and vast hills to the east, Borj Salhi stands out for its continued isolation in a region that attracts visitors from all over the world.
Electricity supply is erratic, and most of the roads are unpaved, in this part of Tunisia's north-eastern Cap Bon peninsula.
Water and sewage systems are worn out and public lighting is non-existent.
When night falls, the town is blanketed in darkness and residents move about by the light from their mobile phones.
Most of the population of about 1,200 rely on fishing to survive, like generations before them.
But their strong ties to the sea and the community give them the strength to endure, residents say.
Perhaps another bonding factor for the town's population is the high number of hearing-impaired people, as seen from the widespread use of sign language.
Residents say the condition affects about one in three, and attribute this to either the high level of intermarriage among the small community or noise from power turbines at a wind farm set up nearby by the government in 2000.
“It has always been the case in Borj Salhi – many people in the town are deaf and it is something that never was an issue,” says Radhouen Salhi, 50.
“But since those wind turbines have been set up more babies are being born deaf. I myself started developing hearing issues and my ears got sick because of the swirling sound of the blades.”
The light of tradition
Speaking to The National on board his tiny wooden boat, Jmayel says the small boats used by Borj Salhi's fisherfolk are not safe in the rough seas of the winter and the rainy season.
During such periods, they eat the fish they have stored away and rely on the local shops to sell them food on credit.
“Later when we go back to the sea we pay that debt, and life keeps going on in the same cycle,” Jmayl says.
But the high inflation of recent years has made life more difficult, especially after the appearance of fishing boats from other areas that use much more sophisticated equipment.
“We fish using nets which we buy from vendors from Bizerte or Kelibia. But these nets have become expensive, a small piece that used to be sold for 10 or 15 dinars [about $3-$4.50] now costs us 70 dinars,” Jmayel says.
“So now when our nets rip in the middle of the sea we feel helpless.”
Jmayel and his wife say that, instead of using 10 nets, they can now afford to have just three or four, which is not enough for them to catch the quantities they need to make ends meet.
“We used to be blessed with many fish, but now it is very different,” Safia says.
“We have to wait for one, two, to three months even [to catch fish] – there are more people in the sea now, more small boats and even the big ones, so everyone just gets what they are lucky to get.”
Despite the daily hardship, some of the couple's six children have also chosen to take up fishing. However, Safia feels bad that they had few other options.
“In the Borj [Salhi] we do not have other jobs besides working in the sea; everybody goes to the sea to work. That is why we are attached to it and work there,” she says.
The fishermen of Borj Salhi might be continuing the trade because of necessity, but they remain grateful for what the sea gives them.
“The sea, praise God, was created as a medicine for humans,” Jmayl says.
“This work runs through our veins. We would get sick if we did not go to sea because even if you go without catching fish, you will feel relief and get better.”
Safia adds: “The sea is a blessing. Like my husband said, we have grown attached to it – we love it and we can’t get away from it.”
