Lives on a line — the fishers fighting Shell’s Wild Coast seismic survey ambitions (Part 1)

The first article in this two-part series features Kei Mouth and fishers Cameron Thorpe and Max Pekayo, who were applicants in the Wild Coast Communities and others vs Shell and others court case.

Background

When Shell announced it was about to carry out a 3D seismic survey – in the waters between Haga Haga and Port St Johns – in 2021, Wild Coast residents, Sustaining the Wild Coast, All Rise Attorneys, Natural Justice and Greenpeace Africa took Shell to court. They argued that the exploration right – in possession of Impact Africa and Shell, with Shell as the operator – was granted unlawfully, because the coastal communities on the Wild Coast had not been consulted during the original application. The high court ruled against Shell and Impact Africa and set aside the exploration right. The Supreme Court of Appeal allowed Shell to keep the exploration right alive through the renewal process. Sustaining the Wild Coast, Natural Justice, the Wild Coast Communities and Greenpeace Africa appealed the part of the Supreme Court’s ruling that allowed for the exploration right to be renewed, at the Constitutional Court. The Constitutional Court will hear their appeals on 15 and 17 September.

A love for the ocean

Water lazily lapped against the shore at the Great Kei River mouth. Slow-moving ferries transported cars and people across the glassy river mouth in both directions. A taxi arrived to drop off a load of commuters who waited to be ferried to the other side of the river, where another taxi was waiting. It was only 10am but the sun was hot. A few metres upstream, Cameron Thorpe and Maxwell Pekayo took shelter from the hot sun under a tree on the river bank.

Thorpe and Pekayo were applicants in the “Shell v Sustaining the Wild Coast & others, Eastern Cape” high court case in 2021. Thorpe managed to attend the hearings in Makhanda, Gqeberha and Bloemfontein. Both were preparing to journey to Johannesburg for the latest hearing in the matter, this time at the Constitutional Court on 16 and 17 September. 

“[Fishing] is how we feed our communities and sustain our livelihoods. I’m totally against drilling and the exploration for gas in our oceans,” said Thorpe, wearing dark glasses and a checkered peak cap.  

Thorpe has lived in Cwili – a township adjacent to the Kei Mouth resort town – since 1999. He grew up in the southern parts of the Western Cape, moving between Riviersonderend and Hawston, where he first fell in love with the ocean. “I caught my first fish at Hermanus, in the harbour,” he said. A fisherman working on one of the commercial boats tossed a bag of bait to him. He used some of it with a handline to catch a harder (southern mullet) from the pier. 

Thorpe eventually began to fish regularly to add to the available food at home. When his parents were at work he would fish to feed his siblings and himself. His father, a mechanic and a fisher, taught him the ins and outs of fishing. When he was in his late teens they left the Western Cape for the former Transkei, in hopes of making a better living. In 1999, they settled in  Cwili, a township adjacent to Kei Mouth, with a mix of formal and informal housing, paved and dirt roads and a good view of the Great Kei River. Fishing has been his main source of livelihood since then.

Pekayo lives a few hundred metres from Thorpe, in New Rest, an extension of Cwili that was added later. “I arrived in Cwili when I was just two or three years old, with my mother. She had a job here. She met my stepfather and they raised me here in Cwili,” he said. Pekayo’s stepfather, who he calls his father, was employed as a fisher by a man who lived in East London, and travelled the length and breadth of the east coast looking for the best catches. When Pekayo was young, he and his mother tagged along on some of the fishing trips.

“My father was a fisherman. And he also died being a fisherman… He fished until he passed on. I continue fishing, because I learnt from him,” said Pekayo. When Pekayo’s mother fell ill, he dropped out of high school, since there was no one to provide for them. He decided to focus on fishing, selling his catches to buy groceries, and has been fishing ever since.

“The government came up with [the policy for small-scale fishing] and that gave us hope that we would be able to improve our livelihoods through fishing”, added Pekayo. “How can they give us rights to use the ocean even though they’re still going to sell the ocean to Shell?” asked Pekayo. 

Concern about Shell’s exploration for and possible extraction of oil and gas is not limited to fishers in the Keimor Fisheries cooperative. Another Cwili resident, Nolileka Tildini, who is studying towards an honours degree in environmental management, painted a picture of the socioeconomics of Cwili and Kei Mouth: “Most of the community members here are dependent on marine resources. Some work in [Expanded Public Works projects] and others work in the restaurants that are in this coastal area.

“When there is a planned development by a certain company, it should not only focus on profit or the economy. It needs to present a triple bottom line that is not one-sided. It should cover the social aspect of the community, the environmental or the planet aspect, and the profit aspect of it.

“As a community, we want to participate fully, so as not to blame anyone when something goes wrong. When we are facing climate change, we have to blame ourselves for whatever is happening, since we were part of whatever was planned. But if we are not, then we have to fight for our resources.”

Promise of a catch

The next morning, after first light, the crescent moon hung high above Cwili, which seemed still to be sleeping. Lights were on in a few homes and the sound of dogs barking, spurring each other on, filled the air. Thorpe emerged from his home carrying his fishing rod, smoking a cigarette, with bait in his backpack. In front of Pekayo’s home, a child walked down the empty paved road, as he emerged carrying his own gear. They were hoping to reach the fishing spot at Morgan Bay lighthouse just before low tide. Thorpe said that was the best time to fish.

The pair went fishing at the Morgan Bay tidal pool, close to the lighthouse. “There are big fish in there, and I am going to take them out!” exclaimed Pekayo, his usual calm demeanour transformed as his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. He feverishly assembled his three-piece fishing rod and baited his hook. It was a few minutes after sunrise, and warm rays streaked across the water as clouds slowly covered the sky. The tide was low but the swell was big and the rocks were wet. 

A few metres away, Thorpe hopped across the glistening rocks with the assuredness of someone who had done so countless times. Resting against the tidal pool’s sea-facing wall, he wore dark sunglasses and a peak cap. A cigarette dangled from his mouth as he cast his line. Two fishers with vastly different backgrounds were engaging in the activity that led to them becoming friends.

Later that day, they returned to Cwili, where they helped with critical maintenance on the wall surrounding their community hall along with other members of Keimor Fisheries. Soon they would prepare to head to Johannesburg, to the Constitutional Court, for the final hearing in the case in which they first appeared in 2021. DM

This story was supported by Natural Justice.