Coastal connections

‘We can’t talk about conserving animals without looping in the people who are directly connected to these animals,’ Gabriella begins, her voice full of passion. ‘You can’t talk about the conservation of sharks and rays without talking about fishers. Full stop. There’s a trickle-down approach that has often been used in conservation that ends up scapegoating people who are over-regulated, fined or restricted in the lifestyles they’ve been following for centuries.’

The waters of West Africa are a treasure trove of biodiversity; the Gulf of Guinea accounts for some 90 species of sharks and rays. And thanks to work spearheaded by Dr Aristide Takoukam Kamla in Cameroon, we know that some 40 shark and ray species are caught in the country’s waters, 34 of which are threatened with extinction. In fact, sharks and rays represent 97% of the reported bycatch in Cameroon’s fisheries. They are sold and consumed locally. In Ghana, Dr Issah Seidu has shown that up to 80% of fishing income in some coastal communities comes from sharks and rays. In fact, the country is one of the region’s major shark- and ray-fishing nations and shark meat is a cheap source of protein for most coastal fishing communities.

But the region is also awash with foreign vessels: industrial trawlers and shrimp fisheries that compete with and encroach on artisanal fishers. There is a conservation issue here, and it is connected to the security of coastal communities and their culture, their livelihoods and the dignity of their future.

‘So that was my project: tap into the fishers and ask them what’s going on,’ says Gabriella. ‘Show how they live. Show how they’re using the animals and show how it’s important. I’m innately a beach person; a surfer and a water person. Having that connection with the fishers opened conversations about how experience is wealth and that their experiences on the water form part of their spirituality – something I know. I could go up and chat to them about how the water was that day – was it rough? – and then simply listen.’

‘West Africa is a paradox: it’s pluralistic, it’s straightforward and it’s not – it’s so many things all at once. There are many different influences colliding here: there are locals and foreigners; there are people coming for resources and there are people trying to give the resources to locals; there is the ever-present legacy of colonialism. And then there are surfers! There are fishers! There are beach-goers!’

(Above) In Ghana, fishermen head out to fish and find joy in the sea. (Below) In Cameroon, fishers celebrate by racing during the Street Whale Festival, and young orphans often work for boat owners in exchange for food and a place to stay.

Gabriella’s images veer from research in action to the exuberance of children playing in an ocean of fishing nets. They show fire in the gestures of speakers in community meetings and the zen of surfers on the Gulf’s generous waves. West Africa is not just one thing. There is the holy morning light as fishers push their boat into the dawn and there is the desecration of a manta ray left dying in the shallows; there is the sass of a seaside Venus in a crocheted bikini and there is the familiarity of a coast-side football game.

At least 40 shark and ray species are caught by small-scale fisheries in Cameroon, including 34 IUCN Red List threatened species. In Ghana, sharks are targeted for their fins and meat; the latter is a source of protein for local communities.

‘I want us all to pay attention and observe what’s really going on here. Just because we don’t understand something doesn’t mean we have to look the other way – or reframe it in our own understanding.’ And Gabriella’s natural inclination is to pay attention to where people are at ease, where their stories might be most true. In one frame, two fishers laugh, their eyes creased, shoulders hunched in a candid moment of shared comedy beneath the etched hull of their wooden boat. ‘I think I know the dynamics of beach culture and where the joy happens, so I’d go there. The images of joy or levity had been missing for me – and I find that hard to believe because we’re all human beings.

‘I don’t want to see pictures of dead animals anymore!’ Gabriella exclaims. ‘I want to see pictures of how people fit into how these animals are dying and how it fits together.’

In her Polaroid photographs, Aristide and Issah are at once her now-familiar friends – young men with interests and goals and ideals – and scientists carrying the full weight of their coastlines so early in their careers.

Gabriella’s work captures something of the human spirit and experience, but she challenges us to honour those experiences and grasp why they are important.

‘I’m so excited to see the research coming out from West Africa, because I think when it’s paired with the images, it’s going to make a lot of sense.’ Indeed, the hard numbers paired with the emotion, context and connection that good storytelling can bring is the manifestation of that convincing argument for change she ardently believes in.