At the Oistins Boatyard, where the Caribbean Sea laps against the shore of this bustling fishing town, Jameson Hinkson bends over a diesel engine. The boat he’s tinkering with belongs to his friend Esleigh Harding, who’s “preparing to go out to sea either tomorrow or later in the week”, he explains.
But it’s not Harding’s vessel that occupies Hinkson’s thoughts. His mind is on his own boat, M200, now lying at the bottom of the sea – a casualty of Hurricane Beryl’s ferocious passage on July 1.
“When I bought it, it was like… It was a small boat. I lengthened it four times. I have a picture of it back at home”, Hinkson reflects, his voice heavy with nostalgia for the 24-foot craft that represented more than just a livelihood. It was, as he puts it, “a testament to better days on the water”.
Hinkson’s story is one of many in the wake of Beryl, a Category 4 hurricane that skirted the island but unleashed devastation on the fishing industry. The storm damaged 241 boats, with 64 beyond repair, affecting approximately 800 people’s livelihoods.
“I was up here two days before it started. I carry my boat into the complex. I tie it alongside the barge”, Hinkson recounts. As the storm raged, he was at home, listening to the radio. “And when I hear Admiral Nelson on the radio say something about the catastrophe in the complex, that was about in the eight o’clock news. I was down here in 15 minutes.”
Despite the obstacles – “I live in Sargeant Village, and I had a lot of wires and things to escape” – Hinkson rushed to the Oistins complex. The scene that greeted him was one of utter devastation. “I saw my boat there sink. I saw it there sink”, he repeats, the memory etched deep in his mind.
It wasn’t until 26 days later that Hinkson finally located what remained of his vessel. “The bare bottom. The bare water line. Yuh see like where the paint is there? That part—the bare water line”, he describes, gesturing to where his once-proud boat, equipped with three radios, two VHF and a CB, a depth sounder, and two GPS, now rests beneath the waves.
In the face of such loss, Hinkson’s resolve to rebuild is palpable. He’s one of many fishers looking to the government for assistance. Prime Minister Mia Mottley has announced a $500 000 humanitarian donation from the CAF Development Bank of Latin America and the Caribbean to aid affected boat owners. Additionally, a 30-year revolving fund has been established in conjunction with financial institutions here to help finance new boats.
“I plan to get me back on my feet”, Hinkson says. “I hear the government say they will give you 25 per cent of the cost of any new boat or repair. I don’t know if it would be 25 per cent as cash or if they would give it to you in order to get the material… I like to help myself. I does help myself.”
Yet challenges persist. The high cost of insurance has long been a barrier for many fisherfolk. “No. I asked about insurance years ago, and because of the kind of money they told me, I couldn’t go there. Insurance hits you hard. They tell me $3 500”, Hinkson explains.
He recounts a cautionary tale from Martinique: “They got a boat in Martinique; this is years now. The owner was waiting for the inspector from the insurance company, and he never turned up. He had ice in the boat, and he went out; the boat broke down, and the men got out of it, and the boat was in Martinique, all like now.”
Hinkson also expresses frustration at the lack of preparedness for such emergencies. “I know if I get back to my boat in the sea, in any kind of bad weather, my boat ain’t standing in the sea”, he says. He points out that many fishermen could have saved their vessels if the necessary equipment had been functioning. “Hurricane season is coming, and they ain’t got a tractor working. All was down. You could inquire about that. Some of the operators could have pulled up their vessels on land if they had the equipment.”
Despite these setbacks, Hinkson’s spirit remains unbroken. He’s already planning a new boat, designed to withstand future storms. “The only thing that is going to be wood is going to be the keel. The only thing I want in that, that is wood is the keel. It will be greenheart and totally covered with fibreglass”, he asserts, his plans already in the hands of a shipwright.
For Hinkson, fishing isn’t just a job – it’s a way of life. “I have been messing around with this since the 70s. It is all I know, and I will continue doing it till I can’t do any more.”
In a community where the sea is both provider and destroyer, Hinkson’s resilience serves as a beacon of hope. And so the spirit of fishers in Oistins – like from Six Men’s to Bridgetown, Consett Bay to Tent Bay – endures, even amid treacherous, choppy waters of recovery and uncertainty.
(RG)
