Chapter 162: Fishing
Mwanza.
The sole shipbuilding center in the entire Great Lakes region.
Because the colony's resources are limited and they lack sufficient skilled shipwrights, East Africa can only prioritize replicating Mwanza's inland shipbuilding at Soron (Lake Tanganyika) and Lake Malawi. The result is that workers from Mwanza's shipyard first went to assist in constructing shipyards at Soron Lake and Lake Malawi, rather than building new ones along the other Great Lakes towns. Mwanza Shipyard thus retains its status as the Great Lakes region's only one.
Following the previous war, the Great Lake has become East Africa's inland lake, so the colony is in no hurry to intensively develop it. Conversely, because East Africa doesn't control Lakes Tanganyika and Malawi alone, they want to build shipyards there first to facilitate the colony's further expansion.
Though no new yards have been built on the Great Lake's shores, as time passes and Mwanza Shipyard's capacity grows, more and more boats have been produced. One can spot its small craft all over the lake, assigned to coastal villages for fishing or added to transport teams carrying cargo.
At present, lake transport has already become the colony's most important link across the lake's west and north shores.
Morning.
Dawn's light shines on the water's surface, shimmering across the lake.
At Sangabu Village, residents rise early; thin columns of smoke climb from each household's morning cooking fires. After breakfast, the fishers form teams to head out on the lake.
Sangabu Village, located north of Mwanza, is home to some 470 people, most of whom rely on fishing. Over a hundred gather at the village pier, where more than a dozen small fishing vessels lie at anchor. In the past, natives used dugout canoes. Now, the colony's small craft far surpass those in function and size.
"Today's weather is a lot cooler than yesterday's. Let's try to catch a bit extra so we can finish this month's quota early and get more days off," said the village head, Relas, to his people.
"How many days can we rest this month, Chief?" someone asked.
"If you manage a record take for enough days, we can rest at least two extra days at the end of the month. If daily catches hit the highest mark each time, we could rest five days," Relas replied.
Hearing this, folks brightened at the thought. Day after day afloat on the water is never as comfortable as resting on land. In their previous lives, the villagers of Sangabu had typically dwelt near water or on boats before emigrating to East Africa.
"Chief, less talk and more action. Let's put in overtime today and snag a decent total."
"Alright, I was waiting for that. There's no shortage of fish in the Great Lake. As long as we do the work, we'll get results," Relas responded.
Eyeing the sun slowly climbing above the horizon, he said, "Push off—let's head into the lake!"
The fishing fleet from Sangabu Village paddled out. Oars stirred ripples in the water. Soon they reached their usual spot. Under Relas' guidance, the villagers began casting nets in the lake. Outer boats maneuvered to flush fish inward. Spooked fish, driven by the outer craft, congregated near the center.
"Pull it up!"
Once the fish clustered, the villagers hauled their nets. The small boats, never large to begin with, wobbled under the net's weight, but the experienced fishers knew how to keep them stable. Though it was tricky, the catch proved substantial. The Great Lake is loaded with fish, especially after the colony drove out all local tribes, leaving the aquatic resources wholly under East Africa's monopoly. As the East African population near the lake amounts to just a few tens of thousands, the lake's centuries of teeming fish remain ample, all for the colony's taking.
Within a few hours, Sangabu Village's boats were holding plenty. The weather abruptly shifted from fair to overcast, clouds rolling in thick and dark.
"Hold steady! Don't break formation. Don't panic," Relas shouted to the surrounding craft.
Winds whipped up over the lake, but for these seasoned fishers who've seen bigger storms at sea, it was no cause for alarm. Typically, in such weather, they'd head back. Today, however, they hoped to catch a bit more to finish the month's quota early and gain extra rest days, so they persevered.
Beneath the oppressive sky, the fish turned even livelier, surfacing to gulp air, so the yield improved still more. The holds quickly brimmed with the day's haul. Seeing that they had enough, Relas yelled, "That's it— let's pack it in and head home!"
The words had scarcely left his mouth when a driving rain pounded down, turning the lake hazy. Heavy droplets battered the fishers' faces, melding with their sweat. Rowing into wind and rain, they aimed south toward Mwanza. After more than an hour, they finally glimpsed the south shore— a trip usually taking half an hour, now doubled. Still, thanks to that rainfall, they pulled in a bountiful catch.
…
"Relas, looks like quite a haul today, yeah?" asked the staff member receiving fish in Mwanza.
"Ugh, don't mention it. A good catch indeed, but the weather sure wasn't nice—what a rain," Relas said, wiping himself with burlap.
"Seems the rainy season's nearly here. And with the Great Lake's climate, you'll see plenty more days like this," the staffer replied.
"Not much we can do about the weather. Anyway, this drizzle's nothing compared with real gales at sea. We used to sail small boats on the ocean—ones about the size of these. Far riskier," Relas remarked idly.
"True enough, a lake can't match ocean storms," the staffer said while tallying the day's proceeds for Sangabu Village, entering the numbers onto a form. "Check if it's right. If so, sign here."
Relas took the list, matched it up, found no problem, then wrote his name at the bottom. By month's end, these figures would determine the village's income; no room for carelessness. Once the fish were unloaded, the fishers boarded their empty craft and followed the Mwanza bay, returning to Sangabu Village.
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