Long-range squid fishing not only requires crew members who work nights and sleep days, and ship owners who invest, but also a group of dedicated agents back at the base. These agents have to cope with the various needs of the fishing vessels, making sure crew members can spread their nets without worries, and boats can return fully laden.
"Chin Chun, Chin Chun, do you copy? Has the boat come out yet? Understood, understood. . . how did the transfer go? Good, good, you've worked hard. . . I hope everyone's work goes well, good-bye for now."
At the headquarters of the FCF Fishery Company at Argentina's Puerto Madryn, situated at roughly 43 degrees south latitude, chief representative Allan Hew calls the Taiwanese squid-fishing vessel Chin Chun by wireless. The two parties discuss how things are going in their operations.
Fishing-boat Nannies
Long-range fishing is a far cry from fishing near the coast of Taiwan. Coastal fishermen can return to familiar hometowns to retrieve whatever they want. For the long-range fishermen, everything is difficult. Fueling, refitting, food, harbor entry and exit, customs, transfer of the catch, the condition of crew members, and other logistics-support tasks, must be monitored by persons who are extremely familiar with conditions abroad. Such needs create the agent.
Other reasons for an agent are Taiwanese ship owners' lack of language and diplomatic skills, the limits on Taiwan's diplomacy, and the inability of the ROC government to intervene openly. The agent is required for everything from the development of fishing grounds to discussions concerning cooperation between fishing industries. The head of the Eunice International Fishery Service Group, Chen Shu, says, "Aside from actually catching the squid, we do everything else."
There are eight registered "trading members" of the Taiwan Long-Range Squid Produce Export Association, four of which have established bases in Argentina. FCF is the largest, with aa regular staff of nine: Five help on freight, interpreting for captains, and recording load levels; the others keep watch at the base, keeping up communications and administration.
FCF's embodiment is the round-faced, smiling Allan Hew. At the harbor, everyone calls him "Hsiao Chiu"-which means "Little Chiu"-using the pronunciation of his surname in Mandarin (Chiu) rather than in the dialect he used in his native Singapore (Hew).
Hew, who grew up in Singapore, knows Mandarin, Taiwanese, and English, and is picking up Spanish on his own. When first assigned to Argentina, he brought a set of tapes, but "I'm so busy there is no time to learn. After work I'm so tired I just want to rest." So he learns on the job. Anyway, specialized phrases like "When do we get to shore?" or "At which pier?" can be understood by those in the trade even if said inaccurately.
"Argentina change of heart"
Hew, 38 years old, is still unmarried, "Hsiao Chiu doesn't have a wife. He can come here all the time, no matter what," Chen Shu jokes.
"It's just this that has cursed me," Hsiao Chiu says anxiously. "Taiwanese with girl friends fear 'a change of heart during military service'-that the girl will leave you while you are off doing military service. I have 'Argentina change of heart.' Every year I have to fly to Argentina in January or February and can return only in the middle of September. By that time the girlfriend is already gone."
But marrying a wife who cannot speak the language would make coming to this corner of the world difficult. Chen Shu employed a Malaysian to be their representative based in Argentina, and also employed the man's wife to do some office work, thus giving them two salaries. This was meant to show consideration for the employee, but he quit anyway.
"The wife sees that the husband works hard here day and night. She feels so bad that she tells the husband, 'Forget it, we can go back and find other jobs, you don't have to be so exhausted.'" Hsiao Chiu explains that, because of the time differential, day and night are reversed from Taiwan. After finishing all the fishing boats' various administrative tasks in the Argentine daytime, at night they still have to communicate with the mother companies and ship owners in Taiwan who are just getting to work. Agents must be available 24 hours a day.
"One phone call, one ship in need would be enough reason to be awakened from sleep at night," he said. On average he sleeps three hours a day, sometimes eating one meal in three days-ruining his stomach.
What keeps them so busy?
"Caring for ships is like caring for babies. If one cries, you must go see if it is hungry or whether its diapers are wet." Hsiao Chiu describes his profession as being the nanny of shipping vessels at sea-everything must be taken care of. "If the water pipes burst, the captain yells at you, if the toilets block-up, the captain also blames you." Hsiao Chiu says that captains suffer much pressure from working long periods of time at sea. If anything goes wrong, they take it out on the agents.
You get what you deserve
Chen Shu says that as an agent, of course he wants to make sure all the paperwork proceeds smoothly, and yet the required paperwork for fishing vessels to enter and exit the harbor is very complicated. Argentina is very strict on safety, as strict as any developed country. It requires stringent guards against environmental pollution-oil cannot be poured directly into the sea, and there must be oil and water filtering mechanisms, chemical treatment of human waste, foot activation devices for washing hands, and so on.
Aside from completing inspection procedures on fishing vessels, the agent has to arrange for the vessels to unload their catch and report to customs.
Fishing is a bit like farming, both being dependent on nature. When the catch is good, 40-50 tons can be caught in one night, and a 900 ton ship readily fills up. At this time the agent must quickly arrange to transfer the catch onto freezer ships so that the fishing vessels can continue to catch fish. Otherwise the loss of a day's work can cost up to NT$1 million. "Squid fishing has very defined seasons, so we must catch as much as possible during the season," says Hsiao Chiu .
And yet the paper work for customs on transferring is very complicated. One needs to report simultaneously to five government departments. If one link is not arranged, or one vessel has not yet completed the formalities, the entire fleet could be delayed.
Every year during the high season from March to May "if the catch is good, all the vessels will be loaded, wanting to enter the harbor at the same time." This is really the time when the captains and the Taiwanese ship owners get hopping-anxious says Hsiao Chiu. Sometimes all you can do is laugh at yourself for screwing up, because doing it right should be a matter of course, and if you are yelled at you probably deserve it.
However, after a year of working together, and getting to know the captains, everyone is more familiar with each others' attitude towards the job and the Argentinean regulations. This year the captains know that they must signal ahead when they want to enter port and when they want to unload so that the agent can work in advance.
Missing home
Whatever the ship's problems, the crew-who live far from home, and do very hard labor with day and night reversed-has more.
To go to Argentina squid fishing can take most of the year. When crew members fall sick and need to see a doctor, or if they want to go ashore to go shopping, the agents must make arrangements for transportation and interpretation. Agents must also intervene in the event of fighting, jealousies, homesickness, and work stoppages. If a contract is terminated before it is due, the agent must arrange for an airplane to take the crew member home.
Chen Shu had a case of nervous breakdown. Once the crew member got on shore he started to tear up documents. They couldn't restrain him. He escaped from the office, and was caught by the police and taken to the hospital. The doctor said that because his mental state was unstable, they would need to buy six economy class seats, make a bed for the sick man on the plane, and have one doctor and one nurse on hand in order to transport him home. Since the trip would cost at least NT$1 million, the ship owner asked Chen to go himself to see if there was any other way.
Fortunately, the crew member recognized Chen. When he saw Chen, he was calmer. Chen slowly soothed him. And when he was told what to do, the crew member did not resist. The doctor observed him for 3 or 4 days, and finally agreed to let Chen Shu take him home alone.
Hsiao Chiu also had a case of a crew member gone mad. Because there was no sanitarium, they had to lock him in his room. The Filipino man could not stop crying, shouting, or tearing paper and eating it. "I just couldn't stand his hysterics, so I had to go crazy with him. The two of us took our clothes off together until we both had only a pair of briefs left. Then I took his hand and tried to lead him out the door. Because he refused to go, I knew then that he was sane enough to know what was going on, that he was just faking his illness because he could not stand the hard life on the ship, and wanted to terminate his contract early in order to go home."
"Landlubbers who go out to sea for the first time cause the most trouble. The old sailors do not have so many problems," Chen Shu says. Few Taiwanese these days become fishermen out of interest-most have family problems or no other way out. If they have no understanding of a life at sea and no mental preparation, this can easily lead to problems.
DIY Taoist priest
One time, 10 crew members prepared to jump ship. Secretly, they stole all the life-preservers on the boat, "At midnight, they donned Western style suits, and jumped into the ocean," Hsiao Chiu recalls, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. As a result, eight were swept away by the sea, and they only rescued two.
He did a quick calculation of the crew members he has had to take care of in the last seven years: four suffered mental problems, 12 or 13 were injured in the line of duty, and six died.
The harbor tides at 50 degrees south latitude can easily reach up to three stories tall. Crew members leaving and boarding ships can be swept into the sea. The currents in the harbor are too swift for rescue.
After any death, Hsiao Chiu has to play the role of a sai gong (Taoist priest). He takes the plane to Buenos Aires' Taiwanese neighborhood and searches all day to buy paper money and incense, and then comes back to conduct rituals for the dead crew member.
"Even without a teacher I learned to grab some salt and some rice, throw them once into the air, then mutter prayers for him to go forth in peace," Hsiao Chiu says. He adds, exasperated, that once he had to keep the ashes in his office for more than a month.
Hsiao Chiu, after graduating from middle school, became a career military officer in Singapore. Because of the program for military cooperation between Taiwan and Singapore (Operation Starlight), he lived in Touliu, in the southern part of Taiwan, for two years. Having been a professional soldier is the main reason why he believes he can endure hardship. In contrast, Wang Ta-chih, a Taiwanese, is not so pleased with the present working environment.
Wang, who wears his hair in the latest layered style, with a dyed chocolate-colored lock on his forehead, graduated from the China Junior College of Marine Technology with a degree in engine machinery. Since he came out of a technical school and has no language problems-he lived in Spain for two years-Wang is just the type of talent needed to be an agent for long-range fishing operations. Yet after one year in Argentina, he has not yet completely adapted to the life here.
When asked how long he would stay, this member of the younger generation says bluntly, "It depends on how much the boss offers me next year."
p.129
FCF Fishery Company's representative in Argentina, Allan Hew, though a very masculine guy, is like a nanny to his charges-Taiwan's long-range squid-fishing ships. In the port, he is responsible for negotiating the transfer dates with local transport ships.
p.131
(left, right) Crewing a fishing ship is hard work, and the seas can be dangerous. It is not unusual for crewmen to suffer emotional collapse, and there are often accidental deaths. The ship's "nanny" must also take care of these problems.
p.132
In the deserted fishing port, life is monotonous, and there is a great need for spiritual sustenance. In his first year at the Argentine fishing base, Wang Ta-chih (first at right) is the southernmost subscriber to Sinorama in the whole world.
p.133
As the photographers get on the shuttle boat to return to the docks, the crewmen stand at the side of the deck waving a reluctant good-bye. Maybe the presence of these journalists from their homeland has made them nostalgic.
（left, right） Crewing a fishing ship is hard work, and the seas can be dangerous. It is not unusual for crewmen to suffer emotional collapse, and there are often accidental deaths. The ship's "nanny" must also take care of these problems.
In the deserted fishing port, life is monotonous, and there is a great need for spiritual sustenance. In his first year at the Argentine fishing base, Wang Ta-chih （first at right） is the southernmost subscriber to Sinorama in the whole world.
As the photographers get on the shuttle boat to return to the docks, the crewmen stand at the side of the deck waving a reluctant good-bye. Maybe the presence of these journalists from their homeland has made them nostalgic.
