Mimmo is his name.
Carved hands, lived-in skin, dark deep eyes in a tired face but still full of hope. Mimmo limps because of a back surgery, but he doesn’t give up its sea.
Mimmo doesn’t navigate when the sea is too rough because his legs no longer hold him, he has no longer the strength like when young he used to pull up the nets with the only help of his bare hands; those heavy soaked nets full of fish. Today, one more time, Mimmo gets up at four in the morning and before five he is ready on his boat to pick up the nets and I am with him.
A Thousand meters of nets, a piece at a time, filling the stern of the boat messing with mud his yellow overalls adjusted with some tape and his faded t-shirt that he only use for fishing.
The sky is still dark, the sun is rising behind the Italian coast of San Remo colouring the deep blue sky of a warm pink and gilding water reflections, I sit there with my camera ready to catch the moment, what moment? I don’t really now, but I feel ready.
The nets are empty, occasionally a piece of plastic, some algae and then a nose. Still networks, even waste, algae, some algae are good sign me Mimmo says, “If the algae are alive, it means that there’s still life down there”, then armed with hope and passion he continues to collect. I am sitting in front of the cockpit with my legs crossed, I can only watch, as a witness of this poor sea that we have today. I can see the sadness of those empty waters that we call sea, and this fisherman who does not give up, that goes on and with an unsteady step after another pulls in drops of water, a squid, parts of a eaten fish, a crab and more garbage. Sometimes Mimmo looks up after me, the sea, he checks where we are, there is still hope, there are still several meters of nets under water, we have not done.
Here, the net seems heavier, is in fact, Mimmo stops ….. and from the water emerges a dark shape, a tire, that’s the biggest fish he caught today, a good black plastic tire where a group of starfish found refuge. Smiling Mimmo continues to pick up, and sais “Do not despair, there is always a surprise at the end“. To me, the surprise was the tire, but he was hoping for a nice fish, a beautiful piece to sell, a sign telling him that it was still worth getting up at four in the morning to go fishing.
But nothing, a head of a hake (the body having been eaten by squid) two squids, seaweed, plastic, a monkfish and a few others that I can not remember the name. the boat is now full of networks glittering under the warm rays of the sun that lit the sky and blue sea, on the boat there was hardly room for Mimmo, but holding himself on the edges here and there he started the engine and headed for the next stop. A thick cloth placed on the board and he was ready to cast the nets into the sea again, the wrinkled hands of Mimmo lead the net that slowly slid into the water and disappeared into the dark deep waters, while his leg drives the boat creating a slalom, ” The curves is where the fish remains imprisoned and it is there that we take more “,” What fish “I wondered?
The poop empty again with only witnesses those two dozen fish caught, the waste found and myself, always sitting there taking pictures trying to paint those moments that will remain forever in my memory, were back to the harbour.
Mimmo is ready to get up at four and leave again the next morning to gather the nets, and who knows, maybe he will have a surprise.
If you are interested in looking at all the photos taken that morning, you’ll find them here.
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