Putting food on the table in lockdown

The struggle. Mr Bonny Banadda casts a rod to cash fish on the shores of Lake Victoria in Entebbe. Mr Banadda has diversified to fishing since the Covid-19 pandemic effects started in January. Photos by Gillian Nantume

What you need to know:

  • Initially. Before the lockdown, Mr Bonny Banadda was a taxi driver at Entebbe airport and would make enough to feed his wife and four children. That is no more.
  • There was a downpour the previous night, so the lake is wavy. Someone has already beaten him to the spot where he loves to fish. Mr Banadda ties the fishing line on the waragi bottle and then, hooks a worm at the end.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man, as the English saying goes. And in these trying times, a man must prove himself by rising to the challenge of feeding his family.

At 7am, as the world around Nkumba Central Village in Katabi Sub-county, Wakiso District, is slowly rousing, Mr Bonny Banadda walks swiftly on a beaten path in a forest, making his way to a hidden shore of Lake Victoria.

He is carrying an empty waragi bottle, a container full of wriggling long brown earthworms, which he unearthed beneath the old bricks near the pit latrine at his home.

There was a downpour the previous night, so the lake is wavy. Someone has already beaten him to the spot where he loves to fish. Mr Banadda ties the fishing line on the waragi bottle and then, hooks a worm at the end.
In his heavy gumboots, Mr Banadda navigates slippery stones, and casts wide. About 30 minutes later, he pulls a tiny tilapia.

“I fear this lake because sometimes the waves are too much. But, what options do I have? This place has a lot of fish but you need patience. If you are patient, you will eat,” he says.

Before the lockdown, Mr Banadda was one of the 280 taxi drivers at Entebbe International Airport. Every day, he made two routes, driving tourists from Entebbe to their destinations – enough to feed his wife and four children. When the airport was closed, he had just paid school fees for his two daughters in secondary school. There were no savings to fall back on.

“Things started going bad in mid-January, when airlines began canceling their flights to Entebbe. Those that still came through, like Emirates, instead of bringing full flights of about 200 people, now brought only 35 passengers, who were usually picked up by their own drivers,” he recalls.

The shore is coming alive now as various people emerge from the forest to fish. Two of them, who have canoes, go deeper into the lake but the fish they catch is small.

“We know it is illegal to catch this fish. In fact, the enforcers (UPDF Fisheries Protection Unit) will arrest many of us. But, what can we do when hunger is threatening to kill our families?” Mr Banadda asks.

Banadda, who rents a two-room apartment, last paid rent in January. His home does not have a compound, so he parked his taxi at a parking bay at a cost of Shs3,000 per day, a fee he last paid in February.

“Like many people, I always knew I would work every day. Now, if I get one fish, like today, I am happy that the children can drink some soup. My next challenge is finding the posho (maize flour) to go with the soup,” he says.

Learning a new skill
In the beginning, Mr Banadda approached a friend who is a fisherman. He directed him where to buy the fishing lines at Shs6,000 for 10 pieces.

“It was not easy. Every time I put the hook on the line, I cut my fingers. Then, you cannot just fish anywhere because fish do not breed near rocks. On the first day, I did not get any fish. I was afraid of going back home empty handed. Luckily, I met a friend who had four fish. He gave me one small fish, which we shared as a family,” he recounts.

A man fishing nearby invites Banadda to join him in constructing chicken houses at Shs5,000 per day. He is a former truck driver who used to ply the Congo-Kampala route.

“If I can get hired, that money can buy two kilogrammes of posho every day. I wonder when the relief food will reach Nkumba. In this period, I have learnt that we must eat sparingly,” he says.

In the afternoon, Kitubulu beach, on the Entebbe-Kampala highway, is teaming with this new breed of fishermen. Most of them are former saloon operators, taxi drivers, and conductors. Those who get more than 10 fish, keep five and sell the rest.

Mr Shaban Nyanja, a manicurist, uses the money he gets from selling fish to buy dry food.
“Sometimes you can find more than 100 people spread out on the shoreline. Many are students who must contribute to their family’s upkeep. Before the lockdown, it was rare to find people fishing here,” he says.
Some like Jolly Nassuna, can only admire the fish from a distance. Ten fish go for Shs5,000.

“I work in Nakiwogo market, so every day, I have to walk from Abaita Ababiri to Nakiwogo (a distance of 15kms), if I have the strength. I cannot buy fish because it is a luxury. Instead I buy a batch of greens for my children at Shs500. If they want to eat good food, they can wait until they grow up,” Ms Nassuna says.

The future is uncertain for many. Banadda does not know when he will return to work.
“Even if the airport is reopened, how many passenger flights will start flying to Entebbe again? I live in fear, but at least, for now, I am a fisherman,” he says.

Challenges

While the danger for Mr Bonny Banadda is losing his balance on the slippery rocks, the fishermen at Kitubulu have to contend with the water weed, and the rising water levels which are now covering potions of electricity poles.