By Fatemah Farag Automatic-rifle fire ripped through the streets of Matariya. The gun-battle lasted for three hours. "I was eating dinner with my family -- I have 11 children. When the noise started, I screamed at them get under the table, which is where we stayed for at least four hours. Even after the gun shots had stopped, we were afraid to come out," explains Abdu El-Rifa'i, a fisherman. The gun-battle, which sent Al-Ahram Weekly's reporter and photographer scurrying for cover, was not a bizarre occurrence, we soon discovered. Town inhabitants complain that it is growing more and more difficult to make a basic living off of the depleted and heavily polluted waters of Lake Manzalah (near the eastern Delta city of Damietta) -- and heavily armed thugs have taken over the fishing town's streets. Matariya is drab, bordering sooty waters upon which peculiar white fishing boats with sails -- known as dababa -- float listlessly. The town is an incoherent jumble of unpaved streets and buildings -- some made of wood, outside of which brown crates dotted with silver fish scales lie empty, others cement structures, among which unfinished boat carcasses hulk ominously. Early in the morning, most of the boats should be out on the lake. They lie idle. Fishermen know the various elements which have forced unemployment upon them. "The rubber buoys and nets are expensive (LE50 for a net that lasts three months), and the River Police take fines for any reason," begins Ahmed Saadani, a middle-aged fisherman, as he pushes his thick glasses closer to his eyes, "Then there are the big boats with motors -- tara -- which go in and bring in whatever fish there are. This is unfair competition because there are not many fish. The pollution has killed a lot and the government has dried up most of the lake." The majority of the population who use the traditional dababa are left out in the cold. Even though people felt matters could not get any worse, it went ahead and did. "What do you think happens when our population increases and our livelihood decreases? Kids turn into thugs and go out and get guns. There are boats which feed whole families and which bring in a maximum of LE20 a day, half of which goes into cost, and these thugs ask for half the fish, or money. If you do not give it to them, they will take out your eye or even kill you on the spot -- they have nothing to lose," Saadani explains. The local authorities do not deny the grim facts. "Ninety-five per cent of the population lives off fishing, which has a limited economic return these days," confirmed Mohamed Abdel-Karim Moussa, head of the City Council. "They know nothing else." At the same time, he acquiesces that it has been government policy to dry up large portions of the lake. "In the past 25 years, it [the lake] has been brought down from 750,000 feddans to 120,000 today. Government policy prefers agriculture to fishing. The former is seen as more economically viable, but of course the land made available by this process cannot be given to the fishermen." Yet Moussa also points out efforts to improve the present situation. "We have spent LE55 million on a sewage network for the town which should be completed by the end of the year. Also we got 13 dredging machines which will be used to make the lake deeper. That way, larger quantities of sea water will come in and clear the pollution to a great extent." Fishermen, however, do not put the eradication of pollution at the top of their priority lists. "Yes, the water is filthy; the quality and quantity of the fish are down, but I will eat whatever I can and so far it has not killed me. The important thing for us is access to the fish and an end to the thugs," said one of the fishermen. El-Rifa'i added: "I feel like I am living in Palestine -- but here there is no Israel." Even the few townspeople who do not work in fishing feel the crisis. A retired army officer, Shalabi Abdel-Rahman, walks up to us on the street and starts shouting: "Something must be done to solve these problems. People are being forced to become vicious." City officials can do little. "The big boats may be crowding the smaller ones out, but anyone with a licence can work the water. As for the thugs, well, what can we do? They are a bunch of criminals," said Moussa, apparently undisturbed by the fireworks. "Things like that happen all the time," he assured me, pointing out his window nonchalantly. "All the time, on the streets -- nothing I would call a phenomenon, though." No licences are issued for automatic weapons, and so most of the arms used by thugs are illegal. As a possible solution, Moussa suggests that the inhabitants leave town. "Actually, the street fights are a bit better now, because some of those who are unemployed have migrated. Others should do the same. Go someplace nicer and cleaner," he suggests. In conclusion, however, he adds: "It is really not my problem. A lot of these things are related to the water, and I am responsible for the land." Back at the lake, fishermen drift aimlessly about their boats and empty crates, expressionless faces reflecting the colourless surroundings. "People are suffocating," shrugged Saadani. "We must eat from the place our sewage is dumped, our children are turned into criminals because of our poverty..." He walks away. He does not finish the sentence. Related: Casting about for a catch
