Uganda’s cray fish catchers

By Oscar Bamuhigire

As the dim sun rays ebb away in the distance, our freezing feet wade their way through the thick foliage that borders the banks of Lake Bunyonyi. With the exception of the singing of rare insects, silence prevails. We are on a mission.

The water is seemingly still. Our cray fish catcher, calm and controlled, prepares to lower his basket like objects, through the thick foliage, into the lakes shores.

“These are called ebihembwe,” he says, sprinkling termites and soil from termite hills, into the interior of the basket. “These are the traps we use to catch the fish.

The cray fish can only be trapped at night because they will not enter our traps during daytime. At night, because they rely on their sense of smell only, they crawl blindly into the traps, and once inside, cannot make their way out.”

Our Cray fish catcher is Peter Badyagaruka. He is the main supplier of Cray fish to Crater Bay Camp, a camping site for tourists located at the lake’s banks. He is also the main supplier of cray fish to several other camping sites, which have in the last two years mushroomed around the lake because of an influx of tourists.

Having set his traps, he buries them deep into the chilly water and then retires. “We will find some cray fish in them tomorrow,” he says happily “If we are lucky, we may get 10 kilograms of cray fish.”

That night, we sleep dreaming of Cray fish. The thought of eating 10 kilograms of a rare fish none of us has ever seen or tasted is too overwhelming. Before we go to sleep, however, we place another order for two kilograms of cray fish through a 14-year-old primary six student and Cray fish catcher called Bernard Muhumuza.

“I am a cray fish catcher,” he tells us with a lot of youthful excitement and self-confidence. “I learnt this from my father who is also a Cray fish catcher, though he also catches other types of fish. This lake has mud fish and eels also.” He talks on and on about the lake, and it becomes very clear to us that this lake means a lot more to him than it does to us. Muhumuza explains that he uses his earnings from the Cray fish to buy books and clothing.

Earlier on, Badyagaruka had come along with his colleague, a fellow cray fish catcher, Rubadia Akatwijuuka, who promises to wake us up at 8:00am, the time he expects to unearth their traps. Rubadia’s main role, however, is to help us cook the fish.

“I learnt about cray fish from a Muzungu who came to our camp as a visitor. He taught me how to cook it,” he says when we ask him about his rare skill. “Now I help our chef with the cooking of cray fish. It is cooked with a variety of other dishes.”

This trio makes up our cray fish catchers. Early in the morning, the next day, we walk over to the lake with them, and they unearth their catch. It is a sizeable one for they come up with 40 cray fish.

Rubadia helps us to prepare them as we await the arrival of Muhumuza, and his two kilograms of fish.

“We have to boil the fish alive before we skin them,” says Rubadia, casually. We look at each other in disbelief. We cannot stand to think of how much pain these fish must endure before they are prepared, but because we desire to taste them, we boil them alive, and then skin them.

To our surprise, 90% of the fish is thrown away. All we get to eat is the tiny part of the cray fish’s tail. “Some people boil these things,” says Peter, referring to the residue, empathising with us. “When boiled, it produces a yellow soup that is good for the bones.” Rubadia, however, does not agree. “We just give these things to the pigs,” he says argumentatively, “They love them.”

Bernard finally pops on the scene with his two kilograms of cray fish.

We kill the fish and prepare it the same way. At this point, we have paid sh2,000 for each kilogram.

“You are very lucky to buy these cray fish from us,” says Rubadia. “Had you bought them at the camp, each half kilogram would have cost you not less than sh5,000.”

We look at each other and beam with large smiles. Rubadia fries our fish for us, like you would any other fish. It produces a very appetising soup and tastes great.

The market for this fish seems to be great. “We sell our cray fish to all these camps, hotels in Kabaale and the whole country at large,” says Peter. “Some of us (cray fishers), who once had nothing, have grown rich from this trade.

There are some among us who have built brick houses and are paying school fees for our children.”

Quite surprisingly, it is only at Lake Bunyonyi, and at the Cape of South Africa that one can find cray fish in Africa. Many businessmen are now beginning to exploit this opportunity.

“There are businessmen who come here and make orders for up to 200kgs of cray fish and then sell them at a higher price in Kampala hotels,” says Rubadia.

It is very unfortunate that these cray fishers did not know the real value of cray fish for a very long time.

“We used to catch these fish some years ago, but we did not know that they were edible, so we would throw them back into the lake or kill them,” says Rubadia in a sorrowful tone. “Then one day, a Muzungu came and told us the importance of these fish. That is when we began to sell them and eat them. We do not usually eat them because we prefer to sell them and use the money to buy beans, but sometimes we eat them because bazungu told us that they can boost ones libido.”

At this point he breaks off in silence and we burst out in laughter. “ Yes”, he says, “I have tried it and it has boosted my libido.

It works for both men and women.”