A cluster of shark incidents and some outside-the-box thinking sparked a unique programme that is beneficial on so many levels. Lisa Boonzaier describes how it works.
In the waters of False Bay, where the Atlantic Ocean curls around the south-western tip of Africa, marine life abounds. Gouged into this far corner of the South African coast, partly encircled by the Cape Peninsula and gaping southwards, False Bay has lush kelp forests, rocky reefs and sandy shores. A diversity of plants and creatures inhabit these realms and provide an assortment of food to the animals that feed on them. Throughout the bay, marine creatures and plants from the bottom of the food web through to its apex together play out the struggle of life and death, and have done so for millennia.
Just adjacent to this exceptional marine environment lies a more recently established but equally diverse community: the metropolis of Cape Town with its mishmash of urban areas and mix of people. Rounding the coast of False Bay from west to east, you will see the rugged mountainous wilderness of Cape Point; South Africa’s largest naval base in Simon’s Town; bustling upmarket towns like Kalk Bay; one of the best surfing beaches in the world at Muizenberg; and the sprawling and seemingly endless plains of informal housing, fishing harbours and the high-rise buildings of Strand that taper off into the holiday homes of seaside towns towards Cape Hangklip. All this on just 110 kilometres of coastline.
Together, almost four million people live in Cape Town, abutting the shores of False Bay. With this varied coastline right on their doorstep, Capetonians are not wont to stay on land, and scores of bathers, surfers, fishermen, kayakers, kite-boarders and divers are in the water year-round. This proximity of people and wildlife, while picturesque and exciting to imagine, can be problematic.
There are thousands of marine species, including 27 sharks, that play an important part in the balance of life in the bay, but in the minds of people there is one that overshadows them all: the great white shark. Even in the 1920s, the white shark population in False Bay was recognised as exceptional and the area’s shark abundance is almost unrivalled elsewhere. But what conditions support this profusion of white sharks? Seals, for starters. A consistent and abundant supply of them gives these marine giants – even though they are not yet fully adult – an ideal refuge to grow up in before they disperse into the wide ocean. ‘They’re not going to ignore a food source like this!’ says Cape Town-based marine biologist Dr Alison Kock. False Bay’s Seal Island, a small rocky outcrop east of Muizenberg, is home to the second largest breeding colony of Cape fur seals in South Africa and the white sharks that live here make up the second largest aggregation of the species. This means the area is one of the most vital for white sharks anywhere in the world.
Because of the close relationship between predator and prey, the behaviour of the sharks in the bay reflects the breeding cycle of the seals. ‘From November to January [summer], the male seals arrive and set up their harems. They mate in deeper water and the females give birth on the island,’ says Kock, a project leader funded by the Save Our Seas Foundation who has been working with False Bay’s sharks for more than 15 years.
‘At this stage, the pups are only drinking [milk] from their moms, they are not yet going into the water and supplementing their diet with fish. So they are not available to the sharks.’ At the onset of winter in about April, however, the seals’ seemingly languid lifestyle is disrupted. This is when white sharks start spending most of their time near the island, and it’s no coincidence that this is also when the naive pups begin venturing into the shallows. At about four months old, the young seals are inexperienced and the sharks capitalise on their vulnerability. Winter in False Bay is the season of breaching, when four-metre-long, 1.5-tonne sharks launch themselves completely out of the water in pursuit of seals.
By the time spring rolls around again, though, the young-of-the-year seals are not so young any more. They have wised up, and they know how to avoid being eaten. The sharks move off and the cycle begins anew.
This dance of predator and prey, life and death, plays out within a few kilometres of the False Bay shore. But where do the sharks go when they aren’t at the island? This question was answered only a couple of years ago when research showed that white sharks in the bay, while present year-round, spend their time differently depending on the season. In winter, both male and female sharks hang out around Seal Island; in summer, though, males disperse along the South African coast while females move closer to shore. Summer is a time when other sharks and fish – such as yellowtail – are also inshore, providing another primary food source for the white sharks. Critically, this finding means that during the busiest time of the year for Cape Town’s beaches, white sharks and people are using the same space, and inevitably – although rarely – their paths cross.
Generally, close interactions between beach-goers and sharks do not end well for either party. While the first record of a shark fatality in False Bay is from 1900, it was a cluster of shark incidents during the 2000s that set in motion the process that would determine how the current balance between humans and sharks would play out.
Among this cluster of incidents were some that resulted in the loss of limbs and the loss of lives, including one in 2006 that left Achmat Hassiem, an aspiring professional soccer player, without his lower right leg. Hassiem and his brother were both in the water at the time, taking part in a life-saving exercise when the shark approached. ‘To be honest, there is a very fine line between being scared and being amazed, and I think I was kind of on both sides,’ says Hassiem. He survived, but others were not so fortunate. Of the five serious shark incidents in False Bay between 2003 and 2006, two were fatal.
In response to this series of incidents, the City of Cape Town convened a meeting of specialists to decide how to deal with the situation. Among the suggestions was the option to kill the area’s sharks, a tactic used in other parts of the country. One of the participants at the meeting was Alison Kock. Although now recognised as among the foremost marine biologists and shark experts in the country, then she was just starting out as a scientist – and so was any sort of research on False Bay’s white sharks. ‘At that time, we really knew nothing,’ she says. ‘All we knew about sharks inshore was that there were the occasional shark bites, and that they used to be hunted for trophies. And that was it.’
At about the same time, the local community launched its own initiative in response to the incidents to try to resuscitate beachfront business. ‘After the shark bites people were very scared. They didn’t want to come and use the beach’, says Sarah Waries, programme manager for the Shark Spotters. The idea for the initiative began with the realisation that the mountains overlooking False Bay’s beaches were the ideal place to watch for sharks. ‘So Greg Bertish, who was a well-known surfer, and Dave and Fiona Chudleigh, who own one of the surf shops, got together, and they got Patrick Rasta Davids and Monwabisi [Sikweyiya], our field manager now, and they put Monwa on the mountain and Patrick on the beach… and it literally just grew from there.’
A similar system started up in parallel at Fish Hoek, harnessing the keen eyes of fish spotters, who usually detect and communicate the locations of shoals of fish to fishermen. In a progressive move on the City’s part, it rejected the idea of a cull and decided to get behind the spotters and formalise the programme. What has resulted is a pioneering venture that is socially and ecologically responsible, and the only one of its kind.
Equipped with polarised glasses, binoculars and two-way radios, the Shark Spotters operate an early warning system by watching for sharks at beaches and surf spots around False Bay 365 days a year. They also deploy and monitor an award-winning shark exclusion net at Fish Hoek – one that’s designed not to catch anything, but to act as a barrier. In the 10 years since it began the programme has grown from strength to strength, expanding from one site to eight, a single shark sighting to 1,700 and one spotter to 42 employees. Led by Kock and Waries, it now employs 40 people from previously disadvantaged backgrounds to keep their eyes trained on the waters of False Bay. More than keeping water-users safe, Shark Spotters has helped elevate the lives of people struggling in previously disadvantaged communities, including the sprawling plains of shacks found along parts of False Bay’s coast. Hardship, poverty and crime are a daily part of life in these communities; earlier this year, one of the Shark Spotters was murdered while off duty in his community.
Monwabisi Sikweyiya – or Monwa, as everyone calls him – was the first spotter to take up a post watching for sharks. ‘Shark Spotters has changed me completely,’ he says, pausing. ‘Respecting life, the ocean, nature. Educated me more. Because if you don’t have respect, in most cases you don’t have the knowledge.’ After joining the programme he says his life transformed for the good. ‘I come from a township where life is lived in the fast lane. [With Shark Spotters] there were no more late nights because I had a job to do the next day, so my lifestyle slowly changed. It has changed me a lot, it’s made me more responsible, taught me to respect life. Life at sea and life around me.’ This kind of turnaround is not easily won, but Shark Spotters is successfully changing the lives and perceptions of not only their employees, but also the people they protect.
Monwa recalls, ‘When we started, there was very little knowledge among the surfing community at the time. And if there was a shark warning and we got people out the water, it was a matter of 500 people climbing back into their cars and taking off. The beach was quiet.’ This progressed to a point where the beach-goers would get out of the water and then start asking the spotter questions. ‘Now you’re looking at the people who get out of the water waiting by the water, waiting right there for the all-clear sign. And five minutes after the beach has been reopened, you have 500 people back in the water.’
But like any other bather-protection strategy, Shark Spotters is not infallible. Weather conditions, human error and limited capacity present complications. Despite this, the programme remains exceptionally successful and is unique around the world – not only for protecting people, but for protecting sharks. Because without such a programme, lethal options would be on the table.
‘[Sharks are] one of the wonders of Cape Town. We have got Table Mountain, we’ve got great whites, we’ve got me,’ laughs Hassiem, who since he lost his leg has gone on to win a bronze medal for South Africa in 100-metre butterfly at the London 2012 Paralympic Games. ‘They really need to be protected, not just around Cape Town, but around the world because of the role they play in our oceans.’
Somehow, in the midst of a cluster of severe shark incidents, Cape Town managed to establish a balance with its marine wildlife. The sharks are still in False Bay, contributing to its diversity, moving in concert with seals and fish, a vital part of the ecosystem. The people are here too, enjoying the beaches, diving in the ocean, surfing its waves. Along the shoreline these two greats of the terrestrial and marine realm meet and coexist under the watchful eyes of the Shark Spotters. ‘I have a job,’ as Monwa explains it, ‘to keep people safe and sharks safe.’
The Save Our Seas Foundation believes that photography is a powerful tool for marine conservation. We invite emerging conservation and wildlife photographers who have a passion for marine subjects to apply for our 2016 grant. This is a unique opportunity for photographers to go on assignment, earn an income and gain experience under the guidance of National Geographic photographer Thomas Peschak.
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