The Tribune

EDITOR, The Tribune

One last question...

Hey, you there. Ever t’ought about what you puttin’ in yer mouth?

Who said dat? Who is asking dat question?

Right here, man. Right here on your spoon.

Stop jokin’, man. Where you is? Who you is?

In yer spoon. I is yer conch an’ you better listen before you eat me.

Well hail Mary mudda o’ Jesus. I been gettin’ too much sun. Heat mussee gone to my head.

Got to be so if my conch talkin’.

No, brother. You is OK. Is me an’ my kind who is sufferin’.

Dis ain’t good. I hearin’ things. I betta go see one doctor.

No! No! You is doin’ fine, but me an’ my brothers and sisters need you to listen. T’ings is getting real bad for me and my family.

What you mean getting’ bad? You cost more than you did when I was a boy, but everything cost more now-a-days. You still taste the same though, an’ every year is plenty new pile o’ conch shell in The Bahamas, ‘specially in Nassau.

True, true, my man but, if you look close, you’ll see dem shells are smaller dan they used to be. You buy one conch recently?

Yeah, man. It look OK to me, though my granddaddy say is a sin and a shame what passin’ for conch dese days. Say when he was a boy, conch was twice as big an’ dey was so scornful you didn’t need a boat to get a meal. Most places you could wade off da shore in da shallow water and fine enough conch to eat or to fish wit’. I feel he probably was exaggeratin’ dough, ‘cause he always talkin’ about the good ole days. Always, “Back in my day…”

He might be exaggeratin’, but I’ve lived long enough to werify that dere use to be plenty, plenty conch all over dese islands.

(Aside: I truly mussee had too much sun today. I can believe I havin’ a conversation wit’ my conch salad.) Well, how old you was before you…before you…you know, before you end up in my dish?

Almost 40 years. Seen over 450 full moons before my demise. You have any idea what it mean to be a conch? Any idea? Anyone ever teach you about my people? About my story?

No. All I know you is good to eat an’ yer slop make good bait for fishinin. An’ is one more thing…Your worm is good for…

Boy, hush yer mouth. Da chirren are listenin’. Be quiet, man, an’ listen. I gat a story to tell you. I gonna learn you about conch. Put me down, pull up your chair, an’ listen good. I goin’ to learn you.

Ve been around since before Columbus. Before da Arawaks. Ve been here before people was on Earth. Ve is peaceful herbivores, eating grass an’ algae an’ stuff like that. Ve never bother anybody an’ before people started eatin’ us, other creatures like sharks, loggerhead turtles, stingree an’ whip ray eat us. T’ings were in balance dough. Nature kep’ everyt’ing in balance an’ wasn’t too much of us or too little.

Even when da Arawaks come to da Bahamas an’ started catchin’ us, t’ings stayed in balance. It wasn’t too many o’ dem and, besides, dey respected nature an’ live in harmony wit’ it. But when dem people start to come from cross the ocean…dat’s when t’ings start to change—not jess fer us, but fer everyone.

Vat you talkin’ ‘bout?

Vell, dey killed off the Arawaks and, once dey started settling the islands, most had no respect for other livin’ t’ings. No idea about balance an’ how everything is connected. Once dey start to multiply, once all dem tourists started comin’, an once dey could export stuff to the United State easy, everyt’ing gone haywire, especially fer creatures like grouper, crawfish, and conch. Too many people look fer short-term gain. Some don’t know how long it takes for me to get from being my mama’s egg to being a mama myself. An’ some who do know better don’t care. Dey just want the money or, like you, just like to eat conch.

How long it does take before you could lay eggs?

At least six years. An’ to make matters worse, a conch may look like a nice juicy full grown conch wit’ a beautiful flare lip who probably had plenty children when it got caught, but the truth is, unless my lip is about a half inch thick, I may not have laid any eggs yet. Dat means hundreds of thousands, even millions, of conch eggs never get to hatch. No egg, no conch. No conch, no salad. No salad, unhappy you. Is because of overfishin’ dat I pretty sure dat for every 10 conch there was 20 years ago is only one now.

An’ you know what the most sinful thing is, plenty o’ my relatives got taken before they even grew a lip. In fact, most of my children’s lips was just startin’ to form when they got snatch off the bottom. Some fool even believe that big conch wit’ no lip is different species than conchs wit’ lips. Some you all people fool now.

(Mutters: I don’t know if this is really happenin’, but I wish did conch didn’t have no lip. Den it couldn’t talk.)

Hey…I hear dat. It may not make sense to you, but t’ink about it, since when conch could talk? T’ick lip. T’in lip. No lip. Anybody ever tell you about conch talkin’? My friend, dis is a special occasion. You were chosen to be a conch ambassador. Chosen to help spread the Gospel of the Conch. And dis gospel is pretty simple wit’ only eight commandments, not ten like what Moses bring down from da mountain.

Lawdee, lawdee be. Now dis conch talkin’ ‘bout the Bible. I gattee wear a hat vhen I out in da sun and, if dis nonsense keeps up, I better go see a couple of doctors.

Listen, man. Dese commandments are very important. You ready?? Listen well.

Only eat conchs that have a lip a half inch thick. Learn about and follow fisheries laws. Get to know the person you buy conch from. Ask him or her about the size of the conch they catch. Tell them what I have told you. If they don’t care, find a new vendor. Do the same for restaurant and shack owners. If they don’t know if their conchs are coming from a reliable source, boycott them. If you see people taking conch without thick lips, tell them to stop. If they don’t stop, report them. Learn all you can about conch. Go to meetings. Join and work with groups that support the BREEF and the BNT. Uhh? Beef? BLT? You juss makin’ me hungry.

No, man. Bahamas Reef Environment Educational Foundation, BREEF, and Bahamas National Trust, BNT. Stop interruptin’ an’ lemme finish.

The last two:

Encourage government to set up conservation areas where conch can breed and where people can’t take conch from.Spread the word. Tell your children, all your family and all your friends. One more ting: Dis sound complicated but, believe me, it make sense: If people ain’t careful, there ain’t gonna be enough conchs for yer children and grandchildren. Dey will hear yer stories about how sweet I was to eat. Dey’ll see me on TV an’ internet. Maybe at the aquarium or in books, or in songs. But Dey won’t get to enjoy me. Not only dat, if dere aren’t enough conchs around, or if I go extinct, dere ain’t gonna be any conch fishermen or women. No jobs. It’ll be a crying shame. A national and natural tragedy. Believe me. Believe me. By da way, my name is Mosesetta Strombus, what’s yours?

Simon Peter James is my full name.

Ahh. Apostolic… Ve gonna make a good team.

I gonna try do as you say but, afta all dis talk, I have one last question.

What is it?

I hungry. Dead hungry. I could eat you now??

CHRIS MINNS

Exuma

Bahamas

January 12, 2019

Why we should listen to the conch