Death is final. Yet, the grief it brings is infinite. Never more so than when death strikes out of season. That is how it struck the Simshar, a sturdy fishermen's vessel seasoned in Marsaxlokk, the main remaining hub of our fishing industry.
The men of the village may have other jobs inland, but not all of them; and practically for all of them fishing is what life is about. The fishermen of Marsaxlokk are as familiar with the treacherous Mediterranean currents as they are with the smile of their young children who cry every time they go out to the sea in boats.
They generally master the danger. They can curtail the risk of the high seas with modern instruments which keep them in touch with each other, and with the authorities on land. Those authorities monitor where the Xlukkajri and other fishermen go, so that they do not trespass into forbidden areas. The monitoring, surely, is also an extended means of precaution for the fishermen in case of unexpected trouble.
The Simshar, a stout vessel manned by a stout captain, was overdue in returning from an expedition to catch swordfish. As the delay grew, so did the disconsolate feeling of dread among the brethren community of Marsaxlokk.
Finally, frustrated by the lack of results from directions by those in authority to keep away from the sea since otherwise they might hinder their search and rescue operation, the Xlukkajri sailed out. Within hours, they zoned in on the spot where the currents they knew so well had carried the crew of the Simshar, whose remains were by then at the bottom of the sea, after the boat - it turned out - was consumed by fire.
What had gone wrong? Why were the survivors and such as remained of the Simshar's rigging not found earlier? These questions may or may not be answered by the magisterial inquiry that was ordered after the dregs of the tragedy were to be seen in the form of one sole brave survivor and several corpses. The questions will not be forgotten. Especially after Martin Caruana strung a number of them together for the authorities to respond.
Caruana is a true son of Marsaxlokk. A fisherman since childhood, he never forgot his roots. He is, for I know him well, shy and deliberate of speech. But there can be no one more articulate than he about the lore of the sea. Until not long ago he was the secretary of the fishermen's cooperative. Despite his professional work as a Central Bank executive he remains anchored to Marsaxlokk and its people. What he doesn't know about fishing, its challenges, satisfaction and dangers, is hardly worth knowing.
Although diffident by nature, early in the aftermath of the discovery of the extent of the Shimar tragedy he issued a statement which had to be answered clearly, directly and honestly, but has not been dealt with quite so by the various authorities involved. In his statement Caruana outlined, with a fisherman's economy for words, why it is imperative that there should be a proper inquest. He pointed out bare facts:
The Simshar's vessel monitoring system (VMS) stopped on July 10, at about 8 p.m., he wrote. All fishing vessels have this instrument, which transmits their position by satellite. Why did the fishing authorities not raise due alarm when it stopped receiving its signal? The Fisheries Department's reply that the person who monitors these signals was on leave, was weak. Weaker still was the 'clarification' that the VMS was not intended for search and rescue, and that sometimes the battery of such instruments runs out. It is mystifying that Marsaxlokk fishermen established that the VMS had stopped functioning within three days, yet this lead was not fully interpreted.
The satellite telephone of the Simshar also dropped contact at the same time. Did anybody ask why? Caruana says that on July 12 relatives of those on the Simshar asked the AFM to try to make contact with the vessel, but were told this was not possible - responsibility for that lay elsewhere. Can that bureaucratic constraint make sense?
The search which commenced for the Simshar seems to have been based on the assumption that the boat was lost, Caruana said. That notwithstanding, the vessel was equipped with security features, like flares and the ability to contact other vessels on VHF radio. When the fisherman finally took the law into their own hands, so to speak, they set out to sea and did not take long to locate a number of the victims of the tragedy.
There seems to have been lack of collaboration, at least of coordination, between the Fisheries Department and the Armed Forces. Had somebody analysed the non-functioning of the VMS, the satellite telephone, the VHF and the absence of any flare signals, near-correct hypotheses could have been developed much earlier, Caruana pointed out. It was remarkable, he felt, that the fishermen's advice was not sought in regard to the sea conditions and currents in the general area where the Simshar was last noted when it was in contact.
Remarkable indeed. The fishermen are expert in such matters. Their livelihood, their very lives, depends on them.
The authorities have mumbled various unconvincing replies. And, whatever is said, nothing can bring back the dead. But surely, lessons are there to be learned. It is a time for grieving. Yet also a time for reality checks. No one wanted to be derelict in their duty, to neglect telling signals. Nevertheless, it happened. And Marsaxlokk had one of its worse tragedies ever.
The objective of the aftermath should not be to apportion blame, though the bereaved and the Marsaxlokk fishing community may feel otherwise. Above all there has to be a review of security measures in regard of such fishermen as remain in Malta, whether nominally part-time or full-time. The unexpected cannot be anticipated. But today's modern instruments should fill part of that gap. It was not filed in the case of the Simshar's horror. There should never again be similar failing.