Neels Loff, born into a fishing family in Hawston in 1976, found himself excluded from South Africa's quota system despite earning a skipper's license. Forced into what authorities call poaching, he describes a life of night dives and dangers driven by survival needs. His story highlights the injustices faced by indigenous fishermen in a broken regulatory framework.
Neels Loff grew up in Hawston near Hermanus, immersed in the sea from a young age. Born in 1976, he joined his father on fishing trips by age six, hand-lining and earning enough to buy his first pair of North Star sneakers. His father spent weeks on large trawlers, processing catches into fishmeal at sea. The family relied on fishing, gardening, and livestock for sustenance.
The introduction of the quota system upended this life. Loff left school in Grade 7 and worked on various boats along the coast, from Hawston to Port Nolloth. Despite obtaining his skipper's license in 2002, he was denied a quota due to paperwork hurdles. 'I must live,' he says. 'I am sitting with a skipper’s licence, but no quota. What else must I do?'
Excluded from legal fishing, Loff turned to abalone diving, which he views as exercising indigenous rights rather than poaching. Night dives involve wetsuits, cylinders, and lights in pitch-black waters amid kelp forests. Dangers abound: sharks, passing boats, and rough seas. Once, off Cape Point, his boat fled from possible police, leaving him and others to swim 300-400 meters to shore in the dark for five hours.
The abalone trade fuels syndicates with Chinese bosses directing local gangs. Payments shifted from cash to drugs like heroin and tik, leading to violence and shootings. Police and fisheries inspectors are implicated in bribes and reselling confiscated stock. 'The police were running things so that everything could go without problems,' Loff recounts.
Loff has been jailed two or three times for his catches, which he sees as his ancestral right. In 2023, a prosecutor in court affirmed that indigenous people should reclaim their resources. Yet, treatment remains harsh; he was beaten by police for possessing dagga, now legal. Loff yearns for legal fishing but insists on native law if denied. 'If they left us to do what our fathers taught us, nothing would be harmed,' he asserts.
His narrative underscores systemic failures criminalizing traditional livelihoods, blending survival with broader calls for environmental justice.