Tax

There are many natural phenomena that pertain to the sport of spearfishing.  For example, the shifting of the tides, the migrational patterns of fish, and the symbiotic relationships between many of the ocean's creatures, just to name a few.  But there are also many societal phenomena that are less well known.  Like how people always want a closer look at long blades, or how security always gets called when you dive in the country club's koi pond.  But perhaps the least known and poorest understood of these phenomena is the way people gravitate towards a full kui (stringer).  It's easier to drag a side of beef through the lion cage at the zoo than to get a full kui from the beach to your car.  Perhaps rather than using a kui we should use grocery produce bags.  No one would ever stop to take a look at your newly acquired head of cabbage.  If we came out of the water with a bag of Hungry Jacks no one would ask for some, but people are just all too glad to relieve you of any excess fresh fish.  Take this recent story as an example:

It started one evening with me checking the weather forecasts: winds, waves, and second opinions on winds and waves.  It's what I do 90% of the time I'm not diving.  However, unlike the usual forecast of brisk tradewinds and high surf on the north shore, this time the prognosis was for light and variable winds and calm surf.  I had a number of things to do the next day, like clean the pizza boxes off my floor and attend to work which I had been neglecting even more than normal lately.  But those things would have to wait.  Working on a day like the one predicted could only be done by a spearfisherman in his right mind, and there's very few of those.  Besides, I needed to catch some fish to barbeque when my family got together on the weekend.  With that, my trip was justified.

The next day turned out to be just what they forecasted (I didn't expect that); the Pacific was like a giant aquarium.  A "touch tank" to be more precise.  Assisted by the great conditions, I filled my kui with 4 uhus (parrotfish), 2 mus (bigeye emperor), a nice kali (goatfish), 1 papio (jack), several toaus (snappers), and a few nice, red menpachi (soldierfish).  As I lifted all the fish out of the water the metal bar of the kui dug deep into my fingers, gracing me with the pains of a successful spearfishing session.

Unfortunately for my dive buddy, he had some technical difficulties, sinus difficulties, and lack of skill difficulties.  Like a kid on an Easter egg hunt he searched for a nice blue uhu, but when he came up empty I didn't think twice about giving him mine.  After unloading that fish I strained to drag the rest up to the shower.

There I saw my old friend Kimo, who had just finished paddling and was rinsing off.  He noticed my nice catch and remarked that it's been awhile since he had stuffed uhu.  Happy to help a friend, I parted way with one of the three, heaved the rest over my shoulder, and continued towards my car.  Visions of Chinese style steamed fish, baked fish, pan fried fish, beer battered fish, raw fish, grilled fish, and many more recipes danced through my head and tantalized my starved stomach.

I was stopped by a few people who walked from across the street wishing to take a look at the fish I had gathered just offshore.  Glad to show respect for the locals, I handed off a couple toau.  A lady nearby mentioned that she, too, lived across the street.  Accustomed to taking hints from women, I doled out the rest of my toau.  I picked up my kui, still fairly full, and moved on to the car.

Before I left I figured I should give thanks to the lifeguard for always watching over us.  I gave him a couple menpachi.  He thanked me for helping fee his family.  "I've got a biiiig family," he remarked pointedly, prompting me to pull a couple more off the kui.  "And my wife looooves sashimi."  Waving goodbye to my papio, I gathered what was left into a cooler.  I still had a nice variety of fish, so I headed to my dive buddy's house to drop him off and get more ice.

 While unloading my car, I found out his dad was setting up for a party.  The driveway, street, and some of the yard started to fill with cars of party guests, so I moved down the street a ways.  While I was gone, party guests, naturally attracted to coolers, discovered my fish.  Of course I wasn't going to refuse to donate my uhus to a good cause like a party.  One of the guests also requested a delicious mu be added to the menu.  I shrugged and watched the fruits of my 3 minute underwater tactical ambush disappear.  The danger of losing fish to sharks was beginning to look mundane and highly over rated.  Before I could leave I learned that the party was held to celebrate a birthday.  WIth a pick of any fish, it was obvious what the birthday girl would choose.  Having lost my kali, I grabbed the kui in my fingers and flung the remaining fish in the cooler, my spirit bearing the heavy burden of the light catch.

What was left was barely enough for dinner Friday.  Forget about dinner the rest of the week, or even that night.  I didn't have time to cook anyway.  Instead I just grabbed a pizza.  I heard winds were forecasted to be light, so I had to get home to dry my gear and call into work in preparation for the next day of diving.