I spent my summer with Penang’s fishermen: from their heritage to their

“kampung-nomics”, here are 3 things every Malaysian should know about them

Since I first moved to Malaysia at 17, I have always had a sort of adoptive relationship with
Penang Island. The thrill of sailing on the old ferry, seeing George Town’s skyline slowly
approach; the charm of old, eclectic streets; and, like anyone else, the deliciousness of
Penangite cuisine!
Last year, as I was back on the island, I had the chance to spend my summer interacting
with the fishing communities around Teluk Kumbar and Tanjung Tokong, getting to sail and
fish with them, listen to their stories, and enjoy some deliciously fresh seafood with them.
Yet, whenever I told my Penangite friends that I would travel to kampungs like Sungai Batu,
or visit the Teluk Bayu beach, I was often met with confusion and unawareness. “Where are
these places?” - friends from George Town or USM would ask me. It felt paradoxical: the
“nelayan”, who with their seafood supply are the backbone of Penang’s world-class culinary
tradition, somehow represent a society unknown to the rest of the state. With this article, I
want to argue that we have much to learn from the nelayan, their lifestyle, and their stories.

1. The fishermen keep the “kampung spirit” alive, and this is a heritage worth
preserving.
When it comes to Penang Island, the idea of kampung is usually exclusively associated with
the Balik Pulau area, and that too with strong touristic undertones. Many Penangites I met
were unaware of places such as the villages around Teluk Kumbar, where traditions such as
“gotong-royong” (the emblem, if slightly stereotypical, of kampung traditions) are still
genuinely practiced. Fishers describe life in their kampung as “seronok”, and the uncessant
spread of urbanization as “mengasingkan”, an alienating lifestyle where (to quote a
fisherman) “one does not even know his own neighbors”.
In the case of “kampung nelayan” such as Sungai Batu, the fishing tradition sustains unique
kampung-level socio-economic institutions which are particularly empowering for locals -
what could be aptly described as “kampung-nomics”. One such institution is the “dana
nelayan” or fishermen fund, through which profits that accrue from fishing are organized into
funds and redistributed towards more vulnerable members of society, or turned into benefits
such as scholarships for underprivileged children.
When speaking with inhabitants of such villages, there was a widespread desire to preserve
the “warisan nelayan” as part of the island’s heritage. This “warisan” ranges from the very
material culture of traditional fishing equipment, to oral histories, to their inherited knowledge
about nature and especially the sea. In a way, this feeds into a debate many Penang
heritage enthusiasts will be familiar with: is the status of heritage reserved for pompous
colonial-era villas, or should it be broadened to encompass the wealth of knowledge and
practices that rural communities still preserve?

2. Are the fishermen really “anti-development”? And what does “development” mean
anyway?
The “Penang South Islands” reclamation project has generated a heated debate, with one
side arguing that it can boost the state’s economy, and the opposite that it will destroy the
coastal ecosystem. With this debate, a misconception seems to have spread that fishermen
are “anti-development”, an accusation which is frequently thrown at nelayan leaders and
environmental NGOs alike. Exchanging opinions with fishers on the ground, however,
reveals that these have elaborate and unique perspectives on what development should be,
unsurprisingly based on a special relationship with nature, and on the preservation of their
lifestyle as a necessary condition for any development project.
The reason why these nelayan perspectives have been neglected is, arguably, the sad
prejudice of kampung inhabitants as uninformed on politics and economics, and incapable of
making judgements like experts and consultants do. But many would be surprised to know
that fishermen, on the contrary, actively discuss politics and form opinions in their circles
and, while they might not give technical definitions of big words like “capitalism”, they still
understand and criticize the concept based on their lived experiences: increased pollution,
rising inequalities, and the likes.
Listening to fishermen’s discussions raises the questions: is Malaysia’s development path
universally accepted? Was there ever an effort to understand the importance of the
aforementioned “kampung-nomics”? And what is “development”, really? The nelayan
experience points to a need for more dialogue around these questions, a dialogue where not
only “experts” but also the voices of rural, nature-dependent communities need to be
included.

3. In fisherfolk villages, multiple ethnicities come together in beautiful communal

harmony.
Taking a stroll through Tanjung Tokong with a Malay fisherwoman, we ran into Chinese
fellow villagers, and some friendly chit-chat ensued. Talking to Sungai Batu fisher leaders,
you hear how the sea makes everyone “sahabat”, and how in the fishing profession
everyone is included “tak kira bangsa”. But perhaps the thing that touched my heart the most
was witnessing the synergies and mutual learning between the nelayans and Penangite
NGOs. When it comes to promote fisherfolk heritage, one can see Malay and Chinese
fishermen coming together with Malay, Chinese and Indian activists, a collective effort which
truly embodies Malaysia’s multicultural spirit. Arguably, this was the perfect illustration of how
Malaysians are able to overcome ethno-religious divides and unite around common causes -
of which environmental issues represent perhaps the most urgent example.

In conclusion, spending time with Penang’s fishermen was a truly eye-opening and enriching
experience, which further increased my love for this state. And I whole-heartedly believe
that, if given the platform to express their unique perspectives, nature-dependent
communities such as the “nelayan” can truly shape Malaysia’s future, for the greater good of
everyone.