Meanwhile, government efforts to fight overfishing have been largely ineffective. Mechanical spear guns, banned by law, are still widely used, said Byron Wilson, a conservation ecologist and professor at the University of the West Indies, Mona in Kingston.
The sanctuary “could well be the only sort of thing that could work,” Wilson said. Its success has hinged on getting the fishermen involved, rather than imposing rules on them. Though the anglers are most concerned about their livelihood, the foundation sought to make them stakeholders who can control conservation efforts.
Godfrey Avis, a 46-year-old ex-spear fisherman who is now a groundskeeper at James Bond Beach (where Sean Connery and Ursula Andress shot scenes for “Dr. No,” the first Bond film), said he was inspired to change careers after the sanctuary was formed. He’d found it difficult to make a living as a fisherman and supported the need for a no-fishing zone.
Over the past seven years, the sanctuary has become successful, increasing fish biomass 1,800 percent and coral coverage 150 percent while reducing algae by 40 percent, the Oracabessa Foundation said. Other villages in Jamaica are copying the model. In January, a sanctuary in Ocho Rios, about 30 minutes east of Oracabessa, was opened. The fishermen there contacted Murray to determine how best to arrange a partnership with local hotels and conservationists.
In nearby Port Antonio, art collector Francesca von Habsburg, Swiss scion of the Thyssen-Bornemisza industrialist family, established the Alligator Head Foundation, named after property that her billionaire father bought in the 1950s. Her aim was to devote resources to marine conservation, including the creation of the East Portland Fish Sanctuary, which now coordinates with Oracabessa.
She’s supported her foundation and an associated marine lab with $550,000 of her own money and raised an additional $900,000 from other donors last year. One investment was the installation of moorings so fisherman could attach their boats instead of anchoring onto, and damaging, coral reefs.
In Oracabessa, the sanctuary does create hardship for some. At 8 a.m. one day, buyers from local markets and restaurants were waiting at Oracabessa Bay for the fishermen to come in. Murray was chatting with wardens on the dock. Oswald Coombs, 75, a champion long-jaw fisherman, and Easton Donald, 68, a marlin champion, tended to their boats.
Nearby, Barbara Christie, a 55-year-old fishmonger from Jack’s River, complained about her inability to make a robust living. For the past 30 years, she’s been selling parrot fish, goat fish, butter fish, doctor fish, jack fish, lionfish, wench, sea cat, conger eel, and cod. But lately the selection at the dock has been thin.
“Fish scarce now,” she said. “Sometimes you come down here and [there’s] not even one pound. You find maybe three, four fishermen and not even five pounds of fish.”
She said she typically buys fish for 400 Jamaican dollars (about $3) a pound and sells at the market in town for 500 Jamaican dollars. The price goes up another 100 Jamaican dollars for “prestige fish,” including snapper. But she’s competing with buyers such as Clifton Gray, 60—who purchases fish for Blackwell’s resort, where Christie’s daughter works as a waitress.