How spearos are born – short story
It was 1988. Four spearos were about to be born.
It was a type 1A winters day at Sunwich Port on the Natal Lower South Coast, and the waves had been there all morning, but now the tide was moving in and it was time. A time I had been subconsciously known was coming, but the void waiting out there, was overwhelming. A time I had mentally prepared for, but the fear of this time was peppered all over my soul. I had seen the sharks on Protea. I had seen them off the mouth. I had seen them at Chakas, Shad Lane and behind the nets at Umtentweni, the point at Seapark, the backline of Idomba. I had seen them everywhere.
Their absolute authority under the water. Their cunningness. Theit strength and speed. Their teeth.
Sharks.
Having one swim by whilst sitting on a surfboard can also be ok, as long as you can see it.
But I had by this time yearned so, to see what was going on underneath the surface of the ocean that we had been sitting on top of, not submerged in, our whole lives. A boat. A board. A ski. Ok, we had always caught crayfish in the shallows, but the fear was tasting very real now, as we decided to give this spearfishing a go.
