A study trip to Daniel's Kelong

The morning began in the quiet hush of pre-dawn. I took a cab to Lorong with my son, who is conducting a study on the Kelong as a living museum for his Master's degree thesis. The sky was already hinting at a storm. The horizon carried dark clouds, and the air was thick with the scent of rain. As I checked the weather, my suspicions were confirmed—a rain cloud was approaching, teasing the day ahead with uncertainty.

At 7:40 AM, I stood waiting for Daniel, a friend who arrived on his Vespa. Daniel is the owner of the Kelong, having bought it from the previous owner. 

He brought us breakfast and was joined by his consultant, Yeng Sheng, who would accompany us on the trip. Soon after, the four of us boarded a small boat around eight, the gentle rocking of the vessel signaling the transition into another realm, where the pulse of the city faded into the rhythm of the sea.

Upon arriving at the Kelong, we were greeted by a cluster of dogs, their tails wagging in welcome. These three dogs were more than mere companions; they served as guardians of the premises, hunting down rats that swam across the sea to feast on the fish food.

A worker from Myanmar, Ah Mong, tended to the structures with a quiet efficiency. Born into the Mong tribe, a people who have lived on water since birth, he was a natural fisherman. His experience and instincts were invaluable to the Kelong’s daily operations. Alongside him was Ah Po, a resident fisherman who helped supervise the farm and continued to fish to support the business. Together, they formed the backbone of the Kelong, ensuring that its day-to-day operations ran smoothly.

The structure on the sea must take into consideration movement and flexibility to reduce structural failure. For instance, the anchor is positioned diagonally with some slack, allowing the structure to shift according to weather conditions, waves, wind, and even heat. More connections and restrictions are needed in multiple directions. For controlled movement, bolts and nuts are used so that they can be tightened or loosened as needed, adapting to changing environmental conditions.

Rectangular enclosures stretched across the water, each holding various species of fish. A group of white-bodied tilapia caught our eyes, their sleek forms ghostly against the darker depths. The ecosystem here was delicate, requiring precise management—from net size adjustments to balancing the nutritional needs of the fish.

There are several threats to the fish within the nets. Aside from barracudas, herons and otters pose significant challenges. The otters are particularly destructive; they have a peculiar habit of eating only the heads of fish and discarding the bodies. Sometimes, they kill for sport, leaving behind a trail of waste. The dogs play a crucial role in keeping these predators at bay, protecting the farm’s stock.

Breakfast was a simple yet satisfying affair: roti prata, eaten with our hands, each bite infused with the salty tang of the sea breeze. The act of eating with bare hands reminded me of my friend Regu, who had passed away. Life and time intersect in interesting ways, and in that moment, I felt the weight of memory and presence intertwining.

Our discussions soon turned to the Kelong’s operations. Daniel spoke about the balance of nature and how each organism contributes to the survival of others. He believed in growing other marine creatures, such as cockles, to create a more sustainable and interconnected environment.

According to Yeng Sheng, the fish consultant, fish food is composed of three basic ingredients: protein, carbohydrates, and fats. Additionally, vitamins and minerals play a crucial role in ensuring optimal fish growth. It is best to avoid feeding fish antibiotics unless absolutely necessary, as overuse can lead to bacterial resistance, rendering treatments ineffective in the long run.

The best approach is to supplement the fish's diet with natural feed from the surrounding environment. Plankton, small shrimp, and tiny fish serve as excellent sources of nutrition, promoting better health and natural growth cycles for the farmed fish.

For revamping the fishing industry and supporting Singapore’s food sufficiency goals, fish protein plays a crucial role in achieving these targets. While experiments have been conducted with enclosed environments for fish farming, bacterial infections, viruses, and small marine creatures pose constant threats and challenges to the approach. Additionally, enclosed systems require high capital investment, and currently, the yield and sale price of farmed fish cannot match the market rates for wild-caught fish. To break even, farmed fish would need to be sold at nearly twice the current market price. Furthermore, enclosed fish farming is both energy-intensive and requires costly skilled labor, which remains scarce in this technological sector.

Daniel's approach focuses on reducing maintenance costs while ensuring sustainability. One of his key strategies is using cheaper floating materials, particularly synthetic materials that can float and remain durable for at least ten years. These materials provide a cost-effective solution that allows for long-term Kelong operation without excessive upkeep costs.

During our discussions, Daniel made an interesting observation. He found that fish that do not grow fast enough always seem to survive disease outbreaks, whereas those that grow quickly in a short period tend to be more susceptible to diseases. Yeng Sheng explained that this is a fundamental aspect of nature: the more energy a fish expends on fighting disease, the less energy it has for growth, and conversely, fish that allocate more energy to rapid growth have fewer resources left to resist disease.

When asked if they kept the slower-growing fish, Daniel and Yeng Sheng both agreed that they had to let them go. A balance must be struck between fish food costs and the expense of raising fish for market consumption—essentially an input and output scenario where resources must be optimized. Perhaps, they mused, slower-growing fish could be sold at a higher price, marketed for their resilience and superior health benefits. Education and consumer awareness would be key in making such a shift viable.

Interestingly, our conversation drifted toward the potential role of sound waves in improving fish health and growth. I believe there is merit in this idea. Sound waves, particularly certain frequencies, have been studied for their effects on aquatic life. Some research suggests that low-frequency vibrations can help reduce fish stress levels, which in turn strengthens their immune systems. Additionally, certain frequencies may stimulate feeding behavior and improve metabolic efficiency. If applied correctly, sound wave technology could be a non-invasive, cost-effective way to enhance fish health and sustainability in aquaculture. Further studies and experiments could reveal the extent of its potential.

However, we also acknowledged the downturn in traditional Kelong fishing. Many Kelongs have not adapted to new, improved methods to increase their yield, and reliance on outdated techniques alone is no longer sufficient. The industry needs innovation—better materials, improved fish biotechnology, and new methods that enhance fish health and sustainability. Experimentation, adaptation, and constant refinement are essential to ensuring long-term viability.

Beyond the challenges of modernization, many Kelong owners, due to their lack of education, had succumbed to vices such as tobacco trafficking and the illegal transportation of goods and even humans. Many have ended up in jail for years, trapped in a cycle of crime and punishment. It seems that a major revamp and re-education effort is necessary to reshape the future of Kelong owners. Perhaps only government intervention can turn the tide on this deterioration, enforcing regulations while providing support to encourage sustainable and ethical practices.

Sustaining a Kelong is no small task—it requires a fisherman, a doctor for the fish, and business management to keep the entire operation running smoothly. Each role is essential, forming a network of expertise that ensures the farm's longevity.

As we delved deeper into our discussions, heavy rain arrived, forcing us to stay put. It turned out to be a blessing, giving us more time to talk and reflect. The rain drummed against the wooden structures, a rhythmic backdrop to our thoughts. In that moment, the Kelong felt even more alive—a place not just of work but of learning, resilience, and connection.

The journey back carried a sense of quiet fulfillment, the steady hum of the boat’s engine a meditative underscore to our reflections.

This was not merely a day spent at sea—it was a dialogue between past and future, tradition and innovation, nature and human intent. And as I stepped onto solid ground once more, I carried with me a renewed appreciation for the intricate balance that sustains life on the water.