Big Splash
Some city-bred Singapore entrepreneurs have fallen hook , line and sinker for the simple life in kelongs
Tan Dawn Wei, Straits Times 16 Nov 08;
Singapore's new breed of fish farmers are nothing like the weather-beaten, leather-skinned fishermen who call kelongs their home.
Instead, think smart-suited, well-educated professional urbanites more used to nibbling on sashimi in fancy Japanese restaurants than producing the fish it comes from at offshore floating farms.
The constant smell of fish, heavy lifting and toiling in the hot sun mean it is not a glamorous job.
But over the past five years, an influx of these city folk have joined Singapore's small but burgeoning fishing industry and taken to life on kelongs.
Doctors, IT professionals, academics and others have been lured in part by the romantic notion of having a property out at sea, in part by possible riches to be netted.
The fish farming industry here - known as aquaculture - produced 4,500 tonnes of what is called 'foodfish' worth $13.7 million last year.
Showing the huge potential for growth, this is only 4.5 per cent of the fish consumed annually here. The rest is imported.
From just 40 offshore farms in 1985, there are now 104 coastal fish farms on the Singapore side of the East and West Johor Straits.
They produce various species of fish such as greasy grouper, golden snapper and pompano, as well as green mussels, spiny lobsters, mangrove crabs, and tiger and banana shrimps.
In July this year, another fish species, cobia, created much buzz when the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority (AVA) announced it was ready for harvest.
Also known as the black kingfish, it is the sixth species of fish found suitable by the AVA to be introduced to local farmers since the 1970s.
The first batch will be harvested from Changi Fishery, which is owned by a surgeon and his wife.
AVA has been a key driver in boosting the fish farm industry. It has licensed more fish farms and provided technical advice and support to farmers - both veterans and the newbies - on production, disease management and control.
The new breed of farmers especially are receptive to new ideas, says AVA's head of marine aquaculture, Ms Wee Joo Yong.
She says: 'Good management is one of the keys to successful farming, and with access to information, technology and new mindset, these farms have what it takes to be successful.'
These fishermen are a close-knit bunch of about a dozen who meet regularly to exchange notes.
LifeStyle goes out to sea to meet a few of them.
Keeping afloat
Straits Times 16 Nov 08;
Fishing for something to do in retirement, junior college principal Maureen Ng chanced on a classified advertisement saying 'Kelong for sale. Price: $60,000'.
She was hooked. Now, four years later, Mrs Ng, 60, and her equally middle-class hubby, Timothy, 62, are proud owners of 2 Jays, a kelong platform off Pulau Ubin.
'I'm a risk-taker, I've always liked the sea and I wanted us both to have a mental and physical challenge,' said Mrs Ng, former principal of National Junior College and director of the Regional Language Centre.
Mr Ng was the Inland Revenue Authority's deputy commissioner.
Once the excitement of owning a kelong had worn off, they had to figure out how not to keel over, investment-wise. For starters, the ex-owner promised he would show them the ropes.
Still, it was a steep learning curve. The Ngs knew next to nothing about fishing or aquaculture. They had to get a boat licence, buy the boat and stock up on sunblock.
The smell of fish took some getting used to, as did waking up as early as 3am to haul in the nets. They have just one employee at the farm.
Their bigger challenge was keeping the fingerlings, or young fish, from dying in the floating netcage, a common problem in aquaculture.
The Ngs, who produce tiger groupers, seabass and cobia for sale to a local distributor, say they are now 'keeping afloat'.
They have sunk $200,000 into their kelong, named after their adult twin daughters Josephine and Joceyln.
They have bigger plans. 'The next phase is to make big bucks,' said Mrs Ng, laughing. They are working with fellow fish farmers to find local and overseas markets where they can supply large quantities of fish on a regular basis.
'If we can get the price we want, we can earn two to three times what we put in,' she said.
The couple live in a semi-detached house in Upper Thomson Road, but spend their weekends at their kelong and enjoy being simple fisherfolk.
They put beds in its three bedrooms, brought in a TV, installed a kitchen and a bathroom, and even plan to set up solar panels to power lights and a freezer.
'It's a pleasant lifestyle,' said Mrs Ng.
From sales to sails
The Straits Times 16 Nov 08;
By day, they used to sell cars from the cool comfort of a showroom near the city.
When evening fell, former colleagues Dennis Tan, 35, Iskandar Muhammad, 33, and Edison Neo, 36, would swop their shirts and ties for tatty T-shirts and head to their floating fish farm off Pasir Ris.
There, they let their hands do most of the talking: feeding tiger groupers, slicing fish - fodder for the groupers - and mending nets.
Their neighbours, all seasoned fishermen, view the men, who are the youngest in the aquaculture business here, with some amusement.
'They say, 'got nice air-con office ah, but don't want to enjoy',' Mr Tan said with a laugh.
Added Mr Neo: 'But I think they like us. We're new blood in the market.'
Last month, Mr Tan and Mr Neo quit their car salesmen jobs to focus full-time on the farm.
They, Mr Iskandar and another partner and former colleague, Mr Peter Tan, 48, bought the farm in September last year, each chipping in $20,000.
All except Mr Iskandar, 33, are married with kids. Three of them live in HDB flats, while Mr Neo lives in a condominium.
Mr Peter Tan was in the seafood import and export business and saw the farm as a good business opportunity as he felt there was a shortage of fresh seafood.
Each partner brings to the table his own speciality: Mr Peter Tan is the industry guy; Mr Iskandar is the go-to guy about fishing, traps and devices; Mr Dennis Tan is the handyman, while Mr Neo holds the purse-strings.
They have acquired more than a few bruises and scars. Mr Dennis Tan has even lost 16kg in the past year, thanks to the manual work he has put in.
They have also found themselves going from being urbanites to greenies. They wash dishes with rainwater, start the power generator only when it is nearly pitch dark and recycle things.
'We are karung guni (rag and bone) men now,' said Mr Dennis Tan.
In the kelong kitchen, meals are usually just instant noodles.
The guys go to the farm every day and sometimes stay overnight, sleeping in the platform's five rooms.
Their dream is to build a fish farm that is turbine- or solar energy- powered.
But for now, they are content to watch the sun set over the sea.
What they have now, they say, is a 360-degree sea view. 'It's priceless, better than a District 9 condo,' said Mr Iskandar.
Shower in the rain
The Straits Times 16 Nov 08;
He answered the call of the sea - and lost three mobile phones, when he fell into the water thrice.
A typical landlubber, Mr Lee Van Voon was described as 'nuts' by friends when he told them he wanted to be a fish farmer.
But the 42-year-old owner of a tools and hardware distribution company persevered.
Ever the businessman, he prefers to be called an 'aqua entrepreneur' out to transform a 'backyard industry' into a multi-million-dollar aquaculture business.
His foray started when, while shopping for a weekend home, he and his business partner, a medical doctor, came across an ad selling a kelong near Pulau Ubin.
That was a year ago.
They saw the kelong, liked it and bought it, together with Mr Lee's wife. They have pumped $300,000 into the business which breeds and farms tiger groupers, seabass and cobia, among others.
Mr Lee does not expect the kelong and its adjoining sea farm - together called Stamford Raffles Marine Culture - to be profitable for another year or two, but he is on the lookout for more investors and expects the tide to turn.
He also has his share of fishermen's tales.
Having grown up in a Choa Chu Kang kampung, the father of two young girls aged eight and five realised that his landlubber ways did not quite cut it out at sea.
For his crash course in fish farming, he went online, subscribed to industry magazines and called on the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority for advice.
He is now a few shades darker from the sun. He has accidentally sliced off the tendon on his little finger while cutting up fish.
And he has come to enjoy being out at sea, although he does not spend all his nights there.
'You don't have deadlines to meet. On land, I feel everything is so hectic.
'There's no air-con, no clean water, you only shower when it rains,' he said of the adjustments he has had to make. 'But I don't have to wash the toilet.'
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