From Extractors to Custodians

I visited an indigenous family to learn about artisanal fishing. I left feeling it was about much more than that.

Pablo and his father, Luis, welcomed me at their family restaurant in Maicolpue. A fishing village in the south of Chile.

Like the majority of people here, their family is Mapuche, the indigenous people of this area.

The restaurant is closed, and it’s just the three of us there. We sit down on soft chairs. A tray of freshly made empanadas is placed on a side table for us to share, along with a glass of wine each. In the background, the sun is setting behind the ocean.

There is something ceremonial about it. Slow and quiet. Very few words are spoken at this point, but there’s no doubt that we are about to do something important. Only later will I understand the reason for this: dialogue and conversation are a central pillar of the Mapuche culture. 

Luis starts speaking. He tells the story of his family and of this place: he’d initially moved to Maicolpue in the 1980s, one of the many fishermen who came here to harvest loco (Chilean abalone), a local delicacy that triggered overfishing before being restricted in 1989.

“I used to fish anything that moved,” he explained. “We did it for money; nobody taught us anything different.”

He then chose to stay, as he saw an opportunity for tourism. When his restaurant was built in 2001, it was the only one in the village.

Now 63, Luis is the leader of the local fishing community. He doesn’t get paid for it, but he loves to help his people. He represents the interest of the local fishing community in discussion with the national government and local authorities. 

Luis’s son, Pablo, grew up dreaming of becoming a naval engineer. “When I went off to university, I never thought I would come back here,” he told me. 

”But when I turned 23, something clicked. It was like a switch. I realised the beauty of what I'd left behind and decided to go back to my land.” 

I asked him whether his life would have been any different if he weren’t Mapuche. He thought about it for a few seconds:

“One of the core values of the Mapuche culture is Küme Mogen, which is defined by a deep connection and reciprocal relationship between nature and humans,” he explained.

“For a long time Mapuches were discriminated against, so one would just hide it. But when I started to accept that I am Mapuche, it meant connecting with these traditions and ways of life. I don’t believe in any god, but in the Mapuche values I found a place, a system of beliefs and values that I identified with.”

Pablo is now a full-time chef at the family restaurant. The restaurant’s philosophy is centred on using as few resources as possible and on adding value. 

They exclusively source from local and artisanal fishing, prioritising sustainable food such as shellfish and seaweed. Salmon and tuna are not served as a form of protest against industrialised fishing and aquaculture.

“We went from being extractors to being custodians of the sea.”