The Fisherman of Nazare
The last of today’s sun has cast its warm glow on Nazare, a tiny and inviting whitewashed stucco village covered in red tile roofs and knit together with curving narrow walkways. The huddle of tumble-down homes, the fishermen’s colorful high-prowed wooden boats, and the scent of fish drying in the sun are a testament to the fact that the people of Nazare draw their livelihood from the unforgiving Atlantic on Portugal’s western shore.
Amid this idyllic scene, Jaõ, lovingly called the Fisherman of Nazare by all who know him, sits hunched at his time-worn table. The flicker of a single candle sends shadows quivering over the whitewashed walls of his tiny two-room dwelling, which has been home for as long as he can remember. Jaõ is well into his eighth decade, and his weather-beaten, sunburned face and gnarled, salt-crusted, arthritic hands tell the story of a life spent fishing the shoals of the Atlantic. He often saves a few excellent sardines from his catch to grill for dinner, but tonight, tinned sardines and crackers are his meager supper. It’s all he can manage after a long, exhausting day on the water pulling his nets.
Yet, despite his aches, pains, and hardships, Jaõ remains a strong and resilient figure—another day of hard work and perseverance for Jaõ, the Fisherman of Nazare.
Alison and Don
16 May 2024Such a beautiful image and evocative words. You took me right there. Lovely.
Alison
Ron Mayhew
17 May 2024thanks Alison. I so appreciate your commenting.
Klausbernd
16 May 2024Dear Ron,
we love this moody light of your picture and picture and text go well together.
Thanks for sharing
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
Ron Mayhew
17 May 2024Thank you Klausbernd. i appreciate your taking the time to read and comment.
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