Wu Jiawen found a new lease of life when he saw the water. The 49-year-old had traveled all the way from Fuzhou, capital of East China's Fujian Province, to Wuning County in Central China's Jiangxi Province in search of water. The scenic county with stretches of green mountains and pearl-like lakes and ponds, was what he had traveled for. He moved around the beautiful landscape, stopping at a spot where a spring flowed out of a cave. This was the same place that had once baffled the invading Japanese troops during the World War II. But that was not why Wu found it fascinating. He saw more than a goldmine there.
But he needed the courage of conviction to set up a fish farm there. This is where his years as a policeman helped. "To breed fish, you have to cultivate water first. Good water is everything in pisciculture," he says, standing in front of his 36 pools. A violent storm seemed to have hit one of the pools, making the water boil. Actually it was a school of eels (also known as "soft gold" for the price they fetch) fighting for food just thrown in.
"You can see the bottom of the lake, and can drink the water without even filtering it," Wu says. He has channeled that water from its source into the pools through two narrow concrete canals. And all eel fry in his pools have been imported from Europe, each costing about one and half yuan, much more that any other fingerling.
"The water here is very good. It reduces the risk of disease." Which means fish breeders like Wu don't have to rely on chemicals and medicines to keep the eels healthy. And they dare not, for about 80 percent of his output is exported, mostly to Japan, which as a leading consumer of eels, issued a "positive list" last year. The list bans the use of more than 200 chemicals. It even specifies the acceptable amount of chemical residue in the eels.
The list came as a severe blow for many people like Wu in Fujian, then the largest eel-producing center in China. "In order to raise more fish, people used to rear a large number of eels in a small water body and used chemicals and medicines to keep them healthy," Wu says. "But Japan put a stop on the import of such eels."
That's why in Wuning "we breed fewer fish in a pool and almost don't use any medicine, except perhaps some chemicals at times to adjust the quality of water," he says. "No one dares to take the risk (of using chemicals) given the rigid quality test."
He could not have spoken more truly because even before Japanese importers can put their products to test, the eel breeders have to face the rigorous quality inspections and tests at home. The province has set up a special interest chain for eel breeders to pre-empt the risk of poor quality and disease, says Xu Youguang, deputy director of Jiangxi Fisheries Bureau. This is to ensure that the products from the province don't meet any obstacle in the international market.
All aquatic, food and processing plants that export their products have to be registered with the China Entry-Exit Inspection and Quarantine (CIQ). And only five companies have the approval of the authorities to sell feed for eels, Xu says. So high is the risk that "eel breeders usually pay only half for the feed they buy. The rest is paid only after their eels are accepted overseas or sold in the domestic market without any trouble. If the eels fail any quality test and cannot be exported or sold locally, they don't pay the money."
Staff at processing plants where the eels are dispatched are even more cautious, says Wu. "They post someone to stay near the fish ponds. That person even eats and sleeps near the ponds, sampling a few eels once every while to ensure they pass all inspections and tests."
"They're afraid that we would change fish that they suspect could contain excess chemical residue. So now nobody can think of getting away with tricks and short cuts or using banned medicines and chemicals."
Some importers have alleged that a number of China-made products, from toys, tires and aquatic products to paintbrushes, contain hazardous substances sparking a worldwide scare.
In June, the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) said it would stop the import of five types of seafood unless the suppliers proved their products didn't have any harmful residue. The threat was against some of the country's largest seafood exports -- farm-raised catfish, basa, shrimp, dace (a fish related to carp) and eel.
The move sent shockwaves across the country, with many export-oriented aquatic farm owners saying it could suffocate the country's fledgling aquatic industry.
In a letter to Premier Wen Jiabao, Zhanjiang Guolian Aquatic Products Co Chairman Li Zhong has said the restrictive measures on Chinese aquatic products are putting the industry at risk. The chief of one of the largest producers of shrimp in China said: "Though there is no direct ban on the products, the high inspection imposed by the US Customs cannot be borne by many domestic companies. A large number of firms have been driven to the brink of bankruptcy because of the move."
One of the hardest hit places seems to be Zhanjiang, a port city in southern Guangdong Province, known as the "home of prawn". Its shrimp output accounts for 60 percent of the province and 15 percent of the total national production.
Guangzhou Hengfa Aquatic Product Co Chairman Tong Jianhui says "political friction and trade protectionism" are behind the restrictive measures. "Since China is a WTO member now, bilateral trade disputes should be solved through negotiations. They can't slap a ban on Chinese products directly."
But "the technical barriers (or restrictive measures) seem to be the only weapon they can wield to impede China's development".
"It's absurd to ban all exports from a country just because some problems have been detected in a single batch of products," says Jiangxi Pohu Duchang Aquatic Product and Foodstuff Co Chairman Wu Diaorong. His company rears catfish for exports and has suffered huge losses because of the restrictions.
He seems peeved with the restrictions especially because his company is ready for any type of inspection. "All our fingerlings are from high-quality catfish from the US," he says. "Reservoir water in China is first class. We have pasted the list of forbidden medicines on walls as a warning." Nothing seems to be wrong with "our products and we will send samples for inspection" from time to time.
Wu is all the more worried about the US restrictions because that country is the major destination of Chinese catfish exports.
"The participation of small farmers is very important for the catfish business," he says. About 30 local farmers share the fish-breeding reservoir, with each holding one or several 6-meter wide, 6-meter long and 6-meter high grille boxes. "They have invested almost all they had into it," Wu says.
"If they suffer a lot this year and decide to give up breeding fish next year, the whole catfish industry will be ruined," he says. The only thing Wu and the other catfish breeders can do is keep their fingers crossed.
There is almost no backup market for catfish if the US refuses to buy them. European countries have little interest and very few Chinese consume them. Wu hopes the central government will speed up negotiations with its US counterpart to restore normality as soon as possible.
And he urges the authorities back home to exempt some of the interest on loans to help the companies and farmers to survive until things change for the better. "It's already time to harvest the fish," he says. "But because of the ban, we can't start that. We have to wait."
(China Daily September 5, 2007)
