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Garoupa Vermelha: The Beautiful and Tasty Red Grouper Fish
“When looking for them, you learn to read the rocks. Garoupa don’t move much. They pick a cave, a ledge, and they wait. Sometimes for years in the same spot.”
The name “garoupa vermelha” encompasses several species that patrol the underwater territories of Cape Verde. The African hind (Cephalopholis taeniops), adorned with sapphire spots against a rust-coloured skin, dominates local catches. The island grouper (Mycteroperca fusca), found only in Macaronesian waters, grows larger but appears less frequently. Local fishermen rarely distinguish between species — to them, these are all garoupa, all part of an ancient relationship between islanders and sea.
Fishing Garoupa: Palmeira at Dawn
Palmeira wakes gradually. This fishing village on Sal’s west coast serves dual purposes: as a traditional fishing port and a commercial hub where container ships deliver everything from construction materials to cornflakes. The contrast defines modern Cape Verde — where subsistence traditions meet global commerce at the water’s edge.
By 5:30 a.m., the harbour bustles. Wooden boats painted in blues and greens rock against the quay. Fishermen check engines, mend nets, share coffee and gossip. Women arrive with plastic buckets, ready to clean and sell whatever the morning brings.
Maria has worked in this harbour for twenty-two years. She knows every boat, every fisherman, their luck and their lies. “Garoupa brings good money,” she says. “Tourists love it. It’s so tasty grilled, fried, or in caldeirada stew. However, the fishermen now have to go farther. Deeper water. Some days they come back with nothing.”
The economics are straightforward. A good-sized garoupa — maybe two kilograms — fetches €15-20 at the harbour. By the time it reaches a Santa Maria restaurant, garnished with local vegetables and a view of the beach, that same fish commands €35-40. The markup drives demand, which doesn’t translate into fishing pressure; ultimately, it leads fishermen to venture into deeper, more hazardous waters.
Garoupa Means Patience
A marine biologist at the University of Cape Verde has spent fifteen years studying grouper populations around the archipelago. His office in Praia overflows with charts, specimens in jars, and the organised chaos of active research.
“Groupers are perfectly adapted predators,” he explains, pulling up underwater footage on his computer. “Look at this mouth structure—they create negative pressure that literally vacuums prey inside. No chasing, no wasted energy.”
The screen shows an African hind demonstrating this technique, inhaling a small fish from a seemingly impossible distance. The prey never saw it coming.
Research conducted between 2005 and 2011 revealed remarkable longevity in the groupers of Cape Verde. African hinds can live twenty years, growing rapidly their first year, then slowing dramatically. This life history creates vulnerability—a fish caught today might have survived two decades of hazards, representing significant reproductive potential that has been lost.
The island grouper presents even more interesting biology. Endemic to Macaronesia—the Azores, Madeira, the Canary Islands, and Cape Verde—this species reaches impressive size, with some individuals exceeding one meter in length. They’re protogynous hermaphrodites, beginning life as females and transforming to males as they age and grow. This sexual flexibility evolved as a successful strategy over millions of years. However, it somewhat complicates modern conservation efforts.
When fishermen target the biggest fish, they’re removing males from the population. No males means no reproduction, regardless of how many females remain.
Garoupa And The Underwater Landscape
Twenty meters below the surface, Sal’s underwater topography reveals its volcanic origins. Black basalt formations create elaborate architectures—caves, tunnels, and overhangs—where groupers establish their territories. These structures, formed by ancient lava flows meeting the ocean, provide perfect ambush sites.
Pedro, a dive instructor based in Santa Maria, has logged over 3,000 dives around Sal. He’s watched the changes. “Fifteen years ago, you’d see big groupers on every dive. Now, maybe one per week, and smaller in size. But they’re smart. They’ve learned to avoid divers, stay deeper, hide better.”
The adaptation is remarkable. Groupers that survive have become warier, more nocturnal, quicker to retreat into inaccessible crevices. Natural selection in real-time, driven by human pressure.
Yet the underwater world remains spectacular. Schools of grunt and snapper flow like silver rivers. Moray eels share crevices with groupers in a surprising détente. Octopi change colour against the rocks, and sea turtles cruise past with prehistoric grace. The ecosystem continues to function, adapt, and persist.
Where Traditional Knowledge Meets Modern Challenge
Back in Palmeira, António’s boat returns with the morning catch. Two small groupers, several parrotfish, and a moray eel. Not bad, not great. Twenty years ago, his uncle would have called this a failed trip.
“My uncle knew every rock from here to Buracona,” António recalls. “He knew where groupers spawned, when they moved shallow, which caves held the biggest fish. That knowledge took generations to build.”
Some of that wisdom is passed on to the next generation. António’s nephew accompanies him now, learning to read currents, identify productive bottom structure, and understand fish behaviour. But modern pressures complicate tradition. Tourism creates year-round demand for species that were once seasonal treats. Climate change shifts migration patterns encoded in cultural memory. Foreign industrial vessels work the deeper waters where large fish once found refuge.
Still, traditional methods offer advantages. Freediving spearfishing remains highly selective—no bycatch, no habitat destruction, natural limits on extraction. A diver can only stay down so long, only cover so much ground, and only carry so much weight. These constraints, frustrating to those seeking profit, may prove conservation assets.
Garoupa: Scientific Insights and Practical Realities
Recent studies paint a nuanced picture of Cape Verde’s grouper populations. Numbers have indeed declined—some estimates suggest a 40% reduction over the past two decades. But distribution patterns have also shifted. Groupers concentrate in deeper waters, around offshore seamounts, in areas difficult for artisanal fishermen to access.
“It’s not just about fewer fish,” one marine biologist explains. “It’s about changed behaviour, altered distribution, disrupted spawning patterns. The population might be more resilient than simple numbers suggest, but also more vulnerable to specific threats.”
Spawning aggregations represent a critical vulnerability. Groupers congregate in specific locations during the breeding season, sometimes gathering in areas as small as a football field, with hundreds of individuals present. Traditional fishermen knew these sites but typically exercised restraint, taking only what they needed to ensure future harvests. Modern economic pressures erode such conservation ethics.
The government has implemented various protections. Minimum size limits, closed seasons, and gear restrictions. But enforcement remains challenging across 700,000 square kilometres of ocean. A handful of patrol boats cannot monitor every bay, every reef, every fishing vessel.
Garoupa in The Culinary Culture and Contemporary Cuisine
At the restaurant, a chef prepares garoupa five different ways. Grilled with garlic butter. Fried with cornmeal crust. Stewed with tomatoes and peppers. Each preparation honours tradition while acknowledging modern tastes.
“Garoupa is special,” the chef says. “The meat is firm, white, and sweet. It takes seasoning well, but doesn’t need much. Salt, lemon, maybe some piripiri. Let the fish speak.”
The restaurant sources its fish exclusively from local fishermen, paying premium prices for high-quality fish. It’s a small gesture toward sustainability, ensuring fishermen receive fair compensation, and reducing pressure to overfish. But the chef worries about supply. Sometimes, despite having relationships with multiple suppliers, he cannot source enough garoupa to meet demand.
The irony isn’t lost on locals. Cape Verde, surrounded by the ocean, imports increasing amounts of seafood. Frozen tilapia from Asia is widely available in local markets. Canned tuna from distant waters stocks grocery shelves. As we can see more and more clearly, the globalisation of food systems reaches even the most remote islands, disconnecting people from their maritime heritage.
Garoupa Conservation Experiments
The Santa Luzia Marine Reserve, established in 2016, offers a glimpse of possibility. This protected area north of Sal shows what happens when fishing pressure eases. Fish populations rebound. Some larger individuals start to appear. Spawning activity increases. Marine reserves work. The challenge is scaling up to create networks of protected areas that maintain ecosystem connectivity while allowing for sustainable fishing.
Several innovative projects show promise. Artificial reefs constructed from cleaned concrete blocks provide habitat for juvenile groupers. Fish aggregating devices (FADs) concentrate pelagic species, reducing pressure on reef fish. Community-based management programs involve fishermen in monitoring and protecting the environment.
On Maio island, the Guardians of the Sea program employs former fishermen as marine monitors. They mainly record catches, identify spawning sites and report illegal fishing. It’s a model that could be expanded significantly, given sufficient funding and political will.
Climate Variables
Ocean temperatures around Cape Verde have increased measurably — roughly 0.5°C over the past three decades. This seems minimal, but marine ecosystems are finely tuned. Small temperature changes trigger cascading effects.
Groupers, like most fish, are ectothermic; their body temperature matches that of the surrounding water. Temperature affects metabolism, growth rate, and reproductive success. Warmer waters might extend breeding seasons but also increase metabolic demands. The full implications remain unclear.
More concerning are changes in ocean chemistry. Increased CO2 absorption lowers the pH — a phenomenon known as ocean acidification — which affects the entire food web. Coral reefs, already marginal in Cape Verde, face additional stress. The small fish groupers that prey upon them may decline or shift their distribution. Complex systems produce complex responses.
Some fishermen report behavioural changes. Groupers appear in different seasons. Traditional fishing calendars are no longer reliable, and whether these represent normal variation or climate signals remains an open debate. But fishermen, whose livelihoods depend on understanding the ocean, pay attention.
International Connections
Cape Verde’s groupers don’t exist in isolation. Ocean currents connect these islands to West Africa, the Canaries, and even the Caribbean. Larvae drift on currents, potentially travelling thousands of kilometres before settling. Populations could recover through recruitment from healthier areas. This connectivity offers hope, but also vulnerability to distant problems.
The island grouper’s recent listing as threatened under the U.S. Endangered Species Act, despite being absent from American waters, recognises this interconnection. Conservation requires international cooperation, shared research, and coordinated protection.
Recent genetic studies reveal surprising connections. Some Cape Verdean groupers share genetic markers with populations from the African coast, while others share these markers with populations from the Canary Islands. The ocean, apparently an empty surface, conceals highways of gene exchange.
Technology’s Double Edge
Modern fishing technology creates paradoxes. GPS enables fishermen to return precisely to productive spots, increasing efficiency but also putting pressure on specific locations. Fish finders reveal hidden aggregations. Improved boat access to previously unfishable areas.
Yet technology also enables conservation. Acoustic tags track grouper movements, revealing previously unknown behaviours. Environmental DNA (eDNA) sampling enables the detection of species presence without the need to capture individuals. Satellite monitoring identifies illegal fishing vessels.
Young fishermen use smartphones to photograph their catches, share information, and coordinate conservation efforts. WhatsApp groups connect fishermen across islands, spreading news of regulations, prices, and fishing conditions. It shows well that the technology that accelerated the exploitation could also facilitate the sustainable management.
Cultural Permanence of Red Grouper
Despite changes, grouper fishing remains culturally embedded. There are Cape Verdean proverbs that reference the “garoupa’s patience”. Traditional songs celebrate successful catches. Recipes pass through generations, with each family claiming its caldeirada is the best.
At the annual Ocean Festival in Santa Maria, cooking competitions feature creative preparations of grouper. Traditional meets contemporary as chefs incorporate international techniques while honouring local flavours. It’s cultural evolution in action — maintaining identity while adapting to change.
Old fishermen’s fairy tales, full of stories of giant red groupers, are the living community’s mythology. As these elders pass away, initiatives to record their tales and knowledge become urgent for cultural preservation.
The Future of Garoupa
The trends of Sal’s grouper populations suggest concern, yet still not a catastrophe. Populations have declined but haven’t collapsed. Fishing continues but at reduced levels. The ecosystem exhibits stress but remains functional.
Management improvements offer hope. Better enforcement of existing regulations. Expansion of marine protected areas. Development of sustainable aquaculture. Economic alternatives through dive tourism. Each intervention alone might prove insufficient, but combined, they could shift the balance toward recovery of the species. The ocean is strong. Garoupa are survivors. They’ve been here longer than people. If we give them space, they may persist.
Young Cape Verdeans, still learning to read the morning water, represent continuity and change. They’ll inherit degraded resources, but also improved knowledge and better tools for understanding and protecting marine ecosystems. Their relationship with garoupa will differ from their parents’ — perhaps more scientific, certainly more constrained — but the connection will endure.
Garupa: The Eternal Hunt
As the morning sun illuminates Palmeira harbour, boats return with the day’s catch. These may be much smaller than the historical harvests. But they are still sustaining families, feeding tourists, and maintaining traditions very well. The garoupa vermelha, whether an African hind or an island grouper, continues its old ritual of hunting, hiding, reproducing, and surviving.
In underwater caves around Sal, large groupers that have evaded spears and hooks for decades maintain their vigil. Patient as the rocks they resemble, they embody both vulnerability and resilience. Their presence confirms that despite pressures, the ocean retains its capacity for wonder.
The relationship between Cape Verdeans and their groupers evolves but endures. It’s written in the scars on fishermen’s hands, the recipes in grandmother’s notebooks, the data in scientists’ computers, the dreams of children watching boats return at dawn. This story, still being composed, awaits its next chapter.
The garoupa vermelha swims through troubled waters toward an uncertain horizon. But it swims on, as it has for millions of years. It’s adapting to each challenge with great patience. In their persistence lies hope that, given time, space, and wisdom, the ocean’s abundance might still recover well. Might the red grouper once again exist in Cape Verde’s reefs in great numbers, as in old myths?
