How changing weather is reshaping life for a Nigerian fishing community

The first part of this series covered piracy and survival among Nigeria’s small scale fishers and traders. The second part showed government inaction. This third installment shows how shifting weather is battering artisanal fishers, told through one community’s experience.

The fishermen in Ikuru – a small Andoni community on the coast of Rivers State, Nigeria – have a lot to lament.

For generations, the settlement on the edge of the Atlantic lived by the tides. At dawn, men paddled out in narrow canoes while women waited ashore to buy the day’s catch. The sea provided enough to feed families and sustain the village.

It still does, but far less reliably, especially in some seasons.

On a recent soggy afternoon, a dozen men and a woman sat on traditional benches under the sparse shade of trees and shrubs rising from the white coastal sand, their eyes on the restless sea. None had gone out to fish for days. The air hung heavy with moisture; the ocean waves crashed, retreated and gathered again with great force.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Fred Fred, the oldest among them, now in his seventies, who has fished here since his youth.

Others nodded. The waters have become less predictable, and venturing out can be fatal. “People have died,” said Nria Friday, a fish trader, who arrived that morning but found no fish to buy.

By their count, six people have died this season alone while braving rough waters to find something to eat or sell.

“If you go down there, you will see two bodies,” Friday said, pointing to the east. “People still have to try to get something.”

In Ikuru, the sea used to have a rhythm. The August rains meant rest – a period known among fishers as a time to repair nets and canoes while waiting for the waters to settle.

“We would not go far,” Fred recalled. “We caught fish near the shore and waited for the water to be quiet.”

That rhythm has disappeared. Sometimes the wind and rain continue for weeks longer than it used to be. Storms now slam the shore with such force that paddling out a few metres can be dangerous. “Even near the shore, the waves are terrible, and (there are) no fish there,” Ete Joel, another fisher said.

As the men spoke, a motorized boat appeared on the horizon. Two fishers fought the swells, their vessel rising and dropping sharply for about a quarter of an hour before they finally slid onto the sand, to the relief of everyone watching.

Fred remembered a time locals here and in neighbouring Oyorokoto – reputed as the largest fishing settlement in West Africa – mostly fished using paddle boats. Those days, the seasons of intense rains served another purpose: it allowed fish populations to regenerate as activities calmed.

Now, boats with powerful engines push deep into the sea all year round. Those missions, dangerous during high storms and rains, leave no breathing space for the fish to replenish.

Men like Fred, Mkpa-Teleyem Joel, Unyen-Awaji Nte and Michael Gogo Obi, who still rely on paddle boats or boats with weak engines, feel doubly stranded – by the furious weather and by the relentless fishing of those who can still go out with motorized boats.

“Before now (even 20 years ago), people avoided the water this time because of risks. Now, because of engines, they go anytime and they run into risks too,” said Nte.

“But their engine and the type of net some use also take too much fish, and it’s a problem.”

Shrinking Stock

Fish provides about a quarter of the animal protein Nigerians eat, and in coastal and riverine areas it can supply up to 80%. The average Nigerian consumes around 8 kg of fish per year – far below the global average of about 21 kg.

To meet a portion of this demand, Nigeria produces an estimated 1.1 million tonnes of fish yearly: 36% from marine waters, 36% from inland waters, and 28% from aquaculture.

In recent years, shifting weather patterns and rising water temperatures have affected fish survival, abundance, and migration, reshaping how fishers and traders work. As ocean temperatures rise, fish move toward cooler waters.

The people of Ikuru do not use the words “climate change.” But what they describe mirrors what scientists say is unfolding along Nigeria’s southern coast.

Rainfall has become heavier and less predictable. Storms are more severe. And research shows that warming driven by rising carbon emissions will sharply diminish global fisheries, with catches projected to fall by about 7.7 percent and revenues by more than 10 percent by 2050.

The projections for West Africa are even grimmer. Studies warn that waters along the equatorial stretch will experience some of the steepest declines, with Nigeria among the most vulnerable. Fish stocks in Nigerian waters could drop by as much as 53 percent – compared with losses of roughly 56 percent in Côte d’Ivoire and around 60 percent in Ghana.

Fishers say they already feel the shift. Species no longer appear where they once did, rendering long-held knowledge of where and when to fish less reliable. Many now travel farther offshore and spend more on fuel than they earn from their shrinking catches.

“With a good engine and fuel, you can get enough fish. You can go deep inside,” said Ala Magnus, another fisher.

Experts say the community’s observations reflect broader scientific trends. Isangadighi Isangadighi, head of the Fisheries and Aquatic Environmental Management Department at the University of Uyo, said rising temperatures are disrupting fish reproduction and survival.

“The climate has become unpredictable,” said Isangadighi, an associate professor who researches on hydrobiology, fisheries, and biodiversity. “The temperature actually affects the reproduction of fish. Before now, you could predict at this point you will have so-so level of reproduction… but when the temperature is fluctuating like that, you cannot really predict what is going to happen.”

He explained that warmer waters come with cascading problems. “Increase in temperature can lead to other things. It can reduce the quantity of dissolved oxygen. The higher the temperature, the lower the oxygen,” he said. Reduced water volume from evaporation and higher rates of fish spoilage – especially for artisanal fishers without proper storage – are also emerging concerns.

Death at the Channel

Declining fish stocks, shifting species, and harsher storms, combined with piracy and crude-oil pollution, are among the biggest challenges facing small-scale fishers and traders across Niger Delta communities

Further east of Ikuru, some 172 kilometers away, fishers face yet another weather-related problem that has gone unreported.  At Ibeno in neighbouring Akwa Ibom State, they described a deadly narrow channel at the mouth of the Qua Iboe River that connects to the Atlantic Ocean. Each rainy season, sandbars choke this passage, causing boats to capsize.

This year, 29 people have died at the Ibeno end of the ocean, they told us.

The deaths, locals say, are partly due to siltation – the build-up of sand and sediment that has narrowed the channel over the years.

“That one is a very serious problem for us in Ibeno,” said Nduekiden Eshiet, a local chief. “We have called on the government to help remove the sand as it is done in other places. But no answer.”

The Akwa Ibom State government, through its Ministry of Agriculture, which oversees the sector, did not respond to questions on policies supporting the fishery subsector.

Battered by Pollution

From Bori, a major Ogoni town, the 43-minute ride to Ikuru cuts through some of the region’s richest ecosystems – bright farmland, swamp forests and a thick mangrove belt that deepens into a lush, cinematic green.

But the landscape keeps breaking. Creeks along the route are not only polluted, many are drying out. Large stretches of sand now sit exposed in the middle of waterways, where men wade across what used to be deeper channels to fish in ankle-deep pools.

Oil pollution adds its own scars. Blackened mangroves, stagnant pools and slicked surfaces appear repeatedly.

After a December 2024 spill from a Shell facility in Bonny spread down to Andoni’s Asarama, Oyorokoto and Agbama, fouling nets and boats, officials said cleanup began quickly. But driving towards Ikuru, the signs remain: oily surfaces, dark mangroves and creeks, charred roots and dark water.

Fishers in Ikuru said their community has seen many changes but they are hopeful the catch will soon be better again. No one, however, could tell when that will be.

“If you come back when we have fish, we’ll have some for you,” Fred told the reporter who visited.

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center.