A young boy pushes a rusty wheelbarrow down the beach of Sanyang, in Kartong, to help collect the catch of the day off of the fishing boats. Photo credit: Abubacar Fofana, February 22, 2024

Overfishing in West Africa has become a pressing issue, with detrimental effects on Indigenous populations and marine ecosystems. As the fishing industry in the region has expanded, driven largely by foreign interests seeking lucrative export opportunities, Indigenous communities have faced increasing challenges. Many West Africans see this as a new type of colonialism, where the region’s resources are taken without caring about the people’s well-being or the health of the marine ecosystems.

At the center of this problem is fishmeal, a highly sought-after product for foreign industries, leading to more foreign boats appearing in Western African waters and industries along the coastlines owned by foreign investors, without fair compensation for Indigenous populations. When deals are made, the true value of these resources is often ignored. But how did this all start?

In the mid-20th century, with the introduction of large-scale industrial fishing fleets and an increase of strict laws of offshore fishing in international waters, many countries looked to new regions to exploit fishing industries with either less infrastructure or policies to safeguard their waters. In the beginning, the fishmeal industry fueled by these fleets became a way to turn unsuitable fish or bycatch into a marketable item but as time passed it became a staple resource to support the growing livestock and aquaculture feed industry in countries such as China, Norway, Chile, and Vietnam.

With technological advancements in the global large-scale fishing industry, the construction of large fishmeal production factories began along the Western coastline of Africa, particularly in countries like Mauritania, Senegal, and The Gambia. In Mauritania alone – one of the world’s richest fishing grounds – the number of fishmeal production factories has risen from 6 to 23 factories since 2010, according to the Coalition of Fair Fisheries Agreement.

A young boy pushes a rusty wheelbarrow down the beach of Sanyang, in Kartong, to help collect the catch of the day off of the fishing boats. Photo credit: Abubacar Fofana, February 22, 2024

The decline in the fish population accessible to artisanal fishers is just one of the most direct consequences of fishmeal production. As reported by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), fish stocks in numerous regions across West Africa have plummeted by more than 50% due to overfishing and unsustainable fishing practices. Moreover, the arrival of these large fishing fleets has brought extensive destruction to traditional fishing grounds and communities. The environmental degradation is significant, evident in illegal dumping, extensive damage to seabeds caused by bottom trawling, and habitat destruction, posing a looming threat of collapse for marine ecosystems.

Fishermen have also reported a significant shift in their fishing routines over the past 15 years. Previously, daily trips were sufficient, but now, according to research conducted through interview surveys by The Gambian Marine and Environmental Conservation Initiative, most fishermen find themselves venturing out for 2 to 5 days at a time. This change has become widespread throughout the region, stretching as far as Mauritania. These extended multi-day trips are necessary to secure an adequate survival catch and support their families.

Mustapha Manneh, a Mandinka man from The Gambian village of Kartong and one of the most vocal opponents of fishmeal factories, says the fishmeal industry is equivalent to the blood diamond industry. “It is very unfortunate that the fishmeal industry turns five kilos of raw fish into one kilo of fishmeal and this fishmeal is meant to feed European and Asian aquaculture while depriving the local people access to fish. You’re depriving people of access to fish, you’re depriving people of access to their identity. You’re depriving people of access to their basic rights.”

According to the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP), over 30% of West Africa’s fish stocks are overexploited, with another 60% fully exploited. The significant quantity of fish leaving Western African waters not only exacerbates food insecurity but also prompts scrutiny of the economic losses stemming from overfishing. Many deals undervalue the resources extracted resulting in billions of dollars in annual losses due to unsustainable practices and short-sighted agreements.

The sun sets over the wooden fishing pirogues as the sea washes the quiet beach of Sanyang, located in The Gambia fishing grounds. Photo credit: Abubacar Fofana, February 24, 2024

Alongside the environmental issue, conflict has also become another consequence of large-scale fishing in West Africa, sparking clashes within communities, and leading to riots and the torching of villages. One recent incident occurred in The Gambian fishing village of Sanyang in 2021. Since then, protests against these foreign destructive fishmeal factories have increased. Additionally, insufficient waste management infrastructure at several factories has contaminated small farms operated by Indigenous women in the region, leading to the loss of income and food sources for many families.

Addressing these issues requires a multifaceted approach that involves empowering Indigenous communities and exploring avenues to enhance food security through permaculture. By prioritizing local needs and environmental stewardship, these communities can begin the process of healing their land and restoring balance to their ecosystems.

Community associations and projects in the region are striving to develop alternative approaches to food security, emphasizing self- sufficiency from the land. Along with the Kartong Permaculture Association, Mandinka educator Alaghie Manneh has dedicated her work to exploring how permaculture can offer hope for the future of these communities. “Permaculture is a holistic system that does not encourage large-scale fishing and neocolonialism,” says Manneh. “What we promote is to work with our nature and to let it create its diversity. We want to help train people to understand that they can have other sources to have fish in their own homes through raising fish through aquaponics and organic fish farms as well as general small-scale farming.”

Collaborative efforts are crucial to address socio-economic and environmental challenges, safeguard marine biodiversity, and uphold the rights of Indigenous peoples. Listening to the voices of those affected is essential to forging a path that guarantees sustainable livelihoods, preserves cultural identity, and safeguards the prosperous future of West Africa’s marine ecosystems.

By prioritizing local needs and environmental protection, Indigenous communities are shifting away from exploitation and towards empowerment.

Passengers make their way inside the Teya Mérida train station. Photo credit: Jesse Foley-Tapia, March 10, 2024

The sound of hammer and nail is ever present as México’s growth and expansion reach new heights it has never seen before. In Yucatán, southeast of the country, the installation of the 28 billion dollar Tren Maya mega rail project has caused much debate throughout the community. While some say new transportation systems are necessary within the region, especially for longer commutes, the preservation of the natural ecosystem is treasured by many Indigenous peoples here.

“It was a surprise. Because it never happened in our heads that we need a train for the Indigenous communities,” says Pedro Uc Be, a Mayan land and territory defender and a member of the Assembly of Defenders of the Maya Múuch’ Xíinbal Territory and The National Indigenous Congress (CNI).

The Tren Maya, a project created by Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO), has a total of 42 trains with tracks stretching over 900 miles through the states of Chiapas, Tabasco, Campeche, Yucatán, and Quintana Roo, covering most of the southeast region of the country and the Yucatán Peninsula. As of today, there are 24 out of the 34 stations in operation. According to Tren Maya’s website, the hope is that this new mode of transportation will reduce more than 50,000 cars on the roads per day between Cancún and Playa del Carmen. Since the inaugural trip on December 15th of last year over 64,000 passengers have ridden the train according to the website.

The project promised many positive outcomes and an economic boost to the surrounding communities but some Indigenous communities say that in actuality the project brought more negative than positive.

A man walks towards the ticket booth inside the Teya Mérida train station. Photo credit: Jesse Foley-Tapia, March 10, 2024

“It’s not just that we don’t have positive things, but there are damages, injuries, aggressions, and violations of our rights. Benefits are there, but not for us,” says Uc Be. Since the construction of the railway things have actually declined for surrounding communities, says Uc Be.

“Rather, there is greater poverty, there is displacement, there is insecurity, there is broken social fabric, there are conflicts, there is polarization, there is fear, there is penetration of the organized crime, there are raped women, there are missing women and children, there are people murdered and thrown to the streets, and there is a situation of contamination of water.”

Yucatán is home to thousands of cenotes or sinkholes, caused by the collapse of limestone, with some estimates saying there are up to 10,000 cenotes in the region. This underground cave network of cenotes connects to the Great Mayan Aquifer, which provides water for millions of people in the area. Now, with the construction of the Tren Maya, these cenotes and the drinking water they provide are at risk. According to a report by CartoCrítica, the Tren Maya’s construction comprises over 25,000 acres of land, in which 61% of the jungle has now been deforested. The report alleges that 81% of this deforestation has been done so illegally.

In a 2018 interview with journalist Carmen Aristegui, AMLO said that no trees would be cut down during the construction of the train. “Not a single tree, none, nothing, on the contrary, not a single tree.”

Years later, the Selvame del Tren organization estimated that over 10 million trees have been cut down. While the government website says that “more than 64,000 plants have been rescued with 85% survival,” the environmental effects have been devastating for local Indigenous communities and will continue to affect the region as a whole in the coming years. However, others disagree.

“It can be reforested,” says Jose Genaro Molina, a retired federal teacher from the Secretary of Education.

Typically a megaproject this big takes several years to plan, but as AMLO’s term is close to end, the push was on to complete his envisioned project. Residents of México say this is nothing new, as past presidents have done much of the same by prioritizing rapid expansion at all costs. As the president declared the construction of the train a matter of “national security,” many precautions to the environment were ignored during this rushed process and community members were asked to sell their land or be displaced. The national army was even tasked with controlling certain sections of land during the expedited construction. “This land is not for sale” became the rallying cry for the CNI. In December 2019, Uc Be and his family received death threats.

“They had given us 48 hours to leave the country,” says Uc Be. Adding, “Despite this threat, we continue here.”

In addition to Mayan communities being taken away from their homes with the construction of the Tren Maya, they’ve also had their identity and name taken away.

“Well, the train’s name, I think the situation marks precisely the seal of the dispossession. Not only have we been stripped away from the land, but we have been stripped from our name,” says Uc Be.

Some have taken this opportunity to benefit from the demand for land as property values have increased near construction sites such as Tixkokob, a small town located in the north-central part of Yucatán that had remained rather untouched by México’s fast-growing development throughout much of the country.

“These people buy it to be able to resell it for the plus value that it already has,” says Gricelda Uitz Ek, whose family’s home is just blocks away from the Tixkokob station.

This increased value, however, comes at a cost. Uitz Ek explained that obtaining the evaluation and ownership proof is now more expensive.

“The writing cost us around 60,000 pesos [$3,500 US dollars] when years ago we were said it would cost 15,000 pesos.” With the average income in Yucatán being around $400 and far less for Indigenous communities, these evaluations can amount to a small fortune.

Uc Be also raised objections against Rogelio Jiménez Pons, the General Director of FONATUR, a governmental entity dedicated to pushing tourism projects that should prioritize the preservation of the natural and cultural heritage of México, for suggesting that the train project would be beneficial to the Mayan Indigenous community by providing them with the opportunity to sell food at train stations, arguing that such rhetoric from government officials diminishes the Mayan community, implying that their aspirations and contributions are limited to selling bread in train stations.

Indigenous communities in the region have remained strong as Mayan peoples have resisted forms of colonialism dating back to the 1500s when the Spanish conquistadors invaded Yucatán.

“This struggle does not only exist for having the capacity to exist, but for existing as Mayan people, as a culture, and the train, what it has done is to become a projectile in the heart of Mayan culture,” says Uc Be.

A special thanks to Paulina Bautista Cupul who helped with interview translations.