The sunset call to prayer rang out over the Yemeni port of Mukalla, its echoes reverberating softly like the tiny waves that lapped against the side of Hamdi’s[1] fiberglass boat. The Al Zeeb[2]—true to its season—had soothed the sea, and calm waters meant Hamdi and his son had been able to stay out fishing for nearly 12 hours. Still, he sighed as he looked at the meager catch of yellowfin tuna the long day in the 12-meter boat had brought them. They needed to go out into deeper water like the other fishermen—even if it meant staying out all night—in order to bring in enough tuna to make ends meet. However, after his son pulled up the anchor, Hamdi steered the boat for shore.
Hamdi has not spent a night in his boat since 2017. Back then, he’d never had to ask his son to skip school to come fishing with him—and he’d stay out as long as the fish were biting, or until his boat could hold no more fish. Now, however, Hamdi launches out most days with the dawn prayer and aims to be onshore and selling the day’s catch by the time the sunset prayer call sounds from Mukalla’s minarets. On good days, he gets 20,000 – 30,000 Yemeni Riyals ($12 – $20 USD) for his haul—but a lot of that goes to the fuel he needs to operate his boat. On other days, Hamdi doesn’t catch any fish at all. Regardless, it isn’t his fickle fortunes at sea that make his chest tighten during those long days in the sun—that comes from the tug of another tide that keeps his thoughts drifting back to land.
Seven years ago, Hamdi’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. The mastectomy and follow-up treatments were costly, and Hamdi went into debt taking her to see doctors in Sana’a and Aden. Now, she needs constant care, so their nine-year-old daughter dropped out of school to tend to her mother. Instead of learning to read and write, Hamdi’s daughter does the housework while he spends the day fishing and thinking of his young daughter and sick wife at home alone. He can’t bear staying away overnight—even if that means they sometimes skip meals when the fish elude him.
In 2021, the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) reported that Yemen’s 2,350-kilometer coastline was supporting 500,000 small-scale fishery workers—including those who sell in markets, cannery workers, restaurant workers, and 90,000 licensed fisherfolk like Hamdi. Together, all of these workers provide food for their communities as well as earning income to provide for an estimated 1.7 million family members. Hamdi and his fellow artisanal fisherman anchor these livelihoods via their daily voyages in small open-decked wooden or fiberglass vessels no more than 20 meters long. With a hold capacity of as much as 15-20 tons, the boats are typically outfitted with an outboard engine and are usually operated by two to three fishermen. Their traditional fishing methods have been passed down for generations and vary according to the migratory patterns of the more than 600 species of fish and other marine organisms that inhabit Yemen’s tropical waters. In some seasons, they use nets of various types as well as crab and lobster cages. However, when warm water, dissolved oxygen, and suitable salinity draw yellowfin tuna and other pelagic fish[3] up from the Indian Ocean to feast on the sardines, crabs, squids, and shrimp in Yemeni waters, the fishermen usually switch to handlines and longlines. Baiting their hooks with live or dead baitfish, or artificial bait, they often slow troll for the fish who may get hemmed in along Yemen’s coastline by upwellings of colder water with less dissolved oxygen.[4] Irrespective of the season, most fishermen keep their trips short and close to shore—venturing out an average distance of about eight nautical miles for no more than ten days. Most outings last only half a day or overnight since the fishermen have no means of preserving the fish on board except for salting, drying, and, more rarely, putting the fish on ice.
Prior to the outbreak of war in 2015, such historic artisan fishing operations drove the second most productive sector of Yemen’s economy, with hauls registering among the highest levels of marine productivity in the world. The industry ranked second only to Yemen’s oil and gas sector in terms of exports, reaching 50 Asian, African, and European countries and contributing as much as 15 percent of Yemen’s annual GDP. Hamdi and other small operators paid modest membership fees to belong to fishing cooperatives that provided fishing communities with services including healthcare, education, social welfare, water, and electricity. The fees also financed the operation of thousands of landing sites dotting Yemen’s coast. These sites were the bustling hubs of fishing communities with auction yards, fuel tanks, stations for bunkering fishing vessels, refrigerators, docking areas for boats, ice factories, and slipways. Some also processed and exported fish products to the European Union (EU). In the decades before the war, the most lucrative trade for Yemen’s fishing industry involved flying fresh, chilled fish to Europe—with France alone importing 500 – 1,000 tons a year in the 1990s. By 2021, however, Yemen’s fishing market had shrunk by 61 percent. Trade to Europe had all but vanished as international airlines stopped servicing Yemen at the onset of the war six years prior, and today even regional flights remain limited due to the frequent, conflict-related closures of Yemen’s airports. Fishing cooperatives and the landing sites they financed have had to reduce their services due to budgetary constraints, and many fishermen now refuse to pay the customary dues for declining services—further undermining the viability of the cooperatives.[5]
For fishermen like Hamdi along Yemen’s southern coast, the impact of nearly a decade of war has primarily been a perfect storm of economic crises that continues to batter their livelihoods. Meanwhile, those who seek their living from Yemen’s western Red Sea coast have been putting out to sea amidst conflict-related gunfire, shelling, drones, missiles, and sea mines since 2015. When the Houthis began their attacks on international shipping in the Red Sea last year, those waters became even more hostile. In February 2024, authorities in the coastal province of Hodeidah said they had registered 40 missing fishermen in the past two months, and fishermen there have been prohibited from sailing into areas abundant with fish. They are limited to fishing near shore, where far fewer fish are found. A Sky News report in April captured the impact on fisherfolk[6], at least eleven of whom have been confirmed as civilian casualties of drone strikes or gunfire this year. Many more men have simply stayed on shore.
According to the Turkish Radio and Television Corporation, the Houthis’ Red Sea operations have beached nearly 30,000 fishermen[7] due to the heightened risks of falling into the crosshairs of Yemen’s warring parties or triggering a sea mine.[8] They have also threatened life beneath the surface of the Red Sea. In early March, a ship attacked by the Houthis sank after drifting for 13 days and causing an 18-mile (29-kilometer) oil slick. Now, the ship’s cargo of 21,000 metric tons of ammonium phosphate sulfate fertilizer sits at the bottom of the Red Sea, where it could cause ecological damage to coral reefs and disrupt marine ecosystems—triggering cascading effects throughout the food web. For the Yemeni fishermen who are a part of that food web, the result could be deepening hunger with its ripple effects stretching all the way to Hamdi in Mukalla.[9]
When fighting first escalated in 2015, many Red Sea fishermen were displaced to other coastal areas such as Abyan, Aden, and Hadramout—where Hamdi lives. Competition over livelihoods led to tensions between the fishermen displaced by conflict and their host communities—who now fear recent events will drive another influx of newcomers and raise social tensions yet again.[10] Meanwhile, in addition to the impacts of war on their livelihoods, fishermen around Yemen have also been feeling the effects of climate change. In November 2023, the Yemen Policy Center shared a short film documenting how climate-driven shifts in fish migration patterns have led some Yemeni fishermen to convert their boats into tourist cruisers. Instead of venturing further and further from shore in search of fish, they now offer short trips to customers who can afford to pay for the diversion.[11]
In 2021, UNDP estimated that since the conflict began, the total losses to Yemen’s fisheries sector had already reached $3.1 billion USD.[12] Today, households like Hamdi’s that once lived well on the bounty of the nation’s seas are increasingly in need of humanitarian aid—which is also drying up across Yemen. For Hamdi, however, the losses wrought by economic devastation, war, and climate change will remain overshadowed by his wife’s battle with cancer. The tides of hope in his heart ebb and flow with her health and bring him home each night no matter how many fish get away before dawn.
[1] Names changed to protect vulnerable Yemenis living in a conflict context.
[2] A trade wind that blows from the southeast over a large part of Hadramout’s coast from September to March: https://www.adengad.net/articles/107315
[3] Pelagic fish are species that live and feed away from the ocean bottom at water depths referred to as the Pelagic Zone—away from both the bottom and the shore. Pelagic fish can contain up to 30 percent fish oil: https://www.directseafoods.co.uk/faqs/what-are-pelagic-fish/
[4] https://www.fao.org/fishery/docs/CDrom/IOTC_Proceedings(1999-2002)/files/proceedings/miscellaneous/ec/1998/EC7-14.pdf, https://yementradeportal.com/en/ministry-of-fish-wealth-mfw-2/
[5] https://pdf.usaid.gov/pdf_docs/PA00WFZJ.pdf
[6] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXLySiM23i0
[7] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiMjbjr6HWE
[8] https://www.newarab.com/features/yemeni-fishermen-bleed-money-red-sea-death-trap
[9] https://apnews.com/article/yemen-houthi-rebels-rubymar-sinks-red-sea-fb64a490ce935756337ee3606e15d093
[10] ACAPS (ACAPS does not spell out its name.)
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