As a child growing up in Akodo-Ise, Kadiri Malik would pass a boulevard of coconut trees on his way down to the shore with his father to start the fishing day.
The two would walk, sometimes hand in hand, past lush vegetation before settling down to gather a bountiful harvest of fish. But that’s now a distant memory in the coastal village in Nigeria’s Lagos.
“This place used to be very beautiful,” the 40-year-old fisherman laments, sitting on the verandah of his house from where he can see the ocean in its blue, choppy glory. “[Now] all the coconut trees are no more, they have been taken by the water. The ocean used to be very far away, but now it is just a stone’s throw from us.”
The coconut belt used to be part of a scenic shoreline that brought economic gains for the fishing community and served as a natural buffer against the weather and natural disasters. But now, thousands of trees have been swallowed by the ocean.
Globally, coastal communities are grappling with the consequences of rising sea levels brought on by worsening climate change. Villages along Nigeria’s 853km (530-mile) coastline are no different, battling extreme weather events and accelerated sea level rise. Among the worst hit is Akodo-Ise, as it loses land to ocean encroachment.
Every day, Malik carries a heavy thought in his mind – that it is only a matter of time before the ocean surges and coastal erosion destroys everyone’s homes, handicaps the economy and washes away important community landmarks for good.
Most of the violent ocean surges happen at night while people are asleep. The morning after, fisherfolk often find their boats and nets are gone.
“We the fishermen in this area do not have rest of mind at all … Before we know it, we have lost some properties like our net, our engine, boat,” says Malik, who has taken to dragging his boat close to the house and keeping his engine indoors. “It is always too late before we’d wake up to try and save our net and boat engines.”
In the past year, the community has lost more than 30 boats, 25 boat engines, and 50 bundles of net.
“This is our only source of income,” says Malik, whose family includes his wife, two children, two brothers and an aged mother – all of whom he must support. “If we don’t go to sea, how can we feed our family?”
Last year, he had made more than 500,000 naira ($300) in monthly profits by September, but he says this year his income has depleted as he has been making fewer trips to reduce the chances of losing his boat.
Finding a fair catch also takes more effort nowadays.
In the past, fishermen could fish nearby; now, with the rougher seas, they must travel further, consuming more fuel.
“In the past, we could use five to 10 litres [2.64 gallons] for a round trip, but now we use 35 to 40 litres [9.3 to 10.6 gallons],” Malik says.
Fuel is also more costly than it used to be since President Bola Tinubu removed a petrol subsidy upon taking office last year. A litre (0.26 gallons) of petrol that used to cost 165 naira ($0.10) last May now sells for 1100 naira ($0.65).
Some 80 percent of African coastal communities depend on nature for their livelihoods, according to the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP).
Though resilient, the community is helpless in the face of an ocean coming very quickly to take everything they know and love, said Doyinsola Ogunye, a coastal restoration expert who has been working to highlight the community’s plight.
According to the World Bank, up to 70 percent of the world’s sandy beaches are expected to erode significantly by 2100 if current coastal practices continue, and 100 million people worldwide may face displacement by 2050 due to climate-related erosion.
Experts say reversing this damage requires urgent action: strategic environmental management, better regulation of dredging activities, and development that protects – rather than harms – coastal ecosystems.