Senegal’s Fishing Crisis: How a BP Gas Platform is Threatening a Centuries-Old Livelihood Saint-Louis, Senegal – The Atlantic Ocean has been Gora Fall’s workplace since he was a boy. Now, at 25, he faces a daily dilemma that pits tradition against modern industrial might. Each morning, as the sun rises over the historic Senegalese city of Saint-Louis, he prepares his wooden canoe for another day at sea, his emotions swinging between hope and despair. “Before, we worked to live, but now we just work to survive,” Fall tells the BBC, his voice heavy with resignation. His story echoes across this coastal community, where fishing isn’t merely an occupation—it’s a cultural heritage passed down through generations. The Unwelcome Neighbor: BP’s Gas Platform Approximately 10 kilometers offshore, the Greater Tortue Ahmeyim (GTA) liquefied natural gas platform stands as both an engineering marvel and, according to local fishermen, an existential threat. Operated by British multinational BP in partnership with Kosmos Energy and the national oil companies of Senegal and Mauritania, the $4.8 billion project represents one of Africa’s most complex energy developments. Since operations began in 2017 following gas discoveries in 2015, the platform has become the focal point of growing tension between global energy interests and local subsistence. The facility’s 500-meter exclusion zone, standard practice for such installations, has effectively cordoned off what fishermen describe as their most productive fishing grounds. “The authorities forbid us to fish in that area of the platform, under penalty of confiscation or even destruction of our fishing equipment if we access it,” Fall explains, gesturing toward the distant structure visible from shore. The Economic Impact: From Prosperity to Poverty The numbers tell a stark story of economic decline. Fishermen report that where they once earned between $445 and $625 per fishing trip, they now struggle to make $90. The difference between prosperity and poverty now hinges on access to waters surrounding a natural reef known locally as Diattara—precisely where the gas platform now stands. “We can stay until 4pm twiddling our thumbs, without fish,” Fall says, describing days that begin before dawn and end with empty nets and dwindling hope. The ripple effects extend far beyond the fishermen themselves. In Saint-Louis, where approximately 90% of the city’s 250,000 residents depend directly or indirectly on fishing, the crisis has become communal. Women Bear the Brunt of Declining Catches Traditionally, fish processing—drying, salting, and smoking—has been women’s work. Diamol Sène, a mother of ten who has spent decades processing fish, now watches as her livelihood evaporates alongside the declining catches. “Fish has become too expensive, transport costs are high. Today, we earn just enough to cover expenses,” she says, standing near empty processing tables that once brimmed with activity. “If the canoes could go out to sea and come back with abundant catches, all the women would return to the site to work.” According to the UN’s Food and Agricultural Organization, fishing accounts for nearly 60,000 direct jobs and over half-a-million indirect positions in Senegal. The sector employs approximately one in six Senegalese and contributes about 3% to the country’s GDP—numbers that now hang in the balance. Broken Promises and Artificial Reefs In 2019, BP representatives met with Saint-Louis fishermen and promised eight artificial reefs to compensate for lost fishing grounds. Six years later, not a single reef has been installed. “When they came in 2019, they told people: ‘We’re going to build you eight artificial reefs’ to at least replace our Diattara,” says Nalla Diop, spokesperson for the local artisanal fishermen’s association. “Nothing has been done.” BP tells a different story. Company statements describe a painstaking evaluation process that initially identified 12 potential reef sites, narrowed to six viable locations, and finally to two proposed sites. One was eliminated because it fell within a Marine Protected Area, leaving a single location where BP says work is “already under way.” Dr. Modou Thiaw, a senior researcher at Senegal’s Oceanographic Research Centre of Dakar-Thiaroye who led the reef feasibility study, describes the process as “super slow.” Meanwhile, fishermen grow increasingly skeptical about whether the promised reefs will ever materialize—or whether they’ll be effective if they do. Safety Concerns and Environmental Questions In February 2025, a gas leak—described by BP as “gas bubbles”—occurred in one of the platform’s wells, raising new concerns about environmental safety. Mamadou Ba, a Dakar-based ocean campaigner with Greenpeace Africa, warns that such incidents could have “immeasurable effects” on marine ecosystems. “BP refuses to disclose the actual amount of the gas leak,” Ba says, noting that experts believe such leaks could destroy marine fauna, flora, reefs, and the resources that fish depend on for survival. BP maintains that the environmental impact was “negligible” and says they “acted swiftly, capped the well, and engaged transparently with regulators.” The Senegalese environment and energy ministries later confirmed that satellite images showed no further leaks after repairs were completed. But for fishermen already struggling, the incident reinforced their worst fears about the platform’s long-term impact on their fishing grounds. Adapting to Survive: When Fishermen Become Carpenters Faced with dwindling incomes, many fishermen are abandoning their traditional trade. Some have joined the dangerous migration routes to Europe, while others, like 38-year-old Saer Diop, have developed alternative skills. Diop, who fished for most of his life, now works primarily as a carpenter, building and repairing the colorful wooden canoes that once carried him to sea. “Currently, I earn a better living with carpentry than with fishing,” he admits, though he notes the work is irregular. “Fishing has become very difficult because of the gas project.” For younger fishermen like Gora Fall, the choices are starker. “We are forced to continue our fishing activity because we have no other choice,” he says. “But if a job opportunity arises, we will seize it without hesitation.” Government Position: Balancing Energy and Tradition Senegal’s government finds itself walking a tightrope between harnessing valuable energy resources and protecting a traditional industry that sustains hundreds of thousands of citizens. Energy Minister Birame Souleye Diop has acknowledged the need for oil and gas exploitation to “co-exist with fishing,” which he describes as “essential to the local community.” During celebrations marking the launch of gas exports in April 2025, the minister called for “continuous vigilance to guarantee the efficiency, transparency and sustainability of economic benefits for the population.” The government has hailed the gas project as strengthening Senegal’s position in global energy markets and generating vital foreign exchange. But many fishermen feel their government has chosen multinational corporations over its own people. “We only have the sea to live on,” Fall says, summing up the sentiment of many in his community. “They accuse the government of siding with BP to their detriment.” The Human Cost of Progress What makes Saint-Louis’s situation particularly poignant is the city’s deep historical connection to the sea. Founded in 1659 as the first French settlement in Senegal, Saint-Louis has always been a fishing community. Its distinctive colorful pirogues have become symbols of Senegalese cultural identity, featured in countless photographs and tourist promotions. Now, those same pirogues return with increasingly empty holds, their owners wondering how much longer their way of life can continue. The question hanging over Saint-Louis is whether modern energy development and traditional fishing can truly coexist, or whether one must inevitably give way to the other. BP insists it is “committed to operating responsibly” alongside local communities. The company points to its local hiring practices and community engagement programs as evidence of this commitment. But for fishermen watching their livelihoods disappear, corporate assurances ring hollow. Looking Ahead: An Uncertain Future As the artificial reef project slowly moves forward—BP says it will be completed by the end of 2025—fishermen remain skeptical. They question the proposed location just 4 kilometers from shore, arguing it’s too close to coast to effectively attract fish. BP maintains technical evaluations show the site allows for “more effective management and protection.” The fundamental conflict remains: how to balance national economic interests represented by the gas project against the survival of communities that have depended on the sea for centuries. For now, Gora Fall and his fellow fishermen continue their daily journeys to sea, navigating around exclusion zones and hoping for catches substantial enough to feed their families. Their brightly colored canoes, once symbols of abundant harvests, now represent something more fragile—a way of life threatened by progress, and a community determined to preserve its heritage against increasingly difficult odds. As the sun sets over Saint-Louis, the question remains: Will future generations of Senegalese children know the rhythm of the fishing life, or will it become just another casualty in the global pursuit of energy?
2025-10-02