Kagwell, Kenya — Rhoda Ongoche Akechi still remembers the whispering voices that followed her to the water in 2002. At the age of 39, the mother of seven was breaking one of Lake Victoria’s oldest taboos for women to set foot on fishing boats.
The now 61-year-old said: “People were claiming that if a woman went into the water with a man, they would have sex.” But after they realized she was only going there to learn and wouldn’t quit because of the stigma, “they remained silent.”
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Before that, the situation was very different in the Akechi community in Kagweru, a lakeside village in Seme sub-county of Kisumu County.
For decades, she worked as a fishmonger in a village where the male-only fishing industry had supported families for generations. But her income was decreasing. The cost of buying fish from male fishermen, coupled with the costs of firewood, oil for frying, and bus fare to market, was becoming unsustainable.
And in 2001, some women from neighboring Homa Bay County arrived in Cagwell and did the unthinkable: go fishing. Akech saw them and was inspired.
“I had previously enlisted the help of two young men to help me while I learned to fish,” she said. She persisted despite warnings from local residents who said women had no place on the water. Her family depended on it.
The cultural prohibition against women’s fishing in Lake Victoria communities stems from beliefs deeply woven into the social fabric of fishing villages. According to William Okedo, 57, a Kagweru village elder, traditions were particularly strict regarding menstruation.
“It was believed that if a woman entered the lake during her period, she would scare away the fish and cause losses to the fishermen,” Okedo explains.
This discrimination also extended to male fishermen, who were prohibited from having sexual relations with their wives the night before they went out to fish to avoid reducing their catch.
Rhoda Ongoche Akechi, 61, keeps a type of fish found in Lake Victoria at Kagwell Beach in Kisumu, Kenya (Daniel Kipchumba/Al Jazeera)
women’s team
Although Akechi’s bold move in 2002 broke the taboo, it took more than a decade for another woman to join her.
For 16 years, Akechi fished alone among several other male fishermen. Then, in 2018, Faith Awuor Anwo, a 37-year-old mother of four, took to the sea herself.
For years, Anwo worked as a fishmonger at the nearby Luanda market, where the same economic pressures were mounting.
Fearing resistance from the fishing community, Anwo said, “My husband initially rejected the proposal, but later allowed me to join Lodha.”
Two years later, in 2020, 22-year-old Dorcas Awiyo, a mother of three and a housewife, joined the team. Her husband, himself a fisherman, was against it at first.
“At first, my husband didn’t accept the idea, but later he allowed it,” Awiyo said. She needed additional income to supplement her husband’s income.
By 2022, the sight of women fishing had become so commonplace that Janet Endway, a 42-year-old mother of two, faced no resistance when she joined Akech’s team.
“The surrounding community was used to seeing Rhoda and Faith fishing, so I didn’t face any difficulties or receive any warnings when joining them,” Ms Ndwei said. Without a husband to support her and facing difficulties in running her fish shop, fishing became a viable option.
On a productive day when fish are plentiful, boat owners on Kagwell Beach can earn between 6,000 and 8,000 Kenyan shillings (approximately $46 to $62). Seme county fisheries officer Wilson Onjoro said crew members earn between 500 and 800 shillings ($3.88 to 6.20), while traders, including fishmongers, earn up to 1,000 shillings ($7.75). This is significantly more than the 500 shillings the women earned each day as fishmongers, buying fish from male fishermen.
Meteorologist Chris Mutai attributes the decline in fish populations to the effects of climate change on the lake’s ecosystem. (Daniel Kipchumba/Al Jazeera)
Economic necessity drives cultural change
Okedo, a village elder, has watched the changes with mixed feelings.
He recalled seeing women fishing in the Suva region adjacent to Lake Victoria, where fishing is a major economic activity, several years before Akech began. However, this practice was not as prominent as it once was.
“This is all because of the economic hardships faced by the community, and is inspiring women to break the taboo,” Okedo said.
She acknowledges that the barriers preventing women from fishing no longer exist, as Akech, inspired by the women of Homa Bay, provided a living example that challenges long-held beliefs.
Dalmas Onyango, a 35-year-old fisherman and father of three, acknowledged that the mindset of male fishermen is changing.
“The majority of my fellow fishermen now support my decision to fish,” Onyango said. She explained that economic hardship is forcing women to make decisions that were once unthinkable.
The women’s success comes at a time when Lake Victoria’s fishing communities are facing increasing environmental challenges. Akechi has noticed a gradual decline in his catch compared to when he first started fishing in 2002.
Chris Mutai, senior meteorologist in charge of the Kisumu Weather Observatory, attributes the decline in fish populations to the impact of climate change on the lake’s ecosystem. Rising water temperatures promote algae growth and reduce oxygen levels, directly impacting fish populations.
“To reverse this, we need to keep people off riparian land to create undergrowth that provides breeding grounds for fish, and avoid polluting the lake, which traps more heat than just clear water,” Mutai said.
He warned that water temperatures are expected to rise by another half a degree in the next 10 to 20 years, reaching 29.5 to 31 degrees Celsius (85.1 to 87.8 degrees Celsius). Without pollution control measures, riparian protection, fishing regulations, and alternative livelihood options such as agriculture, Lake Victoria’s fish stocks will decline further.
The Mutai station broadcasts five-day weather forecasts across the region and to the fishing community through WhatsApp groups and the Kisumu County Government. This information allows fishermen, and now female fishermen, to take appropriate precautions before heading out to sea.
Lake Victoria supports more than 42 million people who depend on it for food, employment and drinking water. The lake faces increasing pressure from overfishing, pollution, invasive species and climate change, with per capita fish catches declining despite an annual catch of around 1 million tonnes.
A pelican flies over Lake Victoria in Kisumu, Kenya (James Keyi/Reuters)
amidst legal ambiguity
Despite their accomplishments, Akechi and her team are officially in limbo. Kisumu County Fisheries and Blue Economy Acting Director Susan Clare denies women fishing in Lake Victoria in any official capacity.
“We have women who own boats and women who are traders, but they are not involved in night fishing or as boat crews,” Claire told Al Jazeera. As a result of her comments, Akechi’s team will no longer be officially recognized in the same way as the men’s teams. Despite doing the same work, women are unable to receive support due to legal ambiguity.
However, Christopher Ola, director of freshwater research at the Kenya Marine and Fisheries Research Institute, said in 2023 that “Lake Victoria has more than 47,000 fishermen, including 1,000 women,” suggesting that the current data from county governments may be incomplete.
Mr Clare acknowledged that declining fish stocks remained a major challenge. The county is working closely with the Bureau of Meteorology and the Ten Bear Youth Center to ensure fishermen have access to climate information. We are also working with the Beach Management Unit, a community-based organization that works with governments to manage fishing resources, to strengthen governance and take action against illegal fishing in the lake.
According to Onjoro, there are 35 coastal management units in Kisumu County, with about 1,500 to 2,000 fishermen operating in Seme County alone.
Ndwei, who first joined Akechi in 2022, is currently using the income he earns from fishing to pay for his two children’s university tuition, something his previous income as a fishmonger was unable to cover.
“Through fishing, I am able to meet the basic needs of my family and also pay for my children to attend university,” she said.
But it is becoming difficult to maintain the livelihood Akech has pioneered. She said she has been watching the lake change for 23 years, and the catch has been steadily declining for decades.
Still, the four women continue rowing every morning before dawn. On days when fish are scarce, my income is less than what I earn as a fishmonger. In good weather, the income is sufficient to justify the physical labor and risk of working in open waters.
“A man without land is a man without life,” Akechi said, adding that similar truths remain untold. That means fishermen without fish face the same fate.
This story was published in collaboration with Egab.
