Mogadishu, 22 November 2025 – On a Friday morning, as the sun rises over Lido Beach in the Somali capital, Bakar Nuur Faraj stands at the shoreline.
The 39-year-old gazes out to the turquoise waters, watching the ebb and flow of the waves and small fishing boats dotting the surface, drifting slowly with the current.
Almost silently, he recites a prayer for a good catch from the day's work at sea.
For nearly two decades, this has been Mr. Faraj’s near-daily ritual, as taught to him by his father.
“Alhamdulillah, fishing is how I grew up – it is hereditary,” he says.
Mr. Faraj’s forefathers were fishermen. He himself has eight children, although he has no expectation that any of them will follow in his footsteps for a variety of reasons. He would rather they pursue careers in medicine and engineering.
This is a major development for Mr. Faraj as well as for Somalia’s Baraawe community – of which he is a proud member. For them, fishing is not just a job; it is a marker of culture and identity.
Mr. Faraj’s family hails from Baraawe, a coastal town that is also home to the Bravanese community and located on Somalia’s Benadir coastline, some 200 kilometres south of the Somali capital. Because of its strategic location, the town was chosen to be the capital city of Somalia’s South West State.
“If you are from Baraawe, you are known for shoemaking, carpentry, hat-making – or fishing. These crafts define who we are,” he says, referring to the artisanal crafts which his community is known for across Somalia.
Seaside start
Mr. Faraj was born in Baraawe, the third son in a family with six children. He had hoped to one day become a farmer, but he came of age during the start of Somalia’s civil war in the early 1990s, which caused immense devastation and suffering.
“The country was destroyed, education was destroyed, and there was nowhere to work,” Mr. Faraj recalls. “Everyone went where they could. Some migrated. Others searched for a livelihood.”
His dream of becoming a farmer faded fast as opportunities came to an end amidst the violence and chaos of the war.
For Mr. Faraj, the choice was straightforward – fishing was the only way to sustain himself and his family. It would also be a return to his community’s roots.
For Somalia’s Bravanese, fishing is a traditional occupation, carried on by its members for generations. Their trade is considered artisanal fishery as it involves households that use relatively small amounts of capital and energy, operate relatively small fishing vessels, make short fishing trips often close to shore, and fish mainly for local consumption.
“Some start young, collecting fish from the boats or cleaning the day’s catch,” he says. “They learn to mend nets or are sent to buy hooks and bait. Only later are they taken to sea.”
Like his fellow Bravanese, Mr. Faraj is proud of his heritage. He sees it as an anchor that connects him to his roots, embodying their resilience and historic links to Somalia’s coastline.
“Some set out at dawn, just after prayer, and spend six to eight hours at sea,” Mr. Faraj says. “Others leave in the afternoon and stay all night. Sometimes the catch is good. Sometimes the nets are nearly empty. They face storms and waves. Other days, the sea is calm.”
Philosophical musings only make up part of Mr. Faraj’s reflections. The fishing traditions may be romanticised for some, but there is also the cold, hard reality of trying to earn a living from the sea in a rapidly-changing environment – a reality he knows all too well.
“Boats run on fuel, and you must pay the suppliers. Sometimes you can afford it; sometimes you cannot. Some days you have good fortune. Others, you return empty-handed,” Mr. Faraj says.
The fishing carried out by the Baraawe community is a mixture of small-scale commercial and subsistence fishing, with its artisanal fishers operating on a day-to-day basis. They tend to use traditional methods of fishing, involving nets, traps, and lines and hooks. Once the day’s catch is brought in, it is taken to Mogadishu’s bustling Hamar Weyne fish market, located near the popular Lido Beach, for local sale.
However, the struggle does not end at the sea. The market has its own challenges, too.
Despite Somalia having the longest coastline on mainland Africa, its citizens are among the lowest consumers of fish. A 2013 report by the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), stated that annual fish consumption in the Horn of Africa country stands at just 3.3 kilograms per person, compared with an African average of 9.1 kilograms.
This is underpinned by the belief – in some quarters and especially among Somalis living far from the coastline – that seafood is not a regular part of a Somali diet.
This is on top of the usual challenges that arise in business.
“The middlemen want to buy everything but refuse to pay fairly,” Mr. Faraj says. “Sometimes they even take it all on credit, promising to pay in two or three days. That is common!”
Societal stigma
The costs and even the dangers of fishing are known and somewhat expected for Mr. Faraj and his fellow fishermen.
There are other challenges and obstacles – some which can be tougher to solve than the operational and financial ones. These are centred on the views held by some members of Somali society that certain areas of work are somehow lesser than others.
“In Somalia, manual labour is often looked down upon,” Mr. Faraj says. “But the best way to live, the way most beloved by Allah, is through honest work.”
“Those who earn livelihoods through lawful means – such as kabotole (shoemakers), tumaal (blacksmiths) and jaajis (fishers) – are stigmatized. But tell me: who would eat if these jobs disappeared? If we fishermen are scorned, then who will catch the fish?"
“The carpenters, the blacksmiths, the fishermen – all of us are indispensable,” he adds. “Our work is needed. Yet too often, we are treated as though we do not matter.”
The dilemma is a difficult one for Mr. Faraj. For him, the sea is both gift and burden. It feeds him but tests him. It offers dignity through labour yet sets him in a society that undervalues the work.
Mr. Faraj does not have a solution for this, but he believes education is the starting point.
“We must educate people on human rights and equality – and on the importance of the division of labour,” he says.
“One person sells rice; another sells tomatoes. Fishing is a traditional Somali occupation, practised in every coastal region,” he continues. “It is essential not only to raise awareness of it but also to promote and market it, both domestically and internationally.”
Such views are not uncommon among today’s generation. They are echoed by Fuad Shoble Kafe, a human rights activist and founder of Radio Baraawe, a community station in the Lower Shabelle region.
“We need education, awareness campaigns, and community dialogue to reduce the discrimination that fishermen face,” Mr. Kafe says.
“Fishing is a vital source of livelihood for coastal communities,” he adds. “It is not only economic, but also cultural and part of community identity. But without government support, factors like insecurity, poor infrastructure and weak market regulation will remain serious barriers.”
UN angle
In Somalia, the United Nations works closely with civil society organisations, artisans and community groups to advance human rights. This includes promoting cultural rights and fostering respect for linguistic diversity and the dignity of all occupations and traditional crafts, which contribute to a more inclusive and peaceful society.
“Promoting respect for every occupation is essential to building a more equitable society – and that includes the fishing carried out by the Baraawe community. Fishing is a valued cultural heritage for them,” says the Chief of the UN Transitional Assistance Mission in Somalia’s (UNTMIS) Human Rights and Protection Group, Kirsten Young.
“Fishing practices and local customs are interwoven with identities, making fishing an integral part of Somalia’s intangible heritage. Preserving and celebrating this way of life not only honours Somalia’s history, but also supports sustainable development, food security, and enjoyment of the cultural rights.”
“The Provisional Constitution of Somalia explicitly prohibits all forms of discrimination, whether direct or indirect. Mr. Faraj is not wrong in saying that eliminating occupational stigma requires robust legal protections, inclusive educational efforts, and informed policymaking, in collaboration with all stakeholders,” adds Ms. Young, who also serves as the representative to Somalia of the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR).
