Gelang Patah, Malaysia – On a cloudy morning six years ago, Mohammad Ridhwan Mohd Yazid was returning to the southern coast of Johor in Malaysia when his small fishing boat was caught in a sudden storm.
In a matter of minutes, the calm southerly winds of March turned into gales that swept offshore and battered his boat, tossing him and the day's catch into the air.
Alone and about a kilometer (about half a mile) off the northwest coast of Singapore, Ridhwan landed on the boat near the engine and quickly turned toward land.
“I didn't mind losing half of what I caught that day. I just wanted to come home,” the 30-year-old told Al Jazeera in an interview at the coastal jetty in Pendas, a fishing town in Johor state, southern Malaysia.
Ridhwan's story is not isolated, but shared by many traditional Malaysian fishermen who have been increasingly affected by the climate crisis, which is changing the weather patterns that have long governed when and where they can fish.
These fishermen are estimated to make up about 65 percent of the total fishing community in Malaysia, and are small-scale operators of coastal or riverine communities and ply waters near the coast or along the river in search of fish, clams, crabs and other marine animals to meet local needs. demand.
They typically use single-engine boats about seven meters (23 feet) long and cast their nets in an area up to five nautical miles offshore along the country's more than 4,600 kilometers (2,858 miles) of coastline.
But erratic weather, warming seas and declining fish populations caused by climate change are slowly pushing them away from the seas on which they and previous generations once depended.
“Before we didn't have to go far to get a good catch. We could get closer to the shore,” said Mohd Hafiza Abu Talib.
Now, he said, the winds could change direction without warning, which is dangerous for those who normally work alone or fish at night.
“The winds can change suddenly and take us somewhere else. It is even worse when we fish in the dark and we don't have GPS,” added the man in his 40s.
hot waters
United Nations studies have shown that the oceans absorb 25 percent of all carbon dioxide emissions and capture 90 percent of the heat generated by these emissions trapped in the Earth's atmosphere.
The U.S.-based National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration showed a daily sea surface temperature of 21 degrees Celsius (69.8 Fahrenheit) since early January, one degree higher than during the same period 30 years ago.
Human-caused emissions have raised average ocean temperatures, leading to melting polar ice, rising sea levels, ocean acidification, marine heat waves, and more fiercely unpredictable weather.
Mangroves have also been damaged and coral reefs, where fish breed, have bleached.
Professor Mohd Fadzil Mohd Akhir, an oceanographer at University Malaysia Terengganu, said marine animals, sensitive to sea temperatures, had been found to migrate to colder waters as the oceans warmed.
“This doesn't mean that when the climate gets warmer, fish won't be available anywhere,” he said.
“Most marine organisms in tropical areas will move to colder areas when these areas warm.”
A 2022 study from the University of British Columbia found that climate change would force 45 percent of fish that cross two or more exclusive economic zones away from their natural habitats by the end of the century.
An exclusive economic zone (EEZ) refers to an area of ocean or sea that extends about 200 nautical miles beyond a country's territorial waters.
The prospect of a further decline in an already declining harvest is a blow to Malaysia's coastal fishermen, who have invested thousands of dollars in a backbreaking trade with often low returns.
A single boat can cost around 14,000 Malaysian ringgit ($2,928), with thousands more needed for nets, engines and fuel.
A Pendas fisherman can potentially get more than 300 ringgit ($62) worth of fish or crabs from the sea on a good day, and more during certain seasons. However, anglers who have fished here for decades complain that there are fewer good days than before.
“Before I could weigh between 30 and 40 kg. [66 to 88lbs] of crabs in a day,” said Shafiee Rahmat, 63, who has been fishing for 50 years.
“Now I weigh about 10 kg. [22lbs] in a day. Not worth it.”
'Dramatic collapse'
At first, local fishermen blamed coastal and industrial developments for the decline in supply.
Chief among the complaints was the construction of artificial islands that make up the China-backed 2,833-hectare (7,000-acre) Forest City real estate project, about 20 kilometers (12 miles) from Pendas.
But Serina Rahman, a conservation scientist who has worked with area fishermen for more than 15 years, also noticed a “dramatic collapse” when the world shut down during the COVID-19 pandemic.
“We always thought it was development that affected fish catch,” said the National University of Singapore professor.
However, Serina and fishermen noticed that fish populations did not increase again as expected, even when coastal development, previously blamed for declining catches, stopped during the closures.
He said that while dredging had been shown in the past to increase the catch of certain species, such as prawns, climate change had no such benefits.
“That's when we really saw the drop in catches, because during the COVID period is when we saw the numbers totally decrease,” Serina said.
Spurred on by dwindling supplies and extreme weather, some Pendas fishermen have banded together with the help of a local environmental group to build an offshore fishing platform to earn more money.
Known colloquially as “kelong” or “rafts,” the floating wooden structures serve as controlled breeding grounds for aquaculture and places for visiting fishermen.
Each platform can potentially generate up to 100,000 ringgit ($20,920) a year in fish; much less risky than going out to sea.
Ridhwan said there are “many” now lining the coast of Johor, compared to just three or four a decade ago.
Fed up with unrewarding waters, he has taken several breaks from trading over the past 10 years, doing odd jobs including as a courier during the pandemic.
He finally quit two years ago and sold his boat. Nowadays, Ridhwan does diving work and sometimes maintains the Pendas fishermen's platform and feeds the fish they farm.
“Here everyone wants to be a fisherman,” he said. “But if it's not good for us, what's the point? “We have to change with the times.”
