Nile fishermen cast net for plastic as marine life becomes scarce

Collecting waste for recycling has become more profitable than fishing in Cairo as pollution takes its toll

Cairo’s fishermen, faced with dwindling catches from the Nile, are downing their rods and instead collecting plastic waste for recycling – an activity they say now yields a greater profit as pollution kills the river’s once bountiful marine life.

The 1,600-kilometre Nile river has become a dumping spot for rubbish and dead animals, the fishermen say, despite being the main source of water for the country's 106 million people.

“I alone remove no less than 200 to 500 kilos of plastic from the Nile every week,” said Arafa Saber, a 38-year-old fisherman and resident of Al Qusayrah, a Nile island in Giza province that forms a sizeable portion of Greater Cairo’s southwestern areas.

The plastic is mostly sold to recycling companies for an average price of 32 Egyptian pounds ($0.66) per kilogram. The figure varies slightly depending on the variety and quality, he said.

Mr Saber is not alone in his endeavour. Many fishermen, rubbish collectors and private sector initiatives have been striving to clean up the river for nearly a decade. The VeryNile initiative, which works to recycle the plastic into goods for sale, collected more than 200 tonnes of waste from the Nile between 2021 and 2023. A significant portion was plastic.

Around 10 years ago, Mr Saber and his fellow fishermen would catch between 20 and 25 kilograms of fish per day; now he is only able to fish between two and four kilograms. The quality of the fish has also deteriorated, he told The National, recounting that for the past year or two, many extracted from Greater Cairo stretches of the river – some of its most densely populated parts – have emitted a stench when opened and cleaned by fishmongers.

“A customer might fry the fish, thinking that it would get rid of the stink, and then throw it away without eating it. But because it is my livelihood, I catch it and sell it while feeling guilty because it’s fish that I myself wouldn’t eat,” Mr Saber said.

When he first started collecting rubbish, Mr Saber recounts being chastised by people who looked down on him. “Now, the same people who criticised me have themselves started to collect rubbish, and many even brought their children, friends and family members into the profession,” he said.

The practice has become commonplace in many areas of Cairo, not just along the Nile river, as Egyptians struggle with the high cost of living following a series of economic downturns.

While he initially “walked among people feeling embarrassed”, now he feels pride because “if I had to carry mud over my head to ensure my son’s safety, I would do that”. Mr Saber has learnt to ignore insults and sometimes attempts to educate people. In recent years, he has found that collecting trash is more profitable than fishing, and he intends to continue.

A group of fisherwomen in Giza’s Bahr El Aazam district told The National that the number of fish in the Nile has fallen in addition to their edibility. Many reported having to row their boats north or south of Cairo to reach stretches in more rural areas where the fish are healthier and more plentiful.

Umm Reda, 55, said extensive construction was to blame along the banks of the Nile in central Cairo, where a wave of state-sponsored projects have resulted in riverside promenades, cafes, restaurants and luxury high-rise apartments. She told The National she repeatedly saw construction materials being dumped in the river.

Egypt’s government, through its ministries of environment and water resources, has launched multiple clean-up initiatives, with several held to mark celebrations related to the environment, such as World Cleanup Day and Cairo Water Week. However, the government’s efforts have so far fallen short and initiatives like VeryNile, which has worked with fishermen in Al Qusayrah, are helping to fill the gap.

With millions of Egyptians facing economic hardship and anxiety, Mr Saber’s reliance on the Nile, even as a source of rubbish rather than fish, is a stark reminder of how essential the river is to Egypt’s people, who look to its waters for their livelihoods just as their ancestors did thousands of years ago.