Ghana's female oyster farmers battle climate change to preserve an age-old practice

Tsokomey, Ghana — Beatrice Nutekpor weaves through the mangroves each day to harvest oysters for sale, a family trade she has kept since she was 15. Now 45, she is fighting to sustain the practice and pass it to her daughter as climate pressures threaten the coastal livelihood.

In Ghana’s coastal mangroves, oyster farming has long been a key source of income, a domain historically dominated by women. Hundreds of women were trained in eco-friendly farming methods for oysters, including mangrove planting and preservation and selective harvesting, designed to reduce the impacts of climate change on the industry. The Development Action Association, a local nonprofit, led those efforts before funding shifts upended the program. The group lost U.S. aid contracts after a broader federal decision to cut foreign aid, leaving the women to improvise and carry on their heritage with fewer resources. Mangroves along the coast provide critical ecological functions: they shelter juvenile fish, act as buffers against coastal erosion, and help stabilize shorelines during storms and cyclones. Yet Ghana, like many West African countries, has watched mangroves decline under pressure from development and shifting climate.

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A single basin of oysters sells for roughly 47 Ghanaian cedis, about $4, a price Nutekpor says goes toward feeding her family and supporting her daughters’ schooling. The oysters’ fate is tightly tied to the mangroves that nurture and anchor them; when roots are depleted, oysters migrate to deeper waters, forcing divers to plunge to depths of 30 feet (9 meters) or more in search of stock. “The water is our livelihood,” says Bernice Bebli, 39, another oyster farmer who helps steer the family business through uncertain coastal conditions.

According to Francis Nunoo, a professor of fisheries science at the University of Ghana, the dynamic coastal environment is now more volatile than in the past, complicating oyster growth and harvests. “When you have a situation where the water body, which is already dynamic, becomes more dynamic than before, the oysters cannot grow,” he says. The erosion of mangrove forests makes the ecosystem more fragile, and many communities depend on the oysters for cash income, food, and cultural identity.

The Training that once supported the women’s work has not fully recovered. Lydia Sasu, the executive director of the Development Action Association, notes that this year’s harvest is down compared with last year, a signal that the shift in funding and ongoing environmental stress are affecting the entire value chain. Still, the women persist, carrying out mangrove replanting and selective harvesting practices that they hope will restore yields over time.

The Densu Oyster Pickers Association has established guidelines to protect the mangroves and sustain the fishery. According to Bebli, offenders who cut mangroves outside of the allowed window face penalties, including losing their oysters, and repeated violations can be reported to the police. The community-wide rules reflect a recognition that the coastal ecosystem is a shared resource with a finite capacity to recover, and that the rate of destruction frequently outpaces the rate of repopulation. These measures are part of a broader effort to balance livelihoods with conservation in a region that has already endured substantial mangrove loss over the past century.

Nutekpor embodies the intergenerational dimension of this struggle. She emphasizes the importance of passing the trade to the next generation: “Just as my mother taught me this business, I also want to teach my daughter so she can teach her child. Then oyster farming will remain our family business.” For she and many others, the mangroves are more than a resource; they are a cultural heritage that provides the backbone for families who rely on the coast for daily subsistence. The women describe the practice not only as work, but as a stubborn form of resilience in the face of climate change and economic volatility.

In parallel with the local efforts, experts emphasize that protecting mangroves is essential for the long-term resilience of fisheries, coastal protection, and local weather stabilization. The mangroves act as nurseries for juvenile fish, and their roots trap sediment and dampen wave action during storms. They also support communities by sustaining oyster populations that families have depended on for generations. The interdependence of ecological health and human livelihoods is evident in Tsokomey and similar communities along Ghana’s coast, where livelihoods are inseparable from the health of the mangrove ecosystem.

As Ghana navigates an era of economic fluctuation and climate-related uncertainties, Nutekpor and her peers highlight a broader imperative: sustaining traditional livelihoods requires durable support structures, ongoing adaptation, and renewed investment in coastal ecosystems. The training programs that once helped diversify and stabilize oyster farming were a crucial part of that puzzle; their withdrawal underscores the fragility of development initiatives tied to foreign aid and the need for locally sustained funding mechanisms. In the meantime, the women of Tsokomey continue to harvest, replant, and teach the next generation to keep their coastal heritage alive, hoping that mangroves and oysters will flourish together for years to come.