Oyster farmers battle the climate crisis in Fiji's troubled seas

Vanua Levu, Fiji — Jelly Ravea, 58, glides out to sea on a bilibili, a traditional Fijian raft made of bamboo. She is fishing off the coast of Vatulele, a village on the south coast of Vanua Levu, Fiji’s second-largest island.

The sea has long been the main source of food and materials for islanders here, providing everything from seaweed and seashells to various fish. For centuries, Fijians like Ravea have paddled out once, if not twice, each day to scour the ocean for their daily catch.

But this tradition is now in danger.

“Every day, we should be able to eat something from the sea,” says Ravea, who wears a deep blue sulu, a traditional wrap, around her waist. “But times are hard, the shells are sometimes dead, and the oil from yachts spreads over the sea and kills the fish.”

An abundant ocean is essential for the 900,000 people who live in Fiji, an archipelago of 333 islands in the South Pacific Ocean. With 40 percent of Fijian households relying on subsistence fishing amid declining fish stocks, coastal communities are seeking ways to make a sustainable income.

Ravea, who has fished these waters for more than five decades, has long feared that the decline in fish goes beyond the ebb and flow of natural weather patterns. She blames climate change and poachers. In need of reliable pay, she was the first in her family to strap on a scuba tank and search the seafloor for black-lip pearl oysters 25 years ago. She soon took up farming, helping develop the community's burgeoning oyster farms. Now an expert, she hopes oyster farming — typically a source of lucrative pearls — can also offer a climate-resilient meat trade for villagers.

The AQUA-Pearl Project, a collaboration between the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD), the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS) and Fiji’s Ministry of Fisheries, is supporting oyster farmers such as Ravea to teach other villagers the ropes. Employed by J Hunter Pearls, a local pearl cultivator and key private sector partner to the project, Ravea helps Fijian women develop community pearl oyster farms, teaching them how to care for the oysters, cultivate their meat, and sell them across the island. She would like to see the industry grow into a new kind of coastal trade that keeps families fed, communities afloat, and traditions alive.

Balancing on her bilibili, Ravea paddles towards two steel barges where men are hauling out lines full of oysters. Aboard the barges, she instructs them, sorting oysters into two piles, one “for pearls” and one “for chow”.

Larger oysters, which have reached the developmental stage suitable for pearl nucleation, go to J Hunter Pearls to be cultured by a specialist, a process of growing pearls that can take 18 months to two years. Smaller oysters go back into the sea on black wire frames to mature into edible oysters sold locally after 12 to 18 months.

Ravea changes into baggy shorts and a “born in Fiji” T-shirt and begins the gritty process of cleaning the oysters that are being sent for cultivation. She scrapes a sharp blade along their seaweed- and barnacle-encrusted shells. Many of them will produce lucrative jewels, but those that don’t can be sold as edible oysters, offering much-needed income.

As a form of aquaculture — a technique for farming marine organisms — oyster farming is incredibly sustainable and low-maintenance because oysters naturally clean the surrounding water as they feed. Oysters sequester carbon through their shells, and their lines tend to withstand heavy storms and cyclones. They also require no fertilisers or special treatments.

Beyond the bay, a series of colourful buoys map the farm’s location, where oyster lines drop five metres (16ft) below the surface and extend up to 200 metres (656ft) long. These lines are home to thousands of oysters at various stages of growth.

This emerging industry is being developed in parts of Fiji, Tonga, and Papua New Guinea, with Vanua Levu hosting one of the region’s most established, community-integrated pearl and edible oyster farming industries. The waters there are ideal because they offer nutrient-rich, well-flushed, and clean coastal environments that support the sustainable growth of indigenous oyster species.

Women in Fiji are often employed in the informal economy, which means low and inconsistent pay, with underemployment for them running as high as 74 percent, according to The Asia Foundation. So the women being trained by Ravea are eager to learn a more lucrative trade.

Gathered in Vatulele’s bright, turquoise-coloured community hall, Ravea is teaching women how to haul in the lines, clean the oysters, and make predator nets from heavy-duty plastic to protect the oysters from triggerfish and pufferfish. She offers quarterly training sessions, welcoming both women and men to learn the oyster meat trade.

Around 25 women in the village have received training in oyster farming this year. On this day in mid-July, half a dozen women aged 24 to 59 and dressed in florals and polka dots are crouched over rolls of predator nets.

Unaisi Seruwaia, 49, is one of the trainees. She previously served as secretary of Vatulele Yaubula, the village’s community oyster collective, so she understands the industry’s potential.

“It’s not easy to live in a [Fijian] village — it’s difficult to make money,” she says, noting that the average income in her village is just 150 to 200 Fijian dollars ($66-88) a week.

“We sell vegetables, like dalo [taro] and yaqona [kava], or we look for income from fishing,” she says, adding that some women also dry coconut meat, weave baskets or take jobs in shops.

As the weather becomes more unpredictable, a climate-resistant source of income is more important than ever, says Seruwaia.

Warnings about extreme weather events are raising fears that fishing stocks will decline further. In March 2025, for example, a climate study predicted that tropical cyclones and extreme floods would increase in severity in Fiji, posing even more risks to coastal and marine livelihoods.

The country has only just recovered from 2016’s Cyclone Winston. The 26-day storm was the strongest on record in the Southern Hemisphere, costing an estimated 1.99 billion Fijian dollars ($875m) in damage. The cyclone affected more than half of Fiji’s population, killing 44 people and causing widespread damage and destruction to villages and farmland, particularly on the north coast of the main island, but also on the smaller islands.

“Cyclone Winston caused extensive damage to coral reefs, mangroves, and seagrass beds — critical habitats that sustain subsistence and small-scale commercial fisheries,” says Rosi Batibasaga, a WCS fisheries officer.

Coastal villages such as Vatulele were hit hard, she said: “They faced reduced fish availability, destroyed boats and fishing gear, and sharp declines in household income and food security.”

Vatulele resident Vive Digiata, 59, put it simply: “Before [the cyclone], life was easier,” she said. “Fish are becoming smaller, and people are switching to canned fish to supplement their food.”

Illegal fishing or poaching, often by foreign vessels, meanwhile, also depletes fish stocks along coastal waters and puts endangered species, such as hawksbill turtles, at greater risk.

To address declining fishing stocks and build climate resilience, the AQUA-Pearl Project launched in September 2024. It is set to run for three years, helping communities develop oyster farming.

Vatulele’s villagers see new hope in oyster farming, but they still must obtain the government health certification needed to sell raw oyster meat and nama - salty grape-like seaweed - to restaurants, hotels and other markets on the island. They have applied, and say certification could come any day.

Farmed oysters can sell for 30 Fijian dollars ($13) a dozen, according to estimates from Pacific Community, a scientific organisation supporting development in the Pacific region. That money can provide a potentially significant boost to a household’s weekly income.

Tropical waters are often low in nutrients, which reduces the risk of harmful algal blooms and shell fouling that can kill oysters. The bay in the nearby port town of Savusavu features coral reefs that create steady currents, constantly bringing in fresh, plankton-rich seawater ideal for shellfish.

The development of the oyster farming industry in both Fiji and northern Australia is still in its early stages, so there is limited data on its potential. But research by the Cooperative Research Centre for Developing Northern Australia, as an example, estimates that a fully developed oyster trade could create up to 500 jobs and contribute $217 million Australian dollars ($140m) in direct output and a further $76 million Australian dollars ($49m) in indirect economic benefits.

“[Oyster farms] provide scholarships for the schoolchildren and bring jobs to the ladies who don’t have jobs to do at home,” says Ravea.

About 15 kilometres (9.3 miles) to the northeast along the coast from Vatulele lies Savusavu, where two worlds sit side by side. Market stalls swell with produce, young children kick rugby balls, and taxis dodge potholes. Nearby, at the waterfront, a white-washed yacht club and a new marina cater to a well-heeled international crowd who sail in from the glittering South Pacific.

On the edge of town is J Hunter Pearls, which has cultivated luxury pearls in Fiji since 1999. Run by Fijian marine biologist and CEO Justin Hunter, the company focuses primarily on pearl cultivation. Following cyclone damage in 2016, Hunter diversified into the edible oyster trade to help his business recover and to support local communities while promoting sustainable marine stewardship.

In Hunter's oyster hatchery, algae bioreactors line the walls in long tubes coloured lime, olive and emerald, cultivating microalgae for the oysters to eat. The tanks outside play host to sea cucumbers, giant clams and millions of spawning oysters.

Oysters are filter feeders, meaning they depend on the surrounding water to provide their food in the form of plankton and organic particles. While they help clean the water by removing these particles, they themselves require clean, high-quality water to survive and grow well.

“Oysters are often called the kidneys of the sea,” Hunter says. One oyster filters impurities from 150 litres of water daily, much like the kidneys filter waste from the blood.

Farmed oysters are initially raised in tanks in the hatchery before open-water farming. They feed on natural microorganisms, and aquaculture boosts survival by removing predators.

The IISD backs oyster farming as a “nature-based solution” benefitting people, nature, and economies, according to Veronica Lo, IISD’s senior policy adviser.

Lusiana Cole, 24, is one of the Vatulele villagers eagerly awaiting the government’s edible oyster certification. She works at the village’s oyster collective, and today she helps the women cut predator nets, moving carefully to protect her swelling stomach. She is heavily pregnant with her first child, a daughter.

For her family, pearl oysters represent a glimmer of hope for a better life.

“It feels special. It’s a good source of food and employment,” Cole says. “But it’s not only our village that’s interested in taking part.”

She hopes that one day her daughter will become a pearl farmer, paddling into the Pacific’s trove as generations of women have before her.

Ravea, who has watched the pearl industry grow from nothing into a hatchery then into barges and now into multiple oyster farms, said it has been a long journey.

“But now, it’s benefitting the whole community, bringing jobs to the village, helping the schools, and giving people hope again,” she says.

The bay’s surface might look unchanged from when Ravea first began pearl farming decades ago, but the view below tells a different story. Long lines now stretch towards the seabed, carrying hope for generations of women like Ravea.