Fiji's Oyster Farmers Are Fighting Climate Change—and Their Livelihoods Hang in the Balance
In Fiji, many women work in the informal sector, which often means irregular, low-paying jobs. Shockingly, underemployment among women in the country can reach as high as 74 percent, according to The Asia Foundation. This is why the women participating in Ravea's oyster farming program are so eager to learn a trade that could offer more stable and profitable income.
Inside the vibrant, turquoise community hall of Vatulele, Ravea teaches women essential oyster farming skills: hauling in oyster lines, cleaning the oysters, and crafting predator nets from heavy-duty plastic to protect their precious shellfish from threats like triggerfish and pufferfish. Her training sessions are held quarterly and are open to both women and men who want to enter the oyster industry.
This year alone, around 25 women in the village have completed Ravea's training. On a mid-July day, half a dozen women aged between 24 and 59, dressed in floral prints and polka dots, crouch over rolls of predator nets, learning each stitch and knot meticulously.
Among them is 49-year-old Unaisi Seruwaia, who brings firsthand experience to the training. As a former secretary of Vatulele Yaubula, the village’s community oyster collective, she is well aware of the economic potential oyster farming holds.
"Living in a Fijian village is not easy — earning a steady income is a challenge," she admits. In her community, the average weekly income ranges from just 150 to 200 Fijian dollars ($66–88).
Many villagers sell local crops like dalo (taro) and yaqona (kava), fish for income, or take on small jobs such as drying coconut meat, weaving baskets, or working in shops. But as weather patterns become more erratic, having a climate-resilient source of income has never been more crucial, says Seruwaia.
Recent warnings about extreme weather events only heighten these concerns. For example, a March 2025 climate study projected that Fiji will face stronger tropical cyclones and more severe flooding, threatening the very livelihoods of coastal communities reliant on fishing and small-scale aquaculture.
The memories of Cyclone Winston in 2016 remain fresh. This 26-day storm, the strongest ever recorded in the Southern Hemisphere, caused an estimated 1.99 billion Fijian dollars ($875 million) in damage, affected over half of Fiji's population, and claimed 44 lives. Villages and farmland were devastated, not only on the main island's north coast but also across smaller islands.
"Cyclone Winston caused severe damage to coral reefs, mangroves, and seagrass beds — habitats essential for both subsistence and small-scale commercial fisheries," explains Rosi Batibasaga, a fisheries officer with WCS.
Coastal villages like Vatulele suffered tremendously. Batibasaga notes, "Residents experienced reduced fish availability, destroyed boats and fishing gear, and a sharp decline in household income and food security."
For Vatulele resident Vive Digiata, 59, the change was stark: "Life was easier before the cyclone. Fish are smaller now, and people are increasingly relying on canned fish to supplement their meals."
Adding to the challenge, illegal fishing and poaching—often carried out by foreign vessels—further deplete local fish stocks, placing endangered species such as hawksbill turtles at even greater risk.
But here's where it gets controversial: while oyster farming offers hope, it is still a small-scale solution in the face of broader environmental threats. Can such initiatives truly secure long-term livelihoods for Fiji’s coastal communities? Or are they merely a temporary patch in a system under severe stress? Share your thoughts below — could oyster farming be the key to survival, or is it just a band-aid on a much larger problem?
