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ST. PAUL BRIDGE \u2013 On the banks of the St. Paul River in Montserrado County, the day starts early. Paddles slicing through the water as fishermen set out before sunrise. For generations, the people along this river have survived on fishing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But their way of life is fading away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Where once nets came back filled with fish, now they return almost empty. Children wait on the shore for fathers whose catch can no longer feed them. The silence of empty boats has replaced the laughter that once echoed along the riverbanks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For Roosevelt Kollie, a fisherman from St. Paul Bridge, a suburb outside Monrovia, who has fished here for over 40 years, the change is personal and painful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have been fishing on this river for more than 30 years, but since companies started mining sand on the river, the fish migrated,\u201d says Kollie. \u201cPlaces where we used to catch huge quantities are now empty. The river is dying, and so is our livelihood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the last decade or so, fishers like Kollie have seen their catches vanish after several companies began mining sands on the St. Paul River. This is not only changing their way of life but also drowning the fishing community in poverty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Since 2011, the Ministry of Mines has issued 89 sand mining licenses for rivers and beaches across Liberia, including one<\/a> that was issued on the 30th<\/sup> of October, official records show. Nineteen of those licenses were awarded for the St. Paul River, with seven currently active. Most of the licenses came after the Liberian government banned<\/a> beach sand mining in 2012. The move was meant to curb coastal erosion. However, experts say it has piled pressure on rivers, hampering fishing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inland fishery plays a crucial role in sustaining rural life across Liberia. While ocean fisheries often take center stage, rivers, lakes, and wetlands are essential to thousands of families. A 2017 report estimated that 1,460 people engaged in inland fisheries, and the subsector produced 25 percent of the fish for rural communities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFish depend on the riverbed for food. When sand is mined, it destroys their habitat and forces them to migrate into the sea,\u201d says Dr. Eugene Shannon, former Minister of Mines and Energy. \u201cSometimes they return, and sometimes they\u2019re killed by strong ocean currents. It\u2019s not just bad for the river, it\u2019s devastating for the people who depend on it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[Sand mining] disrupts spawning and nursery grounds and leads to sedimentation, which reduces water quality and oxygen levels,\u201d adds Ahmed Sherf, Director for Environment and Climate Change with the National Fisheries and Aquaculture Authority (NaFAA). \u00a0He adds that sand mining damages mangroves, which serve as breeding and feeding grounds for various fish species.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fishermen know this all too well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018\u2019When it rains, my home leaks like outside. My children hold their books so they don\u2019t get wet. Some days they get ready for school, but have to stay home because I can’t afford their remaining school fees,\u2019\u2019 says 42-year-old fisherman, Francis Wreh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI go to the river hoping to catch fish to sustain us, but the nets come out nearly empty, only enough to feed us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hopeful, 38-year-old Archie Benson rests on a pile of sand, watching trucks pull away from the riverbank. Not long ago, he would have been pushing a canoe at this hour, nets twisted at his feet. Today, those nets sit dry behind his house. Construction works have replaced fishing, and each load of sand he helps remove feels like another piece of the river slipping away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI grew up on this river. Fishing was all I knew. But now I dig sand for construction from the same water that fed us. I feel like I\u2019m undermining my own history, but my family has to survive,\u201d explains Archie Benson, a fisherman-turned-construction-worker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fishmongers, too, are bearing the brunt of sand mining. For 36-year-old Tete Wilson, the market no longer echoes with fishermen calling her name. All that is left are empty tubs and tables.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe used to sit here, and fishermen would bring fish every day, but nowadays we go chasing after them and usually come back with nothing. The fishermen themselves are crying that the water is mean,\u201d says Wilson.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some fishmongers travel far from St. Paul Bridge just to keep their stalls stocked. Cynthia Nagbe, 29, wakes up before sunrise, boards a taxi to reach beaches in Marshall, Margibi and sometimes Robertsport, Cape Mount, in search of fish. The journey cost her more, but she has little choice if she wants to keep her customers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Stop river sand mining\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Sand mining in the St. Paul River might have intensified 13 years ago. However, the river\u2019s profile suggests it would remain a goldmine for the construction industry. One of Liberia\u2019s six largest rivers, the St. Paul flows from Guinea through Liberia into the Atlantic Ocean, spanning 301 miles. A 1963 report<\/a> found that the mineral is in \u201cunlimited quantities\u201d in the St. Paul Bridge region. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, mining sand from the river best explains why fish die or migrate from the area. It works by pumping a mixture of sand and water through long pipelines, using high pressure to extract sediments from the riverbed. The dredged sand is piled in a location where it is separated from the water. The water is then allowed to flow back into the river, degrading that entire ecosystem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/stage.thedaylight.org\/wp68\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/DJI_0313-1024x576.jpg\")
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