Along the wind-sculpted shores of Puntland—our semi-autonomous northeast—I still watch hand-painted dhows glide out at dawn. The deckhands laugh that our loose-weave “maraq” nets have two jobs: catching dinner and letting the smallest fish wriggle free so tomorrow’s stew will be fatter. (In Somali, maraq means “soup”—perfect irony, right?) Because the nets float just above the coral heads, they spare juvenile fish and the living reef below. Every visiting consultant expects coastal Somalia to behave like a war-torn wasteland; instead they find centuries-old gear that modern trawlers could learn from.

Elders as Eco-Referees

We don’t have one grand “reef council” crowned in paperwork. What we have are the wise oday-ga kalluunka—fish elders—who meet whenever the moon rolls into spawning phase. Under a palm lean-to they share tea, trade Maay-dialect verses about octopus courtship (honestly more romantic than Tinder), then announce a no-take period. Break that taboo and you’ll fetch water from the far well—or eat alone at weddings. I tag along with my clipboard, but social pressure keeps order far better than any fine.

Scientists who’ve swum our octopus beds say densities here rival managed Pacific fisheries. Hearing that, one elder grinned: Warabeeygu wuxuu leeyahay badda waa nolosheena—our heritage says the sea is our life. Simple math, really.

From Custom to Community MPA

In 2018 our Ministry of Fisheries partnered with Secure Fisheries and local committees to turn custom into policy: the Eyl Community Marine Protected Area (CMPA). Motorboats stay out of the core zone; carved wooden stakes mark daily catch limits; elders now patrol with smartphones clipped to bamboo poles. After two full seasons, our dive surveys show red-snapper yields up roughly 25–30 percent. A global headline? Maybe not. A village supper you can taste? Absolutely.

Culture That Feeds

Dusk on the jetty feels like a block party. Baskets of crimson kaluno swap for sorghum flour; women whip sweet malaay porridge while goatskin drums keep tempo. I once tried to navigate home by stars like Uncle Yusuf—missed Orion, stepped off the planks, and baptised my field notes. Lesson logged: trust the elders before the GPS.

Bigger-Picture Payoff

A recent FSNAU bulletin hints that children in our coastal fishing districts show slightly lower wasting rates than inland peers—likely thanks to the extra protein we haul ashore. Critics argue our rules are “too informal to scale.” I invite them to share a meal here, then tell me if informality tastes this good.

The sea is our story—and every tide has a lesson. May the next wave carry these lessons far beyond Puntland’s headlands. 🌊✨