Every day, Gora Fall, a fisherman in Senegal's northern city of Saint-Louis, heads to sea with a mix of emotions: hope and frustration. He hopes he will get a better catch than the previous day, yet is frustrated by the thought that whatever he finds might not meet his needs.

“Before, we worked to live, but now we just work to survive,” says the 25-year-old. Like him, many other small-scale, traditional fishermen in Saint-Louis—a major fishing hub—are facing hard times.

The BBC has spoken to several fishermen and people linked to the fishing trade who all point to one cause—a liquefied natural gas platform that sits on the maritime border between Senegal and Mauritania, off the coast of Saint-Louis.

The Greater Tortue Ahmeyim (GTA) gas project is operated by the British multinational oil and gas giant BP as part of a joint venture with Kosmos Energy, as well as Petrosen and SMH, the national oil companies of Senegal and Mauritania respectively.

BP, which has a 56% working interest in the project, began its operation in Senegal in 2017 following the discovery of natural gas two years earlier. Described as one of the deepest and most complex gas development schemes in Africa, the first phase of the multi-billion dollar offshore project is expected to produce roughly 2.3 million tonnes of liquefied natural gas per year for over 20 years.

However, residents of Saint-Louis say this also comes with restrictions on fishing that 90% of the city’s population of over 250,000 rely on for a livelihood.

On a Tuesday morning, with weather conditions declared favourable, Mr. Fall readies his wooden canoe painted with patterns of red, blue, yellow, and other colors. With his hook and bait, he sets off for the day's fishing trip.

After motoring 10km (6.2 miles) offshore, the young fisherman approaches the giant gas facility. But he says he cannot get any closer due to a 500m exclusion zone that restricts fishing. “The authorities forbid us to fish in that area of the platform, under penalty of confiscation or even destruction of our fishing equipment if we access it,” Mr. Fall tells the BBC.

Fishermen say the platform is built around a natural reef rich with fish. The restrictions mean their catches are smaller, and they barely earn a living. This has compounded the difficulties they already face with competition from large international trawlers.

BP contends that concerns about Senegalese fishing stocks pre-date the gas project, stating, “Safety zones around infrastructure are standard practice to protect people and assets.”

During a forum held in Saint-Louis in October 2024, Senegal's Energy Minister Birame Souleye Diop expressed the need for oil and gas exploitation to coexist with fishing, which he described as essential to the local community.

The fishing industry accounts for nearly 60,000 direct jobs and over half a million indirect jobs in Senegal, according to the UN's Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO). It also reportedly employs one in six people and constitutes about 3% of the country's GDP.

Processing is traditionally predominantly done by women. However, with the reduction in the number of fish in Saint-Louis, many are losing their jobs. Diamol Sène, who dries salted fish in the sun, reports that some of the women who previously worked with her at a fish processing site are now unemployed.

“If the canoes could go out to sea and come back with [abundant] catches, all the women would return to the site to work,” she says.

Fishermen say they used to make between $445 and $625 (£330 and £465) from a single fishing trip but nowadays struggle to get $90.

Dwindling profits are pushing many fishermen, including Mr. Fall, to consider abandoning their centuries-old practice. “We are forced to continue our fishing activity, because we have no other choice,” he says. “But if a job opportunity arises, we will seize it without hesitation.”

Others have already abandoned fishing for alternative opportunities, including migrating to Europe.

One of those is 38-year-old Saer Diop, who since 2021 has been working as a carpenter, producing, repairing, and painting canoes. He developed this skill while younger and now sees it as a lifeline amid adversity. He admits carpentry brings in better income than fishing, which he claims has become “very difficult” because of the gas project.

BP insists it is “committed to operating responsibly” alongside its partners and local communities. However, local fishermen assert that BP has not fulfilled its promise to create artificial reefs. These reefs were expected to serve as an alternative, given that access to the natural reef—known locally as Diattara—is restricted.

While celebrating the launch of gas exports from the facility in April 2025, Senegal’s energy minister called for “continuous vigilance to guarantee the efficiency, transparency, and sustainability of economic benefits for the population”.

The Senegalese government also hailed the gas project as one that strengthens the country's positioning on the global energy scene, earning vital foreign exchange.

Members of a local association representing artisanal fishermen in Saint-Louis express concern that BP's artificial reefs have yet to materialize, six years after promises were made. “When they came in 2019, they assured us: ‘We’ll build you eight artificial reefs’ to replace our Diattara,” Nalla Diop, the spokesperson for the fishermen’s association, says. However, “nothing has been done.”

Fishermen argue the artificial reef is not advantageous as it is planned to be built just 4km from the coastline, a location they deem unsuitable for attracting fish.

The Senegalese government confirmed a gas leak in February 2025 at one of the wells run by BP. Although BP described it as “gas bubbles,” local experts raised concerns about the implications for marine life.

While BP claims the gas leak's environmental impact is negligible, advocates worry about potential destruction to marine ecosystems. Local representatives warn that the promise of prosperity from the gas project comes at a grave cost, depriving them of their treasured sea and leading to an uncertain future.

“We only have the sea to live on,” laments Mr. Fall.