The first time I felt the water wrap around me, I knew I had found something special.
It was a crisp morning when I approached the Ocean, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting a golden hue over everything it touched. I had always loved water—its ebb and flow, the way it seemed to have a life of its own—but that day was different.
As I slid into the Ocean, the cool water enveloped my body, instantly washing away the heaviness that clung to me like a second skin. The weight of my disability, the constant ache in my joints, and the ever-present strain of daily life seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of being cradled by the gentle waves.
Despite my inability to swim, I felt a profound sense of autonomy in the water.
I could maneuver myself, floating with the gentle currents that brushed against me, guiding me wherever they wished. I had often felt confined to my wheelchair, limited in movement and opportunities, but here, I was liberated. I was in control of my own body in a way I hadn’t experienced on land. Each push and pull of the water felt like a dance, a rhythm that allowed me to glide, sway, and spin in a graceful ballet, even if I wasn’t swimming in the traditional sense.
Floating on my back, I gazed up at the sky, the clouds shifting and morphing into fantastical shapes. It felt as if the Ocean was whispering to me, reminding me of a freedom I often forgot existed. Each ripple that passed over me was like a hand brushing away my worries, the pressure in my body gradually releasing with every gentle movement of the water.
It reminded me of the hydrotherapy sessions I’d attended, where the water was meant to heal, yet those moments had always been tinged with the stinging scent of chlorine and the sounds of shouting voices. Here, those distractions were removed. The Ocean was pure and unadulterated, a sanctuary where I could truly appreciate water in the way it had been intended—soft, soothing, and enveloping. There was no urgency, no pressure to perform or meet expectations; just the serene rhythm of nature and my own breathing.
I took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, feeling the coolness surround me like a protective cloak.
In the quiet depths, I found a serenity I craved. It was just me and the water, the world above muted and distant. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft thrumming of my heartbeat, the rhythm syncing with the gentle lapping of waves against my skin. In those moments, I was no longer defined by my disability; I was simply a part of the Ocean, a drop in an endless sea.
With each visit, the Ocean became my sanctuary.
I would return time and again, ready to release the pressures of the outside world. The water was more than a refuge; it was a partner in my journey, granting me a sense of autonomy that I struggled to find on land. I could move freely, guided by the water’s embrace, discovering the possibilities that lay within me. It taught me that sometimes, to find solace, I simply needed to surrender to the flow.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Phoebe!
Coconut for the Sea: What an Ancient Tradition Teaches Us About Ocean Conservation
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“As we offer the sea our prayers and coconuts, we remember our bond with her, for she gives and we take, a balance we strive to keep.”
– Poonam Keni from Koli Community, Ratnagiri, India
My journey with Ocean conservation has been a winding road, and perhaps its most meaningful turn happened not with science or activism, but through tradition. Specifically, by witnessing the age-old festival of Narali Purnima with the Koli fishing community in Mumbai.
This festival, dedicated to Varuna, the god of the Ocean, is a humble, and powerful expression of respect for the sea, its drama, and its bounty.
Growing up, my approach to Ocean conservation was straightforward: remove waste, reduce damage, respect marine life.
But stepping into the celebrations of Narali Purnima added layers of understanding I hadn’t anticipated. Narali Purnima, observed each year as the monsoon season draws to a close, signals the beginning of the Koli’s fishing season.
The festival’s name is derived from “naral,” or coconut, which the community offers to the Ocean in gratitude and as a request for safety. To the people, this is more than a custom, it is a reminder of their dependence on the sea and an annual reaffirmation of their respect for it.
The scene is one of breathtaking beauty. Women wear vibrant saris and adorn boats with garlands of marigolds and coconuts. There is an aarti (prayer) ceremony for Lord Varuna, asking for his blessings over the waters. The coconut here represents both the past season and the promise of a new one, while it gently floats off the sea’s surface.
The atmosphere hums with reverence as the community gathers, each person carrying an awareness that they are not just taking from the sea, but exchanging, returning, and showing their respect for the Ocean’s endless generosity.
But it’s not just about the visual splendour, Narali Purnima is timed to respect the sea’s cycles.
For centuries, the Koli people have refrained from fishing during the monsoons, allowing the fish populations to replenish undisturbed. It’s an act of sustainability practiced long before modern conservation came into existence.
As I observed this, it struck me: the festival is more than ritual. It’s a reflection of the community’s ancient understanding of balance, a balance that the rest of the world is only beginning to fully recognise.
At its core, Narali Purnima is about living harmoniously with the Ocean. Watching this tradition, I felt that conservation is not just about imposing limits and strategies but also about adopting an attitude of mutual respect. The Kolis don’t see themselves as separate from the Ocean; rather, they see their lives intertwined into its cycles.
It was in this moment that I truly understood conservation is a matter of listening, of respecting the wisdom that traditions carry and remembering that communities like the Koli have honoured these principles for generations.
As I continue my work in Ocean conservation, I now carry the spirit of Narali Purnima with me.
It’s a lesson in humility and respect. It’s a reminder that protecting the Ocean is a shared responsibility, and one that must honour both the science and the cultural wisdom surrounding us. The Ocean, after all, sustains not only marine life but also the human lives bound to it through tradition, sustenance, and spirit. And for that, the least we can do is offer a humble coconut in gratitude.
As I reflect on the lessons of Narali Purnima, I am reminded that conservation is more than an act; it’s a lifelong bond of respect and gratitude. The Koli community’s traditions teach us that the Ocean’s well-being is intertwined with our own, urging us to protect its abundance for future generations.
“The sea is our mother—she gives us life, and we must care for her as she cares for us.” – Koli Proverb
In every season and every offering, the Kolis remind us that true conservation is about honouring this relationship, ensuring that the Ocean can sustain and nurture us all.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Ajay!
Ajay Sawant is an award-winning Ocean-climate communicator and EE 30 Under 30 honoree. He works as the President at ThinkOcean Society and is the High Seas Youth Ambassador for Asia (India). He is also the founder of Generation Artivism.
Citizen science: Monitoring the turtles of the Red Sea
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The Red Sea is a storied body of water that many have heard of, but few are familiar with.
Its history will bring up names like Hatshepsut and Moses, and its present is fraught with tales of piracy and political unrest.
But there’s another side to the Red Sea. As the most northern tropical sea, it boasts an incredible biodiversity that makes it both stunningly beautiful and ecologically vital.
I had the pleasure of spending two weeks with TurtleWatch Egypt 2.0, an organisation dedicated to monitoring the endangered sea turtle populations of Egypt’s Red Sea coast.
They launched as an initiative in 2011, and registered as an NGO in 2022. I was curious to learn more about marine conservation in my home country. To my luck, TurtleWatch was the perfect place to start.
Photo by Raimond Clavins
Based in the small town of Marsa Alam, their day-to-day work may be a dream for many thalassophiles.
Mornings are spent diving in bays rich with seagrass and corals, snapping photos of sea turtles and measuring data like shell length and water temperature.
Of course, their work has less idyllic parts too. Never-ending paperwork, grant applications, and database updates are just as important to the organisation’s functioning.
Photo by Micol Montagna
There’s one other thing that makes TurtleWatch especially unique: citizen science.
They were the first initiative in Egypt aimed at involving divers and snorkelers in marine conservation research.
How? By allowing visitors to the Red Sea to upload their own sightings and pictures of sea turtles, TurtleWatch taps into the potential of everyday people to contribute as citizen scientists.
These contributions help TurtleWatch identify important feeding and gathering sites for sea turtles, and better understand their movements and short-term migrations. It also helps them assess the impacts people have on these endangered animals.
They use this information to not only improve conservation and protection efforts, but to organise training sessions for dive centres and deliver “turtle talks” to young children, students, and tourists.
Photo by Micol Montagna
Citizen science is not a new concept.
It has been used around the world to classify galaxies and track illegal fishing. But in a place like the Red Sea, which is understudied and where data is insufficient, TurtleWatch has managed to greatly extend their eyes and ears beyond their local vicinity.
Sightings come from all over the coast, and in 2023 they received over 1000 sightings.
It makes perfect sense: Egypt’s Red Sea coast is filled with towns and resorts buzzing with snorkelers and divers, so why not involve them in the effort to protect the very marine life they’ve come here to enjoy?
As with everywhere else, the Red Sea hasn’t escaped the destructive impacts of people on the natural world.
Coastal development and tourism are polluting the marine environment and leaving physical scars, while warming waters and acidification are harming the Red Sea’s ability to withstand changes.
The good news is that corals in the Red Sea are some of the most resilient on the planet and could help us protect other corals reefs in the future.
But before that’s possible, we will need better regulations and more marine protected areas to safeguard the Red Sea.
Organisations like TurtleWatch—with the aid of citizen science—are doing their part to provide much-needed data and help protect this beautiful sea for future generations.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Serag!
Disclaimer: Ocean Generation has no official affiliation with TurtleWatch. Mention of or reference to TurtleWatch is not an endorsement or sponsorship by Ocean Generation. The views, opinions, and activities of TurtleWatch are independent of Ocean Generation.
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Serag Heiba
Serag is an Ocean advocate and storyteller from Alexandria, Egypt. He recently graduated university in Hong Kong where he studied environmental engineering, and is now working on a magazine about the Red Sea. You can find more of his past work on LinkedIn.
Diving into Kalk Bay: Exploring its past, present, future
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My earliest, enduring memory of the Ocean is a stretch of sea rolling away from a vibrant fishing harbour in Kalk Bay, Cape Town.
The harbour’s position along the False Bay Coast, as well as its rich marine life, played a crucial role in the city’s early development and prosperity. Little did I know this place would also play an important role in my own life.
Kalk Bay: A link to my childhood and the last connection to my grandmother.
The colourful fishing boats in the harbour that frame the glorious, shimmering stretch of Ocean in my mind like a postcard, idealised to a point far from reality. Today, with names like Star of the Sea and Lucky Strike, those old wooden boats seem struck in a rapidly receding past.
Change has come in great variety and moved with incredible momentum. All aspects of the scene have been altered – from the oceanography and to the social structures and human dimension surrounding the harbour.
I find it interesting and unsurprising, that when asked to think of a memory about the Ocean, the one I recall is so entangled with the influence of mankind. These two elements – human and Ocean – have been linked for centuries and seem unable to escape one another.
I feel this tension reflected in the complex and often contradictory nature of our social and ecological aims moving forwards as a society.
Progression too often comes at the high cost of our marine health, a lack of respect for our past and insufficient foresight for our future. All of this points to the difficulty in honouring and preserving our collective pasts whilst building future horizons in sustainable ways.
New strategies for managing the natural environment and its resources should include integrated approaches with new frameworks, stakeholders and communities.
Kalk Bay as we see it today
The Kalk Bay area may be reminiscent of the past, but the issues it faces are very much of the present. The harbour is one of the few still in operation, albeit a far cry from its thriving commercial days. Subsistence fishing (the practice of catching fish for personal consumption and not profit) is carried out with a handful of crayfish boats heading out each day.
With reduced operation has come tourism and commercialisation. You will find restaurants, pop up stalls selling gimmicks, and seals, who emboldened and adjusted to the crowds, sunbathe on the jetty.
Just as the Ocean below has been altered by rising sea levels and an increased frequency of extreme temperature events, so too has the harbour. Unsurprisingly, the advancements and demands of modern life have been the indirect driving forces behind this change.
All the usual culprits – overfishing, climate change, overpopulation, and coastal development- are part of this problem. Fish stocks caused by overfishing and the violations of size regulations have impacted marine biodiversity and the livelihoods of local fisherman.
Coastal development have also contributed significantly to these detrimental changes by increasing pollutant runoff and nutrient loading.
This illustrates just how interrelated Ocean and coastal ecosystems are and how integral they are to both human and aquatic life.
Not all hope is lost for Kalk Bay
Thankfully, there’s been a growing awareness of and respect for some of these pressing human-made threats, which has led to the establishment of marine protected areas. Currently, 15 % of South Africa’s total marine areas are protected with 1.7 % of this area fully protected.
Evidently, the South African constitution recognises the need for these conservation efforts and acknowledges the responsibility that the fishing and tourism industries have.
Eco-tourism has emerged as a way of protecting and sustainably using the environment, without negatively impacting economic growth and job security.
We need solutions that engage local communities living in coastal areas. This would encourage the safeguarding of natural resources, improve the quality of people’s lives, and potentially assist in building bridges between sections of South African society that has historically been divided.
Approaches such as these work towards achieving a balance between developmental goals and environmental concerns; it’s of course an ongoing process. Therefore, it’s important to thoroughly research and address the priorities and gaps in this area with input from various stakeholders.
My grandmother’s childhood saw the days when man could still outrun his actions without stopping to catch his breath and consider any of the implications. The harmony between human and Ocean that existed was only ever on a short-term loan, one with dangerously high interest.
The future seemed as it always does to those on the shores of the present: An island far away.
The generation of young people to which I belong to understand that preservation isn’t about merely respecting the present but also about securing the future. Therefore, my faith in the collective creativity and problem-solving abilities of the next generation of changemakers gives me hope for the future of our marine and coastal ecosystems.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Katie!
Katie is a part-time writer, full-time Ocean enthusiast and aspiring scientist. The Ocean has always been a place of wonder for her, occupying a special place in her imagination. Currently studying at Cambridge University, Katie explores her passion for environmental advocacy and activism as an ambassador for sustainability within science.
The world was our oyster, when the oysters became our world
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An experience paving the way for community-led marine conservation.
Like many of us, until recently I had only ever associated oysters with gourmet restaurants and fine dining, an out of reach delicacy plucked from some distant, murky seabed.
After working with oysters, they are now a familiar part of the local marine wildlife, and a hugely important component in the global effort to restore and conserve our Ocean.
I spent my summer interning with Seawilding, a community-led marine habitat restoration organisation in Scotland. Their mission is to restore seagrass meadows and native oyster reefs, through planting seagrass, growing oysters to form new reefs, and developing successful methods that others can follow, to enable coastal communities across the UK and further afield to take action.
Photo by Wavemaker Story writer Sophie Coxon.
The seascape of Loch Craignish
Set on the gleaming shores of Loch Craignish, the first time I slipped under the surface was like entering a whole other world.
The salty water enveloped me with an icy embrace, and the seabed materialised below. Vast meadows of seagrass glistened green, with dappled sunlight sparkling through the water column and catching the tails of Goldsinny wrasse and the occasional lonely pipefish.
Snakelock anemones waved like flowers from the grass heads, and red feather stars snaked their arms towards me as I glided past.
The fringes of the meadow gave way to soft mudflats, where sparring crabs and dancing prawns entertained passersby. Gobies and flatfish buried themselves in the sand, and large shoals of herring flicked like glassy shards in the distant blue.
The oyster reef was by far my favourite; thick layers of oyster shells stacked haphazardly covered the seafloor, carpeted by algae, barnacles and clumps of bladderwrack.
Fish darted in and out of crevices, startled by my shadow, and starfish lay clustered on the rocks, arms splayed as if holding hands. The plethora of animals, and the richness of the life surrounding me was quite literally breathtaking, so much so that I almost choked on the seawater a number of times.
It was inspiring to see so much diversity thriving in Scotland’s waters.
The work Seawilding’s team has achieved is clearly doing wonders for the wildlife of Loch Craignish, however this is only the tip of the iceberg in the marine conservation and restoration work we need to undertake, not only here in Scotland but across the Ocean.
Photos by Wavemaker Story writer Sophie Coxon.
The health of the Ocean is essential to us, not only as societies through its cultural significance, but also through its physical services.
Without healthy marine ecosystems, food stability will crumble, coastal erosion will rapidly creep up on communities, and the impacts of climate change will be less cushioned and more sorely felt.
Scotland’s marine wildlife: Then and now
Scotland’s coasts were once prolific with wildlife. Historic records speak of rivers “overflowing with salmon, onto the banks”, estuaries that had seemingly endless shellfish stocks, and open Ocean brimming with endless shoals of fish.
Oysters were once the food of the poor, and lobster was a common centerpiece at every dinner table. Lush seagrass meadows flanked the shorelines and wildlife flourished, everywhere.
Dredging (removing sediments from the seabed), overfishing, and pollution threaten our coastlines more than ever before, and with the pressures of climate change increasing with each day, we must start taking action to prevent further losses.
Seawilding’s work, enthusiasm and passion for the marine environment is a sparkling example of how communities can come together to create real, positive change – something we should all strive towards.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Sophie!
Disclaimer: Ocean Generation has no official affiliation with Seawildling. Mention of or reference to Seawildling is not an endorsement or sponsorship by Ocean Generation. The views, opinions, and activities of Seawildling are independent of Ocean Generation.
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Sophie Coxon
Sophie is a final year student studying a BSc in Ecological and Environmental Sciences at the University of Edinburgh. She is a passionate scuba diver, snorkeler and beach-comber, and loves to combine her love of creative and scientific writing with marine research and communication. She hopes to work in reef ecology and restoration, and make a real impact in the marine conservation world.
To protect Earth’s most precious ecosystem – our Ocean – we must first understand its importance. Our Wavemaker Programme empowers young people between 16 – 25 to use their voice and talents to make a positive impact on our blue planet. This piece was written by one of our Wavemakers. Submit your own story.
The Ocean is the world’s most shared resource.
Social, economic and environmental sharing is caring
The Ocean is the world’s most shared resource. The vitality of the Ocean is necessary to support and sustain Earth and here’s why.
Covering over 70% of the planet, our Ocean takes responsibility for regulating our climate and weather from the poles to the equator.
As if her generosity wasn’t enough, the Ocean’s environmental benefits have continued to protect and conserve biodiversity and create global sources of natural carbon sinks. It does this by providing services to ecosystems, including coastal wetlands, mangroves and coral reefs.
Human health and Ocean health are connected
The health of our Ocean is intimately tied to our health. No, really…with every breath we take, with every drop we drink, we’re connected to her.
Not just physically, but emotionally. When we take a step back to enjoy the magnificent view of our Ocean (whilst adding her to our IG stories #SoGrateful), it welcomes a sense of calmness, for how life can be so gentle and beautiful.
But to take this mentality forward with how we care for her every day is the next essential step.
Why?
Well for one, the Ocean provides us with over 50% of the world’s oxygen.
No matter her physical forms, whether stormy and rough, warm and clear or frigid and cold, she, the Ocean, has always helped us breathe during our time on Earth and should never be gone unnoticed.
What resources does our Ocean provides us with?
The Ocean continues to provide a vast number of economic and social benefits, including: jobs, food, medicine, recreation and wonderment – to name a few.
Our Ocean boosts sustainable economic growth in some of the world’s poorest countries, which supports the well-being of coastal communities.
“[A healthy Ocean is] critical for combatting rural poverty, ensuring food security, improving nutrition and achieving zero hunger.”
Economically, about 38 million people rely on the fishing and fish-farming industry, 95% of whom live in Asia, Africa and Latin America.
The economic benefits the Ocean provides has sparked several positive domino effects for many communities, including: food security, job security, sustainable trade in Ocean -based goods and services, sustainable shipping, and an attraction to sustainable tourism.
In addition, OECD confirmed that over 90% of the world’s trade uses sea routes thereby making the Ocean a heavily reliant agent to access essential resources and necessities, including food, medical supplies and drugs, and fuel.
It is important that we not only take notice but also speak about how many communities around the world have learnt to grapple and adapt to the Ocean’s gifts – as opposed to altering the Ocean to fit their needs, they learnt to navigate their lifestyles with the Ocean.
The impact of our Ocean on communities:
Sri Lanka’s Ocean wealth
The island we know today as Sri Lanka has thrived on the Ocean’s economic resources as it has made remarkable contributions to the country’s economy.
Sri Lanka’s coastal zone hosts 1/3 of the country’s population, accommodates over 2/3 of all industrial facilities, and over 80% of tourism infrastructure.
As the Ocean provides social benefits for many communities, the wellbeing dependency on the Ocean is clear. These communities have been able to cultivate a sense of stability and economic growth, through fishing and aquatic agriculture. Moreover, the little island is well known for its touristic cities, from mountain tops to the clear, blue Ocean with its golden sand.
The tropical country’s sandy coast lines continue to attract many tourists to the Ocean, to soak in the sunsets and fresh air – reflecting again on the wonder and wellness the Ocean provides us.
Economic exploitation: The new high school bad boy
Unfortunately, utilising the Ocean‘s resources and services have come at a cost – exploitation and economic dominance.
The Blue Economy was a concept initiated with the goal of sustainably sourcing the Ocean’s resources for economic growth, improved livelihoods, and healthy ecosystems.
However, this goal became somewhat of a fever dream when humans started to deteriorate marine ecosystems, resulting in widespread biodiversity loss and habitat damage – sort of like when we were content with the High School Musical trilogy, but Disney thought we needed another version which ended up disappointing us…
Although the exploitation of marine resources was apparent in the 17th-19th century – where the Caribbean coral reefs, faced a massive loss of fish and sharks – the consequences are more distinct now.
How is our Ocean’s health today?
Today, overfishing, destructive fishing practices, and pollution are some of the major enemies facing the long-term nature of our Ocean. To add to the chaos, deep-sea mining is having a detrimental impact on her physical nature, and hindering on the Ocean’s health and societal benefits.
The power of our Ocean only continues to weaken as it loses its harness over the Earth’s environmental and climate systems due to climate change.
A spike in unprecedented environmental conditions, such as acidification, deoxygenation, more frequent marine heat-waves, and El Niño, and La Niña events are predicted to have severe negative impacts on marine ecosystems and species – and we thought the Kardashians carried all the drama.
While these major shifts in Ocean health may appear to feel ‘far off’ and ‘manageable’, our reliability on the Ocean is having greater deep-rooted effects on different demographics and societies than we know.
With over 3 billion livelihoods depending on the Ocean for jobs, 680 million living in low-lying coastal zones, and food security at risk (noticeably after COVID-19 hit), we need to emphasise, now more than ever, that without our Ocean’s wellbeing looked after, our survival is at stake.
Our apology to her will not be enough this time. It is time we take accountability and action to restore our Ocean.
Zayna, from Sri Lanka, is a self-declared super smiler, Wavemaker and freelancer in the film and entertainment industry. She believes raising her voice on the topics she cares about is important because no one carries the same views and perspectives, which means we can inspire one another.
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Zayna Zubair
Zayna, from Sri Lanka, is a self-declared super smiler, Wavemaker and freelancer in the film and entertainment industry. She believes raising her voice on the topics she cares about is important because no one carries the same views and perspectives, which means we can inspire one another.
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