How three Kenyan fishermen are suffering in foreign detention camps

As the sun sets tonight, three Kenyan families will retire with troubled hearts, their kin incarcerated miles away from home.

Each passing day without contact deepens their despair. The government remains silent, leaving the families to fend for themselves.

These events unfold at a time when maritime experts are warning of an increase in labour trafficking along the Kenyan coast.

Unscrupulous recruitment agencies are luring local seafarers and fishermen with promises of well-paying jobs on foreign vessels, particularly in the Middle East and Southeast Asia.

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However, many of these workers end up trapped in exploitative conditions, enduring long hours and poor wages.

The fate of these seafarers is often grim, stranded on foreign vessels or abandoned in distant ports with no means of returning home.

Six months ago, three Kenyan fishermen were ensnared in one such trap. They were promised a monthly salary of Sh40,000, a considerable amount for most fishermen. Tempted, they accepted the offer. Little did they know that they were boarding a vessel that would take them far beyond Kenya’s waters and into a nightmare.

The three boarded the Kenyan-flagged vessel off the coast, unaware that their Sri Lankan captain had secret orders to steer them into international waters, deep into the Indian Ocean. Armed only with their national ID cards and lacking proper maritime documents, they embarked on what would become a treacherous journey.

“What’s happening, Captain? Isn’t that Pemba Island?” one of the fishermen asked with concern.

The Sri Lankan captain’s response was cold and dismissive. “Keep quiet and keep working,” he barked.

The fishermen knew then that something was terribly wrong. Their fishing licence only permitted them to operate in Kenyan waters, and they had no business venturing this far. But in the middle of the ocean, compliance was their only option. Rebellion could only lead to death.

Weeks of hard labour and agonising days passed on the high seas, their vessel venturing further into unfamiliar waters. The final stop came some 2,000 kilometres southeast of Kenya, in Madagascar—a country they had only seen on maps, but now they faced it in handcuffs.

Their worst fears were confirmed on July 9, 2024, when Madagascan marine officers arrested them for fishing illegally in their waters.

The three—Mbarak Awadh Mbarak (26), Mohammed Bakari Abass (50), and Karisa Gona Nguma (32)—were arrested alongside five Sri Lankan nationals.

They were found in possession of over five tonnes of fresh and salted shark meat, as well as 70 kilograms of shark fins, a prized catch in illegal fishing operations.

Back in Kenya, days passed before the fishermen’s families learned of their detention. Awadh Hassan, the father of Mbarak, recalls the phone call that shattered his world. “I didn’t know where to start or whom to call for help,” he said.

Today, the trio remains confined in a detention centre on Nosy Be Island, Madagascar, sharing space with some of the country’s most dangerous criminals. The Nosy Be facility, a relic of the colonial era, is notorious for housing violent offenders, including those charged with murder, rape, and armed robbery.

The Kenyan trio spoke to The Standard’s investigations unit via WhatsApp, in a call that included their relatives in Kenya and an activist advocating for their release. They revealed that the call, facilitated by prison wardens, cost them the equivalent of Sh300 for just 15 minutes.

The fishermen are not alone in their plight. The detention centre also holds prisoners from Tanzania, Mauritius, Cameroon, and France, among others. Conditions are dire, with overcrowding and inhumane treatment the norm. “We sleep on the floor, with barely enough space to breathe. There are about 500 prisoners here, crammed into just six housing units,” Mbarak revealed in the interview.

Despite their grim circumstances, little has been done back home to bring the fishermen back.

The Kenya Maritime Authority (KMA), responsible for ensuring the safety of those at sea, has acknowledged that it is aware of the situation but has yet to reveal any concrete plans for intervention.

Acting Director General of KMA, Julius Koech, told The Standard, “I am aware of the Madagascar issue, but please write an official email for more information.”

Despite writing to the agency, no response has been forthcoming.

The silence extends to other maritime bodies, including the Kenya Fisheries Service and the Kenya Coast Guard Service, despite families making desperate appeals for help.

Cabinet Secretary for Mining, Blue Economy, and Maritime Affairs Hassan Joho admitted he was unaware of the incident. “You’re informing me about this for the first time. Once I have a comprehensive brief, I will respond,” Joho told The Standard.

The Ministry of Foreign and Diaspora Affairs has not responded to our enquiries either.

The vessel in question, Maab Agua 1, is owned by Maab Aqua Limited, a company registered in Kenya in November 2022.

An independent search on Maab Aqua Limited by The Standard’s Investigations Unit shows that it is co-owned by three individuals—two Sri Lankans, Hewage Ramanayake Dilum Lakshitha and Edara Masthrege Nuwan Chandana Dayapema, and a Kenyan, Samwel Njenga Waruingi, the majority shareholder.

Attempts to reach Waruingi have not been successful, and the two Sri Lankan nationals involved appear to have disappeared, with one reportedly having fled the country.

The company’s registration lists its office at the Sarit Centre in Nairobi. Documents in our possession show the vessel Maab Aqua 1, a half-cabin fishing vessel, was inspected on 21st December 2023 and issued a certificate to operate, valid for one year, by then-registrar of ships at KMA, Julius Koech, now the acting DG.

Later, the vessel was cleared and given a Kenyan safety licence on 14th March 2024 and registered at the port of Mombasa, one requirement being to comply with the country’s fishery regulations, including avoiding illegal fishing and fishing in breeding zones.

The three business partners reportedly own another vessel currently docked at Tudor in Mombasa.

The detained fishermen spoke of harsh treatment and coercion by their Sri Lankan captains. “We didn’t come here by choice. We were forced into this,” Mbarak explained from the detention centre. “I just want to see my children again,” said Karisa Nguma.

Betty Makena, from the International Transport Workers’ Federation (ITF), which advocates for seafarers’ rights, called this a clear case of labour trafficking. “This needs to be investigated thoroughly. It’s not an isolated case. I’ve been in touch with the fishermen, and they are living in hell,” Makena said.

For the families back in Kenya, the wait has been agonising. “We are depressed,” said Patrick Kalama, Nguma’s brother. “He has a young family—a wife and child—and they’re wondering when he’ll return.”

Tomorrow, the three will appear in court to learn their fate, even as they endure inhumane conditions at the detention camp.

“The food here is not enough, so we have had to plead with our families back in Kenya to send us money to buy food and cook for ourselves,” said Mbarak.

“We sleep on the floor, and there is hardly enough space in the packed detention centre. There are about 500 prisoners here, but only six housing units for everyone. You can hardly breathe,” observed Mbarak.

The language barrier has made things more challenging for the Kenyans. The official languages of Madagascar are Malagasy and French.

“It’s worse when we are taken to court; we hardly understand anything. And because there are no translators, we leave the courtroom without knowing our fate,” said Nguma.

Mzee Hassan, Mbarak’s father, says he has contacted every government agency, but help has not been forthcoming.

“All I want is to see my son again,” Awadh Hassan told The Standard from Malindi.

“I have knocked on doors at every relevant government office. I’ve been to KFS, KMA, I’ve spoken to our local leaders, but nothing is happening. So far, I’ve spent over Sh200,000. I’ve sold all my possessions—my chickens, cows, everything. I’ve reached the end,” said Awadh.

Kenyans have no consulate in Madagascar, complicating the rescue mission.

“We have had to seek an audience with Kenyan officials based in Mozambique, the closest point of contact for Kenyan authorities in that part of the world. We’ve paid for their travel documents, hoping the court process will come to a close,” explains Makena.

Seafarers must comply with several regulations to venture out of Kenya’s territorial waters. One requirement is to have a Seafarers’ Identity Document (SID), a mandatory international visa to travel to any country.