Hondurans Displaced by the Rising Tide: “All That Remains in Cedeño Is Destruction”

<p>Over half of Honduras’ mangrove coverage has disappeared while Cedeño, a village along the Gulf of Fonseca, is being swallowed by the tide. Hundreds of people need to be relocated and, within two years, more families will become climate refugees.</p>

Carlos Barrera

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The history of Cedeño has two pivotal moments. It is passed down by the elders who lived through what they consider the best of times — when there were two-story hotels and restaurants facing the sea; when the mangrove forest seemed untouched; when shrimp farms, salt flats, and brick kilns had not yet cleared hectares of forest.

Today, in this village located 175 kilometers from Tegucigalpa on the Gulf of Fonseca, the landscape is desolate. About 5,000 people live there, making their living from artisanal fishing.

In Cedeño, when the tide goes out, the ruins of what were once homes inhabited by fishermen and curileros come into view. These were homes inhabited by women who made a living selling food to tourists in huts made of red mangrove logs located right on the beach, and even by shrimp processing plants that once stood facing the ocean.

Don Arnulfo Lagos, 90, has a remarkable memory of what has happened in Cedeño. He arrived in the coastal area of the Gulf of Fonseca in the 1960s, shortly before the shrimp industry took root in the area’s mangroves. There were few houses and huts facing the sea.

Ten years later, according to the Honduran Alliance on Climate Change, the clearing of mangroves made way for shrimp farms and salt flats. By 1998, the sea had advanced about 300 meters along the Cedeño coastline.

Honduras is one of the countries most vulnerable to climate change worldwide: a study by the organization Germanwatch, conducted from 1997 to 2017, ranked it second among the countries most prone to damage caused by climate events.

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According to Amnesty International, rising sea levels and coastal erosion in the Gulf of Fonseca have affected the right to health, education, food, and housing for those living in these affected areas. As a result, reports indicate that more than 52 percent of the mangrove coverage that once existed in Honduras has disappeared.

For the people of Cedeño, relocating their homes has become the norm. They are moving away from the sea, which advances year after year, devouring everything in its path. Some have moved about five kilometers from where their homes once stood. Today, at least 990 people need to be relocated outside the community where they were born.

Experts consulted by El Faro have said that, if there is no reforestation plan and no education on how mangroves function, within two years, dozens of meters of coastline will be lost and more families will become climate refugees.

The remains of what was, more than 15 years ago, a shrimp processing plant still stand on the shore of Cedeño Beach. The structure was built dozens of meters away from the waves, but over time and as tides rose, the force of the sea reached the structure and destroyed it.
Isaías Ávila, like his entire family, makes a living from fishing and shellfish harvesting. It is becoming harder to find the areas where clams are located, which they then sell at the local market. “When the mangroves die, the area loses its natural water flow; its ability to filter water is lost, and it becomes completely saline when it should be a mixture of fresh and saltwater,” said marine science engineer Marco Osorto-Núñez. “That’s how many species die.”
Community leader Dagoberto Majano, 65, has the oldest map of Cedeño. The document is falling apart due to its age. Dagoberto points out streets, buildings, and his old house — all of which no longer exist. “As early as the late 1970s, my father told me that one day we would all have to leave the Cedeño coast because of the power of the sea, and that’s what’s happening now,” he said. Dagoberto lives five kilometers away from where his first home once stood.
Two years ago, the rising sea reached the house where Omar Hernández, Ingrid Martínez, and their children lived. The house, built from red mangrove logs, gave way to the powerful swell that swept everything away. They have now been displaced more than five kilometers from the coast and have built a makeshift shelter out of mangrove logs and plastic.

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Keiry Álvarez, 30, works as a shellfish gatherer in the mangroves surrounding Cedeño. She collects at least 300 shellfish a week, which earns her some 300 lempiras (about $11 a week) — enough to support her six children. Keiry and her six children live in a plastic shack. An Amnesty International report on the living conditions of families in Cedeño cites them as an example of the situation in Honduras, where more than half the population lives below the poverty line.(Photo: Carlos Barrera)Carlos Barrera
From 1965 to 2024, Honduras has lost 68,766 hectares of mangrove forest. Of these, 54,409 were lost along the Pacific coast, with the greatest impact felt in the Gulf of Fonseca. In that region, aquaculture —specifically shrimp farms— played a significant role in the clearing of thousands of hectares of mangrove forest. The natural area known as Las Iguanas and Punta Condega, which are the mangroves surrounding Cedeño. Where there used to be mangroves, there are now shrimp hatcheries.
In Cedeño and along the coast of the Gulf of Fonseca, anthropogenic activities —human interventions that impact the environment— and climate change are the main causes of mangrove degradation. According to marine science engineer Marco Osorto-Núñez, it is impossible to stem the force of the sea without natural barriers such as mangroves: “There must be a comprehensive effort between the community and the government to prevent massive deforestation, since in conditions of extreme poverty, mangrove wood becomes a raw material for the communities.”
Arnulfo Lagos arrived in Cedeño in 1962; he is 90 years old and is known as the oldest person in the community. He recounts that, in the past, part of the Cedeño community was called Altos del Mar, due to the elevation difference between the houses and the coast. Arnulfo has lost three homes since his arrival in the 1960s. He now lives in the most remote part of the coast: “Cedeño used to be very beautiful; there were lovely houses, and people came to make a living from tourism, but nothing of that remains now. All that’s left in Cedeño is destruction.”
Satellite images from Google Earth, a tool used to track geographical changes over time, show that Cedeño’s well was 140 meters from the coast as recently as 2004. In front of the well stood dozens of houses that are now underwater. According to residents, the sea had already submerged more areas of the community by the 1990s.
In Cedeño, it doesn’t matter how many times families rebuild their homes. If they build near the coast, the sea returns and destroys them. The Committee for the Defense and Development of the Flora and Fauna of the Gulf of Fonseca determined that, from 2004 to 2026, the sea advanced 6.13 meters per year along this coastline.

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Rigoberto Vaca, 49, stands in front of what remains of his mother’s house — where he was born and which was to be his inheritance: “The sea always hits us hard; my mother’s house was the only thing we had, and it’s become impossible to live here.”
Rising sea levels are carrying away tons of sand, creating new beaches where none existed before. With an annual rise of 6.13 meters, the sea and the current have left one of the last visible rows of houses now almost completely covered in sand. Osorto-Núñez states that if a comprehensive community relocation project isn’t implemented within two years, dozens of houses will suffer the same fate. Families will lose the only assets they have left.
In the Las Iguanas and Punta Condega nature area, it is common to see mangrove patches where there was once a forest. Now only a few trees remain, which are pounded head-on by rising tides. Mangrove trees survive in a brackish environment —a mixture of fresh and salt water— but in a fully salinized environment, the forests die.
When the tide goes out, it reveals the full force of the ocean; the concrete of the homes once inhabited by Cedeño residents is laid bare as evidence of what has been happening for years. Residents have come to terms with the idea that one day the sea will advance toward the new homes and destroy them.