Scientists battle myths, modern threats to save Kenya’s sea turtles

For Mulupi and her team, the moment is nothing short of exhilarating. Within hours, she has mobilised colleagues from as far as Voi, Kilifi town, and Diani to gather on a patch of beach behind the Mombasa Continental Hotel.

There, a rare spectacle awaits — dozens of tiny Green turtle hatchlings making their perilous first march to the sea.

What was once a common sight on Kenya’s white sandy beaches has become an increasingly rare event, nearly ceremonial in its rarity.

Mulupi leads a team of scientists and community volunteers determined to change that. Their mission: to protect marine species that remain overlooked in Kenya’s conservation agenda.

“Most conservation efforts in Kenya have focused on terrestrial animals. Little attention has gone to marine species, yet many of them are fighting for their very survival,” Mulupi explains.

“Research at sea is expensive — both in terms of equipment and expertise — so partnerships with government and other players are essential to protect our marine heritage.”

Kenya boasts over 600 kilometres of coastline and an Exclusive Economic Zone stretching 250,000 square kilometres, but much of this marine wealth is under pressure from human activity and climate change.

As the hatchlings emerge, Mulupi’s team carefully lifts the protective cage and carves a shallow channel leading to the shoreline. About 120 fragile hatchlings shuffle toward the surf, cheered on by tourists and locals who have gathered for the occasion. But danger looms overhead: hawks circle in anticipation. Volunteers wave their arms to ward them off, yet some hatchlings don’t survive the journey.

“Turtles face very grim odds,” Mulupi says softly. “Only one in a thousand will make it to adulthood.”

For centuries, coastal communities considered sea turtles a delicacy — prized for their meat and eggs, and steeped in myths of longevity and virility.

“People here believe turtle meat boosts stamina in bed,” admits Ali Mwarua, a community volunteer now helping Mulupi’s team. He confesses to eating turtles and their eggs as a boy, encouraged by his grandfather, who called turtle soup the ‘secret to long life.’

Changing such deep-rooted cultural attitudes has required patience and education. Increasingly, fishermen are turning from hunters into protectors.

In Diani, the Olive Ridley Project is blending tradition with technology. Scientists there are building a database of turtles using photographs to identify individuals by the unique scale patterns on their heads — as distinctive as human fingerprints.

“This is a non-invasive and highly effective method,” says Leah Mainye, assistant director of the project. “It helps us understand turtle populations, behaviours, and habitats.”

Community members play an active role, submitting photos, naming turtles, and even adopting them for a small fee. Some names are given by fishermen, others by tourists, and still others by patients in hospitals abroad, who follow updates on ‘their’ turtles as a form of therapy.

By working closely with Beach Management Units (BMUs) — powerful grassroots groups that oversee fishing activity — conservationists have enlisted entire communities as turtle ambassadors.

Juma Ndaro, a BMU member in Diani, recalls when turtles and their nests were a common sight. Now, he urges fishermen to treat turtles as heritage, not food.

“I want my children to see turtles the way I did,” he says. “That’s why we tell people, kasa sio kitoweo — a turtle is not a delicacy.”

Fishermen now relocate nests found in vulnerable areas, and rescue turtles trapped in nets or ghost gear.

Despite these efforts, Kenya’s five turtle species — green, hawksbill, loggerhead, olive ridley, and leatherback — remain endangered or vulnerable on the IUCN Red List. Habitat loss, poaching, pollution, and climate change compound their threats.

“All these hotels springing up are built on beaches where turtles used to nest,” laments Dr. Mohamed Omar, a principal scientist at the Coastal and Marine Research Centre in Kilifi. “Where are they supposed to lay their eggs now?”

Sewage and industrial waste discharged into the sea further threaten turtles, causing debilitating tumours. Meanwhile, ghost nets, jet skis, and speedboats claim countless lives.

Mulupi says Kenya urgently needs a dedicated rescue and rehabilitation centre for injured turtles. “These animals are vital to marine ecosystems,” she notes. “They graze on seagrass and rest on coral reefs, maintaining the health of both. Without turtles, our oceans suffer.”

As the last hatchling disappears beneath the waves in Mtwapa, Mulupi watches with both pride and concern. She knows most will not survive. But for her, every life saved represents hope — and every community member who becomes an ally brings Kenya a step closer to restoring its marine heritage.

“This is about more than turtles,” she says. “It’s about protecting the balance of life in our oceans — and ensuring future generations inherit a living, thriving coast.”