Abdellah Nouri has not been out to sea for two years. A fisherman from the Mediterranean town of Ghannouch in Tunisia’s coastal Gabès region, he was diagnosed with cancer in 2018. His condition and its treatment have left him housebound.
Nouri has worked the surrounding waters since he was 17. He believes that his health problems are caused by pollution from a nearby industrial port.
“The port has destroyed me, my health and my livelihood,” he said.
Sat on the floor in his living room, Nouri pointed in the direction of a large plant, operated by the state-run chemical company Groupe Chimique Tunisien (GCT). Dedicated to the processing of raw phosphate, its imposing chimneys belch fumes into the air and its drains discharge millions of tons of toxic black sludge into the sea every year.
Gabès Governorate covers 4,450 square miles and is home to almost 400,000 residents. It is also the only coastal oasis in the Mediterranean. Once a pristine agricultural and maritime community, the region was famed for its abundant marine life and verdant rows of pomegranate trees, henna plants and date palms.
Locals tell stories of visitors marveling at the land’s natural beauty, but any tourism potential was lost in the 1970s, when the government turned it into the main centre of Tunisia’s phosphate industry. Phosphate rock, mined 100 miles away, in the hills of the Gafsa region, are a vital component in the production of a variety of exportable goods, including fertilizers and food preservatives.
Industrial pollution is devastating coastal communities around the world, from France to India. In Morocco, another phosphate-rich North African nation, chemical plant workers have reported high rates of respiratory disease and cancer, according to the charity SwissAid, and local arable farmers have experienced depleted harvests.
A similar story is playing out in Tunisia, but the subject of pollution and its effects on the environment and public health has long been ignored in Gabès. Under the Tunisian dictator Zine el Abidine Ben Ali, people feared the consequences of talking about it and efforts to carry out studies were routinely thwarted by the state. After Ben Ali’s fall in the revolution of 2011, residents hoped for something better. However, while people are now free to protest, little attention is being paid to their concerns and even less action taken.
In the city of Gabès, the governorate’s capital, an old electronic display board on the side of the road is supposed to show the levels of sulfur dioxide, nitrogen dioxide and ammonia in the air. According to passersby, it has been broken for years.
The sign was installed by GCT, the largest manufacturer operating in the port. In addition to three GCT factories, the area contains some 20 plants operated by private companies, including two other highly polluting facilities that produce aluminum fluoride for use in metal foundries, and phosphate salt, which is used in the making of detergents and ceramics.
Trains deliver up to 3.5 million tons of raw phosphate to the GCT factories each year. It is processed and exported by container ships to dozens of countries abroad. Nearly 5,000 people work in the region’s chemical industry, more than 2,800 for GCT.
While the company brings much-needed jobs to the area, the effects of pollution are clear to see. The stretch of beach between the town of Chott Salem and the industrial zone, less than a mile away, is composed of a thick black layer of phosphogypsum — a waste product created during the production of phosphoric acid. A 2018 European Union report found that GCT dumps around five million tons of it into the Mediterranean each year.
Phosphogypsum is mildly radioactive and contains both uranium and radium. According to a 2012 government study, fish catches near the coast contracted by more than 30% between 1997 and 2006, owing to the effects of chemical waste. The document noted that the marine ecosystem has been “severely damaged and that the situation is now totally irreversible.”
Nouri says local fishermen have suffered a dramatic decline in income. “Since the 1990s there has been nothing here. You used to be able to bring home 150 pounds of squid in one day,” he said, adding that now, a typical haul has fallen to seven pounds. Now, he rents his small boat to a fisherman in another town and pays for his cancer treatment with donations from his neighbors. He misses his old life desperately. “My heart is the sea. I’m heartbroken,” he added.
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