Tuna: The Heart of Maldivian Cuisine

Captain Ibrahim Hamid, 61, has been rising before dawn to steer a dhoni across the Indian Ocean for decades, overseeing a crew that hauls in silvery skipjack tuna using single poles and lines — a method practised for nearly 1,000 years. The Maldives’ tuna fishery, one of the country’s most vital exports, relies on this technique, which is certified sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council and widely regarded as one of the world’s most responsible ways to catch tuna. This article covers how that tradition works, what it means for the fish on your plate, and why it matters for anyone visiting the islands.

Skipjack tuna is a local staple, often dried, smoked, or used in dishes such as garudiya, a clear broth favoured by Hamid. But the same fish is also exported in huge volumes — more than 50,000 tonnes annually to Europe and North America, mostly as canned tuna. Understanding this dual life — everyday food and global commodity — reframes how you see the seafood served at resort buffets and local cafés alike.

How Pole and Line Fishing Actually Works

The method hasn’t changed much in a millennium, but the details matter.

Maldivian pole-and-line dhonis are small vessels that typically return the same day — unlike industrial fishing boats that stay at sea for weeks. Getting the bait is the most important part of the fishing itself. At 4.11am, someone shouts “Ebaadhe!” — “They’re coming!” — and for the next 90 minutes, 500 metres offshore, the men fish for sprats by coaxing them into view using large lamps until they have 200kg of live bait.

Once the bait is secured, the dhoni heads towards a site three to four hours away where schools of tuna still roam. One group sets up a wide net on deck to catch the incoming tuna flicked there by the fishermen’s rods. Others ready their poles — thin, composite fibre rods ranging from two to three metres in length, each fitted with a single, barbless hook. A sprinkler system kicks in, spraying the ocean’s surface to mimic the movement of baitfish.

In just 75 minutes, a crew can land roughly 2.5 tonnes of fish. After sorting and icing the morning’s catch, they launch into a second round, totalling 4.5 tonnes of fish by 2.30pm. Hamid and his crew work six days a week, often spending up to 16 hours at sea. A successful week brings Hamid about 8,000 rufiyaa, or roughly £400. After expenses such as fuel, the profits are split three ways: one share for the dhoni’s owners and two shares among the crew.

Why This Method Matters for the Ocean

The numbers tell a clear story about bycatch and selectivity.

Pole and line fishing for tuna is highly selective, with minimal bycatch. Maldivian tuna fisheries have a bycatch rate as low as 0.65%. Of that, 95% — mostly mahi mahi and rainbow runners — is sold to resorts, with the rest released alive. In contrast, longline tuna fishing averages 28% bycatch, often including endangered sharks and sea turtles. The difference isn’t marginal — it’s an order of magnitude.

Globally, tuna fisheries are now likely fully exploited, with localized overfishing. The widespread adoption of fish aggregating devices (FADs) has led to even greater levels of fishing activity, with associated deleterious effects on the size and composition of fish caught, including increasing bycatch as FADs are less selective. The Maldives’ approach stands out precisely because it avoids these traps.

But the system faces real pressure. In recent years, climate breakdown — through coral bleaching, heating oceans and unpredictable monsoon patterns — has, along with global overfishing, sharply reduced baitfish and tuna in the Maldives’ traditional fishing grounds. As a result, fishers like Hamid have been forced to venture further out for skipjacks. “Commercial fishing methods using large nets in waters around the world affect the tuna fisheries in the Maldives,” Hamid says. “Tuna roams around all the ocean, and so if the fishing is bad in one region, if it is done unsustainably, it affects the fishing in the Maldives as well.”

Tuna on the Table: From Local Kitchens to Global Markets

Skipjack is the everyday fish, but it travels far.

As one of the Maldives’ top seafood exports, the fish is mostly sold abroad as canned tuna, with more than 50,000 tonnes exported to Europe and North America annually. Cheaper and milder than the premium yellowfin, skipjack is also a local staple — often dried, smoked or used in dishes such as garudiya, a clear broth favoured by Hamid. If you’re eating fish in a local café on a residential island, it’s almost certainly skipjack prepared one of these ways.

The Maldives tuna fishery evolved from small-scale fishery beginnings some half a century ago into a commercial enterprise employing modern technology in terms of boats and gear, as well as contemporary approaches to trading in the global marketplace. Yet it retains key aspects of small-scale fishery characteristics in the gender-based division of labor, in which men go to sea and women play a key role in the shore industry. That shore-side work — cleaning, drying, smoking, sorting — is as essential as the fishing itself, and it’s where you’ll see the community dimension of the industry most clearly.

If you want to try garudiya yourself, look for it on local island cafés rather than resort restaurants — it’s a working person’s dish, not a menu showpiece. The broth is clear, lightly seasoned, and served with rice or roshi (flatbread). It’s the kind of food that tells you more about a place than any tasting menu.

What This Means for Visitors

A few practical takeaways for eating and understanding tuna in the Maldives.

First, the fish you’re served at a resort is likely imported or frozen yellowfin, not the local skipjack. If you want to eat what the fishermen catch, head to a local island market or a café on a residential island. Second, the sustainability certification matters — look for the Marine Stewardship Council label on canned tuna if you’re buying it to take home. Third, the best time to see pole and line fishing in action is early morning, before the dhoni leaves port. Most fishing harbours are accessible, but ask locally before wandering onto working docks.

For those interested in the broader cultural context of Maldivian traditions, the lost traditions of the sandbanks offer another window into how island life has evolved. And if you’re curious about how the country balances modernity with its past, the story of navigating tradition and progress provides useful context.

Frequently Asked Questions About Maldivian Tuna

Is all tuna in the Maldives caught sustainably?

Not all, but the pole and line method used for skipjack is certified by the Marine Stewardship Council. Yellowfin tuna is sometimes caught using other methods, so it’s worth asking how the fish was caught if sustainability matters to you.

The bycatch rate for pole and line fishing is exceptionally low at 0.65%, but the system is under pressure from climate change and global overfishing, which reduces baitfish availability and forces fishermen to travel further.

What does skipjack tuna taste like compared to yellowfin?

Skipjack is milder and less fatty than yellowfin, with a firmer texture. It’s the fish you’ll find in local dishes like garudiya or dried and smoked. Yellowfin is more commonly served raw as sashimi or seared in resorts.

If you’re used to canned tuna, skipjack is likely what you’ve been eating — most canned tuna globally is skipjack, not the premium species.

Can visitors go out on a pole and line fishing boat?

Some local islands offer fishing trips that use pole and line methods, but these are usually for tourists and may not follow the full traditional process. For an authentic experience, ask at the harbour in Kanditheemu or other fishing islands.

Be aware that these are working boats, not tour vessels — expect early starts, basic facilities, and a lot of waiting between catches.

Why is Maldivian tuna exported rather than eaten locally?

The volume is simply too high for the local population. More than 50,000 tonnes of skipjack are exported annually to Europe and North America, mostly as canned tuna. Local consumption focuses on fresh, dried, or smoked skipjack, while the export market drives the industry’s scale.

This export orientation means that the best local tuna dishes are often found on residential islands rather than in resort restaurants, where imported fish is more common.

Is climate change affecting tuna fishing in the Maldives?

Yes, significantly. Coral bleaching, heating oceans, and unpredictable monsoon patterns have reduced baitfish and tuna in traditional fishing grounds. Fishermen like Ibrahim Hamid now travel further out to find schools of skipjack.

This is a genuine tension in the system — the method itself is sustainable, but the environmental conditions that support it are deteriorating, and global overfishing in other regions affects tuna migration patterns.

One Last Thing About Tuna

The next time you open a can of tuna, consider that it might have been caught by a single fisherman on a small wooden boat in the Indian Ocean, using a method his grandfather taught him. That’s not nostalgia — it’s a working reality that sustains both a local economy and a global supply chain, and it’s more fragile than most people realise. The rhythms of daily life in the Maldives are built around this catch, and understanding that connection changes how you see both the fish and the islands.

Sources and further reading

‘Just a pole and line, like they fished as boys’: how a Maldives tradition is ensuring tuna stocks thrive. The Guardian, 2025.

The Maldives Tuna Fishery: A Case Study of Small-Scale Fishery Evolution. Ocean Yearbook, 2022.