The Stilt Fishermen: Icons, Economics, and Complicated Questions

The stilt fishermen of Koggala are Sri Lanka’s most photographed humans. The image — a figure perched on a pole in the shallows, silhouetted against sunset — appears on every postcard, every brochure, every Instagram account that has passed through the south coast. The reality is more complicated than the image suggests, and spending time with the fishermen raises questions that the photographs carefully avoid.

Stilt fishing developed after World War II, when equipment was scarce and damaged reefs no longer supported traditional methods. The technique is elegant: a pole anchored in the reef, a crossbar for seating, a rod and line for catching small fish. The fishermen perch above the water at dawn and dusk, catching enough to feed families and supply local markets. Or they did. The 2004 tsunami devastated this community; tourism offered alternative income; and today the stilts serve purposes that traditional fishing doesn’t entirely explain.

We met Nimal at sunset, an actual fisherman who has worked these waters for decades. He spoke candidly: on a good day, fishing earns 2,000 rupees (about £6); posing for photographers earns ten times that. ‘I still fish because fishing is what I know. But my sons prefer the photography money.’ He wasn’t bitter, but a wistfulness suggested something being lost. The ethical position for tourists remains unclear. Does photographing exploit or support? Does tourism income preserve tradition or transform it into performance? The silhouettes at sunset remain striking. The questions remain unanswered.