The cautionary tale of the disappearing town

As world leaders gather in Turkey for COP31 this week, support for countries hardest hit by climate change will be high on the agenda.

Among those nations is Honduras, where extreme weather and rising sea levels are increasingly threatening communities.

Reporter Kate Varley and cameraman Bram Verbeke travelled to the Central American country to hear from those on the frontlines of the crisis.

---

When you ask the people of Cedeño to describe the town they've called home for decades, one word comes up time and again: paradise.

And at first glance, it's easy to see why.

Nestled between sandy beaches and lush forests, this community on Honduras' Pacific coast looks like it belongs on a glossy postcard.

The reality, however, is altogether different.

Cedeño is fighting for its survival, and month by month it is losing a battle to the advancing sea - turning what was once a slice of paradise into a source of despair for residents.

"My heart cries", 48-year-old Frances Azucena Cruz tells us as she points out the remains of her home. "The sea took everything."

Storm surges in May left the property uninhabitable, and today much of it is buried beneath the sand, with only its terracotta-tiled roof visible.

"Still here but gone", she tells us through tears.

And it is not the first property Frances has had to abandon. As a chef and entrepreneur, she once ran a 10-room hotel on the seafront, while a previous home and a beach shack for selling snacks have also been taken by the tide.

The loss of income has left her feeling desperate.

"Starting from zero at my age, it's so difficult. I've lost everything. Every day it gets worse and worse."

She’s now living with 11 family members in a rented property further from the beach, but does not know how she will pay rent or what the future holds.

"When I cry it's because I feel overwhelmed that I can't do much.

"I just want my grandchildren to be able to live and rest without the constant fear that the sea will continue to rise."

Crumbling walls and roof fragments

In the small community of Cedeño, Frances' story is far from unique.

When the tide goes out, fragments of roofs, crumbling walls and the hollow shells of homes bear witness to the relentless advance of the sea.

According to Amnesty International, each year the coastline retreats by around six metres in Cedeño.

Locals estimate that at least 200 structures, including homes, cafes, restaurants and a school have been lost to the ocean, with the pace of erosion accelerating since 2015.

In a country already vulnerable to climate change, Cedeño has become a stark example of the threats facing coastal communities as rising sea levels compound the effects of storm surges and the loss of natural coastal defences.

"We did not cause this harm - it was industries and climate change that led us to these effects," community leader and member of the Local Emergency Climate Committee, Dagoberto Majano, says as he unrolls an old map of the town.

Pointing to the neighbourhoods now underwater, he describes how the loss of homes, land and livelihoods has taken a profound toll on the community.

"It has had more than an emotional impact, so psychological. So many people had to migrate to the United States, to Spain or to other countries."

Indeed, climate-driven migration has become a major factor in towns like Cedeño, with the United States the biggest draw for those seeking work and a more secure future.

As is common across Honduras, family members who remain behind rely heavily on the money that is sent back home. Indeed, according to the World Bank, remittances now represent more than 30% of the country's GDP, with approximately 98% of that money coming from the United States

However, that support is now also at risk.

Under the Trump administration's immigration crackdown, thousands of Hondurans have been deported from the United States.

Among them is one of Frances' sons, while another son has also recently made the decision to return.

"My children cannot support me anymore," she says. "And when they came back there was nowhere for them to live."

Drought, flooding, hurricanes: Honduras on the frontline

Honduras accounts for just 0.06% of global greenhouse gas emissions, yet it is a country regularly cited by experts as one of the most vulnerable on earth to climate change.

According to the IMF, around 6.3% of the country’s GDP was lost to extreme weather each year between 1960 and 2022 - and that figure is only getting worse.

Earlier this year, a Red Alert was issued for 75 municipalities due to a prolonged drought, damaging harvests and deepened food insecurity. The extremely dry conditions are believed to be linked to the super El Niño weather phenomena, which scientists say is being made more severe by global warming.

At the other extreme, Honduras also faces the threat of increasingly severe rainfall and flooding.

Further north, in the district of Cortés, Marta Maldonado tells us she has had to flee her home multiple times after the nearby river burst its banks after heavy rain.

"It used to be every 20 years... Now it’s much more often", the 77-year-old says.

"It is so hard to lose everything and try to rebuild a home from scratch - to keep shovelling out mud and throwing away ruined clothes. You can't live like that; instead, you just end up getting sick," says Marta.

Another woman describes waiting 15 days on her roof to be rescued after the back-to-back Hurricanes Eta and Iota in 2020, while stagnant water surrounded her home.

Glenis Iriarte, who had already endured severe trauma in her early life, reflects on how the storms compounded her suffering.

"I recall staying on top of that roof and telling my daughter, 'you will hear me now cry, you will hear me scream' because I had to release everything that I had.

"When I came down, I thought that I could save some of my things but no, everything was lost. Thirty years worth of assets."

Glenis is now receiving physiological assistance from an organisation supported by Irish NGO Trócaire, and says she is doing much better, though she remains fearful of what the next big storm could mean for her family.

Early warning systems

Across Honduras, Trócaire is also funding projects to help locals better prepare for flooding.

Further upstream, a river monitoring system including cameras and sensors has been installed in several positions on the River Ulúa, giving people more warning time before the next flood rushes through.

"In the past, we only had an eight-hour window to evacuate our people," says José Délmiz Cardona, the Head of Risk Management at La Lima municipality, considered Ground Zero for flooding in Honduras.

"But now, in the Ulúa River basin, we have more than 72 hours of lead time, and in the Limón area, we have nearly 30 hours.

"This enables the authorities to make sound decisions, manage the situation, and issue alerts so that our people can evacuate and ensure their own safety."

Levees and drainage channels have also been developed along the riverbed.

For now, these are among the best tools available to Hondurans to help mitigate against the effects of climate change.

But like so many other vulnerable countries, the challenge goes far beyond helping communities adapt. There is broad agreement that tackling the causes of climate change is the real issue.

"What everyone wants to hear (from COP) is action," says George Redman, country director for Trócaire in Honduras.

"There’s been enough prevarication. The impacts are real, people here are suffering.

"It’s time for the industrial north and the people who hold the solution to the problem in their hands, to act now."