Off the village of Nioumachoua, on Mohéli's south coast, lies one of the most beautiful landscapes in the Comoros: a necklace of white-sand and reef islets rising out of the turquoise of the Mozambique Channel. Deserted beaches, crystal-clear water, corals full of life and colonies of giant bats make this corner the visible jewel of the Mohéli Marine Park and one of the best snorkelling areas in the western Indian Ocean.
The islets (eight or nine small islands off the coast) are ringed by vast beaches where turtles come ashore to nest, and their seabeds, with coral heads, sea fans and sponges, hide extraordinary biodiversity. In the trees on some of the islets hang the roussettes, the giant flying foxes endemic to the Comoros, with a wingspan of almost a metre and a half. It's nature at its purest, with hardly any visitors.
This guide explains how to get there and organise the trip from Nioumachoua or from the lodge, what you'll see underwater and on the islands, when to go to combine snorkelling, turtles and whales, and how to do it responsibly inside a protected marine park. A fragile paradise that's best enjoyed the more you respect it.
The Nioumachoua islets are part of the Mohéli Marine Park, created in 2001 as the first national park in the Comoros. Off the village of Nioumachoua, these small sand-and-coral islands (around eight or nine, spread over hundreds of hectares of reef) are a sanctuary for green turtles, flying foxes and marine life, protected by the community management that brought the area's corals and wildlife back. Their story is part of the park's, which is told on the history page.
Read the full history ↓The smallest, wildest and least populated island: birthplace of the accord that refounded the country and home to its first marine park, with green turtles, whales and living reefs.
Read the history of Mohéli (Mwali) →No exact prices: a scale from $ (budget) to $$$$$ (luxury), with 2-3 options per category.
Origins, formation and what the sources say.
The Nioumachoua islets were born of the same force that created the whole archipelago: volcanism on the floor of the Mozambique Channel. The Comoros emerged from underwater eruptions that raised islands over millions of years, and Mohéli is one of them, the smallest. Off its southern coast, volcanic activity and later erosion left a cluster of small islands and rocky shoals that, over time, became covered in sand and life.
On those volcanic foundations, the other great builder of these landscapes did its work: coral. In the warm, clear, shallow waters of southern Mohéli, corals grew generation after generation, forming reefs that surround the islets and shelter their beaches from the swell. It is that combination of volcanic base, coral reef and white sand of coral origin that gives Nioumachoua its unmistakable look: tiny islands of pale sand floating on a turquoise sea, ringed by corals full of fish.
This ecosystem is not only beautiful but extraordinarily rich in life. The reefs act as nurseries and refuges for countless species; the beaches offer nesting sites to turtles; the trees on the islets shelter colonies of birds and roussettes, the giant flying foxes. Long before any form of protection existed, Nioumachoua was already a sanctuary by its very nature. Over thousands of years, geology and biology had created one of the most fragile and valuable corners of the western Indian Ocean.
Facing the islets stands the village of Nioumachoua, one of the main settlements on Mohéli's southern coast. As across the whole archipelago, its people belong to the Swahili-Comorian civilisation, Muslim and turned towards the sea, the result of centuries of mixing between African and Malagasy peoples and Arab and Persian traders. For generations, life in Nioumachoua revolved around small-scale fishing in those rich waters and around the resources of the nearby islets.
The sea at Nioumachoua fed people, but it also set its own rules. Fishers knew the tides, the corals and the movements of the fish; they knew where and when turtles laid their eggs and where species took refuge. For centuries, that close, everyday relationship with the environment was sustainable: traditional techniques and a small population did not threaten the sea's abundance. The islets were part of the community's territory, places to fish, to gather and, at times, to catch turtles or collect their eggs, a traditional resource.
As the 20th century went on, however, that balance began to falter. Population growth, greater pressure on fishing and the degradation of the reefs threatened the very foundation of life in these villages. Nioumachoua, like the rest of the southern coast, saw the sea it depended on showing signs of exhaustion. It was that realisation, that without protection both nature and livelihoods would be lost, that would lead to a historic change in the late 1990s.
In April 2001, the Nioumachoua islets were included in the newly created Mohéli Marine Park, the first national park in the Comoros, which protected some 404 km² of the island's southern coast. What set the project apart, backed by international bodies such as UNDP, UNEP and IUCN, was that it put local communities, including Nioumachoua's, at the centre of management. The fishers themselves agreed on the rules: no-take zones, protection of nesting beaches, an end to collecting turtle eggs, and controls on harmful fishing gear.
For Nioumachoua, this meant moving from exploiting the islets to protecting them, with the promise that this protection would bring, in the medium term, more fish, more tourism and a sustainable future. And that is what happened: the reefs recovered, catches improved and the islets' beaches, once under threat, filled up again with turtle tracks. The islets became the park's main tourist attraction, and the village the base for snorkelling trips, roussette watching and whale-watching outings.
The shift was not free of tension (giving up old practices, trusting in future benefits, sharing tourism income fairly), but the overall result has been remarkably positive. Today Nioumachoua is one of the examples of how community conservation can align the interests of nature and people. The islets, a natural sanctuary for thousands of years and fishing grounds for centuries, are now a sanctuary consciously protected by those who live beside them.
Today, the Nioumachoua islets are the cover image of Mohéli and of the natural Comoros: white sand, turquoise water, living reefs and silence. They receive very few tourists so far, as the Comoros are among the least visited countries in the world. That has preserved their wild character, but it also leaves them exposed, because they depend on a small income to fund their protection. Every visitor who comes, pays the park fee and follows the rules contributes directly to keeping this ecosystem alive.
The threats have not gone away. Coral bleaching caused by warming seas, beach erosion, fishing pressure in hard times and the fragility of flagship species (green turtles and the rare, critically endangered Livingstone's fruit bats) all demand constant vigilance. Nioumachoua's beauty is real, but it is also delicate: a reef can be damaged in a few years and take decades to recover, and a roussette colony can disappear if it is disturbed too much.
For travellers, the Nioumachoua islets offer one of the purest experiences left in the Indian Ocean: swimming over corals teeming with fish, landing on a deserted beach, watching the giant bats hang from the trees at sunset. But they carry a lesson: this paradise exists because a community decided to look after it, and it will keep existing only if those who visit do the same. Enjoying Nioumachoua also means committing to protect it.
