FRESHWATER FISHES OF CAMEROON: DISTRIBUTION, HABITATS AND AQUARIUM NEEDS
Killifish and kribensis is about as much as I knew of Cameroon before this month. How that changed.
Born from two years of writing, Freshwater Fishes of Cameroon:
Distribution, habitats and aquarium needs is an epic tome. Hungry to read it ahead of time, I acquired a PDF copy prior to release, and may have saved myself from a hernia. At 464 pages, the printed version weighs in at just over 2kg. When I say it’s an epic, I’m not exaggerating. I’ll use that word again, too.
Author Michel Keijman first visited and fell in love with Cameroon in 2006. Since that first foray he has returned a dozen more times, armed with his camera. For we aquarists, it’s fortunate that he did. Michel is that rare breed of traveller-cum-fish-enthusiast, and one who documents all that he finds. This book is the result of years of field photography, collecting fish, and bringing some home.
Half and half
Freshwater Fishes of Cameroon: Distribution, habitats and
aquarium needs is roughly hewn into two dissimilar parts. Up to around the halfway mark (p.215, to be precise) a fast-paced read catalogues species from a dozen different families of fish, from Alestidae to Tetraodontidae, plus a section dedicated to profiles of aquatic plants. Each plant species comes complete with notes on distribution, ecology, growing size and the fundamentals of aquarium care, all with accompanying photos.
A 460+ page book of such breadth is a colossal undertaking beyond the scope of a single author, and so Freshwater Fishes of
Cameroon is a collaborative effort involving co-authors, all experts in their respective fields. Many of their contributions make up the first half of the book, with names like Adrian Indermaur, Josh Pickett (of The Bichir Handbook acclaim), Joris Aerts, Peter Venstermans, Jouke van der Zee, and Zuzana Musilova all helping to create a comprehensive atlas of Cameroon’s fishes.
Multiple authors mean multiple styles, and the potential for inconsistency. but while there are different ‘voices’ across several sections, it actually helps keep the reading experience fresh and vibrant. And despite the academic credentials of some authors, at no point are any of them deliberately verbose or difficult read.
The first 215 pages are largely given over to collections of fish photos, each with a fact file covering the basics: genus, species, total body length, diet, whether or not the fish is solitary of shoaling, distribution range, and river basin. Such concision runs a risk of oversimplifying a little (if a fish is simply ‘herbivorous,’ is it eating algae? Higher plants?), but it suffices as the first trickle of information on fish we know otherwise very little about.
The use of maps is expert. You’ll find them dotted throughout, each with colour coding to highlight particular basins or regions. Pending where you are in the book, there may be coloured dots attached to fish images—these correspond back to the maps. Chapters are arranged by family, and each carries an initial introduction. Some of these are necessarily brief but informative, while others, such as the section on Mormyridae, comprise several pages of run-on copy packed with ecological, dietary, and even reproductive information. Notably, the section on killifish (some 86 pages—one author even remarks that Cameroon may be the
‘world of killifish in miniature’) goes into considerable depth in its effort to get everything classified correctly.
Cichlid central
The second part of the epic is handled mostly by Michel. From page 216 onwards it’s cichlid after cichlid, almost all of which are rare finds in the hobby—but no less coveted for it.
Here the pace slows drastically and the narrative thickens. Michel’s cichlid passion shines (as regular PFK readers familiar with his articles will know) with multiple pages dedicated to each fish. He works his way through over 50 notable cichlids from the region, from Benitochromis to Tylochromis, including occasional backstories of discovery, plus water parameters at catch sites (and in aquaria), sexual differences, distributions, and even GPS coordinates offering exact locations, all furnished with detailed imagery of the fish, and frequent habitat shots. Syntopic species are mentioned, and points of interest are included in the notes— these may be size/space related, spawning related, or just a taxonomic tidy up. In short, it summarises as much as anyone knows about fish that are otherwise largely unknown.
Of particular note is Michel’s unabridged attention to the many undescribed Benitochromis, as well as the many morphs of
Pelvicachromis kribensis. Diehard cichlid fans will doubtless fawn over these sections for years to come.
From page 420 onwards there’s yet another treat (and switch of authors) with the rear portion of the book devoted to three crater lakes of Cameroon: Barombi Mbo, Bermin, and Ejagham (this last authored by Michel again). For me, these were the most exciting part of the book, giving it an exciting second wind. Remote, tricky-to-access lakes, and their inhabitants, are laid bare to reveal a miniature world of freshwater sponges, endemic cichlids, killifish, and a dearth of catfish, all the while looking like a confusing South American/Central American hybrid biotopes. Admittedly, I’ll likely never see these fish in the flesh, but I’m grateful to now know how, and where, they exist.
My criticisms of the book are largely confined to the perils of a pre-publication copy. In my version, there are occasional typos, and some typesetting to tidy up, but that’s about it. My other worry is beyond any of our control, and that’s how ‘future proof’ it is against future taxonomic revisions that are already underway. Such an ambitious book comes with limitations. Michel rightly points out that the combined authors are unable to cover all of the species found in Cameroon—there’s simply too much to catch and document over too vast an area. But for the most learned aquarist, this gigantic snapshot of the country’s expansive fauna is an invaluable reference work, while for the casual fishkeeper it is a treasure trove of imagery and future biotope inspiration.
As a book on the fishes of Cameroon, Michel’s work is not to be taken lightly. An area that has been woefully underexamined at an ichthyological level (and, of course at a hobby level), the authors present the first catalogue of the region of its kind. As you flick through the pages, I would challenge you not to be intrigued at species you’ve never seen before, here expertly photographed. Even as a decades-long experienced aquarist, I learnt a lot. I had no idea, for example, that Cameroon had its own freshwater stingrays. I never knew it had freshwater sponges. I never knew just how alluring the distichodids were.
Freshwater Fishes of Cameroon punches home the fact that Cameroon is an underappreciated goldmine of fishes beyond kribensis and killies. It’s an epic book that shows us how equally epic the inhabitants of this new fishy frontier really are.