Cambodia to protect land around Tonle Sap lake

2010-06-10
Associated Press

Cambodia announced plans Thursday to conserve forested shore areas around Tonle Sap, Southeast Asia's largest freshwater lake.

Sam Nov, a deputy director of the country's Fisheries Administration, said that some 1.6 million acres (640,000 hectares) of forest land that floods during rainy season with be declared off-limits for development, including encroachment by farmers planting rice.

The lake covers about 618,000 acres (250,000 hectares) during the dry season and expands to about 3 million acres (1.25 million hectares) during the rainy season. It is the habitat for more than 200 species of fish, 42 types of reptiles, 225 species of birds and 46 kinds of mammals.

"The flooded forests are very vital shelters for several species ... and their offspring," Sam Nov said. "We urgently need to conserve this forest. If not we will lose it forever."

Several areas of flooded forest and wetlands have already been cleared by farmers and agribusiness companies in recent years to convert the land for dry season farming, he said.

Officials from the six provinces that surround the lake, located about 120 miles (200 kilometers) northwest of the capital Phnom Penh, will soon begin informing villagers of the ban on destroying the forest areas, said Sam Nov.

Sacrava's Political Cartoon: Tonle Sap Lake

Cartoon by Sacrava (on the web at http://sacrava.blogspot.com)

Japanese oil company to survey Cambodian basin

May 4, 2010
The Associated Press
PHNOM PENH, Cambodia

A state-affiliated Japanese oil company was Tuesday granted rights by the Cambodian government to survey for oil around Southeast Asia's largest freshwater lake.

The Japan Oil, Gas and Metals National Corporation will conduct a study over 6,500 square kilometers (2,509 miles) of the Tonle Sap basin, located about 200 kilometers (120 miles) northwest of Cambodia's capital Phnom Penh.

The lake covers about 250,000 hectares (618,000 acres) during the dry season and expands to about 1.25 million hectares (3 million acres) during the rainy season.

It is known as a rich habitat with more than 200 species of fish, 42 types of reptiles, 225 species of birds and 46 kinds of mammals.

In the past, conservationists have expressed concern that oil projects could damage the basin's environment.

The government, which has promoted oil exploration in the Tonle Sap region as part of its energy strategy, says that it will protect the lake from environmental damage.

Fumiaki Fujita, a representative of the Japanese oil company, said it will first conduct onshore geological and geophysical surveys to assess oil reserves. If oil is found, the company will negotiate with the government for full-scale exploration of the area.

"Trei Beung Tonle Sap" a Poem in Khmer by Hin Sithan

Cambodia's floating villages

Tonle Sap largest freshwater lake in Asia

Friday, May 01, 2009
Michael McCarthy
Vancouver Courier (British Columbia, Canada)

One of the great wonders of the world is the vast temple complex of Angkor Wat, spread through the jungles of northern Cambodia. Aside from the gigantic size of the complex --it was the largest city in the world in the Middle Ages before the jungle consumed it after its unexplained abandonment--one wonders why the Khmer empire was located here in the middle of nowhere, with no rivers or trading routes to support the city and its huge population. However, another great wonder of the world can be found a few miles away.

Tonle Sap is Cambodia's Great Lake and the most prominent feature on the map of Cambodia, a huge body of water stretching across the northwest section of the country. In the wet season, the Tonle Sap Lake becomes the largest freshwater lake in Asia, swelling to an expansive 12,000 square miles, and the largest freshwater floodplain in the world. More than three million people live on the floodplain around the Tonle Sap but what's interesting are the 170 floating villages found on the lake itself.

In the rainy season, a unique hydrologic phenomenon causes the Mekong River to reverse direction, filling the lake up instead of draining it. The inflow expands the surface area of lake more than five-fold, inundating the surrounding forested floodplain and supporting an extraordinarily rich and diverse eco-system. More than 100 varieties of waterbirds and over 200 species of fish, as well as crocodiles, turtles, macaques, otter and other wildlife inhabit the inundated mangrove forests. The Tonle Sap provides more than half of the fish consumed in Cambodia.

Sitting on the edge of the lake are these distinctive floating villages, many sitting on towering stilts, with their economy and way of life deeply intertwined with the lake, the fish, the wildlife and the cycles of rising and falling waters. Visiting them is not easy unless you happen to travel with your own motorboat, but not far from Angkor Wat you'll find the tiny port of Chong Khneas, where a fast ferry departs daily for the capital of Phnom Penh, a five-hour journey across the great waters. Here the Khmer and Vietnamese boat people live in their floating homes and a guided two-hour boat trip through the floating village costs $6 U.S. and is an experience worth the time and effort.

Drifting through these drowned villages on a boat is the weirdest thing. In the dry season the houses stand eerily atop stilts in a sea of mud. At the height of the rainy season, the tops of trees poke through the surface of the water in a drowned landscape. Depending on the time of the year and the depth of the lake--it can be as little as a foot deep at times--trucks and cars look like they are being driven on top of the water and villagers appear as if they are walking on the surface. Huge fish traps are placed everywhere. Some of the houses float, others are on stilts, and yet others are boats on which entire families live.

Being so close to a major tourist site like Angkor Wat, this floating village gets plenty of visitors, and the villagers have devised interesting tourist attractions like the crocodile farm, where you can get face to face with some nasty creatures who are, thankfully, kept in a pit. Just don't fall in. Then there are the snake girls, who live on barges and run up to visiting boats thrusting giant water snakes into people's faces. Certainly you can take a photo, but be prepared to pay a fee. There are even floating bars and restaurants, markets, a clinic and a school. Watching kids play basketball in the middle of a vast lake is something different. If you don't want to descend from your boat to explore, villagers will paddle out to meet you, offering excellent ice-cold Cambodian beer and snacks.

Other more remote floating villages can be visited at more time and expense, and bird watchers will go crazy floating through the giant mangrove swamps spotting the 100 different species of waterbirds. But make sure you don't fall out of the boat, because a floating clinic 200 miles away from the nearest hospital likely won't be able to patch up any crocodile attacks.

Cambodian ferries cut travel budget

For $25, you can sail down Cambodia's Tonle Sap lake and river system. CREDIT: Photo-Michael McCarthy

Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Michael McCarthy
Special to Vancouver Courier (Canada)

Angkor Wat, the famous abandoned temple complex in the jungles of northern Cambodia, is fast becoming one of the world's greatest tourist destinations. Planes fly hourly from the capital of Phnom Penh and soon there will be direct flights from Japan. However, those wishing to save a bundle on the over-priced airfare have options; the buses are fairly safe, although the roads are insane. Or you can take the fast ferry down the lake.

At $25 one-way, it's only rich Westerners who can afford a ticket down the vast Tonle Sap, almost 180 miles to Phnom Penh. On this day, the 120 seats of the main cabin were full and the roof packed with tourists keen for an adventure. So, yes, we were well over capacity but in Cambodia it's not like there's anybody in charge of such minor things.

About 30 minutes into the trip, the horizon disappeared and the dazzling blue waters of the huge waterway stretched into the distance. The rainy season was over and the vast lake was completely full of water, fish and crocodiles. The great speed we were making seemed to allow water to creep into the cabin. Crammed in like sardines, we grinned at this small annoyance, just one of those situations that make developing countries so charming.

I then noted with some alarm that some passengers were casually putting on life jackets. The water by this time was over our ankles amidships, and even deeper at the back. Two elderly ladies in the seat front started crying, and then everyone stood up and tried to put on life jackets. As the ferry turned, water sloshed back and forth and the boat made slow sickening slides.

It became obvious that it was necessary to find the source of the water immediately because we were listing so heavily. Looking out the window I noticed the crew had secured life jackets for themselves and were ready to jump overboard at any moment. Some of us then told the captain to jump overboard, with strict order to locate the source of the leak.

A very slim passenger went down into the muck of the bilges and found the leak, a hole the size of a soccer ball punched through the hull just below the waterline. All three compartments in the hull were completely saturated with water. This is when we discovered that not only were the life vests useless but there was no rear exit, no life rafts, all the windows were welded shut and the bilge pumps did not work.

A perusal of my Lonely Planet explained there were two fast ferries that plied the waters of the Tonle Sap, one of which actually ran on a somewhat regular basis; the other was known as "The Floating Coffin" for its sad state of disrepair. Evidently, from time to time, various bits and pieces like the propeller would fall off the Coffin and the crew would be required to hail passing fish boats for rescue, although the boat didn't usually sink.

Several volunteers formed a water bucket line, and soon six strong men were throwing five-gallon buckets of water overboard, using an old paint can rousted from the engine room. At the rate of one bucket every 10 seconds, we bailed several tons of water over four hours. We finally got a small portable water pump going, and soon a steady waterfall of bilge water erupted over the side of the boat.

All the time the bucket crew were bailing, the captain had been banging away with a hammer at the hole, a most disconcerting sound inside a crowded metal boat. Finally, one of the passengers grabbed the hammer and went down into the bilge armed with a fistful of T-shirts and some donated rubber sandals. The hammering and bailing continued for several hours as we slowly proceeded, but the T-shirts did the trick and we somehow stayed afloat.

Finally, we approached a small town and a police boat came out to meet us. Conjecture began; would the boat be impounded and certain people arrested along with it? Whom, exactly? Those of us involved in the mutiny discussed our options. The prospect of spending quality time with the local gendarmes weighed heavily upon my stomach, so I headed directly for the loo where I performed emergency business. Searching my pockets desperately for paper, all I could find was my fast ferry ticket so I made good use of it; a rough day under trying circumstances to be sure, but the job's never really over until the paperwork is done.

We jumped into a decrepit taxi idling at the dock, grabbed a six pack of cold beer, and fled 100 miles to Phnom Penh, toasting the fact that we were still alive while discussing our next adventures in Southeast Asia. It was mutually agreed that Cambodian boat captains or crocodiles would not be part of future transportation arrangements. In Phnom Penh, I met with the editor of the Cambodia Daily, who thought our adventure constituted an excellent story and promised to publish it the following week, thoroughly embarrassing the government while allowing us enough time to flee the country. In Cambodia, it's not like there are people in charge of such minor things as boat sinkings, but sending 125 foreign tourists to the bottom of the Tonle Sap does make for bad publicity.

Phnom Penh, as it turned out, was a lovely city full of French colonial architecture and well worth visiting. The cuisine is French-influenced with Thai and Vietnamese flavours. Flights from Bangkok and Hong Kong are regular, although of course if you are heading up to Angkor Wat you can always take the fast ferry to save a few dollars.

Sacrava's Political Cartoon: Xmer-Great Wall

Cartoon by Sacrava (on the web at http://sacrava.blogspot.com)

Chaotic, cheery Chhnang

A friendly [Vietnamese?] boat lady.
The river has many uses.

Gliding serenely on the Tonle Sap; (below) a domicile on stilts by the river.
Kompong Chhnang on the river. — TOM COCKREM

Saturday August 2, 2008
By TOM COCKREM
The Star (Malaysia)

Kompong Chhnang in Cambodia is a fantastic destination in itself — exotic and chaotically old world.

The flood waters had not come. The houseboats sat low at the foot of their long-legged neighbours — the stilt houses on the land.

The soaring height of these informed how far the river might soon be expected to rise. The floaters would rise with them, until almost eye to eye with their stilted counterparts.

The river here was busy with the comings and goings of so many kinds of craft — fishing boats, ferries, sampans, hawker boats and canoes, some motor-driven and some propelled by oar. The women at the helm wore multi-hued pajamas, just like in Vietnam.

But this was Cambodia. The river was the Tonle Sap, and the town, Kompong Chhnang. I was on a ferry heading north from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, with a view to visit Angkor. But Chhnang seemed to me a fantastic destination in itself — intriguingly exotic and chaotically old-world.

I decided then and there to make it back here some time, and get to see close up how these people of the river live their lives.

So a few years down the track, and I am back in Phnom Penh, and off to Kompong Chhnang. Only this time I cheat a bit, and travel by bus instead of boat. It would take just two hours.

I am dropped off at the market end of town. It’s some 2km inland from the river, and looks like any other small Cambodian urban centre, with nondescript shophouses and a good amount of grunge. The market itself, though, would be good fun to explore.

To get to the river you take a moto (taxi motorbike) down the long main street to Phsar Krom — the waterfront market.

It feels a little strange sneaking up on the river from behind, so to speak. The road is lined by a motley assortment of small businesses and shacks.

In between, you glimpse the countryside — the vivid green wetlands given over to rice, commanded here and there by thatched cottages on piles. Meanwhile, greetings are coming thick and fast — “Hello, sir”, “Good afternoon”, “What’s your name?”. It’s nice to feel so welcome.

I pass a temple complex with saffron-robed monks smiling hellos from the yard. A dirt road branches off to the right, and heads down to a stream. It crosses a breakwater — one that draws a crowd. Net casting fishermen share it with the traffic, as well as sporting kids, as a bevy of motor bike owners wash their machines.

Now there’s a novel scene!

When it gets to the river, the road does a sharp left to become a kind of esplanade. On the riverbank side are lots of little eateries and stalls. The “esplanade” soon turns into a track, and I am in amongst a maze of wooden stilts.

Then the fun begins.

The people are so friendly here, I reach celebrity status before I’ve made a hundred yards. Ladders lead steeply up to the cube-like domiciles perched atop the piles. Once ensconced up there you must feel pretty safe, except maybe in a storm.

Backtracking now, I stand on the riverbank and overlook the houseboats down below. There are far more than I could ever have imagined. They are moored in neat rows stretching away as far as you can see.

A high rickety bridge takes you over the stream — the one with the breakwater. A lady wearing a conical hat awaits my arrival.

“Boat — five dollar one hour!”

And who could resist her charming smile. I tell her I’ll be back tomorrow morning. An even bigger smile!

The scene here is simply amazing. Makeshift plankwalks lead out to rowboats that take commuters and school kids to and from their homes. Neighbours sit and chat across the decks. Fisherman mend engines and nets, and the kids just lark about. Boat builders and mechanics work away on the river or the shore, and floating shops sell everything from groceries to soup.

Most of the boat dwellers are, in fact, Vietnamese. They are fisherfolk who have ventured up the Mekong from the Delta, then worked their way up the Tonle Sap.

Around 150,000 Vietnamese make Cambodia their home. Most reside in Phnom Penh, but many are fishers and rice farmers who have followed in the wake of the not infrequent Vietnamese invasions of Cambodia. The first of these occurred in the 17th century, and the most recent was in 1979.

Next morning, I’m as good as my word. Traversing the bridge again — risking life and limb — I am met by the boat lady with the hat and the smile. She soon has me seated in her boat and conveyed out amongst the other crafts.

She works a single oar while standing at the bow — how I wouldn’t know. The houseboats have a surprising array of mod cons — TV, karaoke and the like. The rowers sidle up to one another for a chat. A hawker boat stops by, and they maybe grab a coffee or a snack. Gee, it ain’t so bad here living on the water, after all.

Back on terra firma, I find an alternative route back up town. It’s a dirt road lined with shrub-enshrouded homes. Motorised traffic here is light, and the road is given over to vendors, cyclists and strollers such as me.

Life seems idyllic in these parts, in a minimal communal kind of way. I am invited onto verandahs, and get to meet the family — all three generations — plus relatives and friends. It’s not hard to really like Chhnang.

Sundown sees me back on the “esplanade”, relishing this cooling river breeze, a chilled Anchor beer in my hand. The hawker stalls get busy around this time. Any wonder.

I drink to cheery fellow diners and to the houseboat residents below, to everyone I’ve met in Kompong Chhnang, and also to this ferry on the river passing by. Now I bet it’s on its way from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap.

Getting there

Malaysia Airlines flies from KL to Bangkok daily. Thai Airways International flies from Bangkok to Phnom Penh daily. Battambang buses leave from the bus terminal near Central Market at 10.45am and 12.45am, and stop on request at Kompong Chhnang.

WHEN TO VISIT The coolest season is from November- February. BRING Sun block, hat, repellent, light cottons and comfortable walking shoes.

ACCOMMODATION In Phnom Penh: (five-star) Intercontinental Hotel; www.interconti.com or (upscale) Hotel Le Royal, a heritage hotel; http://phnompenh.raffles.com/ In Kompong Chhnang: Samrongsen Hotel, on main road to the river, tel: 026 989 011.

In Cambodia, a case for localizing climate-change research

Living on water: Tonle Sap Lake’s 1 million residents have floating homes, schools, and even gas stations. But life is harder as water levels fall. (David Montero)

Researchers know global temperatures are rising. Now scientists from as far away as Finland are studying what that means for the 1 million floating residents of the Tonle Sap Lake.

June 6, 2008
By David Montero
Correspondent of The Christian Science Monitor

Nam Lai, a carpenter in this remote corner of Cambodia, remembers when it was easy to park his movable houseboat on the Tonle Sap Lake where he lives. But now, it’s getting harder to find a suitable spot for his small barge. “I have to move the house farther and farther from the shore,” he says.

For years, the 1 million inhabitants of the lake – Southeast Asia’s largest freshwater body – have lived a mobile existence to keep step with the seasonal ebbs and flows brought on by monsoons and melting Himalayan snows that expand the lake to five times its normal size. But many villagers say the deeper waters needed to park their houseboats are harder to find as the summers get hotter and the lake’s water level drops.

Lai’s observations, together with evidence of climate change’s impact on other fisheries around the world, has scientists deeply concerned that Tonle Sap Lake – one of the world’s most fragile ecosystems and one of its most productive fisheries – is also under threat. The lake is essential to Cambodia’s food supply, its fish providing 60 percent of the country’s protein, while supporting the livelihoods of about 12 percent of its people.

The problem is, nobody knows the impact of climate change for sure – even the teams that have come to find out from as far away as Finland – since scientific inquiry has only just begun. Observers say that the uncertainty underscores that better understanding of local scenarios, not just global modeling that looks at steady increases in world-wide temperatures, is needed to pinpoint climate change’s impact on people and livelihoods.

“There’s a whole area of science that needs to relate climate and physical change to people and social changes – to identify relationships between physical changes and social consequences,” says Eric Baran, research scientist at the Phnom Penh office of the World Fish Center, a research organization headquartered in Malaysia.

The Cambodian government has begun looking at the problem, creating a climate-change office in 2003 and undertaking a climate-change vulnerability assessment in 2001. But neither of those measures has focused specifically on the Tonle Sap Lake. Some pioneering studies, including one at Africa’s Lake Tanganyika, have linked some of the same problems the Tonle Sap is exhibiting – such as reduced fish yield – to climate change. But it’s not yet clear whether climate change or other factors are responsible here.

Whatever the cause, floating gas-station owner Sinan San has seen the effects firsthand. Her main customers – fishermen – are no longer able to make good catches, and her earnings have dried up since 2004.

“The number of fishermen has decreased because there are less fish, and they move to upland for their livelihood. They say fish are getting smaller and smaller,” she says. Scientists agree, saying overfishing, poor management, and unfair laws have led to a sharp decrease in the number and size of the lake’s fish.

“Small fish are more susceptible to climate fluctuations,” says Mr. Baran. “If the year is good, you have many [small fish]. If the year is bad, you have nothing. This will make the system more and more shaky.”

The declining fish are just one variable in a host of factors that threaten to affect the lake’s hydrology, further exposing it to the risks of climate change.

“Many factors will have impacts on the hydrological regime of the Mekong Basin and on the Tonle Sap Lake’s ecosystem,” Timo Menniken, an adviser to the Mekong River Commission Secretariat in Vientiane, Laos, writes in an e-mail. “These include general rapid economic development, the ongoing development of hydropower schemes along the upper reaches of the Lancang-Mekong, the proposed development of hydropower schemes on tributaries and the mainstream in the lower basin, the indications of groundwater depletion and water pollution caused … by the tourism industry, and plans for oil exploration in the Tonle Sap Basin.”

Another factor is accelerated glacier runoff. “The hydrology can be affected by the melting away of mountain snows in Tibet. You may see water levels rise, which would cause salinity levels to rise,” says Neou Bonheur, the project director of the Ministry of Environment’s Tonle Sap Environment Management Project. “We just don’t know. There are a wide range of areas that we need to set up and observe.”

Saving Cambodia's Great Lake

Hundreds of thousands of families around the lake depend on it to live

Thursday, 29 May 2008
By Philippa Fogarty
BBC News, Tonle Sap lake

Every May, when the rains come, water levels in the Mekong start to rise.

When the river flows into Phnom Penh it meets another river that drains from a lake in central Cambodia.

So full is the Mekong that it reverses that river's flow, forcing water back upstream and expanding the lake more than five-fold.

This is the Tonle Sap, the largest freshwater lake in South East Asia. Cambodians call it the Great Lake.

It is an area of extraordinarily rich biodiversity and a key breeding ground for fish, which migrate upstream from the Mekong to spawn in seasonally-flooded forest areas.

The lake is vital to Cambodia. It provides two-thirds of the country's protein and more than one million people depend on it directly for their livelihoods.

But the lake faces serious threats.

Cambodia's population has risen rapidly and pressure on resources has increased. Fish stocks are threatened by over-exploitation and illegal fishing methods.

Farmers and developers have taken advantage of weak governance to seize and drain land in the flooded forest, destroying key wildlife habitats and polluting the lake.

More trees have been felled for domestic use by local people, some of whom have been hunting rare wildlife to compensate for smaller fish catches.

Last year, Prime Minister Hun Sen warned of a "serious environmental disaster" if the problems were not addressed.

Fish sanctuary

The Asian Development Bank-financed Tonle Sap Environmental Management Project (TSEMP) is leading efforts to do that.

Eight years ago, more than half the lots on the lake allocated to commercial fishing were released to local communities.

Part of TSEMP's work is helping villages create legally-recognised community fisheries to protect and preserve their own resources. More than 170 of these groups have now been set up.

Life on the lake

Soer Tao is deputy head of the community fishery in Kampong Klaeng, on the lake's northeast shore.

The village is home to about 10,000 people living in stilted houses to cope with the seasonal flooding. Some 85% of residents depend on fishing for their livelihoods.

Ten years ago, Soer Tao says, illegal fishing and destruction of the forest were causing serious problems to villagers. But local management of resources is bringing benefits.

The village boundaries have been formally set. Residents patrol the area and if people are fishing illegally or if developers are trying to encroach into the flooded forest, they should now be better positioned to tackle the problem.

The village has also established a fish sanctuary, 300 metres by 30 metres, where fish can spawn during the dry season. It is marked by red flags and guarded at each end.

When the flooding comes, the fish will swim out - hopefully in greater numbers every year.

"The fish sanctuary will protect the fish as livelihoods for everyone," Soer Tao said.

New projects

But it is not just about protecting fisheries.

Preak Toal is a floating village. Everything floats, even the school and the petrol station, and everyone depends on the lake to live.

Many people live in floating communities on the lake

Now projects are being set up to help families diversify their livelihoods away from the lake in a bid to reduce pressure on resources.

Former poachers patrol a biosphere reserve, guarding the rare water birds that they used to hunt. Tourists pay to enter and local families use pedalos to show the day-trippers around.

Some residents have built floating gardens for fruit and vegetables, while others are growing mushrooms in their floating houses. One group is trying to turn water hyacinth into charcoal-like fuel.

But the initiatives are, of course, not perfect. It is still much simpler for villagers to get firewood from the forests and to sell fish for quick profit.
'Turning point'

Dr Neou Bonheur, director of TSEMP, admits that trying to promote environmental awareness to those struggling to make a living can be difficult.

Dr Bonheur says efforts to protect the lake must be sustained

"It is hard," he says, "but when we teach them not to cut the forest because it is a breeding ground for the fish, they see the benefits of that."

The villagers, he says, are not the greatest challenge.

"Now we are at a turning point - rice and fuel prices are up and there is a tendency to look for resources such as land, not from the communities but from outside groups who want to claim areas for development.

"That's the most difficult thing for us, the people who damage the communities and fisheries in that way."

Community resource management was put in place at the right time, he says, but it must be strengthened to ensure local people have a permanent voice.

He describes efforts to date as "so far, so good", but says they must be sustained.

"We cannot say it is now enough - we have to continue to work hard on many areas."

But there is one key issue Cambodia cannot control.

China, Thailand and Laos all want to dam the Mekong for hydropower, something experts say could have a serious effect on the seasonal influx of water and wildlife into the lake.

"We are a downstream country and less powerful compared to upstream countries," says Dr Bonheur. "We can only hope that through dialogue, Cambodia can voice its concern."

"The Tonle Sap is a great asset for Cambodia. We must protect it at all cost."