Fading Heartbeat
For hundreds of years, people have flourished in the floating villages of Tonle Sap lake, a vast body of water in central Cambodia renowned as one of the world's most productive freshwater fisheries. Its riches once fuelled the growth of the empire that built the famous temples of Angkor, and early accounts describe an ecosystem so full of fish that people could simply scoop them up in baskets from the porches of their floating homes. Over a million Cambodians still rely on the lake today.
But in the space of a lifetime, a brutal combination of climate change, overfishing and dam construction on the Mekong and its tributaries has cast the lake into crisis. Fish stocks have plummeted to a point at which it's becoming increasingly difficult for the tens of thousands of residents of the lake's floating villages to survive. Some are taking their children out of school to help with fishing. Virtually every family is in mounting debt. Women are migrating in search of work in garment sweatshops in the capital, and men to the agricultural plantations of Thailand. For those who remain, the future is clouded with uncertainty.
Tonle Sap's historical richness derives in part from a unique phenomenon known as a monotonal flood-pulse system, in which the river connecting it to the Mekong changes direction twice a year, swelling the lake to some 15,000 square kilometres during each monsoon season and enriching it with sediment and nutrients. Cambodians like to compare this rhythmic swelling and shrinking to a heartbeat. But in recent years, the critical reversal of the river has become inconsistent, and as a result, that heartbeat is rapidly fading. For the people of the lake, catching enough fish to sustain their families is becoming an ever greater challenge, and their unique way of life is now hanging by a thread.
For hundreds of years, people have flourished in the floating villages of Tonle Sap lake, a vast body of water in central Cambodia renowned as one of the world's most productive freshwater fisheries. Its riches once fuelled the growth of the empire that built the famous temples of Angkor, and early accounts describe an ecosystem so full of fish that people could simply scoop them up in baskets from the porches of their floating homes. Over a million Cambodians still rely on the lake today.
But in the space of a lifetime, a brutal combination of climate change, overfishing and dam construction on the Mekong and its tributaries has cast the lake into crisis. Fish stocks have plummeted to a point at which it's becoming increasingly difficult for the tens of thousands of residents of the lake's floating villages to survive. Some are taking their children out of school to help with fishing. Virtually every family is in mounting debt. Women are migrating in search of work in garment sweatshops in the capital, and men to the agricultural plantations of Thailand. For those who remain, the future is clouded with uncertainty.
Tonle Sap's historical richness derives in part from a unique phenomenon known as a monotonal flood-pulse system, in which the river connecting it to the Mekong changes direction twice a year, swelling the lake to some 15,000 square kilometres during each monsoon season and enriching it with sediment and nutrients. Cambodians like to compare this rhythmic swelling and shrinking to a heartbeat. But in recent years, the critical reversal of the river has become inconsistent, and as a result, that heartbeat is rapidly fading. For the people of the lake, catching enough fish to sustain their families is becoming an ever greater challenge, and their unique way of life is now hanging by a thread.