Myanmar Golden Pond

July 6, 2010 No Comments

By WALL STREET JOURNAL REPORTERS

KAY LAR, Myanmar—In the evenings, as the sun disappears behind the hills south of Mandalay and water laps against the hulls of wooden fishing boats here, it’s possible to imagine the outside world is slipping away.

In fact, it’s Myanmar’s famous Inle Lake that’s disappearing.

Inle, best known for the fishermen who glide across its glassy waters in flat-bottomed skiffs like misplaced Venetian boatmen, counts among Asia’s most magical places. But it’s shrinking at an alarming rate, the causes believed to stem from rising population density and rapid growth in the area’s two main industries: tourism and agriculture.

Floating gardens, manmade islands used to grow crops such as tomatoes and flowers, have expanded to cover much of the area near the shoreline; though photogenic, they are choking the lake’s fragile ecosystem. Shifting agricultural patterns in the surrounding mountains compound the lake’s problems, scientists and residents say, as forest-clearing for timber and slash-and-burn agriculture allow more silt to wash into rivers that feed the lake.

Inle Lake shrank by roughly a third, from 69 square kilometers to about 47, between 1935 and 2000, according to a study published in 2007 by the Integrated Research System for Sustainability Science, a Japanese consortium that includes several universities. Another report, prepared by the Myanmar government in conjunction with the United Nations Environment Program and others, measured the lake—a rough oval in shape—at 11 kilometers long and five kilometers wide in 1996, down from 23 kilometers long and 11 kilometers wide in 1967.

Hoteliers and other residents say they believe the rate of decline has accelerated in recent years, and this year the problem has been exacerbated by a severe drought. During a recent visit, some areas traditionally open to tourists were difficult to reach because water levels were so low. One village was cut off entirely from boat traffic, leaving boatmen to wade through mud for the final hundred meters from a canal.

If recent trends continue, says Tin Aung Moe, a senior program officer at UNEP’s Regional Resource Center for Asia and the Pacific in Thailand, “the lake might be gone in one or two decades.”

The problems at Inle are emblematic of a country that’s filled with extraordinary natural wonders and has more green space and unmolested wildlife than most other parts of Asia, but lacks the institutional capacity and political will to preserve them. The military junta that has ruled since 1962 launched a national environmental policy in the 1990s, and has won some qualified praise for overseeing preservation of the country’s 12th-century-era Bagan ruins, another major tourist draw. But it has failed to protect Inle and other treasures from the likes of logging, mining and development.

Environmental policy is largely in the hands of the National Commission for Environmental Affairs, which analysts say has limited powers and is understaffed and underfunded. Only rarely are officials willing to work with international organizations that have more expertise.

Scientists say Inle’s problems may be reversible, and for now the lake retains the ethereal natural beauty that has made it such an attractive destination. In the mornings, when a blanket of mist rises and the sound of oars striking water floats to the shores, it still feels very much alive.

Set in a tranquil mountain valley a short flight from Yangon, Inle seems more like Switzerland than Asia, the temperatures cool and the hills framed in blue hues as light fades into evening. Resident and migratory birds, including wild ducks, cormorants and herons, appear in single file or formation over the shallow waters. And though tens of thousands of people visit Inle each year, for now it’s still large enough that in remoter areas visitors can feel they have it all to themselves.

Tourists typically hire wooden boats with outboard motors to navigate the lake and the narrow canals. They stop off at stilt-house villages, a 19th-century monastery and a sprawling lakeside open-air market that moves from site to site during the week.

They also check out the beautiful but problematic floating gardens and visit handicraft workshops and temples, including the region’s holiest site, Phaung Daw Oo Paya, a multitiered pagoda with Buddha images covered in gold.

It’s worth asking the boat operator to cut the engine in the middle of Inle and just drift for a bit. From there one can take in the whole scene—in the distance white pagodas and along the horizon fishermen, using the curious local technique to move about the lake: They wrap one leg around a wooden paddle and whip it back and forth in the water to propel the boat. The atmosphere seems little changed from centuries ago.

But Inle is changing quickly as more people migrate in. The area’s population grew by more than 35% between 1983 and 2005, to 144,000 people. One reason is the floating gardens, which provide a livelihood beyond fishing. Villagers build them by assembling a mat of aquatic plant material (like the fast-growing but invasive water hyacinth) combined with silt, though not so much as to submerge it. After inserting bamboo poles at intervals to keep their islands from floating away, they plant their crops. In hopes of boosting yields, many apply agricultural chemicals, which leach into the lake and add to its troubles.

“Farming is a good business here,” said one grower of tomatoes and flowers as he worked along a weed-clogged canal. He has expanded his farm in recent years, he added, but now “there is no more space,” as nearby farms have also spread.

As the lake shrinks, the fish population drops—which in turn drives more villagers to take up farming. One fisherman in his early 20s says he makes perhaps $3 or $4 a day, catching only a handful of fish, considerably fewer than his father caught a decade ago. The lake’s shallowness—it’s mostly no more than a few meters deep, even a couple of kilometers from the shore—is one of the features that makes it slightly surreal, but the young fisherman says the water was deeper back when he used to go out with his father.

“Now all you see is weeds,” he says. Tangles of olive-colored plants were visible beneath his boat.

The other big change at Inle is the rise of mass tourism. Before Myanmar opened the sector to more investment in the 1990s, tourist arrivals in the country came to only a few thousand people a year; today the number is about 300,000. There are now more than 10 major hotels along Inle Lake and more than two dozen lodges in a nearby town, compared with just two in the area in the mid-1990s.

Most of the lakeside properties are big resorts, some quite luxurious. At the Myanmar Treasure Resort Inle Lake, for instance, rows of hardwood-floored cottages fan out along the shoreline, with rustic wooden paths and gardens between them. Amenities include satellite television, a spa offering aromatherapy massages and facials and a boutique selling local handicrafts and clothing.

The newer hotels have made Inle more inviting to higher-end tourists. Some hope visitors can help the situation by being mindful of their impact and encouraging hoteliers to invest in programs to remove silt and other waste. But scientists tracking the lake’s decline say there may be more cost than benefit.

The development “just increases the amount of garbage that has to be dealt with, the electricity that has to be generated, the sewage that is probably dumped into the lake, in a part of the world where infrastructure is often lacking,” says Alan Ziegler, an associate professor at the National University of Singapore and one of the authors of the Japanese consortium’s study.

Development at Inle “is probably at the doorstep of being at a situation where it’s unsustainable,” he says.

Hoteliers say they are working to limit their impact. Some have donated money to local groups that promote conservation, though environmental organizations are typically given limited space to operate in Myanmar’s tightly controlled political climate.

At the Myanmar Treasure Resort, general manager U Win Oo Tan says his hotel has installed wastewater-treatment systems and introduced proper garbage collection. The resort also requires boatmen to cut their engines as they approach its dock and pole their way in to preserve peace and quiet—the hotel marshlands are a gathering place for scores of wild birds.

“The authorities and the people here are very much aware” of the problems, says U Win Oo Tan.

Myanmar authorities have established an Inle Wetland Bird Sanctuary and instituted a number of programs and laws that in theory restrict the expansion of floating gardens. It has employed dredges to clear out silted areas, and boat drivers have been required to haul out hyacinth—a species that has choked lakes around the world—whenever they travel to Nyaungshwe, the main service center for the Inle. But residents say commitment to such policies is sporadic at best.

Across from the Phaung Daw Oo pagoda, a sign admonishes residents to “get rid of water weeds and hyacinths” and “limit the extension of residences and plantations.” Those goals “must be carried out with cooperation” between the people and the military, it says. Yet all around the area, farmers continue to expand their gardens.

Attempts to reach the Myanmar government, which rarely speaks with foreign journalists, were unsuccessful. An official at the National Commission for Environmental Affairs didn’t respond to a list of questions.

One of Myanmar’s leading environmental groups, the Forest Resource Environment Development and Conservation Association, says it has launched discussions with forestry officials and an army commander in the region to boost conservation programs there, according to U Ohn, the group’s vice chairman. He says he’s developing a five-year Inle Lake restoration program that will encourage more-sustainable agriculture and forestry practices and further increase awareness of the lake’s troubles.

“It is late but not too late” to reverse the lake’s decline, he says. But he estimates it will cost at least $1 million to put the plan into action, and says it’s unlikely the government will provide more than a small contribution.

Kyi Thein Ko, general secretary of the Myanmar Hotelier Association and managing director of the Shwe Inn Tha Floating Resort at Inle, said it’s understandable that officials have other priorities—like dealing with the environmental toll of Cyclone Nargis, which killed more than 130,000 people in 2008. But given its enormous economic value, hoteliers say, Inle must be protected.

“One day Inle Lake may be fading away and we’ll be using motor vehicles instead of outboard motors,” said Kyi Thein Ko. “Which tourist will enjoy our hotel without water?”

SOURCE: http://online.wsj.com/article/
SB10001424052748704289504575312014195024620.html?mod=WSJ_latestheadlines#articleTabs_slideshow

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