Working to save a storied lake
In the early morning hours on Burma’s Inle Lake, the quiet is broken by small tourist boats rumbling across the water to catch some of the lake’s famous performing fishermen.
The motorboats slow to an idle to watch as a father and his young son step onto the prows of their canoes, balance on one foot, wrap the other around a long paddle and slowly push forward. It looks like they could tip at any moment, but they’re fully in control. It’s almost like ballet on the water.
Eventually the father dips a huge, cone-shaped net into the water, pulls it out, holds up a fish and flashes a big smile. Then he waits to get paid.
On this particular morning, the performers make about $40 (U.S.) from four tour boats. That’s way more than the $5 the father used to make actually fishing. But there’s a sad irony. The fish he showed off was already dead. There just aren’t many left to catch in Inle Lake.
The fisherman uses his paddle to show one reason. In the past, he says, he could completely submerge the paddle. But now it thumps against the lake’s floor only about halfway down. Inle is filling up with sediment, because the forests around it are being cut down and the soil is washing into the lake.
That’s a big problem for a lake that’s the second biggest in Burma, has huge cultural and economic importance and is a big tourist attraction. But it’s not the only problem.
“Before, the water here is blue and clean,” local activist Kyaw Soe, 34, said. Now, thanks to all the run-off, it’s a murky red.
“When I was young, we’d go fishing and pick lotus roots to eat,” Kyaw Soe said, “but these days, kids can’t do these things.” He fears that local traditions are dying out.
And the causes go beyond increased sedimentation and drought. There’s also been a rise in unregulated farming and an influx of tourists since the end of military rule in 2011. Kyaw Soe understands why people want to come here. People live right on the lake, their houses built on stilts. They worship on it — there’s a floating Buddhist temple right in the middle.
All of that is why a few years ago, Kyaw Soe decided to dedicate his life to trying to preserve Inle. He runs two youth groups focused on getting the area’s youth to take the lead in protecting the lake’s future.
“We explain deforestation to local communities,” he says, “and we encourage them to plant more trees instead of cutting them down.” The youngsters lead by example, he said, and often their parents and neighbours join their conservation work.
But for every small victory, there’s another big challenge. In 2015, the UN added Inle to its global network of Biosphere Reserves. The move cast a big spotlight on the lake’s unique qualities and its environmental challenges, and it came with a promise of help in protecting the lake. But the designation will draw even more tourists, which may mean more deforestation to build more hotels and open up more farmland to feed more people.