The River Ebbs, Flows and Ebbs Again
It's hard to keep up with Khun Tew as she makes her way down a steep embankment, layered with a prickly maze of rock. "This used to be vegetable gardens," she says, "we grew everything here. The soil was perfect." Despite the obstacles Khun Tew is cheerful, she laughs a lot as she steps down the bank, but she's not happy with the development. "Why did they have to change the bank?"
Khun Tew, known as Aunty Tew in her hometown of Chiang Khong in northern Thailand, is 63 years old. She grew up doing what people on the Mekong do - fishing and farming. "For fishing we used a traditional little boat with no motor. There were so many fish they swarmed around your ankles if you stood in the river," says Tew. "They used to make a lot of movies in this area because it was so green and beautiful. Now, the river depth changes unpredictably, and gardening here is much more difficult."
Without Khun Tew's activism, the Mekong at Chiang Khong would have changed even more.
A bend in the Mekong, about 10 kilometres from Chiang Khong. The riverbed is studded with clusters of rocks and sandbars, making it impossible for large boats to navigate.
Chiang Khong is about 50 kilometres from Chiang Saen at the Golden Triangle, where Thailand, Laos and Myanmar meet. Large cargo boats dock at Chiang Saen to take goods back up the river to China. After Chiang Saen the river narrows and is marked by clusters of rock and sandbars. This makes it impossible for large boats to navigate - and easier for a natural ecosystem to flourish in the pools protected by the rocks. Several years ago, there was a Chinese plan to blast away the rock so that boats could trade as far as Chiang Khong. The plan included a large concrete island at Chiang Khong.
"I was at the Chinese Embassy with other activists to protest that plan," says Tew. "If they had blasted the rocks, the river would have flowed higher and faster, even endangering houses. It would have changed everything."
Khun Tew holds up river weed - a staple for Thai and Laos communities on both sides of the Mekong.
Stopping the blasting was a victory, but there was nothing to be done about the hydroelectric dams that have been built on the upper Mekong in China. "They can do whatever they want to do," says Tew. "If they release the water, the level comes up so high. And if they don't release water, there is none for us. Nobody asked us anything. It's like we're not important." Hers is a very common concern for Mekong riverside communities.
“If they release the water, the level comes up so high. And if they don’t release water, there is none for us. Nobody asked us anything. It’s like we’re not important. ”
For now, the existing dams have resulted in unpredictable water levels. And this means that one of the nutritious staples of the region, river weed, is in smaller supply. Thais and Laos people use it in many ways including as dried, salty snacks, and fresh like salad.
Down on the Mekong, Tew runs into some friends- Khun Jan Fong and Khun Jan Som. They're each about 60 years old, and they're wading to their knees, bent under a searing sun, collecting river weed.
Khun Jan Fong squeezes water from a handful of river weed.
It turns out, the river weed is not only nutritious, it's good money too. A dried kilogramme sells for several dollars. "I've come where the money is!" says Jan Fong. "For one hour of work, I can earn a lot!" So as the river weed becomes more sparse, so does one money-making opportunity for women.
Back at her home, it's easy to see that Khun Tew is a practical woman. She's talented too. To earn a living she's opened a shop specialising in traditional fabrics and clothing. Drawing on historic patterns from the many ethnicities in the region, she designs the clothes and hires local women to weave the cloth- providing a continued source of income for women in her province.
"People ask me why I continue to work," she says. "My husband has a pension and my daughter has a university degree and a good job. But if I stop working, I might get sick." She insists "I'll keep working as long as I can."
Her advice to women is to get an education. "It's the most important thing, especially for women," she says. "And then live in the world, go overseas and learn more. But then think about returning and supporting your hometown."
There is so much more to say about Khun Tew - we could all wish for her level of energy, passion for work, her community and the environment. I hope to return to Chiang Khong so I can learn more from her. But I'll end now with one more memory she shared. It's about the giant catfish - one of the world's largest fish, which can grow to three metres (10 feet) in length, and 300 kilogrammes (more than 600 pounds).
"One giant catfish could feed an entire community" says Khun Tew. "To catch one, fishermen would herd them into shallower water and then catch them with a net. In season, they were so plentiful you could catch them all the time." People did just that, and overfishing was part of the reason the giant catfish are now a protected species. But now, dams upriver on the Mekong have upset their spawning routes, and Tew and many others worry that the dams planned in the future could wipe them out entirely.
She shows us a faded photo of a giant cat fish from many years ago. A group of people are gathered, proudly, around the fish. The fish is longer than any of the people in the picture. In the photo, Khun Tew stands almost in the centre just behind the fishermen, her face forward, smiling.
"The Mekong is everything," she says. "Without it, there are no farms. There are no fish. There is no water. The water is life. I'm so lucky to live by the Mekong," she says. If the Mekong could speak, I think the river would say the same about Khun Tew.
With big thanks to Khun Ying from Chiang Saen for his guiding and interpretation.
