Laos’ hydroelectric plans threaten the fragile Cambodian economy that relies on the Mekong floods.
“Appearances can be deceiving”, the Buddha would say to his disciples, urging them to look beyond the transient aspect of things. For centuries, with less spiritual depth perhaps but with the same far-sighted pragmatism, the farmers and fishermen of the Tonle Sap have similarly viewed the flooding of their lake that for roughly six months of the year turns their homes into houseboats and their fields into sprawling expanses of water.
On the face of things, they would appear to be flood victims, but in fact these flood waters are the perfect fertiliser. And when they retreat, they leave behind abundant rice paddies splashing with bountiful fish.
A miracle of nature, the Tonle Sap is both a lake and a river. From November to May, its waters feed the mighty Mekong River that cleaves Cambodia in two and discharges into the South China Sea. However, from June to October, during the rainy season, the Mekong swells to such an extent that nature’s usual pathways can no longer contain it. The river’s muddy delta can’t receive the massive rush of water and some of it gets sent back to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, which is built on the convergent banks of the Mekong and Tonle Sap.
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Laos’ hydroelectric plans threaten the fragile Cambodian economy that relies on the Mekong floods.
