Phnom Penh’s vanishing lakes put Cambodian capital in peril – and harm livelihoods of fishermen, farmers

Behind Seng Oeun’s humble wooden house on the outskirts of Phnom Penh lies Boeung Tamouk, the large lake that has provided the 39-year-old fisherman with an income since he was a youngster. Every morning before the sun rises, when most Cambodians are still asleep, he climbs into his small boat to try his luck. “On a good day I can catch 100,000 riel [US$25] worth of fish. It’s enough to buy food for my kids and send them to school,” he says. Cambodian bastion of genocidal Khmer Rouge a tourist destination that offers rich rewards He worries that the good days will soon be over, however. The Cambodian government plans to fill in 20 hectares (49 acres) of Boeung Tamouk. The reclaimed land will be used to relocate a large fruit and vegetable market currently situated in the city centre. In late January, a group of 30 residents living on the fringes of Boeung Tamouk were told by the authorities that they would be evicted, according to the local Khmer Times newspaper. At the edge of the lake, thronged with simple fishermen’s boats, Seng Oeun says he’s worried that in time larger parts of the lake will be lost. “I’m afraid that in the future I can’t go out fishing any more. I have no idea what else to do. I’m probably too old to learn a new profession,” Seng Oeun says. Boeung Tamouk covers an area of 30,000 hectares, so the reclamation may not seem significant in terms of size; however, it is part of a gradual encroachment on water courses in and around the Cambodian capital that has been ongoing in the past two decades. Boeung Tamouk is one of the last relatively untouched lakes in Phnom Penh. A report by local NGO Sahmakum Teang Tnaut, which offers housing and technical assistance to the poor, shows that between 1997 and 2015, 15 of the 25 largest lakes and canals in Phnom Penh were filled in with sand and mud. Together they represented 60 per cent of the city’s lake system. Over the same period, another eight canals and lakes were partially filled in. The impact is huge. The natural waterways are an important source of income for the city’s poor and low educated, who use them to grow vegetables and plants such as morning glory, lotus and water mimosa. They are also used to cultivate rice paddies and for fishing. At Boeung Tamouk’s shore, 40-year old Chum Hak and his wife are repairing a fishing net. The couple moved to the area four years ago when Chum Hak was finding it difficult to earn enough money as a migrant worker in Thailand. The couple have not received an official eviction notice yet, but they are still worried. “Here I can earn between US$13 and US$30 a day. I don’t have a degree or any knowledge that I can use to find a better paid job, so I depend on fishing to support my family. If the lake is gone, my family’s life is over,” Chum Hak says. History by numbers: Hun Sen’s lesson in leadership lost on Cambodia’s youth On the other side of a rapidly expanding Phnom Penh, a huge swathe of Boeung Tompun has disappeared. The government gave the green light to a joint-venture company in 2009 to transform the nearly 2,600-hectare lake into a residential satellite city, with apartment blocks, villas and shopping malls. About two years later, the developer started to fill in the lake with sand, impacting up to 5,300 families who lived and work around Boeung Tompun. These days only a few green and swampy areas remain. In the middle of what was still water 10 years ago runs a road that connects Phnom Penh to Takhmao, a fast-growing nearby city. Boeung Tompun has been a lifeline for Sokkim Heang. Together with his wife, he has grown morning glory and other vegetables in the area for more than a decade. “In the past, the water reached as far as the buildings in the distance,” he says, pointing to the skyscrapers on the edge of Phnom Penh. “Back then, thousands of people worked on the lake, mainly farmers and fishermen. Of course we sometimes had disappointing harvests, but overall we were all benefiting from the lake.” Base instinct: how Chinese visit to Cambodia reignited rumour of navy port plan Although it has been vastly diminished, the farmer has not given up on Boeung Tompun just yet. He continues to grow vegetables in the last remaining patches of water. “Nowadays we hardly make a profit. The water is no longer clear; all the sand they used to fill up the lake has made it dirty,” Sokkim Heang says. The authorities argue that filling up natural waterways is necessary to deal with strong economic growth and rapid urbanisation. Phnom Penh is Cambodia’s main economic centre and attracts a large number of new residents every year. The city’s real estate market is booming, and the demand for land is high. It can be cheaper to fill in a lake than buy privately-owned land. Farmers and fishermen who work the lakes or live nearby are usually offered compensation to leave, but in most cases the amount offered isn’t nearly enough to cover their losses. The situation has led to intense debate and angry conflict over land ownership, which the Khmer Rouge regime abolished when it ruled the country between 1975 and 1979, destroying records. Another loss has been Boeung Kak, a large lake in the centre of Phnom Penh that was much loved by the local community. It was reclaimed to make way for luxury apartment buildings, fancy coffee shops and modern boutiques. I’m afraid the beautiful nature here is going to disappear. It would ruin our business, for sure. Who will still buy fish from us when the lake is gone? Sros Kao Nearby residents rejected the compensation offered and tried to block the authorities. This resulted in years of protests, violent confrontations, a number of arrests, and eventually, the forced eviction of thousands of people. Such large-scale protests never happened at Boeung Tompun. About 13 urban communities are affected by the development, according to the Sahmakum Teang Tnaut NGO. Farmer Sokkim Heang says most of the area’s residents felt powerless when the contractors arrived to pump sand into the lake. “They told us that they will fill up the rest of the lake as well. It may happen this year,” he says, with a sigh. Sahmakum Teang Tnaut programme manager Em Khemara says there’s a small silver lining for Boeung Tompun. The residents of one community in the area are likely to receive a land title. The Prek Takong Muoy community “was promised land titles before the national elections by the governor of Phnom Penh, Khuong Sreng,” he says. However, “the community hasn’t received the titles yet, and like many other communities in the area, they are living with insecurity as a result”. The impact of vanishing lakes on Phnom Penh is greater than the loss of homes and income. The bodies of water often function as natural reservoirs for drainage. During the rainy season in particular, when fierce storms batter the country daily, the loss of lakes increases the risk of severe floods. A World Bank report from December 2017 raised concerns about the relentless reclamation of lakes in Phnom Penh because it “exacerbates the city’s existing drainage problems”. The report added that the practise often takes place “without full consideration of the environmental impacts and effects on at-risk flood areas”. Em Khemara says his organisation also has concerns about the damage being done to the natural environmental. “Lakes have always been important for Phnom Penh to prevent and help with flooding,” he says. At Boeung Tamouk, the eventual outcome of the development plans for the market are not yet clear. While for now only a small part of the lake is earmarked for reclamation, nearby residents who depend on the lake for their livelihoods fear it will face the same fate as Boeung Kak and Boeung Tompun. Hope floats: Cambodia’s ethnic Vietnamese forced to live on the water Sros Kao and his wife Lok Sinan have lived by the lake for 17 years. From a small roadside shop they sell the fish their neighbours catch in the early hours of the morning. “Right now we still have a beautiful view over the lake. You can even see the mountains in the distance,” Sros Kao says, standing in front of his shop. “I’m afraid the beautiful nature here is going to disappear. It would ruin our business, for sure. Who will still buy fish from us when the lake is gone?”