Cambodia’s Indigenous Groups Suffer Under Climate Change, Deforestation
More than 80 percent of Cambodia’s population relies on agriculture, a major economic pillar of the country.
A
recently cut-timber that were secretly cut down in forest in Ratanakiri
province, photo taken onDecember 2015. (Nov Povleakhena/VOA Khmer)
VOA Khmer | 14 December 2015
PHNOM PENH—In the remote province of
Ratanakiri [bordering Vietnam], in northeastern Cambodia, deforestation and climate change
are taking a heavy toll on communities.
Drought has damaged crops, from rice to sesame, cashews, beans and
potatoes, making it hard for farmers here to earn a living. And
deforestation has greatly reduced the amount of natural resources
communities here used to count on.
In Paris this month, nations forged an international agreement to
reduce carbon emissions and curb global warming, but here, it is still a
worry.
“Our first concern is our food source,” 48-year-old farmer Sal Kan,
from Tanorng village, in Adong Meas district, told VOA Khmer. “We’re
worried we won’t have anything to eat or anything to plant, since it is
hot like this.”
He has seen a crop that generally yields four tons drop to only one
ton over the last few years, where rainfall has been poor. The lack of
rain in August and September, along with rising temperatures, have
forced some farmers to sell livestock to support themselves.
Chom Laeb, a 55-year-old farmer from Tanorng, said his crops of
sesame, rice, chili, tobacco and peppers have all been affected by the
lack of rainfall. “We depend on the rain, unlike other villagers, which
have irrigation systems and machines,” he said. “We don’t have anything
here; we make due with little things.”
His wife, Rormeam Onhch, 52, said the lack of rainfall has damaged
the rice’s ability to seed this year. “It gets no seeds due to no rain,”
she said. “We cannot live when nothing we farm yields anything.”
More than 80 percent of Cambodia’s population relies on agriculture, a
major economic pillar of the country. But in Ratanakiri, communities
also rely on the forests. Here, deforestation from illegal logging also
takes a toll.
Sal Nheiy, 60, an ethnic minority from Kanarth Thom village, Andong
Meas, said timber harvesters have secretly cut down four square
kilometers of forest. “With forests gone, the local communities have
nothing to rely on,” he said. “There are no more national resources. Now
we are facing drought; second, we don’t have wood to construct homes;
third, forest timber is gone. The local communities are affected. There
are no trees or wild animals anymore.”
Meanwhile, experts at the UN Food and Agricultural Organization are
working to mitigate the impacts of climate change on farmers. Stacy
Crevello, chief technical adviser, said the agency has projects for
reforesting, returning nitrates to the land, water maintenance and
improved farming practices.
Seng Kimhean, a technical advisor and office coordinator for FAO in
Cambodia, said some farmers may need to look at fast-yielding crops that
require less water, such as cassava, otherwise, “it will be impossible
to have yields.”
Loun Hoklek, at the Equitable Cambodia in Ratanakkiri, said forestry
and agriculture, hunting and farming, are critical here, because daily
sources of food cannot easily be purchased from outside the region.
“They are happy to live in the traditional way, but they ran out of
those, so they are facing everything because of environmental changes,”
he said.
Traditional forest here has been cut down and replaced by large crops
of rubber and cashew. That has led to a decline in the forest
resources. Many here blame the irregular rainfall on the companies who
have come to the forests. And while that might not be scientifically
true, it speaks to the growing animosity of people here toward the
companies.
Prime Minister Hun Sen has sought to allay the concerns on villagers,
espousing the government’s achievements in water dredging, the
deployment of the armed forces to help the rice harvest, distribution of
seeds, and other measures.
Still people like Chom Laeb, an ethnic minority Kanhchok, said his
livelihood remains a concern. These days, he’s had to buy rice from the
market, rather than eat what he grew. “We’ve had insufficient food for
months last year, four months, to be exact,” he said. “And we don’t know
about this year.”
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