Let the Salween flow

Let the Salween flow

When Hseng Kham visited the Upper Salween in China last February, she discovered that at least one aspect of life was common to both the villagers there and in Shan State _ decision makers for the dams don't consult their own citizens about the projects.

A Lisu market

"Big Bend" on the Salween

Logging in the Salween Basin

The Three Parallel Rivers
World Natural Heritage

LET THE SALWEEN FLOW
By Hseng Kham
Salween Watch 

"Welcome, our old friends and family!" The villagers greeting us on the banks of the Nu (Salween) River in southern China sounded and dressed just the same as the Lisu in my native Shan State. Despite the snow-covered mountains and the bitter cold of the evening, as our hosts handed us bamboo cups of home-made alcohol and sang us their traditional songs, I felt strangely at home. 

It had been a long journey, travelling hundreds of miles to visit the upper reaches of the Salween River in China. In 2003, plans had been announced to build thirteen dams on the Chinese section of the river, and several of us from downstream communities had come to find out more about the people and the environment in the area. 

Our starting point was the World Heritage site, the Three Parallel Rivers, where the Mekong/Lancang River, the Jinsha/Yangzhe River and Nu/Salween River run closest to each other. Indeed, after driving from the Mekong, it was only a few hours before someone said "We're coming to Liuku, one of the towns on the Nu River!" 

Soon after we entered Liuku, a modern town with concrete high-rises built along the banks of the river, we could see the Salween. I looked eagerly around, trying to concentrate to answer all the questions in my mind: Did people live differently here than in my home area? Was the river as beautiful? Did people know that the first dam on the Salween would be built near here? 

The Salween was green and cold, flowing in quiet splendour through the steep mountains, like a scene on a postcard. Only one question was left in my mind: how could people think of building dams on a river as beautiful as this? 

From Liuku we took the road that ran northward along the river. Unlike the town, which had been obviously Chinese, the villages we started to pass through reminded me of those in Shan State. The houses were thatched, made of bamboo or wood, and the villagers were dressed in traditional ethnic dress. We saw herds of sheep along the road, and farms high up on the mountain slopes. There were a few churches in the villages. 

Most of the steep hills we drove through were deforested. Near one of the villages we stopped at were huge stockpiles of logs. I was saddened to learn that they had been trucked from Kachin State in Burma, only about 50 kilometers to the west. The sight of the logs marred the beauty of the river, and brought back painful memories of the rapid deforestation taking place in my own state, authorized by the Burmese military regime. 

On arriving at one of the proposed dam sites, we learned that this was an earthquake zone. There had been frequent landslides, destroying houses and killing people. We moved our car quickly after being told by a villager that a large stone next to our car had fallen down the mountain only 15 minutes earlier! 

The landscape along the river was steeped in mythology. Amidst the high crags of the mountain ridge above the river, was the "Stone Moon," a giant arching rock with a large round hole beneath it. According to local legend, a princess and her lover had struggled to flee through the rock. There was also a large stone, called the "Tiger Stone," right on the bank of a narrow section of the Salween, where tigers were reputed to have jumped across the river. 

The myths reminded me of those surrounding the Salween River in Shan State, and of the cultural significance of the river for the Shan people, as for the other ethnic peoples living along the river in Burma. Many of us have songs and sayings about how our culture, identity and freedom is linked to the river.

As we journeyed closer to Tibet, we could see snow-capped mountains high ahead of us. I marveled at the harmonious beauty and balance of the mountains, river and people living in the valley. In one of the villages we were fortunate to pass through the weekend market, full of people buying and selling local produce, such as sheep, chicken, fruit, vegetables and herbal remedies on the street. 

The sight of the local people able to carry out their daily lives in peace, free to fish and farm along the bank of the river, and use rafts to cross the water, reminded me starkly of the restrictions faced by Shans living along the Salween River in Burma. Thousands of people living along the river and its tributaries in southern Shan State have been forcibly relocated by the Burmese military from their homes and farms to strategic relocation sites. Those found near fishing or farming near their old homes have been shot on sight, tortured or raped. 

Although I did not lose my impression of the tranquility of life along the Nu River, I discovered that at least one aspect of life was common to both the villagers here and in Shan State. 

When we asked local people about the plans to dam the Nu River, the most common answer was: "We have no idea. It depends on the government." Some said: "If there is really a dam built, I don't think our homes will be flooded." 

It was clear that there had been no information at all provided to the local people about either the dam plans or their potential impacts. Not only had the decision-makers responsible for the dams ignored the lives of the millions of people living downstream along the river in Burma and Thailand, but they had failed to even consult their own citizens about the projects. 

In this sense, there was no difference between the dams being planned on the Nu River in China, and those being planned on the Salween River in Burma. The Burmese regime has been proceeding with plans to dam the Salween in Shan and Karen States without any consultation whatsoever with the villagers who will be affected. 

As we entered the last village of Yunnan province close to the Tibetan border, we saw the so-called "First Turn" of the river, where the Nu River makes a spectacular U-turn. We took a long walk in this area, visiting Taohua Island in the river, and the "Stone Gate," where the river flows through a steep-sided gorge.

That night we stayed at the Lisu village where we were so warmly welcomed. The Lisu are one of the ethnic peoples who have lived along the Nu River for generations. We were entertained with traditional music, dancing and songs. The familiarity of the culture made me feel a deep connection with my hosts, and left a lasting impression that those of us living along the river are indeed like friends and family. 

Hence my deep sadness when I learned, shortly after my return from China, that the Liuku Dam, the first of the 13 dams planned on the Nu River, would start to be built in the first half of 2004. 

The shared identity I had discovered with the other peoples living along the Salween had reinforced my belief that the fate of the river should lie in our hands. Yet none of us, whose lives would be irrevocably affected by the dams, had been consulted in the decisions to build them.