Uzbekistan Part 5

Me doing a bit of work on the bike, to make sure all's tight, and there's no sand ingress into sensitive parts, as well as keeping my mind off that churning feeling in my abdomen ...

Moynaq. The People & the Aral Sea

My best, or more accurately perhaps the worst memories of Moynaq, are in fighting-off a good dose of travellers tummy. Wherever it came from and whatever the culprit, I'd woken first day soon to greeted with some rumblings in the abdomen. It led me to think that some of my 'good' bacteria had been displaced by bad. I've gotta say I don't think it would do my reputation or general standing in the community, to describe the physical symptoms or affect that it had on me in too much detail, but will mention the discomfort factor here very briefly. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

No but seriously, I will go on to enlarge on this episode it a little more than that. And to say, that if this was just travellers-tummy it was bloody distressing I can tell you. I'd had what we generally think of a stomach-ache a number of times in my life, and knew too from past experience how darned uncomfortable severe peristoltic action can be from two occasions of gastro-entitis. But that particular day I remember starting out with a simple tummy ache, and it ended with me being in some good deal of pain. The usual cramps would come and go, but as the day wore on they seemed to continue getting worse and in the end was one ceaseless cramp. As is often the best course of action with these things, and being the tough-bloke that I am, just lay down in a heap for most of the day wishing that I'd die. But of course I didn't, and the next day saw a marked improvement. It turned out that despite my apparent distress of the previous day, it was no more than a straightforward case of dicky-tummy. The day after that again and it diminished to little more than moderate griping. Another day on and was back to my cast-iron stomached self ...

But thankfully this is not my most powerful memory. Before going there I knew something about the basic problem of the Aral Sea, in that it was shrinking more and more each successive year. And knew too about the dead-boats far away from the once productive sea, that are slowly rotting away in what is now just another patch of desert sand. While feeling sorry for myself that one day of incapacitation, had few thoughts about the purpose of visiting Moynaq. But then the following day when I was able to hunt out the ships grave-yard, got to see these sad hulks first hand. It was indeed a sad sight, that set me thinking ...

Standing on what would have been at one time a small cliff overlooking the sea, gave some thoughts to what it would have been like back when the sea reached close to where I was stood. A mini version of Dover perhaps? No it never was, but with some concentration images gradually appeared in my mind. There was nothing spectacular in the vision, but there was a huge difference in the minds-eye where I could view a sea-scape, with boats and sea-birds calling. Opening my eyes the picture snapped immediately back to the aridity of a parched and sunburned land. My day-dream had a few boats on the water and people on the beach, but the reality showed to me a handful of rusty boats with an eco-tourist encampment 50 metres further out on what was once sea-bed. The incongruity of a situation where several hundred thousand dollars-worth of Land-Cruisers, had brought Western tourists to observe this, one of the biggest man-made disaster zones in the world, suddenly hit me. The people living here were eking out a meagre existence in what was to my eyes little more than desert. The community was a part of this reality, but the town itself is a 'has-been'.

To confirm my thinking a short visit to the dusty and somewhat tatty museum full of rather shabby amateurish exhibits, uncovered one genuine treasure in the form of an aging photo-album. In it there were numerous photographs showing images taken mostly in and around the old fish canning factory (so I was later told, is long since gone). This showed me that the people who lived here were productive and proud to be so. There were happy people in these pictures, with often smiling faces. Or if not smiling, then faces intent on their labours. It was evident that it was from the sea and associated fishing industry that the town of Moynaq was born. But alas while it's original livelihood had long gone, the place and many of those living there have stayed on. They were staying it seemed to me, in the forlorn hope that the sea would one day return. A fact that was confirmed is not likely to ever happen, by the statistics of the rain-fall, put against the ongoing irrigation requirements of the region.

Our hosts at Moynaq

In a moment of profound sadness, the question was actually put to me by one of the English speaking locals, while we had something of an in depth discussion about Moynaq and the Aral. Where it was an obvious situation of despair to me, it was clear from him asking me about the sea coming back, that the answer was expected to be 'when'. I could not find it in my heart to tell him, what I saw as the most likely truth for the town of Moynaq and the region as a whole. And that it will a remain border-line desert town with little water resource forever. And that the once important fishing industry had gone from that place, along with the tide never to return.

I have since been informed that the problem of the shrinking Aral Sea was clearly known about during the Soviet era. But of course the up-tempo productivity of the cotton industry that was draining the water along with life and sole of the region, was the most important thing to the politic of the time. I believe it was Krushgev that made a speech to the effect, that as the sea shrank, so would it make more land available for the growing of cotton!

For anyone interested in finding out more about the Aral region, then see the following link: http://www.orexca.com/aral_sea.shtml