From Tung La Ong pier, the departure point from the mainland, the light of dawn shimmered off the dense mist draped over the distant mountains, coating the rainforest with what looked like a rippled layer of icing. Two festively-painted fishing boats idled nearby while women perfunctorily sorted the previous night’s catch. Here I met Nu, my boat driver, a quiet but amiable young man with a shock of jet-black hair that he wears in the rough-cut mullet style currently in vogue in Thai pop culture. With a vigorous crank, our traditional longtail’s engine came to life in a piercing fit, and soon Nu was expertly ferrying us over the tranquil waters of the Andaman Sea towards the southwestern tip of Koh Phratong, home of the fishing village of Tung Dap.

Tung Dap was almost wholly leveled by the tsunami of December 2004, and particularly hard hit were its mangrove swamps. Although the village has since been rebuilt and life has largely returned to normal there, the work of restoring the mangroves, a vital coastal buffer and ecosystem, continues.

We moored the boat just offshore and set upon our first task: retrieving several canvas sacks of mangrove seedlings. With the help of Nu I’d soon added useful new lexis to my budding Thai language skills: nok maak, which means very heavy! Indeed, gravity seemed to increase by an order of magnitude as we plodded through the fine, sediment-rich mud, and before it occurred to me to remove them, the sucking vacuum of each footstep simultaneously claimed both of my 35-Baht flip-flops.

From there Nu piloted the boat to Tung Dap pier, where we were joined by his wife Pin, as well as Yui and Fen, who’d prepared a savory breakfast of squid in chili sauce, pickled eggs, and fresh vegetables accompanied by white rice -- the foundation of any Thai meal.

With our team now assembled and sated, we leisurely reboarded the longtail and headed inland, navigating our way along a meandering river channel. More than two years after the tsunami, the evidence of destruction is still readily apparent here, with large swaths of denuded land still bearing testament to the wave’s destructive power.

Mangrove seedlings look a bit like unburned candles, varying in length from a few inches to over a foot, and ranging in hues of green similar to those of an avocado. These remarkable seedlings are germinated while still attached to the parent tree, and can produce their own food via photosynthesis. A mangrove seedling often travels great distances by water, and can actually alter its own density depending on whether it needs to float or upright itself to take root. Furthermore, it can survive desiccation and remain dormant for over a year until it arrives at a suitable environment in which to find purchase.

Using my t-shirt as a basket, I loaded up several handfuls of seedlings and schlepped along the mucky shore. My instructions were simple: lodge each seedling about an inch or two into the ground, and make sure to space them a few feet apart; any seedlings that were missing a “wick” were no good.

In bare feet, I constantly fought to mask the discomfort of traversing the prickly stubble of protruding sticks; I was already failing to keep pace the locals, with their obviously thicker-skinned soles. Three hours and a few scrapes and cuts later, we’d filled vast barren stretches of shoreline with seedlings, greatly facilitating the restoration of the coastal environment.

We then headed to a nearby beach where, with empty canvas sacks in hand, we embarked on our final mission for the day, which was to collect more seedlings. I’d previously assumed the seedlings were farmed or brought in from somewhere (as they are in all other mangrove reforestation programs in the Koh Phratong area), but it turns out they wash up in abundance along the beach -- in an hour we’d filled five sacks of them, which we left on the beach for tomorrow’s crew. I also found two mismatched but functional flip-flops amongst the flotsam and jetsam, greatly easing my trip back to Kuraburi.

Back at sea, Nu stopped the boat and Fen instructed me in English that “now we go swimming.” We playfully splashed around in the Andaman’s saline waters, liberating ourselves of mangrove mud and allowing the morning’s toil to slip away. The resilience of Tung Dap’s people struck me at this moment: from day one they’ve been steadfast in their determination to restore their lives and their village, and in a manner that’s respectful of the natural environment. Innocent laughter reverberated as we took turns hoisting one another into the water. Remarkably, in the face of everything it’s taken from them, the people of Tung Dap are at completely peace with the sea.

Labels: activities, ecotourism, habitat restoration, Hands-on, mangrove planting, tsunami, Tung Dap

Voluntourists treated to stories of Moken culture

Claudine and Gill (UK) were among Andaman Discoveries’ first voluntourists in Tung Dap village, each enticed by our March special tour offer. Their two-day homestay allowed them participate in and assess several newly-developed cultural activities (and with her nine years’ of experience managing international development projects, Claudine’s feedback was invaluable!). However, the highlight of the trip was homestay host P’ Noi’s evening tales of the seafaring lives the Moken “sea gypsies” -- who comprise about half the village’s population -- were still living a generation ago.

“Perhaps the most enjoyable and memorable part of our stay was listening to the stories of our homestay host, P' Noi. After we had eaten we would sit on the floor in P' Noi’s beautiful wooden house listening to stories from her Moken childhood. P' Noi spent the majority of her childhood aboard a Kabang -- a traditional wooden boat which the Moken use as a home, fishing boat, and for transportation. The Moken used to spend months at time on the ocean, t raveling around the Andaman Sea in search of the fish which made up the majority of their diet.”

You can read Claudine's complete story on our blog. You can learn more about this village on our website, or contact us for details.

Labels: Andaman, homestay, Moken, Thailand, Tung Dap

Gill, P' Noi, and Claudine in front of P' Noi's house in Tung Dap

Perhaps the most enjoyable and memorable part of our stay in Tung Dap (apart from the fresh seafood dinners and meeting a tame otter with a liking for farang ankles) was listening to the stories of our homestay host, P' Noi.

P' Noi is a fantastic story-teller. After we had eaten an amazing dinner of fresh seafood we would sit on the floor in P' Noi’s beautiful wooden house listening to stories from her Moken childhood. Both P' Noi’s parents died when she was a young girl, but she was fortunate enough to have eight brothers and sisters, including a twin sister P' Ya. P' Noi spent the majority of her childhood aboard a Kabang -- a traditional wooden boat which the Moken use as a home, fishing boat, and for transportation. The Moken used to spend months at time on the ocean, travelling around the Andaman Sea in search of the fish which make up the majority of their diet. Moken fishing practices are low impact and sustainable -- only taking what they actually need to survive and putting back any fish which are too young.

P' Noi and her family re-built their home with wood collected from the island’s mangrove forests

We also loved hearing the stories of the time that P' Noi and her sister visited Bangkok, in order that P' Noi could undergo a major hospital operation. It’s hard to imagine how these ladies must have felt coming from a small traditional fishing community on a tropical island into the heaving metropolis of Bangkok with its traffic jams, Skytrains and shopping centers. Their story of standing in a stationary elevator for ten minutes because they didn’t realize they had to press the buttons is an absolute classic! These ladies have a great sense of humour -- even when they themselves are the object of the joke.

Pee Noi has certainly experienced a great deal during her lifetime. After the tsunami wiped out most of the homes, farms and fishing boats in Tung Dap, P' Noi and her family re-built their home with wood collected from the island’s mangrove forests, with minimal assistance from the many aid organizations present in Thailand at that time. The family didn’t want to live in a house built by somebody else, because they wouldn’t feel they truly owned it or belonged there. P' Noi believes that the events of December 2004 helped her become a stronger person. Her resilience, self-reliance and positive attitude towards such a catastrophic event is a huge inspiration.

P' Noi and the Moken community live in a way which some people might think of as basic or ‘backward’. They have no cars and there are no shops nearby. Yet the island’s rivers, forests and oceans provide almost everything they need to live a happy, healthy and comfortable life. Having money is not important to them. Offering homestays to responsible and respectful tourists offers P' Noi a way to try to protect and preserve her way of life and the Moken culture against the potential encroachment of commercial mass tourism.

A visit to Tung Dap offers a fascinating insight into a way of life which is slowly disappearing. It often touches visitors in ways they don’t expect and leaves them with incredible memories to take away with them.

We are grateful to P' Noi for inviting us into her home and sharing her stories and her lifestyle so openly with us. Thanks also to Tu for being such an excellent guide and translator.

Labels: Andaman, community tourism, homestay, Moken, Thailand, Tung Dap