The shrinking Aral Sea

The Aral Sea was, in the middle part of the 20th century the world’s 4th largest inland sea. Apart from being a haven for bird life it supported a large fishing industry with the fleet and cannery based in Moynaq.

The drive to Moynaq, some 210 km from here takes 2 and a half hours generally through barren scrub. Just out of Nukus a wide bridge takes us over the Amu Darya River which is the water lifeline for central Asia. Known to the European explorers as the Oxus it arises in the Tajikistan Pamir mountains, hugs the northern borders of Afghanistan and Turkmenistan before turning north to empty into the Aral sea. Yesterday I crossed the Amu Darya some  200 km upstream, it was an impressive navigable waterway. Downstream where the flow should be greater it is reduced to a trickle.

In the 1950s when tyrant Stalin ruled over the USSR and central Asia he decided to expand cotton production here in Uzbekistan to meet his growing needs. Cotton is a thirsty crop and these are arid lands. The solution, divert the waters of the Amu Darya and the Syr Darya rivers the only inflows to the Aral Sea through a series of irrigation channels. As a result between 1954 and 1985 almost no water flowed into the Aral Sea. Now neither river joins the Aral.

A bright and cheery sign still greets visitors to moynaq with the logo of a fish in water. This despite the fact that where once the Aral sea lapped against buildings in the main street now it is over 100 km away. The sea has lost 70% of its size in the last 30 years leaving behind a white sand desert strewn with seashells. The town itself is eerily quiet and a small museum retells the poignant tale of environmental vandalism.

I walk down onto the sand that was once a sea bed and stroll through the rusted hulks that comprise the ship’s graveyard. Once this was the lifeblood of the local community. I stare at the horizon and words fail me as I contemplate human folly.

Igor Shavitsky was a Russian artist sent to photograph an archeological dig here in Karakalpakstan in the 1950s. He fell in love with the landscape and his paintings capture the harsh light and pastel tones of this untamed landscape. He never went back to Moscow. This was at a time when Soviet art had to reflect the ruling party’s ideals and society so approved art at that time featured scenes such as peasants working, factories and the military. All other art was censored. Out here Shavitsky was remote enough to stay under the radar. He went further and started an art collection that now numbers over 4000 works that were painted by other Soviet artists but banned by the government. A small proportion of these are exquisitely displayed in the impressive museum here in a physical not just cultural desert at Nukus. This must be the most remote fine art gallery on the planet. It is interesting to reflect that the same inasane repressive political system can lead to such a sublime uplifting experience albeit unintentionally. What a contrast to the Aral debacle!