SCOTT SIMON, HOST:
It's been called one of the 20th century's most staggering ecological disasters. The Aral Sea was once one of the world's largest lakes, but over the course of nearly half a century, this giant body of water has virtually evaporated into the desert. Straddling the borders of the former Soviet Republics of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, these waters were a lifeline for Central Asia. NPR's Above the Fray fellow, Valerie Kipnis, takes us now to the shrinking backs of the Aral Sea.
(SOUNDBITE OF WIND)
VALERIE KIPNIS, BYLINE: Sometimes, all you can hear is the wind in the once-busy port town of Moynaq, which now stands at the edge of what is now desert. Here, six massive, rusted ships lie on their bellies like beached fish on the sand.
(SOUNDBITE OF FOOTSTEPS)
KIPNIS: So here we are in the cemetery - the graveyard of ships, it's called.
Nearby are abandoned fish processing plants and canning factories.
(SOUNDBITE OF COUGHING)
KIPNIS: Gusts of winds sent dust sweeping through the city, making townspeople cough. But Moynaq wasn't always so quiet.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
KIPNIS: It was once a flourishing city, home to about 40,000 people sitting on the shore of the Aral Sea.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: (Speaking Russian).
KIPNIS: A Soviet-era documentary from the '60s boasts of the sea's vastness and its role in local industry.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: (Speaking Russian).
OKTYABR DOSPANOV: (Speaking Russian).
KIPNIS: Oktyabr Dospanov was born into a family of fishermen in Moynaq.
DOSPANOV: (Through interpreter) We would play around this port, hang out on the boats. And life here, it felt like it never stopped.
KIPNIS: That Moynaq lives only in memory. Decades ago, Soviet officials diverted water from the Amu Darya River, a vital lifeline for the Aral Sea, to grow cotton in the desert. This decision had consequences you could see from space - a shrinking sea.
DOSPANOV: (Through interpreter) People would wake up, and there would be these massive dunes covering the windows and doors.
KIPNIS: The water became unsafe to drink. It was hard to breathe.
DOSPANOV: (Through interpreter) People would sweep. But the next day, the sand and dust would just come again.
KIPNIS: The Aralkum, the youngest desert in the world, formed on the shriveling shores of the Aral. These days, Dospanov works in the region's capital, Nukus. For centuries, it was an important settlement on the banks of what was once the wide Amu Darya - a stop along the Silk Road.
(SOUNDBITE OF HORN HONK)
KIPNIS: But in Uzbekistan, the Soviet legacy still has a strong grip over the region.
(SOUNDBITE OF WATER GENTLY SPLASHING)
KIPNIS: And this time, what's at stake is the region's last remaining lifeline, the Amu Darya. With every year, the water levels of the Amu Darya drop, mostly because of overuse, mismanagement and climate change. Three decades after the fall of the Soviet Union, Uzbekistan still directs 90% of its water to agriculture.
(SOUNDBITE OF TOOL CHOPPING)
KIPNIS: Khalif, who has to only go by his first name for fear of government retaliation, is among the many farmers in this region grappling with severe water shortages. These days, he grows cotton because he says the government requires him to do so on this land.
KHALIF: (Through interpreter) I have a contract with the state. Thirty-five hectares is cotton. Ten hectares is wheat. If I don't have this contract, I wouldn't get water.
KIPNIS: Contracts the Khalif's are common. Farmers in Uzbekistan don't own their land. They lease it from the government. Government officials told me that farmers are free to grow what they want. But the farmers we spoke to said they're pressured to sign contracts with private companies on what to plant and for how much to sell it for, meaning farmers have little choice over what they grow. Plus, getting a decent yield of the crop gets harder with every year.
(SOUNDBITE OF FARM EQUIPMENT RUNNING)
KHALIF: (Through interpreter) The summers are really hot. The rains that we're supposed to get on time - they're either early or too late. Overall, the climate has changed, and it's affecting us.
KIPNIS: Uzbekistan knows it has a problem. President Shavkat Mirziyoyev has declared 2024 the start of a, quote, "emergency regime of water conservation."
YUSUP KAMALOV: Is it good? It's good. But the question to them is - so many years already do we have this problem.
KIPNIS: For people like Yusup Kamalov, it's a step in the right direction, but it's just too little, too late.
KAMALOV: Why it's still not happened? The answer is no democracy, no freedom, at least for farmers.
KIPNIS: Kamalov is an engineer and an environmental activist who's been trying to figure out how to solve Uzbekistan's water problem since the '90s. The contradiction is striking. The government promotes conservation while propping up a system that encourages overconsumption of water. It raises a troubling question. Is the Uzbek government truly committed to change?
Kamalov and I decided to see for ourselves. As we drove through cotton fields, back towards the former port town of Moynaq, we passed unlined canals siphoning water from the already depleted Amu Darya River.
(SOUNDBITE OF VEHICLE ENGINE RUNNING)
KIPNIS: Kamalov shakes his head.
KAMALOV: Because the farmers still works as a slaves for government, not as a free businessman or free entrepreneur.
KIPNIS: For Kamalov, the problem and solution are simple. Uzbekistan is still stuck in the ways of a planned economy. And as long as that doesn't change, nothing else will either.
KAMALOV: That is why for farmers, it is useless to tell them save water because they don't have any incentives or stimulus to save water.
KIPNIS: When we get to the port of Moynaq, Yusup Kamalov looks out into the cemetery of ships, an eerie reminder of what once was and a scary premonition for what might happen if things don't change.
KAMALOV: We are still by minds in the past. We are still in the Soviet life, by Soviet agriculture, Soviet economics, Soviet management. That is why it is a biggest problem to open your eyes for the future.
KIPNIS: And the future in Uzbekistan is one that's coming way too fast.
For NPR News, this is Valerie Kipnis, reporting from Nukus, Karakalpakstan. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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