Downtown Nukus and the Dosliq Canal

OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River

Downtown Nukus and the Dosliq Canal

Down by the water on a Saturday night, Nukus is buzzing. The Dosliq Canal brings water from the Oxus through the centre of the city. Along its bank, families promenade, eat ice creams, and watch the dancing fountains. There’s a small fairground and a colourfully lit ferris wheel nicknamed the Nukus Eye. On warm summer evenings like this, life seems easy.

Nukus has been Karakalpakstan’s capital since the early 1930s. It was just a village then, but the Oxus flooded Tortkul, the previous capital of the Karakalpak ASSR, twice in quick succession, so the Soviets decided to move the regional administration to Nukus where it would be less vulnerable. Today, Nukus is Karakalpakstan’s largest city, the political, economic, and cultural hub. There are grand white government buildings, the Savitsky Museum with its world-famous collection of Russian avant garde, universities, and plenty of well-run businesses. In the decade of so I’ve been coming to Nukus, it has grown and become wealthier: the increased number of restaurants, coffee shops, and supermarkets testifies to the fact that locals have more money in their pockets. There’s been an uptick in tourism, too.

 

Lots of people have ambitious plans for Nukus and for Karakalpakstan. President Mirziyoyev came in August to announce a ream of new projects for every sector. IFIs and development agencies have allocated huge budgets to the republic, for economic development and job creation, as well as to mitigate some of the worst environmental consequences of the shrinking of the Aral Sea. But there’s an elephant in the room: if Nukus runs out of water, all this investment will be for nothing. 

 

And although political discourse goes on and on about the shrinking of the Aral Sea, very little is said about the looming water shortages up river. But forecasts look bleak. There’s a very real risk that Nukus will run out of water within 15 years, and in the worst case scenario, maybe 10. The end of the Oxus is already getting close to Nukus, and when the Taliban complete the Kosh Tepe canal in 2028, taking a great volume of water from the river basin in northern Afghanistan, it will accelerate the river’s decline. 

 

What then? There’s only so long you can truck in drinking water. It may be viable — or politically expedient — to keep Nukus supplied for a short while, but the same can’t be said of smaller cities and villages. Karakalpakstan has a population of 2 million people. Where will they go, those 2 million climate refugees? No amount of strategic planning or money is going to avert disaster; at best we can slow it down. With little time to prepare, the government and international partners must confront the reality of what’s to come and plan accordingly so that there are homes, jobs, and opportunities for Karakalpaks elsewhere.

Hope and despair in the Lower Amudarya Biosphere Reserve

OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River
OXUS
Three Women, One River

Hope and despair in the Lower Amudarya Biosphere Reserve

The Oxus links Urgench and Nukus, still broad and impressive as it crosses the Kyzylkum, but with its water level dropping year by year. The Lower Amudarya Biosphere Reserve (LABR) is an oasis in the desert, the river bringing life to all manner of species within the tugai forest. But the future of the reserve is in jeopardy due to drought. Positive news first, though. In the 1970s the Bactrian or Bukhara deer — a close relative of the European red deer — was almost extinct. Scientists at LABR have run a hugely successful breeding programme, however, and there are now 31 of of these beautiful creatures in an enclosure, and 1,500 running wild across the park. The rangers keep a close eye on the captive deer, studying their behaviour and health, referring to them as fondly as if they were their children.

There’s a small visitor centre and site office on the edge of LABR. Inside, half a dozen sad stuffed animals poorly illustrate the richness of the local wildlife, but there are reasonably informative maps and other visual displays. Here, we met Hayrat, who studied for a PhD in biodiversity before coming to LABR a few years ago to work as a ranger. He’d be our guide within the reserve. 

Thanks to the number of deer, LABR is one of very few places along the Oxus where you’re guaranteed to see native wildlife. There are fish, birds, mammals, and reptiles along the route, but usually they are hard to spot.

Hayrat took us first to the deer enclosure, then through the forest to the riverbank. Most of the wild deer scattered into the safety of the trees when they heard the car’s engine, but curiosity got the better of one, which stood and stared back at us as we drove along the track. I stood a while at the water’s edge, thinking what an idyllic picnic spot it would be, but noticing the water seemed shallower than it did two summers ago. 

We stopped at several viewpoints and then in a less scenic but critical location: LABR’s new pumping station. With insufficient water, the forest is dying out, and can no longer support the wildlife. In a bid to delay the inevitable, the reserve’s staff have constructed two small canals, unlined, and a pumping station to lift river water a couple of metres up into the channels. They weren’t pumping the day we visited, but apparently are capable of keeping disaster at bay for now.

This is only a temporary solution, however. It’ll work as long as there is water in the Oxus to pump. But when that water is gone — and it may only be a few years until we reach that tragic point — that’ll be the end of LABR and the animals and plants living here. The deer have been brought back from the brink of extinction once; they may not be so lucky again.