30 years ago, Mr Banjong Naruepornmatee left his hometown in the deep south of Thailand. A fisher by trade, he now runs a farm stay overlooking mangrove forests he helped replant in Bo Hin, a coastal subdistrict. "When I first moved here, there were mangrove forests along the coastline and seagrass everywhere," he said. "A lot has changed since then."
Trang province is home to the largest seagrass bed along the Andaman coast in Thailand. Dugong populations have reportedly dropped by a third in recent years as seagrass disappeared, according to the Department of Marine and Coastal Resources (DMCR). These marine mammals rely on seagrass for survival.
DMCR has been working with communities and researchers to understand the cause of seagrass deaths. Locals suspect that more intense heat from the changing climate, digging of canals and agricultural runoff that pollutes surrounding water bodies is contributing to seagrass die-off – a phenomenon observed across many of Thailand's southern provinces since 2019. Fish stocks have also depleted and so has the incentive among the younger population to pick up the once-thriving fishing trade.
The decline in fishing has forced many families to find new ways to make ends meet. Women across many communities have banded together to find alternative livelihoods to sustain their families, including collecting shellfish at low tide for food and as an additional source of income.
Huddled in a group on the floor, one community of women weave baskets that can be found in stores across Thailand. In another village, women proudly present their "OTOP" (One Tambon One Product) items – a government-led initiative for each sub-district to develop unique, high-value products. "As long as we have a means to make a living, we are happy," said Janpen Pungern, Leader of Panae Craft, a brand of products woven from Pandanus leaves.
Mr Banjong wanted to do more than adapt. He wanted to restore the marine environment that once sustained the community. The sound of laughter filled the entrance of his farm stay as the same group of women worked together, pressing their thumbs into paper cups that hold the grey cement-like soil used to pot seagrass saplings. By inviting locals to take part in conservation activities, he helped turn restoration into a new livelihood.
Through years of trial and error, Mr Banjong has worked with the community to try different planting techniques. "Eventually, we got 100 out of 1000 saplings to survive," he estimates. "The next step was to get the saplings to survive once planted in the sea."
His efforts fit into a broader movement across Thailand's coast. DMCR is working to scale Locally Managed Marine Areas (LMMAs) – community-led conservation zones where the protection of coastal areas is managed by locals instead of the government. The district office supports leaders, like Mr Banjong, by providing resources to address local needs. A port built off the farm stay provides a dock for boats that offer ecotourism tours for birders interested in exploring surrounding islands.
"The unique thing about the LMMA in Bo Hin is that there's collaboration with IUCN," said Mr Suwan Nanthasarut, Pollution and Environment Expert, DMCR. Through its Bay of Bengal Large Marine Ecosystem Phase II (BOBLME II) project, IUCN is working with partners to establish marine protected areas across seven countries in the region.
Mr Suwan noted that Bo Hin serves as a learning centre for other sites looking to protect marine resources across the Bay of Bengal. What sets the subdistrict apart is the community's holistic approach to conservation. With a well-established understanding of conservation needs and strong community motivation to adopt sustainable livelihood opportunities, Bo Hin's residents see conservation as preserving what already exists rather than extracting additional resources to survive. When fish stocks declined, they shifted their livelihoods while stepping up efforts to restore the habitat through mangrove and seagrass planting.
As the tide receded from the beach, Mr Banjong took his regular evening walk to see how the planted seagrass was doing – some of which was planted up to five years ago. On this particular evening, he was delighted to see that some of the flowers had produced seeds, a crucial sign that the seagrass wasn't only surviving, but thriving. It was the first time in three years of monitoring that he had seen the planted seagrass reach this mature flowering stage.
"I've waited a long time, hoping for this moment," he beamed into the setting sun. "I'll sleep well tonight."
