The conditions at the Mokken village were in stark contrast to the well-resourced surroundings of the ashram where we conduted our orientation. The Mokken people traditionally lived at sea on self-made fishing vessels, small boats that look like large canoes tents on top. In fact, the first Mokken sea vessels were carved out of solitary large trees akin to the construction of Native American dugouts. The Mokken traveled up and down the coasts of South Asia, following good weather and better fishing. Though completely nomadic, the Mokken were (and still are) community oriented, spending all of their lives at sea grouping, dispersing, and regrouping. The leader of the Mokken village told us, “[The Mokken] only came to shore to deliver a baby or to weather a bad storm, where they would climb up into a large strong tree.” The Mokken have a tough time with the concept of personal possessions, know how to read subtle clues in nature and, more than anything, love the sea.
Modern society, with political drawn boundaries on our oceans, fishing licenses, natural park regulations, and coastal development rights have put an end to the traditional Mokken way of life. Approximately 30 years ago the Mokken started to settle in the beautiful islands on the southern coast of Burma and off the west coast of Thailand. They built stilt houses made of sturdy branches and thatched roofs. The floors, also made of branches, were placed just a few inches above the level of high tide, so occasionally a higher than normal tide washes over the floor of the house. In fact, a full moon tide during our stay in the village washed over the floor, causing us to move our sleeping bags into a missionary-built church standing about one foot higher. Though the islands are breathtaking, the Mokken are squeezing out their existence in an area few people would even consider camping at over a weekend. Freshwater is collected from the rain and stored and cisterns, the toilets empty directly onto the ground (low tide) or into the water (high tide) below, the waste-strewn paths between houses are covered knee deep by the tide, and much of their food must be caught daily.
