Through Youth's Eyes – The Mangrove Forest From Many Perspectives in Living Memory
Mangrove forests that once thrived in Samut Sakhon Province have dwindled to just 20% of their original size, erasing centuries-old traditions and threatening endemic species like the Mahachai wild betta fish that depend on these ecosystems
Mangrove forests that once flourished are now fading into memory for coastal communities, especially in Tha Chalom, Bang Yai, and Mahachai districts of Samut Sakhon Province, where residents grew up surrounded by lush green mangrove walls protecting canals and shorelines like natural barriers. Mangroves were never just plants but essential to the way of life—serving as food sources, homes, and cultivating deep bonds in people's hearts.
For older generations, mangrove trees represented everything. Their leaves covered roofs of houses, boat sheds, and temporary shelters due to their excellent resistance to sun and rain. Trunks and stems were crafted into basketware like mats, baskets, and rope. As food, tender mangrove shoots—called "homyai"—were natural sweets children looked forward to. Leaves were also used to wrap traditional sweets and sticky rice, while nectar from mangrove flowers was boiled into mangrove sugar or fermented into traditional beverages.
"When I was a child, adults would go into the mangrove forest and cut shoots to place in front of us children sitting in a circle. We'd scrape and eat them with spoons while they'd gather piles of mangroves. This happened regularly, and the memory stays with me," recalls Tukata Darunee, a native of Samut Sakhon Province. Simple as the image of children sitting in a circle eating mangrove shoots may seem, it reflects the profound relationship between people and nature. Mangrove forests weren't merely resources but learning spaces, places to live, and venues for passing bonds from generation to generation.
Today, extensive mangrove areas have been converted to residential developments, factories, or abandoned due to rising land taxes. Many landowners have been forced to sell or transform their land into alternative agricultural uses. Mangrove forests have steadily declined year after year, transforming from continuous green expanse into scattered patches.
"Two years ago when Tung Saengdawan filmed at Mahachai mangroves, I estimated only 50% of the original forest remained. Today, I believe it's down to just 20%," says Kim Jirapun, vice chairman of the Betta Fish Association, with evident concern. "We're not just worried about disappearing local resources, but local wildlife species face extinction too, like the Mahachai wild betta fish that depend on mangrove forests to survive."
Mangrove forests are more than human habitats—they're critical ecosystems for aquatic animals and countless species, especially the Mahachai wild betta fish that depend on brackish water beneath mangrove shade for survival. If mangroves disappear, these creatures cannot survive.
The loss of mangrove forests represents more than vanishing greenery; it's the simultaneous loss of culture, lifestyle, and biodiversity.