In Bhutan, hunter-gatherer Oleps group banks on smoked fish tradition to sustain way of life

The Oleps, the last remaining hunter-gatherers living within Jigme Singye Wangchuck National Park, take pride in their ancestry as Bhutan’s first inhabitants. With the kingdom’s modernisation in the 1960s, these nomadic hunters, once practicing slash-and-burn cultivation in the Jowo Durshing (Black Mountain) area, settled permanently in the Rukha Valley in the 1970s, in the southern part of Wangdue Phodrang district. They brought with them the tradition of Nya Dosem, a specially prepared smoked fish made from snowtrout (Schizothorax genus).

The Olep lifestyle is fading, with only 20 households remaining in Rukha and nearby Lawa-Lamga. They live near the mighty Black Mountain range within whose huge black boulders of primitive rocks, misty and verdant forest, they believe, are the fortresses of their protective deities. They share their home with charismatic species like the Bengal tiger (Panthera tigris tigris), Gee’s golden langur (Trachypithecus geei), musk deer (Moschus moschiferus), snow leopards (Panthera uncia) and red pandas (Ailurus fulgens).

Despite regulations against fishing without a licence, the Harachhu Captured Fisheries Management Group, Bhutan’s first formalised fishery community mostly made up of Olep people, receives special government permits. According to Tashi Dorji, the group’s chairperson, the king of Bhutan encouraged the Oleps to settle and benefit from development projects. The fishing permit, which helps the Oleps adjust to settled life, is renewed every 10 years, based on sustainable practices and the community’s income.

The Oleps still face challenges adapting to farming, which led to poverty and food scarcity. However, annual fish landings have grown, and the community now relies on fishing for income. The Harachhu River, home to snowtrout and copper mahseer (Neolissochilus hexagonolepis), not only irrigates the Oleps’ fields but also serves as their primary source of livelihood.

Each year, 64 members of this group spend four months fishing: January, February, August, September and November (in the Bhutanese calendar, the second, third, seventh, eighth, ninth and 12th months) along a 14-kilometre stretch of the Harachhu River and its tributaries, Tingkuchhu and Pharichhu. Park officials monitor the sites, assuring the ecological integrity of the fish stock and the local ecology are not compromised, as this is also the habitat of the critically endangered white-bellied heron (Ardea Insignis).

Singye Tshering, the program director of the National Research Centre for Riverine and Lake Fisheries, says fishing is generally prohibited during the spawning season and the sites are allocated to reduce threats to other species such as the endangered golden mahseer. This practice not only preserves a cultural tradition but also helps conserve other species and protect the environment.

The Oleps’ prized fish, snowtrout, is a type of freshwater fish found in cold waters across deserts, lakes and rivers of the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau, the Himalayas and other parts of Central and Southeast Asia. There are 62 known species of snowtrout. These fish are mostly omnivorous, using their specialised jaws to scrape algae from rocks.

In Bhutan, snowtrout are found at elevations ranging from 53-5,000 metres (175-16,400 feet), showing their adaptability to different environments, including fast-flowing rivers and mid-elevation streams. According to a study in the Journal of the Bhutan Ecological Society, snowtrout have adapted to mature at smaller sizes and produce smaller eggs with smaller yolks, especially when living alongside brown trout.

The Oleps and Nya Dosem

An old Bhutanese adage says, “Where there are Oleps, there are strips of bamboo cane ropes,” which indicates the Oleps’ skills and deep dependence on natural resources.

Nima Wangdi, 37, an Olep and a former Buddhist monk from Rukha, has been dedicated to the Nya Dosem trade for the past 15 years. While fishing traditionally contradicts the Buddhist principle of non-harm (Oleps traditionally practiced Bonism or animism but have converted to Buddhism), Nima takes pride in preserving his cultural heritage as they supply Nya Dosem to prestigious government functions and high-ranking officials.

Chairperson Tashi Dorji says that orders for Nya Dosem are placed 15 days prior, since manual drying and preparation take time, and the demand for the delicacy is increasing in the capital city of Thimphu and neighboring towns like Paro and Phuentsholing.

Bhutan currently produces 43 metric tons of fish annually, and as of 2023, fish imports were approximately 1,200 metric tons, mainly sourced from India, Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries, with a total import value of around $2.5 million.

Nima Wangdi has begun training his stepson, Gem Tshering, a 25-year-old high school graduate, to take over the family business. This year, Gem Tshering joined one of the six groups from Rukha and Lawa-Lamgo villages, all registered for fishing permits. Each group, consisting of six-12 men, rotates shifts by the Harachhu River every 24 hours under the supervision of an experienced leader. The site and members are allocated through a lucky draw. Since the communities have strong bylaws, they do not have any conflict with other groups. Each group pitches a tent within a distance of 2 km.

If a person who is not a member of the group is found stealing or damaging the traps, a penalty of $60 is issued.

A new member of the group has to pay a fee of $6 and an annual membership fee of $2, which is used as a common fund. The royalty to the government varies from $0.12 to $36, depending on the season (lean or peak).

During the fishing season, a unique community forms here. There is laughter, songs and shared drinks, along with a well-organised division of labour. Occasionally, tempers flare and brawls break out. The fishers get a break on the auspicious Buddhist days of the eighth moon, full moon, new moon and eclipses.

Gem Tshering is partnered with Kunzang Thinley, who married into an Olep family, along with four other men. With only a few years of experience, both men are still learning on the job. Gem Tshering is confident that within a few years, he will be skilled enough to set traps, known as dho and dhang, which require many people. “It looks easy but demands precision and skill,” he says.

Some men gather wood to smoke the fish and tend to the stove a few meters from the fishing spot. Others are assigned as cooks or guards or are tasked with setting the dhang traps.

These traditional traps developed by the Oleps are mainly used to catch fish during their downstream run after spawning. “These traps are made from cane, bamboo and wood,” says Tashi Dorji, explaining that the gaps between bamboo stalks are 1 m (3.3 ft) apart to allow smaller fish to escape, ensuring future fish sustainability. The eyeholes of the dho and dhang traps must be about three inches wide to avoid catching or harming small, immature fish.

The District Livestock Sector regularly educates the community about sustainable fish harvesting, and forest officials from Jigme Singye Wangchuck National Park frequently monitor and patrol the area.

For the traps, people are not allowed to cut fresh and young trees, only the old ones near rivers and streams. Under the 2006 Forests and Nature Conservation Rules, people are allowed limited extraction of resources for their rural needs.

If smaller fish are caught, they are used for significant ritual purposes as offerings to appease the local deities – the female Jhom and male Aup Tongtsen, Gedup, Dungshey and Shatse, who assure the safety of everyone in the village and beyond.

A group harvests around 500 fish each year, earning about $7,000. Between 2010 and 2015, the group experienced a threefold increase in net household income, rising from $200 in 2010 to $600 in 2015, attributable to a variety of factors, including agriculture and road development; 28.9% of that increase in income was generated from the sale of smoked fish.

In 2018, the group harvested 0.75 metric tons of fish from the Harachu, followed by 0.67 metric tons in 2019.

After harvesting, fresh fish is mounted and bent into a curved shape using bamboo material, which is then placed over bamboo mats or wooden logs to be smoke-dried. The resulting product is a specially flavored smoked fish in a curved shape.

To address any potential sustainability challenges in the future, the community also raises common carp and grass carp (Ctenopharyngodon idella) in ponds. These fish are also harvested and made into Nya Dosem, with support from the livestock sector.

The National Research and Development Centre for Aquaculture has launched a pilot project introducing a machine that dries fish without exposing villagers to smoke. Khandu Wangmo, the finance coordinator of the group, mentioned that locals still prefer the traditional firewood method, which takes about two to three days to dry fish properly.

“It needs constant heat monitoring and is tedious,” Kunzang Thinley says.

While the Oleps say harvesting fish not only improves the community’s livelihood but also helps preserve the traditional practice of making Nya Dosem, it is not without challenges.

“We are a vanishing race; we lost our language, the Oleykha,” Nima Wangdi says. Of the hundreds of people in Rukha and Lawa-Lamgo, only about six of them can speak the original dialect. Oleykha has linguistically assimilated to Dzongkha, the national language of Bhutan. Nima Wangdi says parents discouraged them from speaking Oleykha, fearing it would make the whole community “inferior” and less well respected among the wider population. It is considered a “peasant language”.

Tashi Dorji says some people oppose the fish harvesting initiative for spiritual reasons, as taking animal lives causes suffering and does not bring peace to the nation or individuals (an irony, since the consumer demand for Nya Dosem has seen a drastic increase). While locals respect these beliefs, they admit there are few other ways to earn a living, explaining that aside from fishing, the income from cane and bamboo products is not enough to support them. Other than catching fish, the people also grow vegetables, maize, paddy, and some fruits.

Tashi Dorji explains that the fishers also face challenges during the monsoons, when rivers swell, making it difficult to guard their traps. The work is labour-intensive and typically done by men. Like many across the world, they are also at the mercy of climate change. Erratic weather, climate-induced disasters and other hardships are frequently a threat.

However, Nima Wangdi says they do not think the world would come to a stage where the Harachhu River will dry up. “As long as the river is here, fishes won’t disappear. If so, maybe that is the end of the world.”

However, he says they cannot rule out disasters such as the landslides that can totally cut off their source of income. In 2020, the fish harvest decreased to 0.45 metric tons due to a flash flood in 2019, which caused significant fish loss in the stream.

“We make sure that water sources are not disturbed but we have glacial lakes at the source,” Nima Wangdi adds.

Bhutan faces significant challenges related to climate change, including a lack of disaster risk knowledge, preparedness and effective communication systems. According to the Notre Dame Global Adaptation Initiative (ND-GAIN), as of 2022, Bhutan is the 34th most vulnerable country and the 67th most ready country. It means that the country is on the road to responding effectively to climate change, but the adaptation needs and urgency to act are greater.

Bhutan’s glaciers are rapidly shrinking. The Gangjula glacier, which lost 30% of its ice between 2004 and 2020, is expected to disappear by the end of the century. The Thana and Shodug glaciers are also losing billions of liters of water annually.

Bhutan’s freshwater biodiversity is expected to change significantly due to climate change, a 2022 study reported. Rising water temperatures and reduced oxygen levels in tributaries will likely create favorable conditions for invasive fish species.

The National Centre for Hydrology and Meteorology reports 52 extreme weather events between 2019 and 2024 including flash floods, heavy snowfall and unpredictable monsoon disturbances. These events caused loss of life, damaged crops and destroyed property, leaving communities and ecosystems vulnerable.

Kunzang Thinley worries about his own safety, about getting washed away and disappearing into the rapids. Recent memories of the tragic drowning of his two friends are still vivid; one died while checking his fish traps. He says they have to keep checking the traps even at night. “It is cold and risky.”

Recently, during a heavy rainfall at night, Gem Tshering and Kunzang Thinley both had to run to safer ground.

Threats to fish

People aren’t the only ones facing dangers – the fish are, too. Program director Singye Tshering says fish populations do not solely depend on spawning; there are factors such as threats from climate change and developmental activities like dredging, mining for sand and stone, hydropower construction and structures like gabion walls that affect fish dynamics, migration patterns and destroy breeding grounds.

In addition, increasing overall temperatures can cause changes in the temperature and turbidity of the water. Water temperature plays a key role in the distribution of snowtrout, a cold-water species that can only tolerate slight temperature changes. Reports show that these fish can handle temperatures up to around 20° Celsius but are active in near-freezing water during winter. In colder months, they migrate to lower elevations, where they become a significant part of the fish catch. As mid- to low-elevation habitats are affected by climate change, snowtrout may shift to higher elevations.

Complicating matters, Bhutan plans to build 20,000 megawatts of hydropower generation capacity by 2040 in the region’s major rivers. The Harachhu flows to one of these major rivers downstream, and there is fear that dam development could affect fish habitats upstream. A study at the Nikachhu Hydropower Plant showed disturbance in the population structure of fish species upstream and downstream, as well as species richness, abundance and catch rates. These disturbances are linked to natural events like heavy rainfall and human activities such as road construction and hydropower development.

Still, despite these myriad threats, the Oleps remain committed to their way of life – hoping that as long as the Harachhu River flows, their traditions will survive.

This article was first published on Mongabay.