Zombezia (2001), XXVIII (ii).DOMESTICATING A WHITE ELEPHANT:SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATER, THECASE OF CAHORA BASSA DAM*ALLEN ISAAC MANUniversity of MinnesotaAbstractThis article explores the socio-economic and environmental impact ofCahoraBassa Dam and South Africa s destabilisation campaign on the communitiesand ecology of the Zambezi River valley in Mozambique. It argues that thehistorical memories and lived experiences of these riverine communitiesprovide important insights into the history of the area and must take centrestage in any scholarly analyses of the history, role and impact of the CahoraBassa Dam and that concerns with "development" must not be allowed toobscure some of the real negative effects of big dam construction on thelives and livelihood of the inhabitants and the damage to the surroundingenvironment in areas where such dams are conshvcted.Since the end of the Cold War policy makers and students of internationalrelations have begun to shift their attention from the threat of globalconflicts to regional crises precipitated, in part, by the inequitable accessto scarce natural resources. Fresh water is a particularly preciouscommodity. Besides air it is probably the single most critical ingredientin sustaining life and is integral to all societal and ecological activities.Recurring tensions between Turkey, Iraq and Syria over the Tigris andEuphrates rivers, the Hungarian-Czech dispute over the management ofthe Danube, South Africa's controversial appropriation of the waters ofthe Lesotho Highlands and the saber-rattling between the Koreas followingKim 11-Sung's plans to build a hydro-electric project on the Han River,underscore the political as well as symbolic importance of water (Gleick,1999). Given the growing realization that competition for water resourcesis a volatile issue, scholars in the burgeoning field of "environmentalsecurity" have sought to map out the linkages between water allocationand conflict. They stress that inter-state tensions over fresh waterresources or over their use have a long history and are not unique to aparticular geographic or cultural region (Gleick, 1993).* The research and writing of this article was funded by a Grant for Research and Writingfrom the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, as well as by a grant from theGraduate School of the University of Minnesota. The author wishes to express his gratitudeto both institutions for their invaluable support.199200 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERFew water resource systems, if any, have been the object of moresustained military activity than Mozambique's Cahora Bassa hydro-electricproject located on the Zambesi River. From the later 1960s when thePortuguese colonial regime announced that it was going to build the dam,until the 1992 peace accords between the Mozambican government andthe South-African-backed RENAMO guerrillas, Cahora Bassa and itstransmission lines were the target of repeated attacks. Initial oppositionto the dam came from FREL1MO (The Front for the Liberation ofMozambique). The nationalist forces contended that Cahora Bassa wasan integral part of a military and economic alliance between Portugal andSouth Africa designed to provide cheap energy to South Africa andperpetuate white rule in the region. For almost seven years, FRELIMOwaged an unsuccessful guerrilla campaign to block construction of CahoraBassa which was completed in December 1974. Six months laterMozambique gained its independence.But independence merely intensified the conflict over Cahora Bassabetween the new government and the apartheid regime. Stuck with thedam, the newly installed FRELIMO government had little alternative butto discard its long-term opposition to the hydro-electric project. In aradical departure from its previous stance, it hailed Cahora Bassa as asymbol of liberation which would help the people of Mozambique achieveeconomic prosperity, transform the strategic Zambesi valley and bringthe impoverished nation a new source of hard currency by exportingenergy to markets throughout the region, not just to South Africa.But Pretoria had a different agenda. Concerned about FRELIMO'shistoric ties to the African National Congress (ANC) and its non-racialsocialist agenda, South African security forces began a sustained militaryand economic, campaign to destabilize the Mozambican government anddestroy the country's infrastructure. High on its list was Cahora Bassa.For more than a decade, South African backed RENAMO guerrillasrepeatedly sabotaged the dam's power lines effectively paralyzing thehydro-electric project, while simultaneously terrorizing hundreds ofthousands of peasants who lived adjacent to the Zambesi River. Ironically,tensions over Cahora Bassa have persisted even after the dismantling ofthe apartheid regime and the ascension to power of the ANC. In 1998South Africa refused to purchase electrical energy from Cahora Bassawithout a rollback in prices that had been agreed upon the precedingyear. As the new millennium approaches no energy from Cahora Bassa isbeing exported to South Africa Š the dam's raison d'etre.Two themes dominate the literature on Cahora Bassa. Predictably,much has been written on the strategic dimensions of the hydro-electricscheme. This literature has been framed within the broader politicaleconomy of the region, the struggle to liberate Southern Africa and theA. ISAACMAN 201apartheid regime's efforts to maintain its hegemonic position. The othertheme which has attracted a fair amount of attention is the engineeringaccomplishments of building Cahora Bassa. Set within the discourse ofhigh modernism, colonial planners, civil engineers, hydrologiscs and anumber of journalists hailed the dam's technical complexity and the skillrequired to construct the world's fifth largest hydro-electric powerinstallation in a region which lacked the most basic economicinfrastructure. The completion of Cahora Bassa, they contended,demonstrated that through scientific knowledge and modern technology,capricious natural forces could be harnessed and biophysical systemstransformed to serve humankind. For all the concerns about humanprogress and national security, there has been a conspicuous absence ofserious research and public debate on the socio-ecological transformationswhich Cahora Bassa has precipitated and its impact on human securityand environmental sustainability within the riverine zone.By shifting the principal angle of vision from a state-centric approach,which privileges military security and water resource development toone which explores the interconnection between livelihood security andnational security consequences, this article addresses many of the silencesin the literature. We know little about the lived experiences of thethousands of peasants forced to relocate from their historic homelands.Their story remains hidden in the opaque shadows of the dam. We knoweven less about the impact of Cahora Bassa on down-river communities,whose river-fed gardens and grazing lands are no longer seasonallyirrigated by the Zambesi River and whose fishing lagoons have beengreatly reduced. Similarly, we need to explore the impact of South Africa'sdestabilization campaign on the social and ecological resiliency of thediverse communities inhabiting the riverine zone.Addressing these issues, even in the most preliminary way, doesmore than simply fill in a gap in the literature. It creates the possibility ofwriting an alternative history of Cahora Bassa,1 one which stresses thathuman security and environmental health and security are inextricablyintertwined (Adams, 1990; Chambers and Conway, 1992; Isaacman, 1997).This article examines how the socio-economic and ecological changesbrought about by Cahora Bassa affected people's access to resources,their ability to utilize these resources effectively and their long termsecurity and survival. It highlights the critical issue of what is beingsaved and for whom and in doing so links transnational and nationalfactors to questions of sustainable local livelihood and who benefits from1 Allen Isaacman and Arlindo Chilundo are currently undertaking such a project.202 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERthe dam. It stresses that environmental policies and practices cannot beseparated from issues of power and control over scarce resources andthe two-way interaction between ecological transformation and humanbehaviour.Because this article is concerned, above all else, with the sustainablelivelihoods of communities affected by the dam, their accounts figureprominently. These oral testimonies not only challenge the prevailingcolonial formulation but offer an alternative narrative Š a detailed interiorview of life before and after the construction of Cahora Bassa. They alsoprovide important insights about how peasants perceived, explained andcoped with ecological changes in the river basin over time and open upnew areas of inquiry about the environmental impact of the dam.THE HYDROLOGY OF THE ZAMBESI AND INDIGENOUS AGRONOMICPRACTICES: AN OVERVIEWThree hydrological factors are critical in understanding the rationale forconstructing the dam and its relatively vulnerable geographic position.First, although the Cahora Bassa dam and reservoir are contained entirelywithin Mozambican territorial boundaries, the vast bulk of the Zambesidrainage basin, the third largest river system in Africa, lies outside of thecountry. Since Mozambique is at the end of the stream, it is dependent onits neighbours for access to the river's water. Second, there are only a fewlocations in the Zambesi basin suitable for reservoirs or hydro-electricplants. In most of the basin, located on the Central African plateau, thewaters flow slowly through low plains and swamps providing few potentialsites for dams. Third, and most relevant for this study, was the pronouncedseasonally of Zambesi flows and the serious impact of annual floods onthe riverine communities and their natural habitat as well as for theEuropean sugar plantations located near the mouth of the river. Indeed,flood control was one of the presumed advantages of building the dam.There is, however, another dimension to this story. Waters from theflooding river typically inundated the banks of the Zambesi during therainy season months from December through March. When the watersreceded, they left a rich deposit of nutrients along the shoreline. Inlowland areas this spillover often extended over a several-kilometer stretchof land. Peasants throughout the valley considered these rich darkrnakancle soils of the floodplains to be the most desirable agriculturalsites in the region. Beatriz Maquina, an elderly women who had farmedher entire life, stressed that the "inakande land located near the banks ofthe river always gave us good production. We cultivated a great deal ofA. ISAACMAN 203sorghum as well as some corn".2 All the elders with whom we spokedistinguished makande from the more common sandy, rocky ntchengusoils which did not retain water and were difficult to farm.11Given the low and irregular rainfall in the Zambesi Valley, access tothe makande river-fed soils was critical to insure household food security.Much of Tete district and the Lower Zambesi Valley has a semi-aridclimate and savanna-like environment. The average annual rainfall inmuch of Tete is only 600 millimeters (Davies, 1986, 233). Droughts occurregularly, often with devastating consequences to the crops. Withoutmakande lands peasant households faced the prospect of periodic cropfailures on a regular basis and, even in the best years, little likelihood ofproducing a second annual crop. This vulnerability was true down riveras well, where rainfall was more appreciable, but still erratic.Peasant cultivation of river-fed land constituted a critical feature ofthe complex and highly adaptive indigenous agronomic system. Drawingon a rich repertoire of farming practices, born out of years of trial anderror and detailed micro-ecological knowledge, local communitiescreatively adapted to the uneven soil quality, fluctuations in rainfall andchallenges of flooding. Carlos Soda Churo, who was forced to relocatebecause of the dam, described farming practices prior to theimpoundment, in some detail:Before Cahora Bassa each family had several fields. The number andsize varied depending on strength of a person and the size of his family.The land near the river was very good. It was called makande. When theriver rose and then receded in June, the area that had been coveredwith water was very good for farming. There we first planted maize. Wecultivated beans in the same field as the maize. Beans needed somethingto rest on and the maize stalks served well. Nearby we cultivated asecond small plot with sweet potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage and morebeans. We harvested our gardens in September and October before therains and flooding. By November we were working in our larger fieldsaway from the river. On the ntchenga soils we planted sorghum, whichdoes not require as much water. The mixed ntchenga-mukande soilswere better for maize, which needs more moisture than sorghum. Somepeople planted peanuts in their maize fields. We harvested these cropsin June and July and then returned to our gardens.4Interview with Senteira Botao, Eliot Jumbo Muatisembero Sargento and Beatriz Maquina.Chipalapala. 26 May 1(198.Ibid; Interview with Senteira Flotao el ul; Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos SodaChuro. Estiina, 22 May 1998; Interview with Sene Simico, Mauzene Dique and MzwenganeMafala-Njala. Nyatapiria, 27 May 1998; Interview with Bento Estima and JosephNclebviichena. Estima. 19 May 1998.Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo, Estima. 22 May 1998.204 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERChuro's account underscores three important features of theindigenous agronomic system. First, and foremost, the food productionsystems of local agriculturalists co-evolved with the seasonal cycle of theriver's flooding patterns. Decisions regarding the spatial and temporalpatterns of food production Š including selection of the most appropriatecrops and amounts planted, with reference to the season and differentmicro-ecological zones Š were finely tuned to changes in the river'sdischarge rates as well as variations in soils and sunlight. Second,intercropping was an effective labour saving device, since several cropscould be tended simultaneously. Cultivating peanuts in maize fields hadthe added advantage of restoring badly needed nutrients to depletedntclienga soils. Finally, households spent most of the year engaged inagricultural production in order to minimize labour bottlenecks and toensure an adequate supply of food.To be sure, February and March were the "hungry months". It was aperiod in the agricultural cycle when typically peasants had less to eat,having consumed much of the previous year's grains which were themainstays of the diet. But unlike other regions of Tete, where Africans didnot have access to rain-fed fields, the situation of peoples living in theriver valley was never precarious (Jackson and Rogers, 1976, 377).The free flowing Zambesi provided sustenance to riverine communitiesin two other important respects. Before Cahora Bassa, approximately 60species of fish inhabited the river (Jackson and Rogers, 1976, 377). Whilethe density of most species varied, elders recalled that the Zambesiprovided an abundance. They relied on a variety of fishing techniques.Some used nets, made from sisal and cord, which they laid in the mainchannel of the river. Others paddled their canoes to rich fishing grounds,where they deposited poisons from local plants into the water.5 Mostfishermen used locally produced weirs (mackonga) which they placed atstrategic points near the shoreline.We fished with mackonga in which we placed bits of massa [porridge].The fish, attracted by the massa, would enter the mackonga and theywould be trapped. The next morning we would return. The mackongawould be filled with fish, some of which we traded with our neighborsfor sorghum, maize or even a chicken. People who had nothing to tradecould buy a large fish for five escudos [about 17 cents].6The river also attracted large herds of animals from the nearbyforests. Impala, gazelle, elephants, buffalo and eland regularly watered5 Interview with Siipia Sargent and Carlos Soda Cliuro.6 Interview with John Paul and Khumbidzi Pastor.A. ISAACMAN 205on the banks of the Zambesi and adjacent wetlands, where they becameeasy prey for skilled hunters.Not everyone hunted, only those who were good with gugudas [muzzle-loading rifles]. Those hunters we called Nkumbalume. There was a lotof game, so they did not have to go far to find it. The hunters tradedmost of the meat for maize. Sometimes they sold a piece for sixpence.These hunters also had fields. They gave some of the game to thepeople who worked in their gardens.7Game was an integral part of the local diet. As a relish accompanyingthe evening porridge, it provided an important source of protein. Peasantsalso consumed meat in larger amounts at important social occasions andat rituals propitiating the ancestor spirits. All of this changed, however,with the construction of Cahora Bassa.THE STRUGGLE TO BUILD THE DAMFor centuries, the majesty of Cahora Bassa Gorge, located 400 miles fromthe mouth of the Zambesi River, had awed colonial officials. But it wasonly in the 1950s, after the British had constructed a dam 100 miles up-river at Kariba, that Portuguese colonial planners began to contemplate asimilar undertaking at Cahora Bassa Gorge. In 1956 the Overseas Minister,Raul Ventura, dispatched a team of hydrologists to Cahora Bassa. Thescientists surveyed the Zambesi region in May and June 1956 and issueda highly influential and optimistic report.It Is clear that the utilization of those possibilities, accompanied by awell-defined policy of industrial development and mineral prospectingand mining could completely transform the economic prospects for theProvince of Mozambique and, in consequence, for metropolitan Portugal.Rarely have conditions occurred which are so favorable for the economicdevelopment of a region.8Within a year the Salazar regime had established a river basin authoritywhose mandate was to develop the Zambesi basin. The Missao de Fomentoe Povoamento de Zambeze (MFPZ) was modeled on the Tennessee ValleyAuthority. Five years later the MFPZ produced a voluminous fifty-sixvolume final report, which confirmed the previous assessment.What is most striking in these documents is the scale of the projectand how radically different it was from its British counterpart. Kariba wasdesigned simply as a hydro-electric scheme to provide cheap energy for7 Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo.s Quoted in P. Bolton (1983), 'The Regulation of the Zambezi in Mozambique' (UnpublishedPh.D. Thesis, University of Edinburgh), 445-446.206 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERthe copper mines in colonial Zambia and for the European farming andindustrial sectors in colonial Zimbabwe. By contrast, Portuguese plannersconceived of Cahora Bassa as a multipurpose project designed to expandagricultural productivity, develop mining and promote forestry, reduceMozambique's dependence on foreign imports and enhance the livingconditions of the indigenous populations.Unlike Kariba, Cahora Bassa also had two important securitydimensions. Portuguese officials believed that the project would helpblunt guerrilla advances south of the strategic Zambesi river in twoimportant ways. They hoped that the lake behind the dam, stretchingfrom Songo to Zumbo, would impede the relatively easy access FRELIMOforces had to the heart of Mozambique from its bases in Zambia andMalawi. Lake Cahora Bassa, projected to be 500 kilometers in length and,at places, several kilometers in width, would be a formidable geographicbarrier. Moreover, they predicted that the anticipated economicdevelopment which the hydro-electric project stimulated woulddramatically increase the size of the white settler community in theregion who would provide the first line of defence against the exiledAfrican guerrillas. Colonial planners estimated that as many as 80,000immigrants would settle in the Zambesi Valley, including many formersoldiers. The Portuguese Chief of the General Staff General V. Deslandeswas unequivocal about the strategic role which these armed communitieswould play.It is urgent that we settle in the overseas territories the biggest possiblenumber of former military people. The collaboration and mutual supportbetween the civilian and military populations, the absolute coordinationbetween the military, political, social and economic actions, is the onlyway to achieve the desired victory (Quoted in Marchant, 1971).Economic realities, however, compelled colonial officials to scaleback their ambitious plans. With little prospect of investment in theproject from metropolitan investors and little evidence of settler interestin this malarial-infested region, a multiple purpose seemed less viable.Mozambique's inability to consume even ten percent of the anticipated2 075-megawatt output from Cahora Bassa made the project even moreproblematic.Military pressure and growing international opposition furthercomplicated matters. FRELIMO had vowed to sabotage Cahora Bassa. In1968 they initiated a guerrilla offensive in Tete, district home of CahoraBassa. By the end of the decade a sizable force was operating in the areaadjacent to the proposed dam site. One senior Portuguese military officialestimated that at least 1 800 well-armed guerrillas had crossed the Zambesifrom Zambia and Malawi and were beginning to pose a serious threatA. ISAACMAN 207(Nussey, 1971). FRELIMO's anti-dam strategy benefited from a well-organized and highly visible international campaign to block westernfinancing and construction of the dam. "What happens at Cabora Bassa"declared the Programme to Combat Racism of the World Council ofChurches, "is central to the fight for Mozambique and to the future ofSouthern Africa" (World Council of Churches, 1971, 2). Moral outrage andthreats of boycotts, motivated a number of Italian and Swedish companiesto withdraw their support for the project (UN Conference Room Paper,SCI/71/5, 38).The security threats and economic uncertainty compelled proponentsof the dam within the Portuguese state to lobby for an energy andmilitary agreement with South Africa which would guarantee a market forCahora Bassa's surplus power and incorporate Mozambique into SouthAfrica's security zone. Based on projections that its power requirementswould double between 1967 and 1980, the apartheid regime needed asecure supply of cheap energy and was anxious to blunt the "blackonslaught."In 1969 Lisbon signed a $515 million agreement with ZAMCO Š aSouth African-dominated consortium with partners in West Germany,France, Italy, and Portugal Š to build the dam. This agreementreconfigured the Cahora Bassa project into a single purpose hydro-electricscheme financed by the sale of cheap electrical power to South Africa.9Like the export of Mozambican labour to the South African gold mines, itwas an example of the power of the apartheid regime to captureMozambican resources.While colonial officials focused on the financial and securitydimensions of the dam, state planners paid scant attention to the impactof the hydro-electrical scheme on African peasants and their environment.They presumed that increased economic activity would have a trickle-down effect on 'subsistence' African cultivators living in the Zambesibasin. Authorities expressed confidence that the riverine communitieswould benefit from the introduction of new farming techniques, newmarkets for their commodities and new job opportunities and beingregrouped into modern villages (Vidigal, 1970, 158).State planners gave even less consideration to the ecologicalconsequences. In 1973, the Missao de Ecologia Aplicada do Zambeze(MEAZ) commissioned a pre-impoundment survey of water quality,vegetation, soils and climate (Hall, Valente and Davies, 1977). The followingyear a small team of researchers affiliated with the University of LourencoMarques conducted a biophysical survey of the Lower Zambesi ValleyFor a detailed discussion of these negotiations see Middlemas (1975), 20-30.208 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATER(Davies, 1996). Underfunded, poorly conceived, and often of shoddyquality, these investigations yielded few insights into the Zambesi'secosystems (Davies, 1996). One scientist closely associated with theproject decriedthe lack of ecological specialists with local knowledge who should bedealing with the interdependence and interrelationships of the wholeLower Zambesi as one integrated system. This danger is compoundedas authority in both land-use planning and decision-making is vested innon-ecological experts (Tinley, 1975, 24).Economic planners and civil engineers committed to completing theconstruction of the hydro-electric project without delay simply ignoredthe research from scientists that ran counter to their grand design (Davies,1996).Elsewhere I have written about the actual construction of the dam(Isaacman and Sneddon, forthcoming). Suffice to say that the colonialregime built the hydro-electric project on the backs of 3 000 Africanlabourers who constituted the bulkof the work force.10 Although nominallyfree, the Africans were recruited into a highly regimented and racializedlabour regime. It was a regime in which (1) Africans were assigned themost gruelling and dangerous tasks, (2) work obligations were oftensecured through coercive extra-legal methods, (3) Africans wereprohibited by custom and practice from holding supervisory positions,(4) the living and working conditions of black labourers was distinctlyinferior to that of their European supervisors, and (5) Portuguese officialsbrutally stifled any dissent. Julio Calecoetoa described the unrelentingpressure to work longer and harder.The Africans who broke the boulders were organized into groups of sixmen, each with its own capitao [overseer]. The capitao was African.The boss over all of them was Silva. The Africans worked very hard.The capitaes were chosen because they could speak Portuguese. Theytold the workers what to do; they did not do the work themselves.From time to time the capitao would beat people he did not think wereworking hard enough. There were never any strikes. If people hadstruck, they knew they would be beaten with the palmaioria. WhenAfricans were angry they worked more slowly, but if the boss noticedthat he would tell the capitao to whip them."Harsh conditions and the pressure to meet deadlines created aprecarious work environment. On November 19,1973, six African workerswere killed and eight others seriously injured when a stabilizer collapsed111 There were approximately 750 Europeans who held all the technical, administrative aswell as most clerical positions.11 Interview with Julio Calecoetoa, Son«o, 18 May 1998.A. ISAACMAN 209in one of the pressure release tunnels (Rhodesia Herald, November 17,1973, 2). To this day, memories of industrial accidents remain etched inthe minds of many former workers. Listen to words of Pedro da CostaXavier.At the intersection of two tunnels a large rock, larger than this house,fell, collapsing the tunnels and trapping the men and machines InsideIt. Company officials were unable to rescue the men and they ultimatelyhad to seal off the tunnel. Many people died. It was more than twenty.There were smaller accidents as well. When the ropes, which wereharnessing men working on the edge of the dam broke, people wouldfall to their deaths. Sometimes, when we were working in the tunnel,there would be rockslides and people would be killed. Others wouldsuffer serious injuries. It was very dangerous work, not only for theAfricans, but for the Europeans who worked with them.12In addition to such catastrophes and occasional labour unrest, colonialauthorities faced a concerted campaign by FREL1MO to subvert, harassand impede construction of the dam. Although senior nationalist leadersmade bold pronouncements about sabotaging the project which helpedto fuel the international boycott, this was never a realistic option. Thecolonial regime had erected three heavily armed defensive rings aroundSongo enclosed by doubled barbed wire fences and one of the world'slargest minefields, making it virtually impossible for the guerrillas to getwithin striking distance of the dam. Instead small bands of insurgentsmined the dirt roads and railroad lines and ambushed trucks carryingessential equipment to the dam site. To minimize these attacks thePortuguese tarred the mail road between Songo and Tete, cleared thebush adjacent to the roads, organized daily convoys and patrolled thetrain tracks more aggressively. Nevertheless these defensive tactics didlittle to dislodge the insurgent forces. In November 1972 FRELIMO forceslaunched their boldest initiatives, highlighted by a mortar attack on theprovincial airbase at Tete and eleven attacks on trains bringing criticalmaterial from the Indian Ocean port of Beira to Cahora Bassa (RhodesiaHerald, November 17, 1972, 3). During the next two years they continuedto ambush lorries, attack trains and periodically blow up roads andbridges. There is also some evidence that they began to target powerlines built to transmit energy to South Africa which were particularlyvulnerable. Despite FRELIMO's efforts, by 1974 the widely acclaimed damwas virtually complete. Lost in the shuffle were the thousands ofMozambican peasants who had been forcibly relocated from the floodplains.12 Interview with Pedro da Costa Xavier, 23 May 1998, Songo.210 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERTHE IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES OF CAHORA BASSA: DISRUPTINGRIPARIAN COMMUNITIESColonial planners stressed that the long-term benefits of the dam wouldfar outweigh any short-term inconveniences in the lives of the riverinecommunities. Despite such assurances, Cahora Bassa had immediate,multiple and far-reaching consequences for the displaced communitieswhose homelands and farms were flooded to create the massive lakebehind the dam. Yet it was not simply being evicted from their homes andancestral lands that proved so devastating. Unlike other powerless groupsaround the world displaced by hydro-electric schemes, the Zambesipeasants were herded into strategic hamlets with few basic amenities.These aldeamentos were an integral part of Portugal's broadercounterinsurgency programme designed to cut FRELIMO off from its ruralbase of support13 (Jundanian, 1974). A South African journalist who wasone of the few foreign reporters allowed into the war zone noted the closelinkages that FRELIMO had already forged with the peasantry. "It isaxiomatic that guerrillas cannot be beaten if the local people supportthem from fear or desire. Strong local support is shown by how littleinformation Africans here give the Portuguese about FRELIMO' (Nussey,1972, 1).Claiming to protect the peasantry, Portuguese officials began to evictcommunities near the damsite in 1972. two years before the actualimpoundment of the river. Local authorities, facing the pressure of anexpanded war and construction deadlines, rarely even bothered to paylip service to the notion that peasants should be persuaded to movevoluntarily. Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Bernardo TapuletaPotoroia of Masecha remembered what happened the day they were toldto move:They came and told us that the water was going to rise and that wewould have to leave . . . Among us there were people who complainedand did not want to move. They were very angry because they hadfields and houses here and their whole life was here. But they had nochoice.14Although colonial authorities initially claimed that only 25,000 Africanswould be displaced, by the end of 1973 the number had jumped to over42,000ls (GPZ, 1974, 28). Conditions in the camps were rudimentary atA. ISAACMAN 211best. A typical aldeamento contained between one thousand and fifteenhundred residents. They lived in mud and wattle huts laid out in a gridenclosed by a barbed wire fence. The original plans called for eachaldeamento to include a school, health clinic, water pumps, grist mills,warehouse for food reserves, social hall and football field costing morethan $9 million (Bolton, 1983, 363; GPZ, 1971, 46; GPZ, 1972, 20). Exceptfor a handful of model encampments, few of the "protected villages" hadall, or even most, of these amenities (Jundanian, 1974, 527).Peasants were effectively held captive. Their only access to the outsideworld was through a military check point manned around the clock bylocal militia. Pezulani Mafulanjala described the sense of being underconstant surveillance:We started working in our machambas [fields] at six in the morning andwe were required to leave the fields between twelve and twelve thirty.We had to be back in the aldeamento by one. We were alwaysaccompanied by the patrol. They guarded us to make sure that we didnot have any contact with strangers in the bush. If you came back lateyou were interrogated about where you were and what you were doing.The militia then handed over the tardy individual to PIDE and theywere charged with secretly providing food to FRELIMO. The accusedwere severely beaten and threatened before they were allowed toreturn home. Some even died in the interrogation."'As Mafalanja's account suggests, the designated lands which thegovernment had cleared were rocky, hard to work and not very fertileand often far from the strategic hamlets. They stood in sharp contrast tothe lands left behind. Jack Sobrinho, who was forced to relocate to analdeamento in Estima summed up the general consensus: "The land atChicoa Velha was good land. The land here was hard and full of rocks, soit produced nothing."17 The arid conditions and absence of rain-fed landsdramatically reduced agricultural yields. So too did the colonial policieswhich limited each household to one small plot Š typically less than ahectare in size. Peasants were forbidden to farm two or three fieldsstrategically located in different ecological zones in order to take advantageof variations in soils, sunlight and moisture availability and to minimizerisks. Government agronomists, by discouraging intercropping on thegrounds that it created "messy" fields, exacerbated the problems ofproductivity.In light of the restrictive government policies and the harshenvironment, it is hardly surprising that the displaced communities"' Interview with Pezulani Mafulanjala, Maurlcio Alemao and Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroia.17 Interview with lack Sobrinho and Wiseborn Benjamin, Estima, 20 May 1998.212 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERexperienced increased food shortages and malnutrition. The elders wereright. Without rain, good lands and sufficient time to work the fields,there could be no corn or sorghum.18 There were also fewer opportunitiesto make up food deficits through hunting and fishing. Despite governmentplans to protect the herds which roamed in the river valley and adjacentforests,19 large numbers of animals drowned when the Zambesi wasimpounded. Even in those areas where game survived, Portuguese militaryauthorities prevented peasants from carrying rifles and severely restrictedtheir movement.20Food shortages were not the only social problem these uprootedcommunities experienced. As in other dam projects throughout the world,sickness and death rates seem to have increased markedly especiallyamong the very young and very old (McCully 1997, 80). It is important tostress that the evidence before and after the impoundment is fragmentaryand that health and sanitary conditions varied from one strategic hamletto another. Moreover, the colonial regime did try to inoculate at-riskpopulations to prevent tuberculosis and yellow fever and providedmedication to limit the debilitating effects of malaria (GPZ, 1974, 59-63).Nevertheless, the data suggest that inadequate rural diets, combinedwith problems caused by poor sanitary conditions regularly exacerbatedby heavy rains in January and February, left many rural communitiesreeling from cholera. In aldeamentos located near Lake Cahora Bassawater-borne parasitic illnesses such as schistosomiasis and malaria posednew health threats (Bolton, 1986, 161-162). Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroiarecalled that time with anguish:There was a great deal of hunger and many people also suffered fromdiseases during this period. There were serious problems with cholera,small pox, and malaria. Many people died. No one knew why or howthis happened, just that many people were dying.21The commonly held explanation for these misfortunes Š that theflooding of sacred shrines and burial sites had alienated powerful royalancestor spirits (mhondoro) Š underscores the sense of culturalobliteration and vulnerability experienced by the uprooted peasants.Most mhondoro, through their earthly spirit mediums (svikird) opposedthe impoundment because sacred sites would be inundated and lost to18 Interview with Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Tapuleta Potoroia.19 For a discussion of this ill-fated plan see A.H.M.. Governo Oeral. Cota 864, 'Piano BasePara Salvamento e Transferencia da Fauna Brava da Albufeira de Cahora Bassa emMozambique1, K. L Tinley. March 1973.M Interview with John Paul and Khuinbidzi Pastor.-' Interview with Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroia.A. ISAACMAN 213posterity. Many spirit mediums also objected to their subjects beingmoved outside of their spiritual domain.When the people were forced to move, the svikiro left as well. Thesvikiro wanted to live elsewhere, but the government forced them tolive in the aldeamentos. The svikiro became angry and warned ofcalamities. When the svikiro died, the mhondoro disappeared and neverreturned.22Other svikiro refused to move and fled into the bush where they werenever heard from again. Their absence was devastating. "There were nospirits to make it rain."23In the final analysis, displacement adversely affected everyone, but itdid not necessarily affect them equally. Chiefs, who received housing(Overseas Companies of Portugal, n.d.), state subsidies and choice tractsof land, suffered less than their subjects. Peasant women probably sufferedmore than their male counterparts. Certainly the demands on their labourwere greater. Most were forced to cope as best they could with thehardships of daily life inside the strategic hamlets. This meant caring forchildren, walking long distances to gather firewood and fetch water,assisting the sick and the elderly and performing a wide array of otherhousehold chores in addition to working on their household plots. Bycontrast, most men simply farmed. Others clandestinely fled to Zimbabweor found employment at the dam site. However difficult the living andworking conditions of these male labourers, they were appreciably betterthan being penned up in the aldeamentos.2'1The profoundly negative social effects were mirrored and exacerbatedby their devastating impact on the hydrology and ecology of the riverinezone. While many of these changes became apparent only after severalyears, some of the detrimental processes that the dam's construction setin motion occurred almost immediately. Following completion of theconstruction phase, state officials Š disregarding the suggestions ofenvironmental scientists contracted to study the dam's likely ecologicalimpacts Š rushed to fill the reservoir as rapidly as possible. Theirmandate was to begin generating electricity as originally scheduled,regardless of the consequences. "Lake" Cahora Bassa began to rise fromthe river bed on 5 December 1974 and reached nearly-full capacityapproximately four months later at the end of March 1975. The extreme22 Ibid.'-Ł' Interview with Sene Simico, Mauzene Dique and Mzwengane Mafala-Njala. Nyatapira, 27May 1998.u Interview with Vernacio Leone, Estima. 22 May 1998; Interview with John Paul andKhumbiiizi Pastor.214 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERhaste of the operation is clear when compared to the filling of LakeKariba, which took nearly four years to reach full capacity (Bond et ai,1978, 445). In an extraordinarily short period of time the dam generated alake where before there had been a river, destroying lands and animalscritical to the local human ecology of riverine communities and creatinga drastically different ecological setting.The most immediate effect was the permanent inundation of 2,700square kilometers of land under the reservoir. These lands were highlyproductive floodplains effectively used by peasant communities forcenturies. Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Bernardo TapuletaPotoroia recalled the high moisture retention capacity of the river-fedmakande soils which made it ideal for the culture of a variety of foodstuffsin the Masecha region. "All the crops grown on the makande had a goodsupply of water and nutrients. In some lowland areas the river depositedsediments on banks for 2-3 kilometers from the river."25 Other residentsremembered stretches of the river where floodwaters would extend forseven to nine kilometers on either bank during the flood season.215The inundated floodplain habitats also constituted some ofMozambique's most diverse ecosystems. The dry savanna near the riverhad supported numerous trees whose leaves would fall and act as naturalfertilizer upon decomposition. Some idea of the diversity of tree speciesin the region is provided by accounts of people who, during times ofdrought, would forage for wild fruit.27 These riparian ecosystems alsosupported substantial numbers and types of animal species, includingelands, bush pig, buffalo, nyasa, gazelle, elephant and rhinoceros.2** Despitethe government's highly publicized plan (termed "Noah's Ark") to protectwildlife,29 officials did little. The effects were devastating. Bento Estimaand Joseph Ndebvuchena remembered that,After the flooding began many animals were stranded on Tanzwa andManherere which are islands in the Zambesi. Some died on theseislands because they could not get enough food. As the water keptcoming higher, many animals were swept away if they couldn't swim tothe other side of the river.30Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo of Estima evoked a similarscene, describing how "after the lake rose, animals fled to the islands andInterview with Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroia."' Joint interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo.-'' Interview with Vernacio Leone, Estima, 19 May 1998.J8 Joint interview with Jack Sobrinho and Wiseborn Benjamin, 20 May 199S.A.H.M.. Govenio Geral Cota 804, 'Base plan for rescue and translocation of wildlife fromthe Cahora Bassa Dam in Mozambique' K. Tinley, March 1973."' Interview with Bento Estima and Joseph Ndebvuchena.A. ISAACMAN 215died of starvation. Others, who could swim, swam to the banks of therising lake and ran away."31In addition to the rapid and permanent inundation of ecologicallyimportant riverine lands, the decision to fill the Cahora Bassa reservoirat break-neck pace also had far-reaching consequences for humancommunities and ecological systems downstream. Despite the hydrologicfact that the portion of the river below Cahora Bassa was highly dependenton the main channel for continued flows, dam operators refused to allowcompensatory releases through the dam during the filling of the reservoir.The flow rate of less than 60 cubic meters per clay for over three monthshad catastrophic results below the dam.32 The river was stopped inDecember precisely when the annual inundation of floodplains foragricultural production typically occurred. This was also a time whenmany fish species of the Lower Zambesi begin to spawn in adjacentfloodplains. With closure of the dam and discharge reduced to ten percentof its average, the fish were stranded as flood waters receded. Localfarmers who depended on fish for supplemental protein harvested themin large numbers during this period, placing further pressure on fishpopulations. Commenting on the reckless pace of filling, one scientistlamented, "Our work was ignored by the very people who requested the[ecological] survey in the first place" (Davies, 1975, 27).In April, with construction of the dam and turbines almost complete,HCB engineers discovered a small defect in one of the turbines deep inthe water of the almost full reservoir. Without any warning or consultation,they opened the turbines and sluice gates to full capacity and deliveredan unnatural coursing of floodwaters downstream from the dam. Numeroussmall-scale farmers, at the time residing close to the river's edge to takeadvantage of the fertile soils, lost significant numbers of cattle and smallpoultry, and, in many cases, almost lost their lives. Upon repair of thefault, the dam operators again shut off the river's water causing a severewater shortage in the city of Tete and everywhere else downstream(Jackson, 1997). By May and early June, the gates of Cahora Bassa were11 Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo, Estima.;12 This decision was made in spite of recommendations from the environmental researchteam, particularly Davies. that the filling of the reservoir occur at a pace to ensure aminimum discharge rate from the dam of between 400 and 500 cubic meters per second.Davies and Dr. Luis Bareto, then Director of the Instituto d'Agronomla in LaurenfOMarques, strongly requested (in Davies' words "almost demanded") several measures inaddition to a minimum flow rate to head off what they believed would be the disastrouseffects of the planned releases. These included: a two-and-one-half year minimum fillingperiod; releases from the dam timed to match dry and wet season flows in the river: andno filling during the next summer flood (December-January). None of these suggestionswas implemented (Davies, Rehabilitation programme').216 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERbeing opened and closed on a daily basis, timed to the power generationschedules of HCB engineers. At no time in the first six months of thedam's operation were the waters of the reservoir stagnant, and the patternwas "that of a vast mass of raw floodwater in constant, though very slow,motion down the dam" (Jackson and Rogers, 381). The transformation ofthe river's annual cycle from a punctuated, highly seasonal flow regimeto one characterized by constant flows throughout the year was complete.The Lower Zambesi had become a regulated river whose principal functionwas to provide cheap energy to South Africa.SOUTH AFRICAN DESTABILIZATION AND THE FAILURE TODOMESTICATE A WHITE ELEPHANTWith independence and state power, FRELIMO was theoretically positionedto set in motion policies which, over time, might transform Mozambique'sdistorted economy and reduce the new country's dependence on theapartheid regime. Cahora Bassa figured prominently in their new agenda.Mozambican state planners, committed to large scale social engineering,were confident that the hydro-electric project would play a pivotal roledeveloping the Zambesi Valley and improving the lives of millions ofMozambicans across the country who lacked electricity. Together withthe organization of a network of state farms and communal villages,Cahora Bassa would, in the Marxist parlance of FRELIMO, be instrumental"in the socialization of the countryside." President Machel was adamanton this point.We cannot irrigate without energy. The electrification of the centralarea of the north and of the south of our country is fundamental for usto be able to meet the needs of agriculture. We must domesticate the"white elephant" Cahora Bassa. This "elephant's" ivory Š electricityand irrigation Š should go to our agriculture and industry . . . Withinthe next decade the north bank power station [at Cahora Bassa] mustbegin functioning and numerous dams must be built for irrigation andelectrification (Agenda de Informacao de Mozambique [A.I.M.],"Information Bulletin", 38, 1979, 6).Domesticating the "white elephant" was not an easy task. Under the1974 Lusaka Peace Accord, Lisbon assumed responsibility for the massivedebt incurred in building the dam. Until it was repaid, Portugal ratherthan the Mozambican state, retained effective control over Cahora Bassa.33That Mozambique's total energy requirement was less than ten percentP?Hrl"eSe interests retained 82*, ownership of Cahora Bassa and appointed the directorsof HCB.A. ISAACMAN 217of the dam's output further complicated FRELlMO's efforts to harness thehydro-electric project for domestic purposes. Moreover, the cash-starvednation lacked the capital to develop the agricultural and industrial sectorsthat could utilize the cheap energy.Despite these constraints, the government did undertake a numberof new economic initiatives so that Cahora Bassa would not simply be asource of cheap energy for the apartheid regime. In 1978 it began buildingpower stations to provide energy from the dam to the provincial capitalTete and the nearby coal mines at Moatize, the largest in the country.Two years later, Cahora Bassa started supplying electricity to Tete, whoseobsolete thermal power station burned up to 20,000 tons of coal annually,and to the colliery, which had relied on imported diesel for its generators(A.I.M., "Information Bulletin", 47,1980,18). At the same time, the NationalWater Commission announced plans to use the dam's energy to helpirrigate more than 210,000 hectares of choice farmlands in the lowerZambesi Valley (A.l.M. "Information Bulletin", 63, 1981, 16). In the early1980s, Mozambique signed an agreement with India to process bauxitefrom that country at an aluminum plant using power from the clam(A.l.M., "Information Bulletin", 70, 1982, 2). State planners also proposeddeveloping commercial fishing, tourism and a shipping industry on thelake behind Cahora Bassa. In 1981 they signed an agreement with Bulgariato help fund these projects (A.I.M., "Information Bulletin", 58, 1981, 16).All of these proposed projects paled in comparison with the plans tobuild a second set of power lines and sub-stations on the northern banksof the Zambesi. The new grid was designed to provide cheap energy tothe densely populated provinces of Zambezia and Nampula. Both weremajor agricultural zones producing most of the country's cotton, tea andsugar for export. Zambezia was also a major food producing area. Thetwo provinces assumed strategic political importance, as well, becauseFREL1MO had mounted a very intense campaign to pressure reluctantpeasants to join communal villages (Geffray, 1991). One of the incentivesthat the state held out was the promise of electricity (Isaacman andIsaacman, 1983, 155). In 1980 the government signed a multi-million dollaragreement with France and Italy to begin the first phase of the project,which was to be completed two years later (A.I.M., "Information Bulletin",47, 1980, 18).Before most of these projects could get under way, South Africaintensified its destabilization campaign, effectively paralyzing them. Theapartheid regime's undeclared war against Mozambique and RENAMO'srole as South Africa's principal weapon are well documented (Finnegan,1992; Hall and Young, 1997; Hanlon, 1990; Isaacman, 1991; Vines, 1991). Itwas part of a broader strategy to ensure Pretoria's hegemony over theSouthern African region in order to defend the political and economic218 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERinterests of the apartheid state and to insulate the African NationalCongress.Within six months of Mozambique's independence in 1975, SouthAfrican security forces working with their Rhodesian counterparts hadcreated RENAMO and trained and armed the insurgents (Winters, 1981,545). Between 1976 and 1979 Mozambique suffered from more than 350RENAMO and Rhodesian attacks. Although the dam was left unscathed,anti-FRELIMO forces regularly targeted regions adjacent to Cahora Bassaand periodically sabotaged power lines and sub-stations (A.I.M.,"Information Bulletin", 45, 1980, 27).With the fall of the Rhodesian government in 1980 and theindependence of Zimbabwe, the apartheid regime transferred RENAMOheadquarters and bases from Rhodesia to the Transvaal, a northernprovince of South Africa adjacent to Mozambique. South African securitytreated the guerrillas as a surrogate army. Pretoria provided RENAMOwith large supplies of war materials, including rockets, mortars and smallarms, critical logistic support and instructors. The latter, according tothe guerrilla leader Alfonso Dhlakama would "not only teach but alsoparticipate in the attacks" (Dhlakama, 1980). By 1981 RENAMO forceswere being transported into Mozambique by South African helicoptersand resupplied by airdrops and naval landings along Mozambique'sexpansive coast (Isaacman, 1991; Hall and Young, 1997). RENAMO'srenewed offensive was part of a broader campaign that South Africansecurity forces orchestrated to destroy Mozambique's infrastructure,paralyze the economy and bring the young nation to its knees (Hall andYoung, 129). The guerrilla forces sabotaged bridges and railroad lines,mined roads, burned warehouses and attacked state farms.Cahora Bassa's power lines were a particularly inviting target. At firstglance such a strategy might seem counter productive since the pylonswere transporting energy to South Africa. But set within Pretoria's broaderdestabilization strategy designed to punish Mozambique for its supportof the ANC, it made perfect sense to military planners. After all, FRELIMOhad placed great importance on the Cahora Bassa's potential to transformthe countryside. Paralyzing the hydro-electric scheme underscored thecountry's vulnerability. These attacks also enabled both the RENAMOleadership and the apartheid regime to claim that the guerrillas were alegitimate nationalist movement opposed to the Marxist policies ofFRELIMO and not simply a puppet of Pretoria (Vines, 1991, 26-28;Domingos, 1980). That Cahora Bassa power lines provided only 8% ofSouth Africa's energy, meant that domestic consequences for the apartheidregime were relatively minor (Vines, 1991, 27).The results of the attacks on power lines were both predictable anddevastating. The Mozambican government lacked the capacity to protectA. ISAACMAN 219the 4 000 pylons which cut across 900 kilometers of remote country. Asearly as 1981 RENAMO forces had dynamited pylons near Espungaberareducing electricity exports by 50%. It took six months to repair the lines(A.I.M., "Information Bulletin", 58,1981,13). This pattern was repeated ona regular basis. Guerrillas destroyed power lines and towers and minedthe adjacent areas making it virtually impossible for the government torepair them. These attacks did not cease even after the South Africangovernment promised that they would as part of the 1984 Nkomati PeaceAccord and in subsequent bilateral negotiations (Vines, 1991, 28-30). Infact, RENAMO, which had begun to take on a political life of its own,escalated its attacks as a way of pressuring the Mozambican governmentto enter into direct negotiations. By 1988, 891 pylons had been destroyedand that number doubled again over the next three years (Gebhardt,'"Switching into Cahora Bassa", Mail and Guardian, December 19, 1997;Vines, 1991, 28-30). The cost of repairing the power lines was estimated at$500 million Š almost three times the total value of Mozambican exports.RENAMO's military campaigns in Tete and Zambezia provinces, moreover,had effectively blocked plans to develop the Zambesi Valley and electrifythe northern part of the country. The dam remained a white elephant.In addition to paralyzing Cahora Bassa and destroying many otherstrategic economic targets, RENAMO initiated a reign of terror throughoutthe riverine zone particularly in areas considered loyal to the government.Among the most vulnerable communities were the peasants who hadbeen displaced by the dam and been herded into strategic hamlets duringthe colonial period. With independence, the barbed wire surroundingtheir villages was taken down and the guards were removed, leavingthem defenseless. Since their original homes were under water, most hadlittle alternative but to remain where they were. They were easy prey.According to Vernacio Leone,When RENAMO would come into a village, they would call all thepeople together. Then they would go into the house and steal all thatwas inside. They ordered the people back into their homes and setthem on fire. People elsewhere heard these stones, so when RENAMOwas coming, they would flee to Estlma (an administrative center).34Vernacio's neighbours Supia Sargent and Carlos Churo rememberthat many able-bodied men and women fled to Zimbabwe.115 Others wereforced to take even more extreme measures to survive.After Independence people from Chinyanda Nova returned to theirhomelands in Chinyanda Velha, but could not remain there for a longInterview with Vernacio Leone.Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Churo.220 SUSTAINABILITY AND STRUGGLES OVER WATERtime because the Rhodesians started to attack. So we had to return toChinyanda Nova [near a government base] and have remained hereever since. But we were not free from war because RENAMO began toattack. They burned our houses, raped our wives and daughters androbbed our goats. We were forced to live in the mountains for fouryears. We slept there and only returned at daybreak to cultivate ourfields.36Peasants downriver from the dam suffered similar abuses frommarauding bands of RENAMO guerrillas. Listen to the words of FaminsaniChenje who lived in the village of Mushenge in southern Tete province.The first time they came was in 1986. They were looking for food. It wasa small group of about fifteen men. They took cattle, chickens andgoats. A lot of villagers started fleeing to Teteftown] then because thewar had come to Mushenge. But most of us stayed in the village. It wasour home. Then, in June 1986, the Matsange [RENAMO] came againearly in the morning. It was still dark. This time they came right into thevillage. They called for everyone to come out of their houses. Thenthey killed ten people and mutilated ten others, including myself. Twosoldiers cut off my ears with knives. They said we were working forFRELIMO (Quoted in Africa Watch. 1992, 47).South Africa's destabilization campaign had devastating consequenceson the riverine communities. Many villages were obliterated, fieldsdestroyed and health clinics burned. It is hardly surprising that thousandsof peasants who survived these attacks experienced food shortages andmalnutrition. Many starved. Death rates from yellow fever, tuberculosisand malaria soared. Throughout the region, the social fabric of societywas destroyed (Africa Watch, 1992).THE REGULATED RIVER: SOME LONG-TERM EFFECTS OF IMPOUNDINGTHE LOWER ZAMBESIIt is difficult to distinguish the environmental and social disruptions thatthe dam precipitated from those caused by the war, and the extent towhich they were interconnected. What is certain is that the constructionof Cahora Bassa adversely affected the economic security of hundreds ofthousands of peasant households and irrevocably altered the biophysicalrelations of the Lower Zambesi from the reservoir to coastal regions.According to a recent United Nations report, "Cahora Bassa has thedubious distinction of being the least studied and possibly leastenvironmentally acceptable dam project in Africa" (Beilfuss, 1999).Interview with Peter Size and Fedi Alfante.A. ISAACMAN 221Prior to construction, the mosaic of ecological systems that comprisedthe Lower Zambesi (e.g., river channel, floodplains, delta, estuary) wasadapted to large fluctuations in river flows. Following the arrival of rainsin December, the river would swell to several times its normal flow untilMarch and then recede to fairly low rates during the dry season from Maythrough October (Davies, 1986). In the area near Cahora Bassa gorge andin the floodplain zones stretching from the gorge to the delta, the risingwaters triggered breeding among a substantial portion of fish species andthese inundated zones provided critical habitat for fish reproduction andsurvival. Subsequently, the moisture and sediment left behind by recedingfloodwaters stimulated plant growth and hence supported diverse animalpopulations in the riverine ecosystems.Peasant communities residing near the river derived sustenance fromthese environmental resources through fishing, agriculture, gatheringand hunting. The construction of Cahora Bassa sounded a death knell forthis particular set of socio-ecological relations by regulating the river.Flow rates became much lower than normal during the former floodseason and much higher than normal during the dry season. Moreover,the river was subject to erratic, unseasonal flooding as a result of damoperators' manipulation to generate hydro-electricity (Jackson, 1986).The consequences led one ecologist, who had periodically worked in thevalley for the past three decades, to conclude that the Lower Zambesi"has been abused to a degree that has, fortunately, few parallels anywhereelse in the world" (Davies, 1986, 258).Many of the long-term biophysical changes witnessed in Lake CahoraBassa Š for example invasion of the reservoir by the Lake Tanganyikasardine, or kapenta, in the late 1970s37 Š were not predicted by projectplanners and consultants. Other long-term effects associated with thereservoir include the growth of invasive weed species, development of afishery involving greater types and numbers of fish adapted to lacustrineconditions, and nutrient enrichment of the lake via the accumulation ofagricultural pesticides from upstream sources (Davies, 1996). The preciseimpacts of these changes on the long-term integrity of the reservoirecosystem are difficult to pinpoint Š a situation made even moreproblematic by the extreme unpredictability of fluctuations in waterlevels due to unscheduled releases by dam operators (Davies, 1986, 256).What is clear is that the management of the reservoir's water levelshas already produced adverse ecological and social effects. Most studiespredicted drawdowns of between four and six metres whereas actualdrawdowns have frequently exceeded 12-14 metres, a pattern that hasnot followed the course predicted in pre-impoundment studies (Bolton,: