Lake Chilwa drying to cracking clay

Falling lakes shine a light on the need for concerted efforts to conserve water, ecosystems and human development, JAMES CHAVULA writes.

For nearly 3 500 Malawians at Chisi Island in Zomba District, Lake Chilwa is almost everything. The population more than doubles when fish catches are plentiful.

When the fishing community mention the inland lake near the border between Malawi and Mozambique, they are likely talking about their livelihoods.

Now they are worried about water because it is slowly drying up due to persistent drought in southern Africa, massive deforestation in the catchment, farming too close to rivers and diversion of the lakes inlets for irrigation.

“Our lives, jobs, trade, transport, health and education hinge on this lake. It is the main source of food, money, jobs and peace in our homes. Now we are watching our livelihoods evaporate,” says group village head Tchuka on the densely populated isle.

Sporadic sights of boats in the lake. No fish. Few visitors and vehicles in sight. No customers in restaurants and lodges. Low money circulation on the island and on shore. Life has almost come to a standstill.

No one is one is allowed to fish in the lake. Some locals have fled to neighbouring towns as hunger and poverty deepen, the remnants say.

Desperate times

The Department of Fisheries closes the lake for three months—from December 1 to February 28—for fish to multiply freely. But on December1 last year, local beach committees resolved to ban fishing until March next year hoping the lake will rise again.

“This is a desperate measure because the fishers’ livelihoods are devastated,” said Nixon Masi, the officer-in-charge at Kachulu Fisheries Station. “Without fish, how are they going to feed their families? To reduce the impact of the disaster, we have also formed community committees to conserve fish in rivers and rocks found in the lake.”

Doubts are widespread that the curfew may not improve water levels and fish stocks. The fisher folk wonder how much water a lake need to keep the fish multiplying?

They have watched catches dwindle for years, but they now blame themselves for not doing enough to save the lake.

“If this continues, what will they eat?” asks Maxon Majawa, from Chisi.

The question recurs as chronic insufficient rains and a breakdown in ecosystem management leaves stressed parts of the wetlands brittle dry.

Lake Chilwa accounts for some 20 percent of Malawi's fish catch, injecting almost $18.7 million into the economy every year. The basin supports the livelihoods of over one million people who earn $21 million.

Equally fragile are livelihoods of people on near Lake Malawi, Lake Malonbe and Lake Chiuta. The country’s fisheries sector is built around the four inland lakes, which play a pivotal role as a current and future source of food.

According to the Fisheries Department, they produce almost 45 percent of animal protein and employ more than 500 000 people in the drought hit country.

The Lake Chilwa basin alone accounts for almost 20 percent of the countrywide catch, injecting almost$18.7 million into the economy per year.  But the benefits of the wetland are often underestimated though it supports the livelihoods of over one million people who earn almost $21 million.

The drying of rivers, dams, lakes and wetlands in the region and beyond could be symptomatic of a graver disaster if not kept in check, says Stockholm International Water Institute executive director Torgny Holmgren.

“Water scarcity has become the norm in many countries and we might as well be heading for a global crisis unless we work together to conserve water, ecosystems and human development,” he told almost 3 500 delegates at the World Water Week in Sweden.

The inland lakes being reduced to cracking crusts and dustbowls are key to a new policy shift to ensure every person in Malawi eats 12 kilogrammes (kg) per year by 2020. The annual fish consumption has slumped from 14kg per person to 8kg since the 1970s, the Nation Fisheries Policy indicates.

Tracking the threats against the second-largest source of fish in Malawi, one easily comes close to a complex blame game and tales of unsustainable use of natural resources worsened by competing interests of fishers and farmers.

Beach communities accuse farmers in neighbouring marshes, riverbanks and irrigation schemes of interrupting the flow of water into the lake which dried in 1995 and lost almost 60 percent of its water in 2012. However, counter-accusations have it that the fishing communities could be paying a price for wiping out the forest cover since firewood is the widely source of energy for drying fish.

But even groups of businesswomen who own solar tents that accelerate the drying of fish without putting trees in smoke are also hit hard.

The solar driers are empty and some of them are paying extra costs travelling to Mangochi on the southern shoreline of Lake Malawi to order fish.

“No one is safe from these effects of climate change. We erected the solar tent to stop using open fires to dry fish, but it is just lying idle. We have no fish to dry. Life isn’t easy,” says Ethel Kabwelebwele, the chairperson for Kachulu Women Fish Processors in Zomba 

 Tough times ahead if...

Lake Chilwa Water Basin, like the Elephant Marsh in Nsanje, is a protected wetland under the Ramsar Convention. The loss of water has also adversely affected the paddies where growers bemoan dwindling rice yields.

The farmers testify to harsh environmental degradation and chronic dry spells in the past rainy seasons.

But the worst impact is clear as one approaches the lake. 

The shallow edges of the lake have been replaced by a growing parched land that keeps cracking under the scorching sun. A footpath running parallel to a murky canal splits the parched stretch, taking people from Kachulu to Chisi Island. The man-made channel is narrow and shallow. Engine boats that once transported passengers to Chisi in 15 minutes or less no longer go there. Scores of them are rusting in the sun. Only bamboo canoes, worth K2 000 per trip, sail on the man-made channel. Now, the 15-minutes trip took four times longer.

This slows transportation of people and goods from the mainland.  Chisi Health Centre is struggling to transport essential drugs and critical patients to Zomba Central Hospital because vehicles seldom come to Kachulu because there is no fish anymore, residents and health workers say.

 “We need to take the issue of conservation of surface water and the environment seriously. When fishing hotspots are threatened by climate change and   environmental degradation, the consequences are not felt by the fishers only, but the whole supply chain: boats, restaurants, lodges, fishmongers, processors and many others all the way to the nutrition of people in towns where the fish is sold,” says Professor Sosten Chiotha, the regional director of Leadership for Environment and Development in South and East Africa (Lead-Sea) which spearheads the Lake Chilwa Climate Change Adaptation Programme.

Chiotha waks on the dry stretch in August 2018

A crisis postponed

Chiotha wants an end for business as usual: “Lake Chilwa isn’t the only water body drying up globally. I have been to Lake Chad which lost 90 percent of its water. In Lake Naivasha, Kenya, it is the same situation.

“We need to conserve ecosystems and riverbanks. We must address natural resources management and diversification of sources of livelihoods to ensure people who lose business due to impacts of climate change have viable alternative to fishing.”

In 1996, the environmental specialist, based at the University of Malawi’s Chancellor College, was among experts who conducted an inquiry into the drying of the lake in 1995.

Looking back, he says: “The country only postponed a problem by scratching the surface and not fully implementing similar recommendations the experts made 22 years ago. We needed to seriously conserve the ecosystem that time.”

As Lake Chilwa runs dry, the water is turning greenish. Chiotha attributes this to an infestation of algae thriving on what “inflows of fertilisers from crop fields” dotting the wetland.

With dry parts of Lake Chilwa cracking like broken china, GVH Tchuka urges the locals to do join hand to avert a worse crisis.

Says the traditional leader: “We need to do something about it. Without water, we are doomed.”

My Tongue, My Passport

Writers of travel guides speak highly of Malawians' warmth, especially the mesmeric greetings that follow visitors all the way.

However, not every greeting on the country's roads radiates affection and courtesy.

In the absence of national identity cards, there is a tad more to security agents’ gaze when they say: "Muli bwanji?"

The police and immigration officers often greet a busload of people to figure out travellers' nationality.

Unfortunately, some bonà fide Malawians end up being thrown out of buses for further interrogation because the greeting sounds Greek.

Muli bwanji?

This is perhaps the catchphrase not least uttered at Hara Roadblock, almost 100 km south of Karonga Town.

The tarmac road that splits the shoreline district, which borders with Tanzania,  offer travellers a memorable experience: smooth, wide and straight. However, those using  public transport sometimes get an experience to forget at the hands of  quick-to-greet immigration and police officers on the lookout for foreign nationals using the northern transport corridor with inroads to Tanzania, Zambia and Mozambique.

Muli bwanji?

This is the language of the security agents.

If they signal a minibus driver to  stop on the roadside, they will greet almost every one to ascertain there are no foreign nationals travelling without necessary papers. The random greeting ceremony takes a little longer when they halt bigger buses.

Usually, the question is restricted to a few identifiers: giant bodies with dark skins, slim frames with light-skinned, western and Asian nationals.

When a coach I have taken stutters to a stop at Hara, the ceremonial checks begin and  pan out with nothing unusual. The sun is overhead. Time check is 1.20pm and the shore zone is sweltering. In fact, the squad is  having belated lunch in a shadow of their tent when duty calls. Swiftly, one of rushes to the steps of the coach, jumps in,  looks left and right of the aisle and stumbles all the way to the backseat without saying a word.

On his way back to the front, he greets people here and there, choosing his targets so clinically that it becomes obvious giants dark in complexion and slender bodies with a light pigment are presumed ‘illegals’ until proven no less Malawian by their tongues. Colleagues who work for the Department of Immigration would later tell me the two targeted characteristics are associated with Burundi and economic refugees escaping the Horn of Africa, respectively. The latter includes Ethiopians, Eritreans and Somalis.

They are all in the frame for the further friendly interrogation when a greeting comes forth.

"Muli bwanji?"

A dark-skinned passenger gives the immigration official nothing but an interrogating gaze for an answer.

His eyes are still wide open when the officer orders: "Your passport please!"

"Do I need a passport to travel in my own country?" the passenger hits back in English with a thick Kyangonde accent.

"Where do you come from?" the officer persists.

"Ighamba, Karonga North Constituency," he replies.

"Mulibwanji?"

"Try my language and I will reply wholeheartedly," he answers.

"What?" the law enforcer  fumes.

Maybe he did not have to.

A national ID is all they need to make peace.

"Do I become a lesser Malawian because I speak  different language?" The traveller retorts.

No response.

The immigration officer seethes with anger, threatening to order the passenger out of the bus as he moves on to the next pew.

Muli bwanji?

The law enforcer seems lucky enough to get a friendly majority who who answer: "Tili bwino, kaya inu?"

Sadly, he keeps rushing to the next client without replying to those who honour his beloved greeting.

Muli bwanji?

Muli bwanji?

Muli bwanji?

It is easy to pity the immigration labour force as it bumps into a few people who reply with stubborn faces and dead silence  or  opt for their varied mother tongue.

"Tili makola, kwali imwe?" a Tumbuka says.

"Umampha, ada!"  a Tonga weighs in.

Then came a ngonde, a nyakyusa, a ndali, a msukwa and so forth.

Some Ngonis, Yaos, Senas, Lambiyas, Sukwas and Lhomwes might have felt more or less displeased by the realities of having their citizenship being adjudged by any other language apart from their own.

Such is the multiplicity of tribes and ethnic languages in the country that some feel using Chichewa to distinguish Malawians from foreigners is not only misplaced, but also discriminatory.

The use of ethnic languages when transacting State business has been an emotive since September 1968 when the one - party rule of liberation president Kamuzu Banda banned the teaching of other ethnic languages in Malawian schools in preference for his Chichewa language.

This has constantly come into question since the restoration of democracy in June 1993, with the CCAP Livingstonia Synod paving the entrance to its St Andrews Headquarters in Mzuzu with a signpost expressing "a strong NO" to Chichewa as a national language.

The superior status of Chichewa as national lingo was one of the sticky points throughout the stalled constitutional review in 2007. Proponents of the move argued Chichewa was to this country what English is in England, French in England and Setswana in Botswana.

However, critics draw attention to the diversity of tribes in the country, asking government to protect the equality of tribes and Malawians' right to speak their languages.

Clearly, African borders are different from these Europe where the principles of Balkanisation largely conformed to the conception of nationhood as a collection of people with shared history, territory, culture and aspirations.

Africa is largely a mishmash of tribes as visualised by colonial powers at the Berlin Congress in the 1880s.

At the meeting, Germans, British, Belgians and other European states used mountains and rivers to distribute Africa haphazardly.

Tanzania’s second president Benjamin Mkapa, speaking in 2003 at the first ever graduation of Mzuzu University, accused the colonial leaders of “sharing Africa like a piece of cake”, splitting tribes that were initially closely knit and lumping together those that were traditional foes or at war.

Such is the split of the Yaos, Ngondes and  Nyakyusas of Malawi whose cousins are also found  in Tanzania. Tumbukas, Chewas, Ngonis and Tongas have sister tribes. Equally broader than just Malawian are the Senas  who transcend the Lower Shire Valley’s border with Mozambique.

In such a diverse cultural context, it is not easy to tell one’s nationality by a greeting alone, even immigration officials agree.

In the suppressed debate over whether to  nationalise one language and leave the rest as ethnocentric tongues, taking sides will never be easy, a consensus remains remain long coming and the voices often mirror the speaker's side of the abstract divide.

Those who feel excluded by the official use of Chichewa greeting believe  argue that no language is above the other.

"Do I become a second-class Malawian because I speak a different language? Does Chichewa make foreign nationals bona fide Malawians," says Amon Mbukwa, who responded in Chisukwa from from Misuku Hills in Chitipa when immigration officials stopped by his seat.

Muli bwanji?

He was obviously not okay with this.

The first question interrogates how absence of a foolproof national identification system has left Malawians suffering social profiling, a crime in the US which borders on public officials  treating minorities and other marked groups different from the rest of the population.

The second point to a security check as foreigners, who master the language the country shares with her neighbours in would easily jump the porous borders and go a long way.

The Department of Immigration might have cornered some illegal immigrants stuttering to say  to say: "Ndili bwino, kaya inu."

However, the department’s  deputy spokesperson Wellington Chiponde concurred language use is fraught with flaws as the country is a wellspring of tribes and constantly interacting with her neighbours.

"We don't necessarily rely on languages.  A Malawian, born in Malawi and of Malawian parentage, can fail to speak Chichewa because he or she grew up outside the country. By contrast, a foreigners can be fluent. Language is not nationality," he states.

The publicist reckons immigration officers use numerous alternatives, including probing one's area of origin. According to Chiponde,  the men and women in uniform are familiar with most parts of the country and the interrogations usually lead to arrests as usually the suspicious faces often fail the test.

Chiponde explains: "This works most of the times, but we expect non-Malawians  to travel with their passports and other  valid travel documents because this is the only efficient way of confirming their nationality.  

"When the national registration is over, Malawians will be expected to carry their national identity cards and produce them on demand. This will enhance border security."

National Registration Bureau (NRB) spokesperson Norman Fulatira is optimistic the prone system of identifying foreigners will be history soon.

He explained: "Truly, a foreigner can travel from Mchinji [on the border with Zambia] to Salima on the shores of Lake Malawi without proper papers. The national registration system offers a positive identification platform which will close  a lot of gaps once completed and adopted by other law enforcement agencies," he says.

Government has been has been talking about issuance of national IDs since 2003 when the then  president, Bakili Muluzi, hinted at a credible national registration process.

Despite NRB formation in 2005 and Parliament passing the National Registration Act in 2009, the process has been slow due to lack of funding and political will.

The sluggish pace has left Malawi as the only without Southern African Development Community (Sadc) member state without a national ID system in place.

Just like that, the country has been overtaken by Mozambique which commenced the process a year after the establishment of NRB.

After years of talk, workshops and tours, the registration process is gaining momentum having been pitched as one of the key drivers of the ongoing Public Sector Reforms Programme (PSRP) spearheaded by Vice-President Saulos Chilima.

Last year, Paul Chibingu, who was Minister of Internal Security (in-charge of both NRB and Immigration Department), challenged Malawians to “chop off my head” if provision of the identification cards did not begin by December  2015.

It did not begin in earnest.

Chibingu was transferred to the Ministry  of Lands, Housing and Urban Development.

He was later dumped from Cabinet, living to wait for the commencement of the programme he was supposed to deliver by New Year Eve.

According to Fulatira, provision of the long-awaited identification cards got underway this month with a pilot exercise targeting 5 000 Malawians in selected districts.

Since August 1, compulsory registration has been underway in parts of Chitipa, Nkhata Bay and  Mzimba in the North; Salima, Lilongwe, Dowa and Mchinji in the Centre; and Blantyre, Mangochi, Thyolo and Chikwawa in the South.

"The first phase of issuing national IDs is basically proof of concept. We  identified 27 sites in these districts to test the procedure, logistics and equipment. We wanted to know whether the gadgets can withstand our conditions, including dust and high temperatures.” he says.

The verdict so far?

“It appears we are good to go because we registered no major setbacks except breakdown of two vehicles," Fulatira explains.

He offered a road map to the future.

"Up next is the registration of all civil servants. Afterwards, we will roll out a mass registration exercise targeting all Malawians," he explains

The nationwide phase will be bankrolled by government and multiple partners with the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) as the overseer of the basket fund.

The bankrollers expect universal registration improving child protection, health delivery and national security.

However, the belated intervention also the beginning of the end of social profiling Malawians silently suffer on the roads where security agents are on the prowl for migrants with no requisite paperwork.

Unfortunately, no layer of societies steeped in constitutional stipulations of equal treatment and non-discrimination is immune.

Duwa Mutharika, daughter of former President Bingu wa Mutharika decried this “intolerable social profiling” when   she was admittedly made to wait on the roadside for a lengthy duration in Dedza ostensibly because law enforcers were not impressed with her Chichewa with Zimbabwe and US accents.

Duwa, aptly convinced that growing up in Zimbabwe, Ethiopia and America does not make  her a lesser Malawian, stormed the newsroom of her folded Guardian Newspaper.

She asserted: "It appears a lot of Malawians are being subjected to unfair treatment based on their languages. In the US, public servants cannot judge one's nationality that way and not be charged for it. It's social profiling.”

Use of discriminatory tendencies by law enforcement agencies delivering services in a multicultural context could be tantamount to official tribalism.

That's how mobile Malawians with no perchance for Chichewa feel when those in checkpoints say: "Muli bwanji?"

Anita Kanyika decried discrimination when an immigration officer threatened to kick her out of a coach for responding in her mother tongue, Chisukwa.

“Say, ‘muli akisa?’ and I will tell you, ‘panandi’ Isn't Chitipa in Malawi?”

As the passenger struggled with the famous greeting under the watch of the furious public officer, another immigration policeman was seen standing outside the bus, sharing laughs with a frequent traveller via a rear window where all their conversation was loud and clear.

"We songo!" he screamed happily.

"Une" passenger replied with a generous smile.

"Waya ku?" the uniformed man asked.

The traveller disclosed his destination: "Lilongwe, but I will stop over in Mzuzu."

"Lole uwe kwenda," he brimmed with admiration.

Surely, the passenger sounded like a regular traveller--a mobile vendor.

They giggled, shook hands and shared stares of familiarity, the type that almost says:  “Long-time no see, pal.”

But such is the diversity of tongues in the country.

The national IDs will not only enhance the way Malawians  identify themselves but also even up their peaceful coexistence one nation fully aware of the cultural diversity without anyone feeling superior or inferior to the other based on mother tongues.