It Takes an Army to Save the Sudd
“Will that be the cause of death?” I wondered, as I gazed at the prime suspect in the attempted murder of the largest papyrus swamp that the world has ever seen.
A killer lake of enormous length lay below me, a great narrow sheet of water rising in Aswan and spreading like a long, crooked knife from latitudes 25° to 21°. Seen from the window of an Egypt Air airliner, Lake Nasser looked endless. Stretching as it does across the Tropic of Cancer and beyond, it spans 2,000 square miles and is hard to ignore because it contrasts so sharply with the light pink-brown of the desert soil.
I had the full picture on a recent 150-mile flight along the course of the lake from Aswan to Abu Simbel. On some satellite images it resembles a pool of mercury shimmering in the blinding sunlight, and by all accounts it is not only poised to kill the Sudd, it is also slowly killing the delta and ultimately will do in the Nation of Egypt. It is a serial killer in the making.
For thousands of years Egypt had to cope with the lack of, or too much of, an annual flood. They sought a solution in a series of dams at Aswan, a town near the place where the Nile enters their country. Then at the end of the ’60s the High Dam was closed, and over the course of several years the long lake filled. In the years following closure, agriculture in Egypt soared, doubling and tripling production, while electrical power lit up the huts and village streets, and the annual danger of flood or drought became a memory. The waters of the Nile were tamed at last and that was that; the dam was considered a success and old Hapi could take a walk.
Ethiopia strongly objected to the building of the Aswan High Dam. Since Ethiopia contributes 86% of the water contained in the lake by way of the Blue Nile, you would think its objections would bear weight, but they were ignored. Like Uganda’s unilateral control of the White Nile on the Lake Plateau, Egypt controls the tap in the lowlands, and once the water crosses the border, it is theirs.
Within a few years, concerns began to surface about the impact of the dam. Many of the concerns were directed toward the fact that below the dam, the flow of the Nile had decreased to a trickle compared to the surging stream of history. The 500,000 gallons-per-second flow seen in the time of Herodotus has been reduced to a mere 33,000 gallons per second in the time of Nasser.
As a result, the salinity in the Mediterranean and water temperatures along the Egyptian shore began to rise and fisheries in the area fell off, both impacts that were traced directly to the decreased flow. Worse, 60 to 180 million tons per year of silt that once fed the farms of the Nile Valley were now held back behind the dam. That caused a loss of land in the delta where erosion normally was balanced by an annual accretion of mud. Subsidence occurred at a faster rate and coastal lagoons widened as marine waves and currents took their toll. Another problem was that farmers in the valley and delta now had to use artificial fertilizers because of the loss of silt. New fertilizers had to be manufactured, using most of the power generated by the dam—a process that depleted electricity, leaving less electricity for local development.
According to several experts, by casting its lot with the High Dam, Egypt was putting itself in a precarious position. If at any time the level of water behind the High Dam lowered significantly, an economic chain reaction would be set in motion. The decrease in agricultural production would cause dislocations of normal life, decreases in export earning, reductions in public services, slowdowns in development, increases in imports, and lower rates of economic growth.1
In addition to these environmental and potential economic impacts, the dam had a direct effect on water loss because Aswan is located in an arid region. The intense sunlight and dry weather cause an evaporation of about 12%. Of the 35 trillion gallons stored in the lake (132 km3), at least 11 billion are lost daily. It now appears that Egypt needs that water, because the chances of getting any more from any other source are getting slimmer every day.
Consider the attitude of upstream countries that are under pressure to use Nile water to satisfy the needs of the new multibillion-dollar investments made by foreign investors. Add to this the global warming predictions that Eastern and Northern Africa should expect less rain, and there is less and less hope, other than draining the Sudd.
Since the ’60s, Egypt’s population has grown from 40 to 80 million, wiping out the advantage in agricultural production gained by the High Dam, and it now imports over 40% of its total food and 60% of its wheat. Despite the gloomy predictions that water will be scarce, Egypt has put forward big plans to increase irrigated land for food production. According to the 1999 Oosterbaan Report, it already has 8 million acres under irrigation that use its total allocation of 16.5 trillion gallons per year (55.5 km3/yr) of Nile water under the Nile Agreement. An additional 1 million acres of development is planned in the Toshka Project in the Western Desert and another million in the Al-Salam Canal Project in Sinai.
Where will the extra water come from, if not draining the Sudd? It could be gained from conservation. For example, according to Adly Bishai, founder of the Desert Development Centre in Cairo, Egypt still uses flood irrigation on 70% of its farmland. Flood irrigation depends on spreading a sheet of water over the fields, then allowing the excess water to run back into the river. This technique was effective in preventing salt from building up in ancient times, but today it is seen as a great waste and drives irrigation people to distraction. Flood irrigation is only possible in Egypt because the water costs next to nothing. A recent “Water Issue” of the National Geographic compared water cost for one hundred gallons in selected African cities, from which we see that Cape Town pays 42¢, Gaborone 22¢, Nairobi 22¢, Addis Ababa 9¢, and Cairo 3¢. Clearly, some correction is needed. If Egypt were to charge the rate it should, there would be an instant change in the way water is used. It would certainly provide the incentive to install drip irrigation that would cut water use by 25–50%.
On the other hand, when more efficient modern sprinkler or drip systems are used to replace flood irrigation on heavy clay soils, drains have to be installed to prevent salt buildup. That raises the initial cost, but eventually the drains pay for themselves. An FAO 2005 report on Egyptian irrigation quoted annual improved gross production values of $200 or more per acre, and net farm income increases of up to $150 per acre because of drainage.
The Toshka Project that is reclaiming land in the New Valley in the Western Desert is mostly in an area of sandy soils where drip irrigation can be used along with other modern techniques. But not everyone is sold on the Toshka Project. Former Egyptian Minister of Construction and Housing Hasaballah al-Kafrawi described it as a useless waste of money, and he soundly condemned the 315 studies of the project made to date as “. . . a humiliation of the mind.”2 Scaling back on the Toshka Project acreage would save water.
Another approach is for the government to discourage crops that are highly water-dependent, such as a recent decision to reduce rice acreage.3 This action was taken in response to the Nile Basin countries that have for years called on Egypt to implement downstream water conservation measures in a more serious way. Since rice uses more water than other crops, the water saved could be used to raise more beans and corn. But will such a measure spare the Sudd? Not by a long shot. Any water saved by shifting from rice to other crops will be dwarfed by the needs of the Toshka Project and water wasted in flood irrigation.
It will take much more to resolve the problem of water scarcity. One scheme that does have merit is a program called “smoothing” the Blue Nile. This is a win-win solution that intends to fix the problems that have vexed all three of the primary users of the Blue Nile: Ethiopia, Northern Sudan, and Egypt.4 This strategy would address many problems, including losses from seepage and evaporation, as well as the deposit of silt downriver.
The idea is to regulate the flow of the Blue Nile in Ethiopia using a series of four reservoirs that would be constructed in the highlands under a joint program in which all three countries would cooperate. Because the rate of evaporation in Ethiopia is much less than that of reservoirs in the arid zone below, that alone would increase the total amount of water deposited on the door of Egypt. Indeed, if properly managed, Kendie tells us, “. . . water stored in the four reservoirs could be released in May to Egypt when its water requirement is the highest without sustaining the great loss by evaporation now experienced at Aswan. Egypt, however, would no longer benefit from additional water in years of high flood, which would be stored and regulated in the Blue Nile reservoirs. Moreover, lowering the level of Lake Nasser in order to limit the evaporable loss would concomitantly reduce available hydroelectric power at the beginning. But after speedy adjustments are made, Egypt would receive additional water for irrigation and electricity from Ethiopia.” (Daniel Kendie, 1999. Egypt and the Hydro-politics of the Blue Nile River.)
As to whether the three countries would cooperate, Ambassador David Shinn, an Adjunct Professor at George Washington University and former US Ambassador to Ethiopia, notes that Nile Basin countries have already taken important steps to minimize conflict by creating several organizations to resolve problems cooperatively. Most important is the Nile Basin Initiative (NBI), a regional partnership. Also, the World Bank coordinates the International Consortium for Cooperation on the Nile (ICCON), which promotes financing for cooperative water resource development. A Blue Nile cooperative effort that would bring Egypt, Sudan, and Ethiopia together in order to create a reliable Blue Nile flow is no longer a farfetched idea, and would generate enough flow to satisfy the long-term needs of Egypt and Sudan. If so, the Sudd drainage becomes less of a priority.
Water savings are also possible in Egypt by recycling wastewater, and the Al-Salam Canal Project is a good example. Here the intent is to reclaim 1 million acres of desert in the Sinai on both sides of the Suez Canal. The project uses a mix of fresh Nile water from the Damietta branch and wastewater from drains in the delta. The combined stream flows through a 162-mile canal that passes under the Suez Canal to reach desert land further to the east.
When the idea for this canal was conceived years ago, the Nile as it passed through the delta was still considered a moderately clean river, though it did have localized pollution problems. Nowadays, according to Dr. Abdel-Satar of the Egyptian National Institute of Oceanography and Fisheries, it is in danger of becoming “a waste collecting system.”
For those families in the delta dependent on wells, by 2005 the situation had gotten so bad that, as an FAO report informs us, “. . . local communities in the northern Nile Delta could no longer use groundwater for their domestic requirements since it is naturally highly saline.” Unluckily, they are now reliant on canal water. Although towns and villages are generally equipped with water purification plants that can remove sediments and pollutants, these plants do not often remove everything they’re supposed to. The report said that many household users simply draw canal water and then let it stand for purification. Not a wise or sufficient thing to do with this kind of water, because the user is still susceptible to water-borne diseases and toxic pollutants.
Even water intended for recycling suffers in the delta, since many drains and irrigation canals cutting through rural and urban settlements have turned visibly black, indicating that the water has gone septic, a condition confirmed by the alarming levels of biological oxygen demand (BOD, an excellent measure of pollution) and incidences of poor health. Still, as the FAO report indicates, farmers in the delta are happy to use drainage water for irrigation. They value the nutrients introduced by sewage elements in the water; however, they are concerned about the possibility of industrial toxins since they have no way of identifying whether those are present or not.
They definitely have cause for concern. Scientists from the National Research Center in Cairo (Hafez et al., 2008) recently carried out a study on the water in the Al-Salam irrigation scheme and found it was characterized by high amounts of dissolved salts, heavy metals, and organic compounds, all indications that the water was “not suitable for irrigation and drinking purposes and needs treatment.”
Obviously, pre-treatment of water intended for irrigation in the Al-Salam Canal Project should be a priority, and the potential is there for recycling wastewater. One study in 2004 by Mostafa et al. estimated that wastewater from all major urban centers in Egypt amounted to 1.5 trillion gallons (5 km3). Add to that the drainage from irrigation in the delta, which amounts to 2 trillion gallons (6.7 km3), and the total far exceeds the 1.3 trillion gallons (5km3/yr) to be gained from draining the Sudd.
Every year without fail, at least two or three news items appear in the media announcing the discovery of a large untapped underground reservoir in the North African desert. Almost certainly the stories refer to a geologic entity called the Nubian Sandstone Formation, which we are told is the world’s largest fossil water aquifer system. It spans an area of almost 500 million acres. A multi-layered Quaternary basin located deep underground in the eastern end of the Sahara Desert, it crosses the political boundaries of Chad, Sudan, Libya, and most of Egypt, and contains the equivalent of 3,750 years of Nile River flow.
Anyone hearing this for the first time must wonder why any of these countries would have the gall to complain about water supply! Their future seems secure in that regard, and might prompt a response such as: “In any case, they have no need to drain any wetlands and can afford to leave natural plant and animal resources as they are.”
A fine sentiment, and one I agree with—but there are problems. First of all, this is old news. Large-scale development of the Nubian Sandstone aquifer in Egypt has been under consideration since 1960. Second, the biggest constraint is money. It’s expensive to drill down and tap water 1,500–9,000ft below the surface. Typically, one well can cost almost a half million dollars and the cost goes up each year.
Across the border in Libya, where seemingly unlimited amounts of money are available and this aquifer is the only natural source of water, it is tapped in a big way. The Libyans have invested $34 billion to provide water for agricultural needs and a population of only 6 million. On Google Earth, the satellite images of the southern part of Libya show a number of large circular outlines of huge automatic irrigation projects, which in turn indicates the extent of water used for agriculture. Libya has also built enormous reservoirs to hold water for the domestic use of urban populations.
Egypt, with 400 wells in the southwestern part of the Western Desert, has already invested $610 million in the East Owainat Project where 250,000 acres are being reclaimed using this fossil water. The Egyptian investment is still only 1.8% of the cost that Libya has set aside, and total extraction of groundwater provides only 8% of its water supply. Perhaps things will change with a recent private investment from Abu Dhabi which provides an investment of $252 million in a deal to grow wheat in Egypt for the Egyptian domestic market using water from the aquifer.
In sum, Egypt expects to take: 16.5 trillion gallons of water each year from the Nile (the “guaranteed” 55.5 km3 by Agreement); groundwater from shallow reservoirs in the delta and the Nile valley at 2.4 trillion gallons (8 km3), and 1.2 trillion (4 km3) from the deep fossil water aquifer; 5.5 trillion gallons (18.5 km3) from recycled waste water; 450 billion gallons (1.5 km3) from rain and flood waters; and 520 billion gallons (1.75 km3) from desalinated water, for a total of 26.5 trillion gallons (89.2 km3). This is a prediction of what is expected each year until the year 2050.5
All of the measures described above will help save the Sudd. But the problem is that water conservation in Egypt doesn’t happen overnight; it takes time and money in excess, especially if flood irrigation remains the system of choice for the Egyptian farmer. And it will remain so as long as the price of water in Egypt is kept low, which is something that probably will not change for quite a while because any attempt at setting it at some realistic level will be met by riots.
Another difficulty is the installation of new irrigation methods and drains; these are not willingly taken up by farmers who are dirt-poor to begin with. For most, even the small investment required for drains is a big outlay. As for cutting back on the scope of the new mega projects, politicians cast their lot with the likes of Toshka and the Al-Salam Canal; any backsliding would be seen as a loss of face. Meanwhile, what of the Sudd and the Jonglei Canal?
The canal remains unfinished with only 75 miles to go. All that remains of the 1983 project is a 150-mile weed-covered embankment. And it didn’t take long for the oil companies to take advantage even of this, as it presently serves them as a road. What the future will hold is anyone’s guess.
The Sudd lies within the territory of the newly established Government of Southern Sudan, which seems quite willing for now to allow the status quo, that is, the continued use of the Sudd and the surrounding seasonal grasslands by the Dinka, Nuer, Shilluk, and other pastoral tribes on a traditional basis, which is fine. But one thing is certain: Egypt has never stopped lusting after the Sudd.6 Years ago they proposed an even larger plan to drain not only 3,500 sq. miles of Sudd but also about 2 million acres of wetlands in the surrounding Bahr al-Ghazal region to the west of the Nile, and the Machar Marshes to the east.
What could cause them to change their mind and agree with the almost 2 million people living there who feel that the swamps are best left as they are? Or make them sympathize with those who feel that the swamps are a major asset to the region as a recharge basin for water supply? What will it take to convince them that the Sudd is not some “mistake of nature” but actually a great gift to the future generations of Southern Sudanese who may someday depend on it for their lives? Who will save the Sudd? The answer to all these questions is the same: the Egyptian people.
I’m thinking here of the people mentioned by Dr. Salah Hassanein, an Egyptian environmentalist on the board of directors of About Water for Life International, a California-based nonprofit organization dedicated to providing access to clean potable water.7
One reason for conservation of the swamps upstream of Egypt is the threat of oil pollution, which is expected from the wells now being drilled in Uganda and Sudan. Pollution in swamps upstream has already been reported in the Sudan by Klaus Stieglitz, vice-chairman of the German NGO Sign of Hope, in 2009. Stieglitz led a fact-finding mission to Sudan’s White Nile where he found that “Water flowing off the huge oil installation and accumulating in drilling pits is a major source of contamination which has already reached the sources of drinking water.” In one village close to a drilling field, concentrations of salts and contaminants such as cyanides, lead, nickel, cadmium, and arsenic had reached critical levels in the surface water. In addition to endangering the lives of the Nuer, one of Southern Sudan’s two main tribes, the pollution also threatens local swamps that support a rich animal diversity including hundreds of thousands of migratory birds and animals.
Oil represents 95% of Southern and Northern Sudan’s exports and is both a blessing and a source of tension between Khartoum and the newly independent Southern capital of Juba. Stieglitz urged the facility’s operator, a subsidiary of Malaysian oil giant Petronas, to treat the water coming from the operation and prevent it from seeping elsewhere. “To secure public health the government must also improve the quality of drinking water dramatically and at the same time prevent an ecological catastrophe,” he added.
Even more catastrophic situations would be caused if the region were cleared of papyrus. A taste of what might happen downstream came recently when a Nile tanker in Aswan south of Cairo leaked 110 tons of diesel fuel into the river, creating a slick 180ft wide by 1.2 miles in length. This caused water managers to block off all water purification stations in the river near Cairo in order to prevent the polluted water from entering the filters.8 A city of 16.8 million came up against reality. What happens if oil spills upstream occur more frequently? What happens if the upstream river becomes as polluted as the delta is now? Papyrus is one of the few remaining bits of protection against the ravages of a spill on the water supply.
If anything, the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill in the US has taught us the value of rhizosphere bacteria, the microbial communities associated with wetlands, reed beds, swamps, and backwaters. Today those oil-eating microbes are still at work in Louisiana breaking down oil residues even after the obvious oil slicks, media coverage, volunteers, and oil booms have disappeared. From that experience also comes the advice that the best present philosophy is to just leave the marshes and swamps alone if you expect to have oil spills in a region. In Louisiana, it has been found that cutting or trampling reed beds often does more harm than the oil itself, and indigenous populations of oil-eaters, like papyrus, won’t be there to help in the event of a spill if the Sudd swamps are drained.
In 2006, the entire Sudd was designated a Ramsar Wetland of International Importance. As such, it could be developed into a tourist resource even while the residents continued with their traditional lifestyle. The Sudd’s potential as a tourist destination rivals that of the Okavango Swamp in Botswana, which is a good example of how such a resource can be used in a sustainable fashion. The Okavango Swamp, along with the other national parks in Botswana, helps bring in a tourism income of millions annually while employing thousands of people.
None of this precludes any future development plans in Southern Sudan that include agricultural or industrial activities, some of which may depend on the groundwater stored in the Sudd. But by then its value as a recharge basin will be recognized—hopefully in time to save it as a national resource.