technologies while rejecting the underlying political objectives.
Mountain communities nonetheless became increasingly dependent on the new systems. In the highlands, an aging population found itself without the labor to maintain the mifongo or traverse long distances for water. In the foothills and lowlands, people had no alternative but to rely on government-built systems. By the 1970s, communities depended on water systems over which they had little control and in which they took little ownership. Local knowledge that was related to water quality and provision became less important in the upper areas and resented by those in the lower areas who viewed it as contrary to their interests. Specialists disappeared as elders passed away and children did not assume their roles. These changes reshaped how people made sense of the waterscape. Rather than one in which most people assumed an active role in management, it became one where people used resources passively.
By the late 1970s, Tanzania had fallen into steep economic decline. Facing economic collapse, the country abandoned Ujamaa and accepted a program of structural adjustment designed by the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Chapter 7 looks at how neoliberal economic reforms transformed water management. The Tanzanian government, with the aid of international development agencies, embraced Integrated Water Resources Management (IWRM). This called for two major changes: the devolution of control from the central government to basin-level authorities and local user associations, and the introduction of cost recovery to fund projects and maintenance. Communities on Kilimanjaro have responded in highly nuanced and varied ways. Most vehemently reject the notion that they should pay for water, seeing this as an affront to their cultural norms and their pocketbooks. They also generally realize that despite the devolution rhetoric, they are denied any real power over water. Whereas people in the highlands have been most resistant to new water user associations—seeing them as shadows of the real thing—people in lower areas are more accepting, partly out of necessity and also because they have less interest in maintaining traditional forms of management.
The rise of neoliberal water management indicates the extent to which people’s impressions of the waterscape have changed, as well as how they have remained the same. The physical water features of the mountain, natural and man-made, are very different from how they were in 1850. Many more people draw on these resources and use them in many more ways. While some forms of local management persevere, especially in the domestic and spiritual spheres, technical and hydrological management has diminished because of a dependency on government-managed pipelines and the decline of the mifongo. There is a substantial difference in thinking between people living in the highlands, who still practice a multiple-source water economy, and those in the foothills and lowlands, who depend solely on pipes. The former tend to look more favorably on older forms of water management, while the latter reject them as counterproductive and antiquated.
The final chapter returns to the most symbolic feature of the waterscape, the snows atop Kibo. For nearly one hundred years, the mountain’s glaciers have been shrinking, and scientists predict that they will disappear completely within the next twenty years. Some claim that it is the direct result of human-induced climate change, while others see it as the product of regional factors such as increasing aridity and mountainside deforestation. The debate has spilled over into the political realm, where the snows of Kilimanjaro are used to promote or rebuke policy changes related to greenhouse gas emissions. The political and scholarly discourses of glacial recession ignore the perspective of mountain people and the knowledge they have produced about the glaciers and their place in the waterscape. This chapter shows how local communities are producing knowledge to explain the changes to the glaciers, the likelihood of the glaciers’ demise, and how they can manage the implications. This enables them to acknowledge the scale of the problem while retaining a sense of agency. Their desire to interpret glacial recession in terms of both local and global factors reflects the broader historical trend shown throughout this book. Interestingly, scientists have pivoted in this direction over the past few years. Recent studies have shown that deforestation is largely causing the decline in water supplies on the mountain, and the studies cite local resource-management practices as essential to reversing the trend.
* * *
Though this is a historical study, it analyzes one of today’s biggest resource dilemmas. Millions around the world, particularly in Africa, face chronic water scarcity. Population growth and climate change will only exacerbate this crisis. This study indicates the importance of examining how communities develop knowledge of water resources and how this knowledge in turn motivates action. The concept of waterscapes enables us to see how water resources are socially constructed and how conflicting views of resources result in struggles between users. Most of all, it shows that the social dimensions of water management—particularly a sense of ownership and responsibility—are essential to the success or failure of any project. The key to water development is building local capacity in a meaningful, engaged manner. My hope is that this work will inspire those involved in water development to think of the social and cultural dimensions of water as more than just adjunct and rather as key elements to developing sustainable water solutions.
1
The Giver of Abundance and Peace
Water and Society on the Slopes of Kilimanjaro
There once lived two neighbors in the forest. They used to love and help each other. They were both girls and they did not want to get married. Their names were Kibo and Mawenzi.
One day, Mawenzi wanted to prepare a dish of bananas, but she found no fire in her hearth. She went to ask for some live embers from her neighbor because it was getting too late to go to the shop and buy a matchbox.
When she was near Kibo’s hut, she could smell something nice being cooked there. “Hodi?” she asked, meaning “May I come in?” Then her friend said, “Karibu.” That means “Welcome.” After greetings, Mawenzi asked for some fire. Before she was given it, Kibo gave her some of the sweet food she was pounding. This was dried bananas well cooked and mixed with some milk. Then Mawenzi left for her home.
On the way, she thought to herself how to get more of that food, and an idea came to her head. She put out the fire, went back to Kibo’s hut, and said the fire went out because of the cold weather. So Kibo gave her more of her food and some fire.
Mawenzi did the same thing again for a third time. But Kibo didn’t take the time to listen to her. They started to quarrel, and at the end, Kibo took the pestle she was using to pound her food and started to beat Mawenzi very hard on the head several times.
Mawenzi ran back home crying and started to nurse her wounds, which she still does today.1
THIS LEGEND of Kibo and Mawenzi, recited to me in Kilema in 2004, has been told in various forms across Kilimanjaro for centuries.2 In the story, the neighbors represent the peaks of the mountain: Kibo, the white-capped peak that dominates the landscape, and Mawenzi, the lesser peak to its east. The purpose of the story is to explain their difference in stature and the latter’s jagged appearance. Kibo is depicted as bountiful, generous, and wise, while Mawenzi is eager to take advantage of her neighbor’s good fortune. The legend reveals much about how people define themselves in relation to their surroundings. For them, Kibo is more than the highest peak of the mountain; it is the source of life, a symbol of vitality, and the embodiment of all that sustains them.
The term “Kilimanjaro,” which we now use to refer to the entire massif, comes not from the mountain itself but rather from outsiders. The peoples of the mountain inhabited not a singular space, but rather a diverse one defined by numerous valleys and ridges. Kibo, visible from all parts of the mountain, served as the geographic focal point. With its distinctive white cap and frequent cloud coverage, it came to be considered the source of water and, therefore, of life itself. For generations people have revered
