Professional Documents
Culture Documents
1970-2004
Author(s): Allen Isaacman
Source: The International Journal of African Historical Studies , 2005, Vol. 38, No. 2
(2005), pp. 201-238
Published by: Boston University African Studies Center
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By Allen Isaacman
The construction of the Cahora Bassa Dam in the early 1970s attracted a great
deal of international attention.1 Portuguese colonial authorities, engineers,
hydrologists, and journalists heralded the dam's majestic 510-foot walls, its five
massive General Electric turbines, and the vast man-made lake covering more
than 2600 square kilometers. For them, Cahora Bassa was both agent and symbol
of the developers' will to conquer nature in the cause of mankind. Government
officials predicted the dam would provide badly needed energy, end flooding,
expand irrigated farming for poor peasants, increase mineral output, and facilitate
communication and transportation throughout the strategic Zambesi River Valley.
This vast region covers more than 225,000 square kilometers and includes almost
a quarter of Mozambique's population. As a follow-up to this technological
triumph, they envisioned building a second dam 70 kilometers south of Cahora
Bassa at Mphanda Nkuwa.
I want to thank Richard Beilfuss, Arlindo Chilundo, and Christopher Sneddon with whom
I have collaborated closely on various dimensions of this project. The article has benefited from
the rigorous criticism offered by Jean Hay, George Roberts, and Richard Roberts. Funding for this
project was provided through a grant from the Graduate School of the University of Minnesota
and the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation.
1 The name was usually spelled Cabora Bassa during the colonial period.
^ Joaquim Moreira da Silva Cunha, Cahora Bassa: Que sdo os Beneficidrios (Lourenco
Marques, 1970), 5-6. The colonial regime was influenced by the apparent success the British had
building Kariba Dam four hundred miles up-river. Portuguese officials failed to consider the
multiple ways that the Kariba Dam created serious problems downstream and complicated their
project at Cahora Bassa.
3 Ibid.
5 Security threats and economic uncertainty propelled key supporters of the dam within the
Portuguese state to lobby for an energy and military agreement with South Africa. Such an
alliance, they contended, would guarantee a market for Cahora Bassa' s surplus power and
incorporate Mozambique into South Africa's security zone. Based on projections that its power
requirements would double between 1967 and 1980, the apartheid regime needed a secure supply
of cheap energy and was anxious to blunt the "black onslaught" as typified by the independence
movement in Mozambique.
6 World Council of Churches [hereafter WCC], Cahora Bassa and the Struggle for
Mozambique (London, 1971), 2.
decade a sizable force was operating in the area adjacent to the proposed dam site.
Senior Portuguese military officials estimated at least 1,800 well-armed guerrillas
had crossed the Zambesi from Zambia and Malawi and were beginning to pose a
serious threat.7 Small bands of insurgents planted mines in the dirt roads and
along railroad lines and periodically ambushed trucks carrying essential equip-
ment to the dam site. To minimize these attacks, the Portuguese tarred the main
road between the provincial capital of Tete and the construction site at Songo,
cleared the bush adjacent to the roads, organized daily convoys and patrolled the
train tracks more aggressively. Colonial military planners believed that the pro-
jected 500-kilometer lake behind the dam would be a formidable geographic
barrier and would impede the easy access of FRELIMO forces to the heart of
Mozambique from their bases in Zambia and Malawi.
7 Although senior nationalist leaders made bold pronouncements about sabotaging the
project and enjoyed substantial support among the workers, this was never a realistic option. The
colonial regime had erected three heavily armed defensive rings around Songo (near the dam site)
enclosed by doubled barbed-wire fences and one of the world's largest minefields, making it
virtually impossible for the guerrillas to get within striking distance. See W. Nussey, "The War in
Tete a Threat to All in Southern Africa," Johannesburg Star (1 July 1972).
The new leadership hoped the dam would also generate an important sou
hard currency by exporting energy not just to South Africa, but through
region.
to that of their European supervisors, and (5) Portuguese officials brutally stifled any dissent. See
Allen Isaacman and Chris Sneddon, "Towards a Social and Environmental History of the Building
of Cahora Bassa Dam," Journal of Southern African Studies 26 (2000), 610-16.
privatization and cheap energy would lure foreign investment and that Cahora
Bassa could provide the electricity for new plants and factories stimulating rapid
economic growth. The government's announcement in the mid-1990s that it
would build a second hydroelectric project at Mphanda Nkuwa underscored
Mozambique's commitment to large energy dams as a key to development.
Thus, despite their very different social and economic agendas and ideo-
logical predilection, the colonial regime, the socialist postcolonial state, and its
free-market successor each heralded Cahora Bassa. For those who held the reigns
of state power the dam had become a potent symbol of the power of science,
technology, and social engineering to master nature and insure human progress.14
It was high modernism at its best.15
A markedly different story about Cahora Bassa has been silenced all too
long. It is a story that riverine communities in the Zambesi Valley tell and one
that needs to be heard. When peasants speak of the dam, they recall memories of
forced eviction from their homeland, being herded into strategic hamlets, and the
unpredictable discharges of water that destroyed their crops and flooded their
fields. In short, they offer an alternative narrative of Cahora Bassa whose over-
arching themes are about displaced people, displaced energy, and displaced
memories.
14 This infatuation with large dams was not unique to the rulers of Mozambique. Throughout
the 20th century massive dams were heralded by those in power as a mark of modernity, economic
growth, and national achievement no matter what the ideological commitment of the state nor the
cost to local communities and their environs. See Patrick McCully, Silenced Rivers: The Ecology
and Politics of Large Dams (London, 2001).
15 For a careful analysis and critique of the ideology of high modernism see, James Scott,
Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes To Improve the Human Condition Have Failed (New
Haven, 1998).
corporation that constructed the dam. The term also captures the ex
down-river peasants who had to abandon fertile flood plains and isla
that were ruined by unpredictable discharges from the dam.
19 During the colonial period, the government silenced all critics of the project
handful of planners in the socioeconomic section of the state commission who rai
about the likely adverse effects of the dam.
creatively adapted to the ecological changes in the river basin.20 In light of the
experiences that the rural poor so eloquently document, their personal narratives
also call into question the official representation of the proposed new dam at
Mphanda Nkuwa as an engine for prosperity and progress.
Unlike the riverine communities content to co-exist with the mighty river, state
planners saw the dam as an opportunity to harness the waterway and radically
transform the physical and economic landscape of the Zambesi Basin. Two
hydrological factors are critical in explaining the colonial regime's rationale and
enthusiasm for building the Cahora Bassa. First, there are only a few locations in
the Zambesi River Basin suitable for dams or hydroelectric plants and even fewer
along the Mozambican portion of the river. Most of the basin is located on the
Central African plateau and the waters flow slowly through low plains and
swamps, providing few potential sites for dams.21 The Cahora Bassa' s thousand-
foot high gorge through which the Zambesi flowed was a rare exception, carrying
the waters of the Kafue, Luangwa, and a dozen other smaller rivers. The steep
rapids and fast-moving river made Cahora Bassa the most perilous obstacle on the
20 In May 1998, 1 conducted approximately 40 interviews with displaced peasants who live
in the region of the reservoir at Cahora Bassa as well as with workers who helped to construct the
actual dam living in the Lower Zambesi Valley (e.g., Chipalapala, Estima, Sena, Nyatapiria). In
July 2000, Arlindo Chilundo (a professor at Eduardo Mondlane University), a team of students,
and I interviewed more than 75 peasants in the down-river regions of Caia, Chemba, and Sena.
They continued this research in July and August 2001. In all these locations we selected elderly
women and men who had lived in the region adjacent to the Zambesi River.
21 Although the Cahora Bassa dam and reservoir are contained entirely within Mozambique,
the vast bulk of the Zambesi drainage basin, the third-largest river system in Africa, lies outside
the country. The catchment area that feeds the dam covers an estimated 1.3 million square
kilometers extending across seven other southern African nations- Angola, Botswana, Malawi,
Namibia, Tanzania , Zambia, and Zimbabwe.
Second, and most relevant for this article, was the pronounced s
of Zambesi flows and the serious impact of annual floods on the river
nities and their natural habitat as well as on the European sugar plant
the river's mouth.24 One official publication estimated that flooding
rainy season annually destroyed several million dollars worth
produce.25 Before the dam, natural floods in the lower portion of t
between 9,000 and 13,000 cubic meters per second (cms) occurred abo
of every three years.26 Flooding was most acute in February and Ma
peak flows, the waters slowly receded until November-December.
22 Allen Isaacman and Barbara Isaacman, Slavery and Beyond: The Making
Chikunda Ethnic Identities in the Unstable World of South-Central Africa,
(Portsmouth, 2004), 141-55.
^During the same 1957 flood mentioned above, three population centers in
Zambesi Valley (Ancuaze, Chiramba, and Mutarara) were inundated. SWECO/
"Cahora Bassa Hydroelectric Scheme- Stage II, Pre-investment Report, Part
(Stockholm, 1983).
bered as "the flood that destroyed everything."28 Cheia N'sasira, six years later,
recalls "the rushing waters that forced people to live on the top of termit
mounds."29 In 1969 water remained above the flood stage level for 222 days,
causing considerable hunger and destitution. Elders refer to this unusual dry
season flood as Cheia Nabwaririr, "water coming from the ground."30 One of the
justifications for building Cahora Bassa was to eliminate such traumatic events.
Yet there is another way to view this flooding. Over the millennia, the
Zambesi valley was sustained by the annual ebb and flow of the river (see Figure
1). Annual floodwater spilled over onto the floodplains in January, February, and
March, irrigating crops, rejuvenating grasslands where livestock and wildlife
grazed, and stimulating the reproductive cycle of countless plants, animals, and
fish. As waters from the rainy season floods receded, they left a rich deposit of
nutrients along the shoreline. In lowland areas, such as Inhangoma in the region
of Mutara, this spillover often extended over a vast stretch of land (see Figure 2).
Figure 1. Map of the Zambesi River Basin showing geopolitical boundaries and large reservo
28 Interview with Regulo Antonio Joao Chipuazo, Regulado Chipuazo, 7 July 2000;
interview with Marosse Inacio et al., Regulado Chave, 19 July 2000; interview with N'sai Ant6nio
et al., Regulado Tchetcha, 21 July 2000.
29 Ibid.
30 Ibid.
Peasants throughout the valley considered the rich dark soils of the floo
(known in different areas as makande, ndrongo, mpumbe, and matopo) th
desirable land in the region.31 "The makande soil located near the banks
river always gave us good production," stressed Beatriz Maquina, an e
woman living near Songo. "We cultivated a great deal of sorghum as
some corn,"32 in the area adjacent to the dam site. Her neighbor Pe
Mafalanjala concurred. "Everything we planted grew well
and then receded, the area that had been covered with water
The low rainfall in the more arid regions of the valley and the irregularity
of rainfall throughout the basin meant that access to the river-fed alluvial soils
was critical to insure household food security. This was particularly true in the
arid and semi-arid regions near Tete and the Cahora Bassa reservoir, where the
average annual rainfall was between 600 and 700 mm.37 But even in areas that
were somewhat more humid, droughts occurred regularly, often with devastating
consequences to the crops. Without makande lands, peasant households would
have faced the prospect of crop failures on a regular basis and, even in the best
years, would have had little likelihood of producing a second annual crop. Peas-
ants stress that in all but a few instances the floods were a gift, not a predica-
ment.38
Before Cahora Bassa each family had several fields. The number and size
varied depending on strength of a person and the size of his family. The
36 Interview with Senteira Botao et al.; interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo,
Estima, 22 May 1998; interview with Sene Simico, Mauzene Dique, and Mzwengane Mafala-
Njala, Nyatapiria, 27 May 1998; interview with Bento Estima and Joseph Ndebvuchena, Estima,
19 May 1998.
37 By contrast, rainfall in the sub-humid regions of the delta was 1000-1200 mm. See
SWECO/Swed Power, "Cahora Bassa"; and Bryan Davies, "The Zambezi River System," in
Bryan Davies and Keith Walker, eds., The Ecology of River Systems (Dordrecht, 1986), 225-67.
38 Interview with Luis Manuel; interview with Caetano Francisco Figuerido et al.,
Inhangoma, Mutarara, 18 July 2000.
land near the river was very good. It was called makande. When
rose and then receded in June, the area that had been covered w
was very good for farming. There we first planted maize. We c
beans in the same field as the maize. Beans needed something t
and the maize stalks served well. Nearby we cultivated a second s
with sweet potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, and more beans. We ha
our gardens in September and October before the rains and flo
November we were working in our larger fields away from the
the ntchenga soils we planted sorghum, which does not require
water. The mixed ntchenga-makande soils were better for maiz
needs more moisture than sorghum. Some people planted peanuts
maize fields. We harvested these crops in June and July and then
to our gardens. 39
Antonio Joao Chipuazo, who lived down river from Churo, also r
how he took advantage of different micro-ecological zones to insure fo
in the period before the dam:
39 Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo, Estima, 22 May 1998.
vating peanuts in maize fields had the added advantage of restoring badly needed
nutrients to depleted ntchenga soils. Finally, households spent most of the year
engaged in agricultural production in order to minimize labor bottlenecks and to
ensure an adequate supply of food.
41 P. Jackson and K. Rogers, "Cahora Bassa Fish Populations Before and After the First
Filling Stage," Zoologica Africana 11 (1976), 377.
42 Interview with Supia Sargent and Carlos Soda Churo; interview with Caetano Francisco
Figuerido et al.; interview with Antonio Dj£se, Beiro, 5 July 2000.
43 Interview with John Paul and Khumbidzi Pastor, Estima, 21 May 1998.
46 Bryan Davies, "Rehabilitation Programme for Cahora Bassa and the Lower Z
Report submitted to the International Crane Foundation and the Ford Foundation, 1996.
State planners promised much and delivered little. From the outset, they insisted
that the long-term economic and social benefits of the dam would far outweigh
any short-term inconveniences in the lives of the riverine communities. Despite
such assurances, Cahora Bassa had immediate, multiple, and far-reaching nega-
tive consequences, not the least of which was the forced relocation of thousands
of Africans from their historical homelands.
The first people removed were those who lived on the highland plains at
Songo adjacent to the proposed dam site. Peasants in the region considered the
plateau very desirable. It was cool, free of malaria, and had exceptionally fertile
soils. According to Pedro da Costa Xavier, before the construction began, "there
were many Africans who lived on the plains here in Songo. Here the land was
very good. People grew a lot. They cultivated maize, beans, and others prod-
ucts."50 The grasslands and shrubbery were excellent for grazing cattle and goats.
Once the government made its decision to build the dam, all inhabitants
were ordered to leave the highlands. The peasants received compensation for
neither their homes nor their land. A substantial number of Tonga and Tawara
peasants were evicted from sites where their ancestors had lived for generations.
They were forced to resettle in the hot, arid lowlands between Tete and Chioco,
where many of the displaced suffered from malaria.51
They were expelled from the highlands so that a European company town
could be built for the 750 European engineers, electricians, mechanics, labor
overseers, and managers of ZAMCO, as well as a bevy of government officials
working for the Gabinete do Piano Zambese (GPZ). To make life more bearable
49 For a detailed discussion of the long-term social and ecological effects of Cahora Bassa,
see Isaacman and Sneddon, "Towards a Social and Environmental History."
for the new inhabitants, the state obliterated the Songo landscape, tr
forests and fields into a segregated city of cement, complete with s
pools, supermarkets, and nightclubs. The highlands also became t
3,500 African workers, most of whom were forced to live in galvaniz
barracks without toilets, hot water, or other basic amenities and to
extremely harsh conditions.52
56 Interview with Basilio Chiridzisana and Ragui Foa Magui, Chicao, Nova, 3 Aug
60 Joint interview with Bento Estima and Joseph Ndebvuchena, Estima, 19 May 1998; Joint
interview with John Paul and Khumbidzi Pastor. Since the beginning of the 20th century thousands
of peasants from Tete District clandestinely crossed the porous Mozambican-Zimbabwean
frontier. Allen Isaacman and Barbara Isaacman are currently completing the research for a book
on this subject.
said that they were there to protect us."62 Anyone who tried to lea
permission or who returned from his or her field after the midday c
harshly interrogated and often beaten as a suspected FRELIMO agent.6
63 Interview with Pezulani Mafulanjala, Mauricio Alemao and Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroia.
67 Interview with Jack Sobrinho and Wiseborn Benjamin, Estima, 20 May 1998.
69 Interview with Paulino Jaime Nhamizinga, Estevao Mapranxene, and Romao Albano,
Chipalapala,12 July 2001.
70 For a discussion of this ill-fated plan see A.H.M., Governo Geral, Cota 864, "Piano Base
Para Salvamento e Transferencia da Fauna Brava da Albufeira de Cahora Bassa em Mozambique,"
K. L. Tinley (March 1973).
7* Interview with John Paul and Khumbidzi Pastor.
74 Interview with Pezulani Malalanjala, Mauricio Alemao, and Bernardo Tapuleta Potoroia.
Many elders insist that the powerful Tawara royal ancestor spiri
doros)- angry that their shrine centers and burial sites had been inund
lake- were responsible for these epidemics. Vernacio Leone was ad
"People were responsible to the spirits. If they failed to meet these r
ties, there would be many diseases."75 This common explanation unde
sense of cultural obliteration and vulnerability experienced by the up
ants, an indication of the way Cahora Bassa tore the fabric of many ru
nities.
Although most survived the RENAMO onslaught, today few, if any, of the
displaced peasants have fully recovered from the ordeal of being evicted from
their historic homelands and way of life. Today many live in impoverished vil-
lages and dream of a world left behind. Others relocated to shantytowns on the
edges of the regional capital Tete or sought to create a new life as migrant labor-
ers in nearby Zimbabwe.
Peasants whose lands were inundated by the man-made reservoir were not
the only victims of Cahora Bassa. One of the great ironies surrounding this
massive project is that rather than eliminating flooding, precipitous discharges
from the dam periodically unleashed torrential floods, forcing thousands of people
down river to abandon their homelands. In April 1975 the Portuguese operators,
concerned that they had miscalculated the storage capacity of the new dam,
released a massive flow of water without any warning to the riparian communi-
ties. The results were catastrophic. Villages were flooded and thousands were left
homeless and could only watch as their livestock were swept away. Chief Antonio
Joao Chipuazo remembered that day when the torrential waters "destroyed the
houses and fields of all his followers who lived in the flood plains."78 Three years
later dam operators at Cahora Bassa opened all eight sluice gates and the emer-
gency spill gates in rapid succession to alleviate pressure on the dam walls. More
than 100,000 peasants were left homeless and 45 died. Elders named this catas-
trophe Cheia Madeya "the flood that swept away many people and forced them to
resettle in the upland areas."79 This death and destruction resulted primarily from
a serious lapse in communication regarding the release of floodwaters between
operators upriver at Kariba Dam and their counterparts at Cahora Bassa and
between Cahora Bassa managers and downstream officials. Similar tragedies
occurred in 1989. As in the case of the earlier discharge, down-river communities
were not warned in advance and the rapid flooding caused widespread damage to
riverine settlement, particularly in the delta region.
That neither the people nor the natural habitat along the Zambesi River derived
any real benefits from the energy generated by the dam is one of the great para-
doxes of the postcolonial history of Cahora Bassa. Quite to the contrary, the
massive hydroelectric project effectively displaced energy in two significant
ways. Virtually all the electrical energy the dam produced was earmarked for
export to South Africa with the income going to Portugal. Less obvious, but of
equal importance, is the fact that the dam profoundly altered the natural work of
the river, disrupting the agricultural, fishing, and ecological systems that over
centuries had evolved along with the seasonal floods.
79 Interview with Regulo Antonio Joao Chipuazo; interview with Marosse Ina*cio et. al;
interview with N'sai Antonio et al.
80 Engineering News [South Africa], "Cahora Bassa Power Flows, But Talks To Continue,"
http://www.engineeringnews.co.za/eng/news/today/a002).
81 AIM, Information Bulletin 47 (1980), 18. At the same time, the Nati
Commission announced plans to use the water stored by the dam to help irriga
210,000 hectares of choice farmlands in the Lower Zambesi Valley. In the
Mozambique signed an agreement with India to process bauxite from that country a
plant using power from the dam.
against Mozambique had begun even before independence, and the role of
RENAMO as South Africa's principal weapon in this war has been well docu-
mented.86
87 Between 1976 and 1979 Mozambique suffered from more than 350 RENAMO and
Rhodesian attacks. Although the dam itself was left unscathed, anti-FRELIMO forces periodically
targeted regions adjacent to Cahora Bassa and regularly sabotaged power lines and sub-stations
(AIM, Information Bulletin 45 (1980), 27.
92 Sabotage of the transmission lines during the civil war continues to stymie the
government's plans to garner economic benefits from Cahora Bassa. A significant part of the debt
that Mozambique owes to the Portuguese-run HCB is accounted for by the cost of replacing the
more than 2,000 pylons destroyed by RENAMO forces. As pointed out by Castigo Langa,
Mozambique's minister of mineral resources and energy, "if Cahora Bassa had operated normally,
and the [transmission] lines had not been sabotaged, the undertaking [paying off the debt to HCB]
would have been fully amortised by now," quoted in Panafrican News Agency, "Mozambique
Seeks to Wrestle Power Dam from Portugal," http://allafrica.com/stories/printable/
2001010804494htail (2001).
96 The funding would have come from a joint Mozambique-South African consortium with
Mozambique owning 51 percent of the dam.
2002 election and the right-wing coalition that came to power has not been terri-
bly enthusiastic about pursuing such negotiations.97
100 However, from the time of the rehabilitation of Cahora Bassa's transmission lines in
1998, when it began producing electricity again at full power (something never previously
achieved), ESKOM was obtaining only 850 MW (or 60 percent) of the station's generated
electricity. Of the remainder, 400 MW has been designated for Zimbabwe's electricity utility,
Zesa, and 200 MW for Electricidade de Mozambique (EDM). The EDM electricity actually passes
through South Africa before being "repatriated" to the southern Mozambican provinces of Maputo
and Gaza, where almost all of it is consumed by a large aluminum smelting facility. See
Engineering News, "Cahora Bassa Power."
102 HCB demanded, at a minimum, a doubling of the price and immediate neg
establishment of what they perceived would be an even higher rate, one that refl
market value, in the future. ESKOM countered that the cutting-off would have little e
had ample energy reserves from internal sources. Mozambique has been cr
position. Prime Minster Pascoal Mocumbi openly disagreed with the HCB deci
power to South Africa, arguing it was "not the most suitable method" for resolvin
AIM, "Mocumbi Reacts to Cahora Bassa Decision," 18 October 2002.
104 In June 2004 the government in Lisbon under Prime Minister Jose M
Barroso reaffirmed that in principal it was willing to negotiate a new shareholder str
the management of the dam pass into Mozambican hands. [AIM, 25 June 200
produced after high level discussion between Mozambican President Joaquim
Portuguese Prime Minister Santana Lopes in October 2004 quickly dissipated whe
technical meetings proved fruitless.
105 AIM, "Veiga Anjos." ESKOM has recently put forth an ambitious schem
private regional electricity supply project that would more effectively link energ
transmission grid systems in the entire southern Africa region. While the implicatio
clear, Carlos Veiga Anjos, chair of the board of directors of HCB, criticized ESKO
as an effort "to possess everything and control everything" in the region.
106 At minimum Maputo, however, would like to receive more power from t
somehow gain greater control by increasing the government's share of the dam. S
up to now backed the Mozambican position, purportedly to guarantee the low
heretofore been paying for Cahora Bassa electricity. Still, Portugal's goals with re
over Cahora Bassa remain somewhat vague and contingent on the prevailing polit
Lisbon. In the meantime, HCB is suspicious of ESKOM and South Africa's intentio
to controlling the entire southern African system of energy production and
Confronted with South African plans to privatize all energy infrastructure in the re
of the board of directors of HCB recently told the attendees of a symposium on h
Africa that transmission lines in Southern Africa should be publicly mana
independent from private bodies managing electricity production (e.g., hydroele
Another part of the energy equation rarely receives attention. The once-
powerful Zambesi River has been reconfigured. The essence of a large hydro-
electric project like Cahora Bassa is to capture and store water in a reservoir
behind the dam where it can be used to generate electricity. The river has been
harnessed and no longer flows freely, nor does it do its own work. This displace-
ment involves not only water, but also the great amounts of organic and inorganic
material carried by the river. Most important for riparian communities, the dam
traps rich sediments that would have flowed downstream and been deposited in
the river's floodplains. These life-sustaining nutrients provided energy that helped
to support human society and nature for centuries.
Under this logic, HCB could concentrate more resources on improving Cahora Bassa' s production
and worry less about the distribution system and associated expenses. Africa Energy Intelligence,
"Shadow Boxing over Dam," http://w ww.africaintelligence.com/ps/ AN/ Arch/ AEM/AEM_341. asp
(2003).
107 This concept is derived from the pioneering work of Richard White, The Organic
Machine: The Remaking of the Columbia River (New York, 1995).
108 Lucia Scodanibbio and Gustavo Manez, "The World Commission on Dams: A
Fundamental Step towards Integrated Water Resource Management and Poverty Reduction? A
Pilot Case in the Lower Zambezi, Mozambique," unpublished paper (2005), 7.
was simply too risky. A significant number of peasants felt they had no
but to cease farming in gardens adjacent to the river and on riverin
(ntua). The water "destroyed our fields on the banks of the river," c
Caetano Francisco Figuerido and his fellow villagers who lived in
Inhagoma Island on the northern margins of the Zambesi.109 Cheia Am
echoed their concern, "Because of the uncertain floods we had to aban
fertile lands near the river."110 To the south at Mopeia, much of the land
used for a double crop of rice was also abandoned.111 A leading hydro
has spent significant time in the lower Zambesi Valley concluded that
flooding below Cahora Bassa has adversely affected the living standard
dreds of thousands of downstream households and decimated one of
productive wetland ecosystems in Africa."112
1Q9 Interview with Caetano Francisco Figuerido et al., Inhangoma, 18 July 2000.
113 The only agricultural area in the floodplains that does not seem to have been a
the erratic discharges is the Zambesi Delta coastline which has a very high rainfall.
al., "The Impact," 8.
they attribute to the absence of seasonal flooding.114 Before the river was
harnessed, the floods triggered the annual breeding cycle for many species. The
spillover also created warm, shallow ponds along the flood plains that were rich in
nutrients and ideal for breeding. The disappearance of these ponds halted the
breeding cycle, probably for good. Some elders maintain that the irregular flood
further inhibit fish reproduction because the eggs can be washed away at any
time.115 Finally, many fishermen contend that the turbines and gates at Cahora
Bassa prevent larger fish from passing through. As a result the lake behind th
dam is full of large fish whereas few can be found down river. That there has been
a sizeable reduction in the number of fishing and drying racks since the 1970s
would tend to confirm such claims.116 The decline in flood plain fisheries has
impoverished many riverine communities who relied on the catch both as a valu-
able source of energy- producing protein and to purchase foodstuffs and other
basic commodities. Fishermen are adamant that since the dam they have expende
more energy, having to work longer and harder for a smaller catch.
There is also little doubt that the reduction in seasonal flooding has at least
indirectly affected the delta's once-large population of large mammals and birds.
Because the delta region had been a zone of massive flooding and silt, its abun-
dant supplies of fresh water and food attracted a wide array of zebras, elephants
waterbucks, hippopotami, and water buffalo. Earlier in the century the region
114 Interview with Inacio Tlonse Guta et al., Tsetsha, 21 July 2000; interview with Manuel
Tale et al., Tsetcha, 21 July 2000.
115 Ibid.
116 B. Chande and P. Dutton, "Impacts of Hydrological Change in the Zambezi Delta to
Wildlife and Their Habitats with Special Attention to the Large Mammals," paper presented at a
workshop on "Sobre o Uso Sustentavel da Barragem de Cahora Bassa e do Vale do Rio Zambese,"
Songo, Mozambique, 29 September - 2 October 1997.
That the Zambesi no longer flows freely also has had other neg
difficult to measure, biophysical effects on the floodplain and delt
study documented the catastrophic impact of the regulated flow regi
stream wetlands where vegetative growth and animal populations dep
annual flooding that brought nutrients and sediments. By 1996, the
ogy of the Lower Zambesi itself- formerly a wide river system
mosaics of marsh, pond, oxbows, and shallow wetlands"- had been c
a system with "choked wetlands, trees, and bulrush encroachments al
and impoverished marshlands."119 And in the delta zone the mangro
critical feature of the estuarine system, have been particularly degr
absence of seasonal flooding. Because the region is much drier than
there has been a sharp reduction in wetlands and open waters areas
sponding increase of stagnant water and intrusion of salt water. The
is a less diverse and less productive riverine ecosystem.
119 Bryan Davies, "Rehabilitation Programme for Cahora Bassa and the Low
Unpublished background document for the International Crane Foundation/F
(1996). See also R. Beilfuss and B. Davies, "Prescribed Flooding and Wetland Re
the Zambesi Delta, Mozambique," in William Streever, ed., An International P
Wetland Rehabilitation (Netherlands, 1999), 143-58.
120 This celebration of dams and silencing of the affected riverine commun
course, unique to Mozambique. In his provocative study Silenced Rivers Patrick Mc
us that "To many ... writers, leaders, engineers, bureaucrats, nationalists and rev
big dams have been potent symbols of both patriotic pride and the conquest of n
experiences of the peasants whose daily lives and worlds had been torn asunder.
Their voices were rendered inaudible and their accounts displaced by official
adulation for the hydroelectric project.
More relevant for this study is the way the colonial state suppressed the
numerous local accounts of violence and the forced removal of thousands of peas-
ants that followed the building of the dam. The colonial narration of history is
organized around the premise that the Europeans were the guardians of progress,
civilization, and modernity.122 Chaos and disorder were relics of the precolonial
past, whereas the colonial state produced order. In such a master narrative there is
no place for state- sanctioned violence. To the extent that violence did occur and
was acknowledged by colonial authorities, it was cast as unintended, unfortunate,
but necessary consequences of progress. Thus Lisbon claimed that a relatively
small number of people were affected compared to other dam projects in Africa
and that the problems associated with relocation could be remedied by technical
ingenuity." Forgotten in the dominant discourse on water, development, and national security are
the devastating human and environmental consequences. See McCully, Silenced Rivers, 1 .
122 For an important discussion on the colonial narrative and historical memory see Pandey,
Memory, History, and the Question of Violence.
While these stories of forced internment and labor abuses have been
documented since independence, the postcolonial state has continued to
the image of Cahora Bassa as an icon of development and progress. At ind
ence in 1975, officials in FRELIMO expressed confidence that the da
play a pivotal role helping to transform the Zambesi Valley and spreadi
fruits of socialism. This dream was not realized. Moreover, FRELIMO's l
facing increasing military pressure from South Africa's campaign and st
to radically restructure Mozambique's economy, paid scant attention
concerns of the riverine communities. Their stories about the deleterious e
Cahora Bassa were lost in all the noise about socialist transformations and
African destabilization.
123 Officials were quick to point out that the number of peasants affected was insignificant
compared to the 120,000 Nubians relocated to build the Aswan Dam and the 85,000 Ghanians
dislocated because of the Volta River project.
124 Arquivo Historico de Mocambique (AHM), Sec9ao Especial (SE)lll, a.p. 10, no. 237,
Governo do Distrito de Tete, Servicos Distritais de Administrac.ao Civil, Actas das Sessoes da
Reuniao dos Administradores e do Intendente com o Governo do Distrito, 27-28, December 1968.
125 The few reports about the harsh conditions in the aldeamentos that surfaced in the
Western press were dismissed by Lisbon as "FRELIMO propaganda."
126 See Isaacman and Sneddon, "Towards a Social and Environmental History."
127 Interview with Peter Size and Fedi Alfante.
over the economy and expansion of the role of the private sector. Cahora Bassa
figures prominently in this new economic agenda. Mozambican engineers and
economists stressed the untapped potential of the dam as a source of hydroelec-
tricity. The government's sustained efforts to gain control of the dam are part of a
broader initiative to develop a national energy infrastructure that would encourage
new foreign investment and privatization and increase energy exports through the
region.
When peasants speak of the dam, they rarely desscribe Cahora Bassa as a
source of prosperity, much less as a symbol of modernity- they talk instead about
the loss of place, the disruption of community, and the devastating effects of
unpredictable discharges of water that flood their fields. They express concern
over the decline of fish and the alienation of ancestor spirits angry that sacred
burial sites have been inundated. They express frustration that the highly visible
power lines passing near their villages do not bring them electricity. And they are
angry that government planners seem oblivious to their long-term concerns and
that local administrators rarely warn them when water is about to be released from
the dam. For them the past has been silenced with ominous consequences.
Indeed, this amnesia helps to explain why in 2002 the Mozambican state
embraced the idea of building another massive hydroelectric project just 70 kilo-
meters south of Cahora Bassa at Mphanda Nkuwa. Selected as the most promising
site along the Zambesi, it is projected to generate 1300 MW at a total cost of
approximately $2 billion. The government's decision to promote Mphanda
Nkuwa assumes that within the next decade there will be an acute energy shortage
in the region and that Mozambique will be able to negotiate a favorable price with
ESKOM, which is likely to be the largest buyer. It is estimated South Africa alone
will probably require an additional 3000MW of energy within the next decade just
to recommission its mothballed thermal power plants.128 Moreover, within
Mozambique, several mega-projects in mineral extraction and processing are
planned as part of the country's quest for foreign investment and rapid
ment. These new initiatives include expansion of the large Mozal aluminu
in Maputo, an iron and steel factory in the capital, an aluminum factory
and titanium and heavy sand projects in Nacala and the Chibuto corridor
tively. They have a projected total demand of approximately 2000MW.1
funds necessary to build the gigantic dam and thus further exploit the powe
Zambesi River for industrialization and electricity sales must necess
secured from foreign investors.130 Conspicuously absent from the
Nkuwa feasibility plan is any indication that an appreciable amount of new
will be directed toward the rural poor. At present only 5 percent of Moz
households have electricity and almost 50 percent of those households r
the capital.131
130 Towarci this end, the government organized an Investors' Conference for the Mphanda
Nkuwa Hydroelectric Project held 30 May 2002. The participants included more than 200
representatives of government officials, large energy companies, contracting companies,
equipment manufacturers, consultants, and investment banks. The meeting marked the official
launching of the project and was intended to persuade potential investors; government sources
hoped construction would begin in 2004 or 2005. Energy Minister Castigo Langa subsequently
headed a delegation of officials to Brussels, London, and Bonn in October 2002 to solicit interest
among investment bank and other finance organizations in Paris.
bique the voices and views of the affected populations must be heard. Livaningo's
Anabela Lemos put it bluntly:
Our main concern on this project is that it has not included a study carried
out in accordance with the WCD [World Commission on Dams] guide-
lines, taking into account public opinion and needs, ascertaining whether
the power is needed, looking at the impacts, and offering a series of alter-
natives.. . . How can it be possible to think of another dam project, without
first finding the correct solution to minimize existing problems?132
foreign scientists to jump into the fray. No one has been a more forceful critic
than Brian Davis, a leading South African ecologist who has worked in the
Zambesi Valley for more than thirty years. Davis had been a consultant to the
Portuguese government, which suppressed his predictions of the dire conse-
quences of building Cahora Bassa. Fearing a new round of environmental
destruction, he wrote "I am appalled at the decision to go ahead with the dam....
[it is ] ill-advised, expensive, and ... probably politically motivated."133
132 Platt's African Energy, "Mepanda Uncua Hydro Plans Stir Opposition," 18 October
2002. The World Commission on Dams (WCD) released a seminal report in 2000 detailing the
social and ecological considerations, and the participatory planning process, that would move the
construction of large dams towards more sustainable outcomes.
133 Quoted in Frederico Katere, "Project Opens Flood Gates of Resentment," The East
African Standard (Nairobi), 7 August 2002.
compensation plan and the targeted population has little political clo
future prospects would be precarious. Second, the project calls for riv
be allowed to vary by 0.5 meters depending on the demand for e
discharges would have the affect of inundating many additional fiel
region. Third, high base river flows and low seasonal variations trigge
new dam would further reduce the shrimp population, aggravating the
ing economic situation of fisherman and costing Mozambique an esti
million a year in exports. Finally, in direct contravention of the reco
of the World Commission on Dams, the feasibility study was complet
sustained consultations with members of the riverine communities the
As a result their concerns, as well as their stories of dam-precipitat
phes, were shunted aside.
137 Although the feasibility study was conducted shortly before the publication of the World
Commission on Dams Report, the Commission had signaled on several occasions that
consultations with the affected communities would be one of their central recommendations. State
officials did conduct short surveys with a limited population in the 60-kilometer region between
the proposed dam site and the city of Tete. This zone represents only one-sixth of the area to be
affected by the new dam. Consultations with the remaining down river communities just never
happened.
139 A team of Mozambican and foreign scientists and environmentalist had similar
conversations with villagers in the Zambesi Delta in 2001 and 2002 as well as with local
authorities as part of their efforts to develop an integrated management plan for the entire Zambesi
basin. These discussions are continuing to date. See Richard Beilfuss et al., "The Impact of
Hydrological Changes," 16.
140 Gustavo Manez and Lucia Scodanibbio, "Voices from the Zambezi: River Communities
Speak Out," unpublished paper (Maputo, 2005), 2.
141 Ibid.
143 R. Beilfuss, "Modeling Water Availability for the Rehabilitation of the Lower Zambesi
River and Delta," unpublished paper.
144 Recent calculations anticipate a drop of about 8 percent in energy production with a
commercial value of $16 million. "The Mphanda Nkuwa Dam Project," 48.
The participants also indicated they "do not oppose the Mphan
project" as long as they receive certain guarantees. They insist on p
tation before the project is implemented, fair compensation for th
lose their lands and their livelihoods, and a share of the benefits from
to assist in long-term development. They also demand "that the dive
of the River such as sustaining social and natural activities are preser
the dam also integrates environmental flow releases."145
some state officials are taking notice of their concerns, only time will tell if their
efforts are successful.
Conclusion
Too often suppressed in the discourse on dams and development are the lived
experiences of riverine people whom large dams are purported to help. This arti-
cle has explored the socioeconomic and environmental changes brought about by
Cahora Bassa told through the voices and stories of the Zambesi communities. As
part of an alternative history of Cahora Bassa, it argues that the daily lives and
historical memories of peasants and fishermen must figure prominently, both in
any scholarly analysis of the effects of Cahora Bassa and in any new initiatives
such as Mphanda Nkuwa. To fail to do so, and to continue to insist that water is
simply a resource to be used most efficiently for development, does violence both
to the past and to the future.