The Mighty Nile, Jeopardized by Waste, Warming, Dam

Despite its importance, the Nile is still heavily polluted in Egypt | AFP
Despite its importance, the Nile is still heavily polluted in Egypt | AFP
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The Mighty Nile, Jeopardized by Waste, Warming, Dam

Despite its importance, the Nile is still heavily polluted in Egypt | AFP
Despite its importance, the Nile is still heavily polluted in Egypt | AFP

Early one morning in Cairo, volunteers paddle their kayaks across the Nile, fishing out garbage from the mighty waterway that gave birth to Egyptian civilisation but now faces multiple threats.

Egypt's lifeline since Pharaonic days and the source of 97 percent of its water is under massive strain from pollution and climate change and now the threat of a colossal dam being built far upstream in Ethiopia.

Undeterred, the flotilla of some 300 environmental activists do what they can -- in the past three years they say they have picked some 37 tonnes of cans, plastic bottles, disposable bags and other trash from the waters and shores along the Nile in Egypt.

"People have to understand that the Nile is as important -- if not more -- than the pyramids," said Mostafa Habib, 29, co-founder of the environmental group Very Nile.

"The generations coming after us will depend on it."

His fears echo those that millions worldwide share about other over-taxed and polluted rivers from the Mekong to the Mississippi -- an issue to be marked on World Water Day on March 22.

But few waterways face greater strain than the 6,600-kilometre (4,100-mile) Nile, the basin of which stretches across 11 countries -- Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan, Tanzania and Uganda.

No country is more reliant on the Nile than Egypt, whose teeming population has just passed 100 million people -- over 90 percent of whom live along the river's banks.

Surrounded by a green valley full of palm trees, the north-flowing river is awash with boats of all sizes for tourism, fishing and leisure.

"All of us Egyptians benefit from the Nile, so cleaning it up is a way of giving back to my country," said one of the volunteers, Walied Mohamed, a 21-year-old university student.

"The Nile is the main source of drinking water for Egypt. We have no other major rivers flowing in our country."

- 'Question of life' -

Despite its importance, the Nile is still heavily polluted in Egypt by waste water and rubbish poured directly in to it, as well as agricultural runoff and industrial waste, with consequences for biodiversity, especially fishing, and human health, experts say.

Around 150 million tonnes of industrial waste are dumped into it every year, according to the state-run Environmental Affairs Agency.

Climate change spells another threat as rising sea levels are set to push Mediterranean salt water deep into the fertile Nile river delta, the nation's bread basket.

Researchers predict the country's already stretched agricultural sector could shrink by as much as 47 percent by 2060 as a result of saltwater intrusion.

Cotton, one of the most widely cultivated plants along the Nile, requires a lot of water.

Egypt also faces a nationwide fresh water shortage by 2025, according to the UN.

Already around seven percent of Egyptians lack access to clean drinking water and over eight million go without proper sanitation.

Hydrologists say people face water scarcity when their supply drops below 1,000 cubic metres per person annually.

Egyptian officials say in 2018 the individual share was 570 cubic metres and that this is expected to further drop to 500 cubic metres by 2025.

But aside from all the existing threats, there is another issue that terrifies Egypt's national planners and has even sparked fears of war.

More than 3,000 kilometres (2,000 miles) upstream on the Blue Nile, the main tributary, thousands of workers have toiled for almost a decade to build the $4.5-billion Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, set to be Africa's largest.

Downstream countries, mainly Egypt but also drought-plagued Sudan, fear that the dam's 145-metre (475-foot) high wall will trap their essential water supplies once the giant reservoir, the size of London, starts being filled this summer.

Years of tensions between Cairo, Khartoum and Addis Ababa have even seen Washington jump in to mediate rounds of crisis diplomacy.

For Ethiopia, one of Africa's fastest-growing economies, the dam is a prestige project and source of national pride.

In a country of 110 million where even the capital is plagued by blackouts, it promises to provide electricity by 2025 to the more than half of the population that now lives without it.

Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has insisted the project will not be stopped, warning that if necessary "we can deploy many millions".

Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi told the United Nations last year that "the Nile is a question of life, a matter of existence to Egypt".

Meanwhile, the Egyptian volunteers push on in their kayaks and rowboats doing what they can to reduce the garbage piled up on the Nile's banks.

"We have a treasure and we really haven't taken care of it," said Nour Serry, a Cairo graphic designer and avid volunteer.

"As Egyptians, we should be more attuned to cleaning up our Nile and the surrounding environment. This is our source of life."



Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
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Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)

After the fall of Bashar al-Assad, Afaf Mohammed did what she could not for more than a decade: she climbed Mount Qasyun to admire a sleeping Damascus "from the sky" and watch the sun rise.

Through the long years of Syria's civil war, which began in 2011 with a government crackdown on pro-democracy protesters, people were not allowed access to the mountain.

But now they can return to look down again on their capital, with its high-rise hotels and poor suburbs exhausted by war.

When night falls, long queues of vehicles slowly make their way up a twisting road to a brightly lit corniche at the summit.

Once there, they can relax, listen to music, eat and, inevitably, take selfies.

On some evenings there have even been firework displays.

Afaf Mohammed told AFP that "during the war we weren't allowed up to Mount Qasyun. There were few public places that were truly accessible."

At her feet, the panorama of Syria's capital stretched far and wide. It was the second time in weeks that the dentist in her thirties had come to the mountaintop.

A man sells tea on Mount Qasyun, from which government artillery used to pound opposition-held areas under Assad's rule. (AFP)

- Ideal for snipers -

Her first was just after a coalition of opposition fighters entered the city, ousting Assad on December 8.

On that occasion she came at dawn.

"I can't describe how I felt after we had gone through 13 years of hardship," she said, wrapped close in an abaya to ward off the chilly breeze.

Qasyun was off limits to the people of Damascus because it was an ideal location for snipers -- the great view includes elegant presidential palaces and other government buildings.

It was also from this mountain that artillery units for years pounded opposition-held areas at the gates of the capital.

Mohammed believes the revolution brought "a phenomenal freedom" that includes the right to visit previously forbidden places.

"No one can stop us now or block our way. No one will harm us," she said.

Patrols from the security forces of Syria's new rulers are in evidence, however.

They look on as a boy plays a tabla drum and young people on folding chairs puff from water pipes as others dance and sing, clapping their hands.

Everything is good-natured, reflecting the atmosphere of freedom that now bathes Syria since the end of Assad rule.

Gone are the stifling restrictions that once ruled the people's lives, and soldiers no longer throng the city streets.

Visitors to Mount Qasyun can now relax, listen to music, eat and snap selfies. (AFP)

- Hot drinks and snacks -

Mohammad Yehia, in his forties, said he once brought his son Rabih up to Mount Qasyun when he was small.

"But he doesn't remember having been here," he said.

After Assad fell, his son "asked if we would be allowed to go up there, and I said, 'Of course'," Yehia added.

So they came the next day.

Yehia knows the place well -- he used to work here, serving hot drinks and snacks from the back of a van to onlookers who came to admire the view.

He prides himself on being one of the first to come back again, more than a decade later.

The closure of Mount Qasyun to the people of Damascus robbed him of his livelihood at a time when the country was in economic freefall under Western sanctions. The war placed a yoke of poverty on 90 percent of the population.

"We were at the suffocation point," Yehia told AFP.

"Even if you worked all day, you still couldn't make ends meet.

"This is the only place where the people of Damascus can come and breathe a little. It's a spectacular view... it can make us forget the worries of the past."

Malak Mohammed, who came up the mountain with her sister Afaf, said that on returning "for the first time since childhood" she felt "immense joy".

"It's as if we were getting our whole country back," Malak said. Before, "we were deprived of everything".