In Tunis, Flamingos Wade Past Waste in Key Africa Wetlands

In Tunis, Flamingos Wade Past Waste in Key Africa Wetlands
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In Tunis, Flamingos Wade Past Waste in Key Africa Wetlands

In Tunis, Flamingos Wade Past Waste in Key Africa Wetlands

Hundreds of flamingos wade past waste in the murky waters of the vast Sijoumi lagoon, a critical wetland in the heart of Tunisia's capital threatened by overexpansion.

Once set apart from the city, today half of Tunis' residents live on the banks of the "sebkha", or mudflat, where more than 100,000 birds of around 100 different species spend winter.

The birds' human neighbors complain of pollution, recurrent flooding and swarms of mosquitos from the lagoon, one of North Africa's most important wetlands that became a dumping ground during decades of urbanization.

A government-led project that includes buildings, concrete embankments, and digging into the mudflat aims to control pollution and regenerate the habitat, but some environmental groups have pushed back against the initiative.

Hamdi, a 31-year-old shopkeeper in the working-class district of Sidi Hassine, hopes the project will beautify the area and solve the "problem of plastic waste and flooding from rainwater".

The lagoon plays a vital role not only in absorbing the overflow of water during heavy rains, but also as a breeding ground for the flocks of migratory birds that gather there at the end of winter.

But as rural populations flocked to Tunis, unauthorized building flourished in the former agricultural suburbs of the city and the lagoon became a dump for waste, mainly from construction.

- A place to avoid -

More than 1.8 million cubic meters of solid waste is estimated to have been disposed of in the lagoon since 2009, according to a government study.

As a result, the 2,600-hectare lagoon has been unable to absorb as much rainwater during downpours, leading to flooding that often forces businesses and schools to close.

Since 2015, Tunisian authorities have been studying a project to clean up the lagoon and protect the area from flooding, while developing its economic potential through further construction.

Around 48 percent of Tunis residents live around the lagoon, according to the latest census from 2014, and the surrounding neighborhoods are particularly densely populated, with some 2,800 people per square kilometer.

The north of the lagoon is lined with brick and concrete buildings that were erected without authorization.

A part of the southern banks has remained untouched and serves as a refuge for ducks, flamingos and gulls.

But most people avoid even the wild parts of the lagoon, with its olive trees and poppies at the water's edge, as the area is seen as dirty and a place to avoid.

Industrial and domestic sewage spews into the lagoon and the battered wreckage of cars and trucks are piled up on the banks.

- 'Lung of the capital' -

Given its diversity, the lagoon was added to the Ramsar List of Wetlands of International Importance in 2007, and it is considered the fourth most significant wetland in North Africa.

Nadia Gouider, director of the government's Sijoumi lake project, said the development must be sustainable and aim to "save and support the lung of the capital".

But environmental activists are concerned about the potential impact of the project, whose cost could reach 130 million euros (more than $153 million).

The development of two business districts, Lac-1 and Lac-2, in a large marshy area nearby in the early 1990s has already caused most flamingos to flee to Sijoumi and other wetlands.

Imen Rais, an expert with environmental group WWF, warned of the negative impact of wetland decline in Tunisia, underlining its importance to minimize the "phenomena linked to climate change like floods, drought and storms".

Hichem Azafzaf, scientific coordinator for a bird protection association, said: "We aren't against the development project in general."

But, he added, as he scanned the lagoon from a wooden observatory through binoculars, "we are against the current version", which includes deepening the lagoon.

"Many birds will be deprived of food because they can't dive deep."

Gouider said this shouldn't be a problem as "only one third of the lake's surface will be deepened by about one meter (three feet), which will leave space for the birds".

In any case, she added, between backfilling, illegal dumping and unregulated building, "if we do nothing, the lagoon will disappear".



Livestream of Moose Migrating to Their Summer Pastures Fascinates Millions Across the Globe 

This undated photo, issued by SVT, shows Moose in Junsele, Sweden during preparations for the livestream "The Great Moose Migration" to document the annual Moose migration near Kullberg in northern Sweden. (SVT via AP)
This undated photo, issued by SVT, shows Moose in Junsele, Sweden during preparations for the livestream "The Great Moose Migration" to document the annual Moose migration near Kullberg in northern Sweden. (SVT via AP)
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Livestream of Moose Migrating to Their Summer Pastures Fascinates Millions Across the Globe 

This undated photo, issued by SVT, shows Moose in Junsele, Sweden during preparations for the livestream "The Great Moose Migration" to document the annual Moose migration near Kullberg in northern Sweden. (SVT via AP)
This undated photo, issued by SVT, shows Moose in Junsele, Sweden during preparations for the livestream "The Great Moose Migration" to document the annual Moose migration near Kullberg in northern Sweden. (SVT via AP)

Before Swedish slow TV hit “The Great Moose Migration” began airing Tuesday, Ulla Malmgren stocked up on coffee and prepared meals so she doesn't miss a moment of the 20-day, 24-hour event.

“Sleep? Forget it. I don’t sleep,” she said.

Malmgren, 62, isn't alone. The show, called “Den stora älgvandringen” in Swedish, and sometimes translated as “The Great Elk Trek” in English, began in 2019 with nearly a million people watching. In 2024, the production hit 9 million viewers on SVT Play, the streaming platform for national broadcaster SVT.

The livestream kicked off a week ahead of schedule due to warm weather and early moose movement. Malmgren was ready.

From now until May 4, the livestream's remote cameras will capture dozens of moose as they swim across the Ångerman River, some 300 kilometers (187 miles) northwest of Stockholm, in the annual spring migration toward summer grazing pastures.

Not much happens for hours at a time, and fans say that's the beauty of it.

“I feel relaxed, but at the same time I’m like, ‘Oh, there’s a moose. Oh, what if there’s a moose? I can’t go to the toilet!’” said William Garp Liljefors, 20, who has collected more than 150 moose plush toys since 2020.

Slow TV success “The Great Moose Migration” is part of a trend that began in 2009 with Norwegian public broadcaster NRK's minute-by-minute airing of a seven-hour train trip across the southern part of the country.

The slow TV style of programming has spread, with productions in the United Kingdom, China and elsewhere. The central Dutch city of Utrecht, for example, installed a “fish doorbell” on a river lock that lets livestream viewers alert authorities to fish being held up as they migrate to spawning grounds.

Annette Hill, a professor of media and communications at Jönköping University in Sweden, said slow TV has roots in reality television but lacks the staging and therefore feels more authentic for viewers. The productions allow the audience to relax and watch the journey unfold.

“It became, in a strange way, gripping because nothing catastrophic is happening, nothing spectacular is happening,” she said. “But something very beautiful is happening in that minute-by-minute moment.”

As an expert and a fan of “The Great Moose Migration,” Hill said the livestream helps her slow down her day by following the natural rhythms of spring.

“This is definitely a moment to have a calm, atmospheric setting in my own home, and I really appreciate it,” she said.

The calming effect extends to the crew, according to Johan Erhag, SVT's project manager for “The Great Moose Migration.”

“Everyone who works with it goes down in their normal stress,” he said.

The moose have walked the route for thousands of years, making it easy for the crew to know where to lay some 20,000 meters (almost 12 miles) of cable and position 26 remote cameras and seven night cameras. A drone is also used.

The crew of up to 15 people works out of SVT’s control room in Umeå, producing the show at a distance to avoid interfering with the migration.

SVT won't say how much the production costs, but Erhag said it's cheap when accounting for the 506 hours of footage aired last year.

Erhag said Swedes have always been fascinated by the roughly 300,000 moose roaming in their woods. The Scandinavian country's largest animal is known as “King of the Forest.” A bull moose can reach 210 centimeters (6 feet 10 inches) at shoulder height and weigh 450 kilograms (992 pounds).

Despite their size, the herbivores are typically shy and solitary.

“We actually don’t see it very often. You often see it when you’re out driving maybe once or twice in your life,” Erhag said. “I think that’s one thing why it has been so, so popular. And then you bring in the nature to everyone’s living room.”

Hanna Sandberg, 36, first began watching the show in 2019, though she didn't spot any moose. She tuned in the following year, finally saw some and got hooked.

“You can watch them and be a part of their natural habitat in a way that you could never be otherwise,” she said.

After hours of showing an empty forest, a camera captures footage of a moose approaching the riverbank. Suddenly, slow TV turns urgent.

The push alert hits SVT's app — “Första älgarna i bild!” which translates to “First moose on camera!” — as viewers worldwide tune in. The livestream's chat explodes as commenters type encouragement for the animal, now making its way into the water.

“I would actually like to be a little fly on the wall in every household that watches the moose migration. Because I think there are about a million people saying about the same thing: ‘Go on! Yes, you can do it!’” Malmgren said.

Mega-fans like Malmgren, who is in a Facebook group of 76,000-plus viewers, are committed to watching as many hours as possible.

“I was late to school because I saw moose and my teacher was like, ‘What, you saw moose in the city?’ And I was like, ‘No, it’s on the TV,’” Garp Liljefors said.

Malmgren said friends and family have learned not to bother her when the moose are on the move.

“When someone asks me, ‘What are you doing? Oh, never mind, it’s the great migration,’” she said. “They know.”