By Mike Muller*

Each year UNESCO releases a World Water Assessment Report, a document that explores potential solutions to the globe&rsquo;s water problems. The 2018 report will focus on nature based solutions.

The authors suggest that this approach will

address contemporary water management challenges across all sectors, and particularly regarding water for agriculture, sustainable cities, disaster risk reduction and improving water quality.

It would see the use of &ldquo;ecosystem services&rdquo; from the natural environment to provide water supplies and water purification. For example, some of the proposals in the report, with which I have been engaging since 2015, include relying on wetlands to store and purify water rather than building dams and treatment plants.

Although they are attractive, these nature based solutions are not the &lsquo;green bullet&rsquo; that will solve the world&rsquo;s water problems. They can work in some places, but on the whole they face serious limitations. These include the fact that they often require lots of land and compete with farming and housing for space.

On top of this nature based solutions may actually be harmful. They can reduce the amount of water available for human use and contribute to climate change. They may even fail during extreme droughts or floods.

Lastly, they simply cannot respond to the pace at which developing countries are growing and the water requirements and challenges that come with this. This means that nature-based approaches will do little to meet the African continent&rsquo;s needs.

Lessons from Cape Town

Cape Town&rsquo;s ongoing water crisis illustrates the problems. The South African city has tried &ldquo;green&rdquo; water management options; these have not averted the current crisis.

Take the &ldquo;Working for Water&rdquo; programme. Established as a national Public Works Programme in 1995 its aim was to make more water available by cutting alien trees, which are said to consume a great deal of water. Hundreds of millions of rand have been spent around Cape Town as part of this programme. It&rsquo;s created tens of thousands of short term public works jobs &ndash; but provided no relief from the drought.

Another solution that is being implemented is to reuse some of the wastewater the city currently dumps into the sea. This has to be carefully purified. One way to do this would be to use natural purification in large sewage treatment ponds. But land is scarce and there is not nearly enough open space available. Instead, conventional mechanical treatment infrastructure will be needed.

Value in some contexts

This is not to say that nature based solutions have no value &ndash; in the right context.

For instance, it makes sense to recharge the groundwater on which many communities depend if there is an opportunity to do so. This approach is being proposed in the report in place of new dams. In the US some states that have large &ldquo;aquifers&rdquo; do this regularly. They effectively manage underground storage in aquifers as a dam, pumping water in when they have surplus and extracting it again when they need it.

In Windhoek, Namibia&rsquo;s capital, the local aquifer whose springs attracted German colonial settlers is now being used to provide additional storage to help the city to survive during its frequent droughts.

But, as the Windhoek case shows, even supposedly natural solutions need an infrastructure of pumps, pipelines, recharge wells and reservoirs. They also require large areas of the city to remain undeveloped so that the underground water is not polluted by people living above it.

So these &ldquo;natural&rdquo; methods remain an attractive option for smaller towns; the challenge for larger cities is often their extensive land requirements.

Proponents of nature-based approaches also often fail to recognise their down-sides. Sustainable urban drainage, for instance, uses grassy areas and permeable pavements to slow the flow of storm water and allow it to soak into the soil. While some may recharge groundwater, much is lost to evaporation and so reduces the flow of water into rivers and dams.

In South Africa, only around 8% of rainfall actually reaches rivers and dams. Reducing that flow will actually reduce the amount of water available for use and increase water scarcity.

Similarly, while proponents of nature based solutions make much of the ability of wetlands to store water and release a small and steady flow after a flood, they also lose large quantities of water through evaporation. 94% of the Okavango River, southern Africa&rsquo;s third largest, is lost to evaporation in this way from Botswana&rsquo;s Okavango swamps, as is half of the flow of the White Nile from the Sudd swamps of Southern Sudan.

Wetlands also aggravate the problems of climate change and accelerate global warming. They are the largest single emitters of methane, a potent greenhouse gas which is driving global warming. More methane is generated by wetlands than from all human sources &ndash; and this is expected to increase as the earth warms.

Large challenges

The real problem is that the nature based approaches originated in the context of Europe and North America. These regions have already built many of the infrastructure systems they need, from dams and pipe networks to wastewater treatment works. They do not have Africa&rsquo;s huge infrastructure deficit.

Rich country populations are static. With their basic needs now met, they seek to improve the quality of their environment. But developing countries face a completely different kind of challenge. As an example, by 2050 sub-Saharan Africa&rsquo;s urban population is expected to increase by 720 million people while Europe&rsquo;s will grow by just 36 million.

So, while some nature-based approaches may be relevant, the reality is that they will make only a small contribution to the large challenges that the developing world must address.&nbsp;

*Mike Muller is a visiting adjunct Professor at University of the Witwatersrand

(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed above are the personal views of the author and do not reflect the views of ZMCL)

The nature based solutions are not the ‘green bullet’ that will solve the world’s water problems. They can work in some places, but on the whole they face serious limitations.

By Mike Muller* Each year UNESCO releases a World Water Assessment Report, a document that explores potential solutions to the globe’s water problems. The 2018 report will focus on nature based solutions. The authors suggest that this approach will address contemporary water management challenges across all sectors, and particularly regarding water for agriculture, sustainable cities, disaster risk reduction and improving water quality. It would see the use of “ecosystem services” from the natural environment to provide water supplies and water purification. For example, some of the proposals in the report, with which I have been engaging since 2015, include relying on wetlands to store and purify water rather than building dams and treatment plants. Although they are attractive, these nature based solutions are not the ‘green bullet’ that will solve the world’s water problems. They can work in some places, but on the whole they face serious limitations. These include the fact that they often require lots of land and compete with farming and housing for space. On top of this nature based solutions may actually be harmful. They can reduce the amount of water available for human use and contribute to climate change. They may even fail during extreme droughts or floods. Lastly, they simply cannot respond to the pace at which developing countries are growing and the water requirements and challenges that come with this. This means that nature-based approaches will do little to meet the African continent’s needs. Lessons from Cape Town Cape Town’s ongoing water crisis illustrates the problems. The South African city has tried “green” water management options; these have not averted the current crisis. Take the “Working for Water” programme. Established as a national Public Works Programme in 1995 its aim was to make more water available by cutting alien trees, which are said to consume a great deal of water. Hundreds of millions of rand have been spent around Cape Town as part of this programme. It’s created tens of thousands of short term public works jobs – but provided no relief from the drought. Another solution that is being implemented is to reuse some of the wastewater the city currently dumps into the sea. This has to be carefully purified. One way to do this would be to use natural purification in large sewage treatment ponds. But land is scarce and there is not nearly enough open space available. Instead, conventional mechanical treatment infrastructure will be needed. Value in some contexts This is not to say that nature based solutions have no value – in the right context. For instance, it makes sense to recharge the groundwater on which many communities depend if there is an opportunity to do so. This approach is being proposed in the report in place of new dams. In the US some states that have large “aquifers” do this regularly. They effectively manage underground storage in aquifers as a dam, pumping water in when they have surplus and extracting it again when they need it. In Windhoek, Namibia’s capital, the local aquifer whose springs attracted German colonial settlers is now being used to provide additional storage to help the city to survive during its frequent droughts. But, as the Windhoek case shows, even supposedly natural solutions need an infrastructure of pumps, pipelines, recharge wells and reservoirs. They also require large areas of the city to remain undeveloped so that the underground water is not polluted by people living above it. So these “natural” methods remain an attractive option for smaller towns; the challenge for larger cities is often their extensive land requirements. Proponents of nature-based approaches also often fail to recognise their down-sides. Sustainable urban drainage, for instance, uses grassy areas and permeable pavements to slow the flow of storm water and allow it to soak into the soil. While some may recharge groundwater, much is lost to evaporation and so reduces the flow of water into rivers and dams. In South Africa, only around 8% of rainfall actually reaches rivers and dams. Reducing that flow will actually reduce the amount of water available for use and increase water scarcity. Similarly, while proponents of nature based solutions make much of the ability of wetlands to store water and release a small and steady flow after a flood, they also lose large quantities of water through evaporation. 94% of the Okavango River, southern Africa’s third largest, is lost to evaporation in this way from Botswana’s Okavango swamps, as is half of the flow of the White Nile from the Sudd swamps of Southern Sudan. Wetlands also aggravate the problems of climate change and accelerate global warming. They are the largest single emitters of methane, a potent greenhouse gas which is driving global warming. More methane is generated by wetlands than from all human sources – and this is expected to increase as the earth warms. Large challenges The real problem is that the nature based approaches originated in the context of Europe and North America. These regions have already built many of the infrastructure systems they need, from dams and pipe networks to wastewater treatment works. They do not have Africa’s huge infrastructure deficit. Rich country populations are static. With their basic needs now met, they seek to improve the quality of their environment. But developing countries face a completely different kind of challenge. As an example, by 2050 sub-Saharan Africa’s urban population is expected to increase by 720 million people while Europe’s will grow by just 36 million. So, while some nature-based approaches may be relevant, the reality is that they will make only a small contribution to the large challenges that the developing world must address. *Mike Muller is a visiting adjunct Professor at University of the Witwatersrand (Disclaimer: The opinions expressed above are the personal views of the author and do not reflect the views of ZMCL)

Opinion: Why UNESCO's 'natural solutions' to water problems won't work in Africa

An innovative manmade artificial ice stupa has been created in Leh to conserve winter waste water to address the water scarcity during spring.

The stupa has become a centre of attraction for thousands of tourist including locals.

The natural glacier formed out of winter snowfall on higher reaches of mountain serves as main source of water supply in Ladakh region for farmers.

As the global warming resulted in shrinking of natural glaciers the farmers in Ladakh are facing acute shortage of water for irrigation especially during the spring season.

The winter waste water is stored in the shape of ice stupas which melts slowly during spring time thus providing an alternate source of water supply when natural glaciers don&#39;t melt properly at a point of time in spring.

The excess water from artificial ice stupa is stored in a tank constructed below it.

One of volunteer Sonam Dorjay (24), from Wakha village working on ice stupa, said that he had been working on it for the past four years and it serves as an alternate source of water in spring time.

He added that concept of Ice Stupa is based on the idea of Iceman of Ladakh Chhewang Norphel who made artificial glaciers in Nang village.

Sonam added that large number of visitors including tourist visits the Ice Stupa and the number increases on holidays and weekends.

Another volunteer Thomas Clark from USA, who had been working on this ice stupa for the past four years said that this year they built the ice stupa directly in the stream with the purpose of water conservation.

An innovative manmade artificial ice stupa has been created in Leh to conserve winter wastewater to address the water scarcity during spring

An innovative manmade artificial ice stupa has been created in Leh to conserve winter waste water to address the water scarcity during spring. The stupa has become a centre of attraction for thousands of tourist including locals. The natural glacier formed out of winter snowfall on higher reaches of mountain serves as main source of water supply in Ladakh region for farmers. As the global warming resulted in shrinking of natural glaciers the farmers in Ladakh are facing acute shortage of water for irrigation especially during the spring season. The winter waste water is stored in the shape of ice stupas which melts slowly during spring time thus providing an alternate source of water supply when natural glaciers don't melt properly at a point of time in spring. The excess water from artificial ice stupa is stored in a tank constructed below it. One of volunteer Sonam Dorjay (24), from Wakha village working on ice stupa, said that he had been working on it for the past four years and it serves as an alternate source of water in spring time. He added that concept of Ice Stupa is based on the idea of Iceman of Ladakh Chhewang Norphel who made artificial glaciers in Nang village. Sonam added that large number of visitors including tourist visits the Ice Stupa and the number increases on holidays and weekends. Another volunteer Thomas Clark from USA, who had been working on this ice stupa for the past four years said that this year they built the ice stupa directly in the stream with the purpose of water conservation.

Ice stupa of Ladakh solving water crisis

He is a strawberry farmer in his late 70s. The dug well on his three acres in old Mahabaleshwar is stone dry. His wife and he struggle to keep the farm going. They manage to, as there is still some water in their borewell. But even that little he shares, free of charge, with the temple bordering their land. The severe drought hurts his yield but not his generosity. His name is Yunus Ismail Nalaband &ndash; and he gives that water to the Krishnamai temple, the oldest symbol of the source of the Krishna river in Satara district, quite cheerfully.

&ldquo;Is it really my water?&rdquo; he asks. &ldquo;It all belongs to the uparwala [the Almighty], does it not?&rdquo; His wife, Roshan Nalaband, also in her 70s, nods approvingly. They&rsquo;re both packing their strawberries in little boxes. &ldquo;The traders will come by to pick them up,&rdquo; says Roshan. &ldquo;The prices are higher this year because of scarcity, but that is offset by a poorer yield and lesser quality of the crop.&rdquo; They speak, without pausing at work, of the way the water crisis is hurting them. Only Roshan breaks off for a minute to give us some water and offer us further refreshments.

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari2-20170926070852.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
Yunus Nalaband and his wife Roshan Nalaband: Small farmers, growing mainly strawberries on their three acres. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari3-20170926071053.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
Completely dried-out well of Yunus Nalaband and his wife Roshan Nalaband. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

The kunda (temple tank) at the Krishnamai is empty except when it gets water from the Nalabands&rsquo; borewell. The tank went dry this season. The Krishnamai is just a few minutes&rsquo; walk from the more-visited Panchganga temple, also regarded as the symbolic source of the Krishna and four other rivers &ndash; Koyna, Venna, Savitri and Gayatri. Their actual sources are not too far from here. The Krishnamai itself is probably the oldest temple in the Wai-Mahabaleshwar region. A beautiful little one, seen by locals as the home of the river goddess.

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari4-20170926071140.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
The Krishnamai temple in Old Mahabaleshwar: the little &lsquo;kunda&rsquo; in front of it is dry for the first time in living memory. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

My friend and colleague Jaideep Hardikar and I, together with other journalists in each of the districts we visited, went to the source &ndash; symbolic or actual &ndash; of several rivers in Maharashtra in the month of May. The idea was to journey downstream each river and talk to farmers, labourers and others living along these routes. To listen to them speak about how the mega water crisis &ndash; much larger than a meteorological drought &ndash; is affecting their lives.

While it is normal for some parts of rivers to run dry in summer, this is now happening even in their source regions, along stretches where they have never dried up. &ldquo;Maharashtra&rsquo;s once perennial rivers have significantly been converted into seasonal ones,&rdquo; says Prof. Madhav Gadgil, who headed the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel. &ldquo;Amongst the reasons for this have been large-scale damming and a host of other activities along the course and basins of these rivers,&rdquo; says the leading ecologist and writer.

&ldquo;In six decades, I have not seen the kunda of the Krishnamai empty and dry,&rdquo; says Narayan Zade. That&rsquo;s in a region with an annual average rainfall of close to 2,000 mm. A retired tourist guide and migrant worker, Zade spends his days sitting around this temple. He is clear though that the drought isn&rsquo;t just about the rainfall. He says tourists and outsiders &ndash; &ldquo;you people&rdquo; &ndash; have much to answer for.

&ldquo;Of course there has been major deforestation,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;But not by locals. If one of us here cuts a couple of branches, he goes to jail. But people from outside cut and take truckloads of timber &ndash; they get away with it.&rdquo; While Zade too has worked as a tour guide, he says unregulated tourism has done great damage: &ldquo;&hellip;all those resorts and places have come up&rdquo; causing further loss of green cover. Now, he prefers the quiet Krishnamai to the Panchganga temple bustling with tourists.

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari5-20170926071255.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
Narayan Zade at the Krishnamai temple. He blames outsiders &ndash;&lsquo;you people&rsquo; &ndash; for deforestation, overcrowding and other activities that add to the water scarcity. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

The temple&rsquo;s front yard has a spectacular spot overlooking the Dhom Balkawadi dam. It still has some water, but much less than it should, even for this time of the year. Years of damming and major diversions of water along the river have had an impact. There is also the chaos of never-to-be-completed lift irrigation schemes. These are at the core of the state&rsquo;s &ldquo;irrigation scam&rdquo;.

Quite a few villages that were meant to gain from those insanely expensive schemes, but never did, are in the Khatav and Maan tehsils of Satara. The Ner dam and lake in that district are meant to supply water, both for drinking and irrigation, to a much larger number of villages, but the supply is mostly cornered by sugarcane cultivators in just 19 villages nearby. Ner is about 80 kilometres downstream from the Krishnamai.

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari6-20170926071435.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
The Ner lake and dam in Satara district: even water meant for drinking is monopolised by sugarcane growers in just 19 nearby villages. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

Besides Maan and Khatav, 11 other very dry tehsils here are spread across three districts &ndash; Satara, Sangli and Solapur. People from these tehsils confer each year in what they call adushkaal parishad (drought council). &ldquo;They are demanding, among other things, a &lsquo;Maan desh&rsquo;, a separate &lsquo;drought district&rsquo; comprising these 13 tehsils ,&rdquo; says Dr. Maruti Ramakrishna Katkar, a retired district medical officer.

&ldquo;Their present districts give them little say in anything,&rdquo; says Katkar. But how would &lsquo;seceding&rsquo; to form a new district help them? The old districts would be glad to see them go and be even less answerable to them, surely? He puts one of the leaders of the new &lsquo;drought district&rsquo; movement, Prof. Krishna Ingole, on the phone with us. Ingole says the shared interests of the people in that region bind them together and districthood will enhance their bargaining power.

&ldquo;These tehsils are about 1,000 feet above sea level and in a rain shadow zone,&rdquo; Katkar says. &ldquo;We have less than 30 rainy days annually. All our areas have seen major migrations. There are gold and jewellery workers among the migrants who send back remittances that keep the local economy going.&rdquo;

The water crisis is not a problem of the last year or two. Nor of a single big drought. It has built over the decades, driven largely by human hand. Why, asks retired irrigation engineer Sharad Mande in Pune, are there no long-term measures to deal with it? He answers his own question: &ldquo;The life of dams is 80-90 years. The life of pipelines is 35-40 years. That of water treatment plants &ndash; about 25-30 years. Of pumping machinery, 15 years. But the life of a chief minister is five years. There is no credit for the long-term action. Only for what you do immediately.&rdquo;

Between 2000 and 2010, official data show, the state&rsquo;s irrigation potential increased by just 0.1 per cent. That, after spending Rs. 70,000 crores on irrigation during the same decade. Over half of that, going by the findings of the Chitale Committee that probed the irrigation scam, may have been siphoned off on dud schemes.

In Maharashtra, official and Right to Information-accessed data show, the cost of a dam can increase by 500 per cent within a month after a contract for it is awarded. Or by nearly 1,000 per cent within six months. As many as 77 projects have been &ldquo;under execution&rdquo; for over 30 years. Cost overruns are bigger than the budgets of some small Indian states put together.

Groundwater is also running low in Maharashtra, where 65 per cent of the net irrigation is based on this resource. The state&rsquo;s ban in April 2016 on the sinking of borewells below 200 feet comes three decades too late.

Even the drinking water problem is far greater than it ought to be in regions along the Krishna river&rsquo;s course. A lot of water gets diverted to construction activity. There are rural to urban transfers, and agriculture to industry diversions.

Within agriculture, most of the water is monopolised by sugarcane. Even Ner lake water intended for drinking gets diverted to that crop. Two-thirds of Maharashtra&rsquo;s cane is grown in drought-prone regions. As for the sugar factories, &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t call them that,&rdquo; Mande grumbles. &ldquo;They are MLA factories &ndash; that&rsquo;s what they produce.&rdquo;

Each acre of sugarcane uses up to 180 acre-inches of water in a year &ndash; that is, almost 18 million litres &ndash; apart from normal rainfall. An acre of irrigated hybrid jowar requires barely 10 per cent of that. A lot of people are not attacking sugarcane per se. Just grow it in regions that have the water for it, they say. Not in zones of scarcity. Cane is cultivated on 4 per cent of the land, but consumes 70 per cent of irrigation water in Maharashtra.

&ldquo;This dugwell of ours has never been dry in six decades,&rdquo; says Yunus Nalaband, back in Mahabaleshwar. He and Roshan continue packing their strawberries. Mahabaleshwar accounts for close to 80 per cent of the country&rsquo;s strawberry production. The two gift us a few strawberries and even some black mulberry fruit.

Barely a hundred yards in front of us is the Krishnamai temple that they supply free water too. Behind us are the three acres they still cultivate. But with water running out, these may not be, unlike in the nostalgic Beatles song, &lsquo;Strawberry Fields Forever&rsquo;.

<div class="ui-state-default" contenteditable="false"><img alt="" draggable="false" src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/pari7-20170926071534.jpg" />
<div class="media-description">
Yunus and Roshan struggle to cultivate in the drought period but share the little water they get from their borewell with the Kirshnamai temple. (Others)
</div>
<a class="close-mark close-div" href="javascript:void(0)" id="jqclosemark">&times;</a></div>

This<a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/articles/no-life-should-end-in-the-gutter/">&nbsp;</a><a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/articles/source-of-the-rivers-scams-of-the-rulers/">article</a><a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/articles/no-life-should-end-in-the-gutter/">&nbsp;</a>was originally published on 25/ 05/2016&nbsp;on the&nbsp;<a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/">People&#39;s Archive of Rural India.</a>

&nbsp;

Photo Credit: P. Sainath

Why rivers run dry while money floods the system in Maharashtra. A journey downstream the Krishna river

He is a strawberry farmer in his late 70s. The dug well on his three acres in old Mahabaleshwar is stone dry. His wife and he struggle to keep the farm going. They manage to, as there is still some water in their borewell. But even that little he shares, free of charge, with the temple bordering their land. The severe drought hurts his yield but not his generosity. His name is Yunus Ismail Nalaband – and he gives that water to the Krishnamai temple, the oldest symbol of the source of the Krishna river in Satara district, quite cheerfully. “Is it really my water?” he asks. “It all belongs to the uparwala [the Almighty], does it not?” His wife, Roshan Nalaband, also in her 70s, nods approvingly. They’re both packing their strawberries in little boxes. “The traders will come by to pick them up,” says Roshan. “The prices are higher this year because of scarcity, but that is offset by a poorer yield and lesser quality of the crop.” They speak, without pausing at work, of the way the water crisis is hurting them. Only Roshan breaks off for a minute to give us some water and offer us further refreshments. Yunus Nalaband and his wife Roshan Nalaband: Small farmers, growing mainly strawberries on their three acres. (Others) × Completely dried-out well of Yunus Nalaband and his wife Roshan Nalaband. (Others) × The kunda (temple tank) at the Krishnamai is empty except when it gets water from the Nalabands’ borewell. The tank went dry this season. The Krishnamai is just a few minutes’ walk from the more-visited Panchganga temple, also regarded as the symbolic source of the Krishna and four other rivers – Koyna, Venna, Savitri and Gayatri. Their actual sources are not too far from here. The Krishnamai itself is probably the oldest temple in the Wai-Mahabaleshwar region. A beautiful little one, seen by locals as the home of the river goddess. The Krishnamai temple in Old Mahabaleshwar: the little ‘kunda’ in front of it is dry for the first time in living memory. (Others) × My friend and colleague Jaideep Hardikar and I, together with other journalists in each of the districts we visited, went to the source – symbolic or actual – of several rivers in Maharashtra in the month of May. The idea was to journey downstream each river and talk to farmers, labourers and others living along these routes. To listen to them speak about how the mega water crisis – much larger than a meteorological drought – is affecting their lives. While it is normal for some parts of rivers to run dry in summer, this is now happening even in their source regions, along stretches where they have never dried up. “Maharashtra’s once perennial rivers have significantly been converted into seasonal ones,” says Prof. Madhav Gadgil, who headed the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel. “Amongst the reasons for this have been large-scale damming and a host of other activities along the course and basins of these rivers,” says the leading ecologist and writer. “In six decades, I have not seen the kunda of the Krishnamai empty and dry,” says Narayan Zade. That’s in a region with an annual average rainfall of close to 2,000 mm. A retired tourist guide and migrant worker, Zade spends his days sitting around this temple. He is clear though that the drought isn’t just about the rainfall. He says tourists and outsiders – “you people” – have much to answer for. “Of course there has been major deforestation,” he says. “But not by locals. If one of us here cuts a couple of branches, he goes to jail. But people from outside cut and take truckloads of timber – they get away with it.” While Zade too has worked as a tour guide, he says unregulated tourism has done great damage: “…all those resorts and places have come up” causing further loss of green cover. Now, he prefers the quiet Krishnamai to the Panchganga temple bustling with tourists. Narayan Zade at the Krishnamai temple. He blames outsiders –‘you people’ – for deforestation, overcrowding and other activities that add to the water scarcity. (Others) × The temple’s front yard has a spectacular spot overlooking the Dhom Balkawadi dam. It still has some water, but much less than it should, even for this time of the year. Years of damming and major diversions of water along the river have had an impact. There is also the chaos of never-to-be-completed lift irrigation schemes. These are at the core of the state’s “irrigation scam”. Quite a few villages that were meant to gain from those insanely expensive schemes, but never did, are in the Khatav and Maan tehsils of Satara. The Ner dam and lake in that district are meant to supply water, both for drinking and irrigation, to a much larger number of villages, but the supply is mostly cornered by sugarcane cultivators in just 19 villages nearby. Ner is about 80 kilometres downstream from the Krishnamai. The Ner lake and dam in Satara district: even water meant for drinking is monopolised by sugarcane growers in just 19 nearby villages. (Others) × Besides Maan and Khatav, 11 other very dry tehsils here are spread across three districts – Satara, Sangli and Solapur. People from these tehsils confer each year in what they call adushkaal parishad (drought council). “They are demanding, among other things, a ‘Maan desh’, a separate ‘drought district’ comprising these 13 tehsils ,” says Dr. Maruti Ramakrishna Katkar, a retired district medical officer. “Their present districts give them little say in anything,” says Katkar. But how would ‘seceding’ to form a new district help them? The old districts would be glad to see them go and be even less answerable to them, surely? He puts one of the leaders of the new ‘drought district’ movement, Prof. Krishna Ingole, on the phone with us. Ingole says the shared interests of the people in that region bind them together and districthood will enhance their bargaining power. “These tehsils are about 1,000 feet above sea level and in a rain shadow zone,” Katkar says. “We have less than 30 rainy days annually. All our areas have seen major migrations. There are gold and jewellery workers among the migrants who send back remittances that keep the local economy going.” The water crisis is not a problem of the last year or two. Nor of a single big drought. It has built over the decades, driven largely by human hand. Why, asks retired irrigation engineer Sharad Mande in Pune, are there no long-term measures to deal with it? He answers his own question: “The life of dams is 80-90 years. The life of pipelines is 35-40 years. That of water treatment plants – about 25-30 years. Of pumping machinery, 15 years. But the life of a chief minister is five years. There is no credit for the long-term action. Only for what you do immediately.” Between 2000 and 2010, official data show, the state’s irrigation potential increased by just 0.1 per cent. That, after spending Rs. 70,000 crores on irrigation during the same decade. Over half of that, going by the findings of the Chitale Committee that probed the irrigation scam, may have been siphoned off on dud schemes. In Maharashtra, official and Right to Information-accessed data show, the cost of a dam can increase by 500 per cent within a month after a contract for it is awarded. Or by nearly 1,000 per cent within six months. As many as 77 projects have been “under execution” for over 30 years. Cost overruns are bigger than the budgets of some small Indian states put together. Groundwater is also running low in Maharashtra, where 65 per cent of the net irrigation is based on this resource. The state’s ban in April 2016 on the sinking of borewells below 200 feet comes three decades too late. Even the drinking water problem is far greater than it ought to be in regions along the Krishna river’s course. A lot of water gets diverted to construction activity. There are rural to urban transfers, and agriculture to industry diversions. Within agriculture, most of the water is monopolised by sugarcane. Even Ner lake water intended for drinking gets diverted to that crop. Two-thirds of Maharashtra’s cane is grown in drought-prone regions. As for the sugar factories, “Please don’t call them that,” Mande grumbles. “They are MLA factories – that’s what they produce.” Each acre of sugarcane uses up to 180 acre-inches of water in a year – that is, almost 18 million litres – apart from normal rainfall. An acre of irrigated hybrid jowar requires barely 10 per cent of that. A lot of people are not attacking sugarcane per se. Just grow it in regions that have the water for it, they say. Not in zones of scarcity. Cane is cultivated on 4 per cent of the land, but consumes 70 per cent of irrigation water in Maharashtra. “This dugwell of ours has never been dry in six decades,” says Yunus Nalaband, back in Mahabaleshwar. He and Roshan continue packing their strawberries. Mahabaleshwar accounts for close to 80 per cent of the country’s strawberry production. The two gift us a few strawberries and even some black mulberry fruit. Barely a hundred yards in front of us is the Krishnamai temple that they supply free water too. Behind us are the three acres they still cultivate. But with water running out, these may not be, unlike in the nostalgic Beatles song, ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. Yunus and Roshan struggle to cultivate in the drought period but share the little water they get from their borewell with the Kirshnamai temple. (Others) × This article was originally published on 25/ 05/2016 on the People's Archive of Rural India. Photo Credit: P. Sainath

Source of the rivers, scams of the rulers

water-scarcity

Water Scarcity, News on Water Scarcity, stories on Water Scarcity, articles on Water Scarcity, Water Scarcity stories at Wion, Water Scarcity news, Water Scarcity latest news