On a foggy morning, Lake Hawassa’s waters are clouded with trash—plastic bags, bottles, and even discarded shoes float among tangled weeds. The lake’s shoreline is littered with branches, wood scraps, and city waste, affecting the livelihood of traditional fishermen who navigate their boats through polluted waters.
“I remember when the lake was crystal clear and full of fish,” says Daniel Bula, a 20-year resident. “Now it’s painful to see the decline. Waste from towns and industries and runoff from the highlands end up here.”
A fishing boat on the polluted Lake Hawassa reflects the urgent need for restoration efforts. Photo: The Niles / Solomon Yimer
Bula’s concerns are shared by many residents who depend on the lake. Lake Hawassa, located in Ethiopia’s Rift Valley, supports biodiversity and local livelihoods through farming, fishing, tourism, and industry. But rapid population growth and climate change now threaten this vital resource.
Formed in 2018, the “Protecting Lake Hawassa Partnership” unites private, public, and civil groups. Supported by GIZ’s Natural Resources Stewardship Programme, the partnership works on reforestation, waste management, and community engagement. Each team addresses critical issues to safeguard the lake’s ecosystem and promote sustainable development.
A boy swims in Lake Hawassa’s polluted waters despite health risks from untreated wastewater. Photo: The Niles / Solomon Yimer
The lake is home to fish, birds, and animals like hippos and monkeys, providing 85% of local fisheries’ catch. However, siltation and pollution disrupt habitats, threatening both aquatic life and the livelihoods of fishers like Lucas Ganche, chairman of the Lake Hawassa Fishing Association. “Yearly declines in fish populations due to silting and waste make it difficult for fishermen to earn a living.”
Lake Hawassa lies in a growing urban area, capturing untreated stormwater, industrial waste, and household runoff from the city, with no outlet for these pollutants. Soil erosion from deforestation in the uplands carries sediment into the lake, altering its boundaries and degrading water quality.
Ecohydrological structures in Boricha Village work to curb erosion and protect Lake Hawassa’s health. Photo: The Niles / Solomon Yimer
Dr. Mulugeta Dadi Belete from Hawassa University leads the Afforestation and Soil Erosion Task Force. Using ecohydrological methods, Dr. Mulugeta and his team prevent sediment from reaching the lake by building wood, bamboo, and plastic barriers to manage water flow and control erosion. “Our approach has stopped erosion, retaining 350,000 cubic meters of soil in 18 months,” he explains.
The project’s success depends on community involvement, and locals have embraced tree planting and soil conservation practices, seeing visible improvements in land and lake health.
The Hawassa Wubet Plastic Collection and Recycling Association, another project partner, tackles plastic waste in Lake Hawassa. Operating across 11 towns, the association collects 5.2 tons of plastic daily for recycling, creating jobs and reducing pollution.
The Hawassa Wubet Association’s recycling efforts visibly reduce plastic waste and restore pride in Lake Hawassa. Photo: The Niles / Solomon Yimer
“Lake Hawassa is our pride,” says Henock Dangoto, the association’s chairman. “By raising awareness and recycling, we protect the lake and offer jobs to local youth and women.” The initiative supports around 1,500 collectors and has created over 85 permanent jobs, with plans to expand operations by acquiring recycling machines.
In Boricha Village, 56-year-old Nigussie Dongato recalls a time when lush forests and fertile soil yielded bountiful crops. With population growth and deforestation, the land’s productivity dwindled. However, conservation efforts bring new hope. “We can see the land changing, with grass and shrubs growing back,” he observes.
Women planting trees around Lake Hawassa bring renewed life to the upper catchment. Photo: The Niles / Solomon Yimer
The return of vegetation and healthier fields is a positive sign, but residents wonder if these efforts can keep pace with the lake’s ongoing challenges. With community-led initiatives like tree planting, recycling, and soil conservation, the people of Hawassa strive to secure a sustainable future for their lake and livelihoods.
Over the past century, Burullus Lake has shrunk by about 30%, decreasing from over 600 square kilometres as urban development and agriculture have converted wetlands into farmland and fish farms.
A recent study in the Egyptian Journal of Aquatic Biology and Fisheries (2023) highlights how these changes have critically affected the lake’s biodiversity.
Native plants of Burullus Lake thrive near the sea, while an old fish circle and invasive plants dominate the area closer to the Nile. Photos: The Niles / Sara Haggag
Fishermen navigate shrinking waterways. Photo: The Niles / Sara Haggag
Marine species such as Dicentrarchus labrax have declined, and some, like Argyrosomus regius and crabs, have disappeared altogether.
On the other hand, freshwater fish production, particularly tilapia and catfish, has fluctuated dramatically, showing an overall shift towards species adapted to freshwater.
Burullus Lake: A landscape under transformation. Photos: The Niles / Sara Haggag
Local fisherman Ahmed ElGammal observes these changes first-hand: “I used to catch plenty, but now fishing all day brings little. In winter, the smell from pollution is terrible, and fish move further from the shore.”
Burullus Lake faces pollution from untreated sewage and agricultural runoff, introducing harmful chemicals into the water. The invasive water hyacinth thrives in these conditions, blocking sunlight and consuming oxygen, which harms aquatic life.
Invasive water hyacinth fills Drain 9, choking native plants and obstructing boat travel. Photos: The Niles / Sara Haggag
The dense hyacinth mats also hinder water flow, leading to stagnation. “The wind brings them here,” shared a fisherman from Shakhlouba. “Moving our boats has become a struggle.” However, some fishermen have adapted by using the plants to create makeshift traps for fish.
Once a haven for birdlife, Burullus Lake now witnesses dwindling bird populations. Breeding colonies like herons are declining due to habitat loss and pollution. While studies indicate a rise in species diversity, community density has dropped, signalling an imbalance in local ecosystems.
A lone egret wanders the polluted shores of Burullus Lake, where habitat loss has driven many birds away (left). A deceased egret near the shore reflects the ongoing impact of pollution on bird populations (right) and one with the catch of the day (bottom) Photos: The Niles / Sara Haggag
Lake Burullus has gained attention as an ecotourism spot, drawing visitors for bird-watching and boat tours and boosting the local economy.
In response, government efforts aim to clean the lake’s waters and manage water hyacinths. Community leaders in Damro report annual efforts to clear the hyacinths, with the main push in June.
The future of Lake Burullus hinges on a committed conservation approach that balances ecosystem protection with sustainable human use.
Antoine Mukeshimana, 45, grew up on Sharita Island in Rwanda’s Bugesera District. Situated in Lake Rweru at the confluence of the Akagera River, Sharita Island has long been cut off from modern infrastructure, with no roads, schools, or healthcare facilities.
In a family of seven children, Antoine has spent his life navigating the island’s risks. These include threats from hippos, floods, and waterborne illnesses from using unfiltered lake water for drinking and cooking.
Ten years ago, Antoine’s life changed dramatically after a hippo attack left him with severe injuries and the eventual loss of his right leg. On March 19, 2014, he gathered papyrus with his neighbour, Athanase Biziyaremye, when they encountered a hippo.
The animal rammed Antoine’s boat, throwing him into the water. In the ensuing struggle, the hippo mauled his leg, leaving him with life-threatening injuries.
Hippos navigate the waters and shores of the Akagera River in Rwanda’s Eastern Province, close to Sharita Island. Photo: The Niles / Samuel Ngendahimana
“I tried to swim to shore, but the hippo was relentless. When I finally reached land, it attacked again, leaving me too weak to fight back,” he recalls.
His neighbour, though safe from the attack, stayed close to help, ultimately carrying Antoine to the mainland, where he was taken to Kigali’s University Central Teaching Hospital. There, doctors amputated his leg after a three-month recovery period.
Residents cross the channel from the market to their homes on Sharita Island, highlighting their reliance on the lake for transport. Photo: The Niles / Samuel Ngendahimana
In 2016, Antoine and his family became part of a relocation initiative to move residents from high-risk areas.
As one of the first families to resettle in Rweru Model Village, they were provided a fully equipped four-bedroom house, access to clean water, electricity, and a cow to help sustain their family.
“Living on the island was dangerous. Here, I finally feel secure, and my children can drink clean water and go to school,” Antoine says.
Antoine Mukeshimana feeds the cow he received from the government after his family’s relocation from the island. Photo: The Niles / Samuel Ngendahimana
In May 2024, Antoine revisited Sharita with the photographer to reflect on where he once called home. Over 70 percent of the island’s population has been relocated, but the risks remain for those who stay.
Antoine Mukeshimana poses with his children in front of their new home in Rweru Model Village. Photo: The Niles / Samuel Ngendahimana
Antoine’s journey from Sharita to Rweru Model Village represents part of Rwanda’s broader effort to support residents in high-risk zones. Each year, on Liberation Day, Rwanda inaugurates new model villages across the country, aiming to improve the lives of vulnerable communities.
The Nile River flows an impressive 6,695 kilometres, winding through multiple countries before reaching the Mediterranean Sea. The two main tributaries, the White Nile and the Blue Nile, converge in Sudan’s capital, Khartoum. The White Nile is commonly traced back to Burundi’s highlands, and Rutovu is one of the recognised starting points.
Youth make their way up the hilly terrain, venturing towards Rutovu. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
Herman Nahimana, a former military officer who has spent the past two decades guiding visitors to Rutovu, recalls his first visit to the Nile’s source. This journey ignited his love for sharing his homeland’s stories. “I met an environmentalist named Albert Mbonerana,” he says. “He handed me a brochure about Burundi’s landscapes, and that moment stayed with me.”
The German explorer Burkhart Waldecker is credited with marking Rutovu as the Nile’s southernmost source in 1934. After a gruelling four-year journey from Egypt to Burundi, he identified Rutovu and erected a pyramid to commemorate his discovery, paying homage to past explorers.
A pyramid built by Waldecker marks Rutovu as one of the sources of the Nile, recognising its significance in exploration history. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
In a community near Rutovu, we meet Delphin, a twelve-year-old boy filling a water container at a tap installed in 2009. Delphin, the youngest of seven, knows the importance of this clean water supply. His mother, Pascasie, recalls, “Before this tap, we relied on the Jiji River, but it often made my children sick.”
The Jiji River, one of the smaller rivers in the area, flows near Rutovu. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
Cows graze near the Jiji River, another critical water source for residents. Photos: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
Men swim in spring waters near the Nile’s source in Rutovu, a place where swimming is restricted for the nearby Batwa community. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
Nearby, Ndabegamiye, a father of ten and a leader of the local Batwa community, faces challenges despite living close to Rutovu. “Our children often get sick, and finding secure land is a struggle,” he shares, pointing to the grass houses his community builds only to be repeatedly displaced.
The Batwa community’s grass houses symbolise a resilience honed through adversity and their deep connection to traditional ways. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
While life near Rutovu offers access to water, it also presents daily challenges. Delphin, Pascasie, and Ndabegamiye’s stories reflect a complex relationship with the river that sustains them, highlighting the community’s social and environmental issues. Their experiences show the need for fair access to clean water and sustainable development.
Delphin heads home after collecting water, a daily necessity made easier by the community tap near Rutovu. Photo: The Niles / Nitanga Tchandrou
As our journey through Rutovu ends, we are reminded of the historical and cultural significance attached to the Nile’s many sources. Rutovu, with its people and landscape, remains a place where nature’s beauty meets the realities of daily life.
In 2012, I began my journey into the world of dragonflies and damselflies in Sudan, collectively known as Odonata. Their vivid colours, oversized eyes, and mighty wings captured my imagination, and I became fascinated with their distribution, behaviour, and efforts to conserve them.
My first surveys took place close to home—in my garden, along water canals, and in the temporary lakes surrounding my village in the East Nile region.
Living near the Nile River has always felt like a privilege. Here, one can endlessly observe aquatic life, watch sunsets, and enjoy coffee by the riverbank. Yet, my search for these incredible creatures soon extended beyond my village.
A dragonfly perches on a stick. Photos: The Niles / Esra Elfaki
I travelled across Sudan’s varied landscapes—from the deserts and semi-deserts in the North to the dense forests and green mountains in the West and even to the lutas ponds near the borders of South Sudan and Red Sea State in the East.
Sudan’s unique environments became intertwined with my own identity. I was drawn to the elements these insects depend on: lush greenery, clean air, clear water, and the freedom to move unencumbered.
Dragonflies are symbols of strength, courage, happiness, and spiritual growth across cultures. Their reliance on freshwater, especially for reproduction, underscores their importance to the ecosystem.
Nymphs shape aquatic habitats, while adults select their environments based on vegetation and other structural features. Due to their sensitivity to environmental shifts, such as deforestation and erosion, Odonata are indicators of human impact on the natural world.
Dragonflies during the day and at sunset. Photos: The Niles / Esra Elfaki
During the rainy season, dragonflies engage in peak activities—flying at dusk, hunting, mating, laying eggs, and resting among tree branches. My task has been to capture these moments.
By last year, we had identified 89 species in Sudan. However, this year, everything changed. The ongoing conflict introduced smoke, fire, and pollution, making the environment and my homeland unsafe. I was forced to leave Sudan, relocating to a country vastly different in climate and culture.
Biodiversity along the Nile in Sudan. Photos: The Niles / Esra Elfaki
In my new surroundings, I sincerely wish to return to a peaceful Sudan, where I can again document dragonflies gliding over a clean and healthy river. Like these insects, I yearn to flourish in the place I call home.
In Mwanza City’s Mabatini-Buzuruga area, steep hillsides and unplanned settlements create a unique challenge: managing sewage is nearly impossible without reliable infrastructure. Houses cling to rocky slopes, and basic sanitation remains out of reach for many.
For 51-year-old Chacha Nyechi, who has worked as a toilet emptier since he was 14, sanitation work is both a livelihood and a challenge. “I’ve done this since 1988. One day, I slipped into a pit while working. You can’t do this job sober,” he jokes.
Chacha and his “toilet emptying specialists” earn their living by charging local households to empty pit latrines—a crucial service in a community with few alternatives.
A bird drinks from a polluted stream, highlighting Mwanza’s waste management challenges. Photo: The Niles / Said Sindo
In Mwanza’s Nyamagana District, Mabatini Ward is home to nearly 24,500 people, but only 23% have access to the city’s sewage services, which are managed by the Mwanza Urban Water and Sewerage Authority (MWAUWASA). This gap forces residents to adopt makeshift waste management solutions, which contributes to pollution in nearby water sources.
One such source is the Kenge River, which borders Mabatini and flows into the heavily polluted Mirongo River and eventually Lake Victoria. With limited access to clean water infrastructure, many residents depend on the river for essential activities such as washing clothes, preparing food, and bathing. However, this reliance comes with health risks, as pollution from waste has made the river a hazardous resource.
People engage in various activities along the Mirongo River—washing, fetching water, and using it as an open toilet. Photo: The Niles / Said Sindo
A 2023 InfoNile investigation found high levels of E. coli, lead, and microplastic in Lake Victoria, indicators of the region’s severe pollution issues. For the residents of Mabatini, however, the lake and rivers remain vital water sources despite these hazards.
Recognising these risks, MWAUWASA recently introduced a sewage system covering two streets within Mabatini Ward, connecting homes to a central treatment facility. While a promising start, most of the ward still awaits connection to safe sewage systems. Local leader Esther Dwashi Masanja donated stones from her property to aid the project, and resident Revina Audax hopes the initiative will improve sanitation and access to clean water.
New sewage infrastructure built by MWAUWASA connects households to a central treatment system in Mabatini South. Photo: The Niles / Said Sindo
Despite these efforts, areas like Northern Mabatini remain reliant on open pits, particularly during the rainy season, when waste is often washed into the Mirongo River. Anthony Msafiri, chairman of St. Benjamin Street, expresses his concerns: “When only part of the area has safe systems, everyone is still at risk of diseases like cholera.”
Clothes dry on rocks near the river, surrounded by litter and waste, showing the community’s dependence on this polluted water source. Photo: The Niles / Said Sindo
MWAUWASA has promoted ecological solutions to address these ongoing challenges, including urine-diverting dehydration toilets (UDDTs). These toilets separate waste for safe reuse, protecting local water sources and benefiting agriculture. Initiatives like the Lake Victoria Water and Sanitation Initiative (LVWATSAN) aim to support Mwanza’s gradual expansion of sanitation infrastructure.
A local leader, Esther Dwashi Masanja (67), expresses her satisfaction with new sanitation initiatives improving life in Mabatini South. Photo: The Niles / Said Sindo
Lawrence Samuel stands by the Nile River, reflecting on how much Juba has changed since he was born in the 1950s. Back then, Juba was a quiet riverside town; today, it is the bustling capital of South Sudan.
He recalls how families once gathered at the river to collect water, carrying it home in tin cans balanced on their heads. This daily ritual created a sense of community, with designated parts of the river for bathing and others for drinking, blending practicality with tradition.
Alongside drinking and bathing, the river also provides food, with fish as a part of resident’s diet.” Photo: The Niles / Samir Bol
Lawrence reminisces about neighbours supporting each other and sharing laughs as they collected water—a task that was also a social lifeline. But things are different now. With Juba’s rapid growth, there’s a high demand for clean water but no comprehensive system to meet it.
Street vendors after work, adapting to the city’s rapid growth and the mounting demand for essential resources like clean water. Photo: The Niles / Samir Bol
Lawrence also remembers when the government established a piped water system in the late 1970s and early 1980s, making access easier. However, that system no longer functions today, and residents rely on external sources.
Sizeable blue water tankers have become a common sight. These trucks provide water but serve as a reminder of the city’s unresolved water crisis.
Water tankers are filled to supply Juba’s residents with much-needed water. Photo: The Niles / Samir Bol
Resident Rabeh George Lado notes that after the 2005 peace agreement, water tankers became increasingly common with the arrival of more residents and foreign workers. The growing population raised demand, but it also highlighted the challenge of creating local jobs and ensuring self-sufficiency in water supply.
Edward Nagbong, who manages a water station, points out that about 90% of water transporters are from outside South Sudan. This reality raises questions about the country’s reliance on outside sources and the need for local, sustainable solutions to water access.
The streams that once supported the community for bathing, washing, and farming have faded from daily life, leaving only memories. With climate change and urbanisation, Juba now faces new challenges, as the Nile’s unpredictable behaviour tests the city’s resilience.
After heavy rains, little streams carry plastic waste and debris from the city, underscoring the strain on Juba’s waste management. Photo: The Niles / Samir Bol
With climate change, seasonal flooding now displaces residents near the river, forcing them to higher ground. Guerkek, a community near the Lado Mountains, regularly experiences severe flooding, which drives families from their homes during the rainy season.
The community’s strength emerges as people like Diana Nene and Henry Sule volunteer to help their neighbours, using boats to transport displaced families to safe locations. While such acts showcase solidarity, residents desire long-term solutions, such as reinforced embankments or improved drainage systems, to reduce future risks.
Rising water levels from the Nile pose challenges for communities as flooding affects the land and access to clean water. Photo: The Niles / Samir Bol
And outside of flood season, water access can be precarious. In Malakia, a construction worker named Rami John pays a dollar per barrel for water delivered over 3–4 kilometres. For residents with limited means, the high price of water places added pressure on their lives.
As August turns to September, the story shifts to those who depend on the river to sustain agriculture. In Bogor, farmer Joseph Akulang uses river water to irrigate his crops, underscoring the Nile’s ongoing role in supporting local farming, even amid climate challenges.
In Bogor, Joseph Akulang tends to his crops with water drawn from the Nile, reflecting the river’s enduring role in sustaining agriculture in Juba. Photo: The Niles / Samit Bol
Looking ahead, Juba’s water challenges call for innovative, sustainable approaches. Collaborative efforts to improve waste management, reinforce embankments, and expand local water infrastructure could strengthen resilience against flooding and secure cleaner water for all.
Initiatives like community-led water stations, support for local water tankers, and climate-adaptive agricultural practices offer pathways to a more self-sufficient and sustainable water future.
For Juba’s residents, the Nile will continue to be a source of life and opportunity, and with coordinated action, it can better support the community’s needs and growth in the years to come.
Just 15 kilometres from Goma, the provincial capital, Nyiragongo has become a temporary refuge for many fleeing violence—however, an acute shortage of clean water further strains their survival.*
The scarcity of clean water compels camp residents to rely on contaminated sources, raising the risk of waterborne diseases like cholera and dysentery. These diseases spread rapidly in unsanitary conditions, worsening both the health and safety of displaced people. Clinics within the camps are overwhelmed, and medical supplies are dwindling.
“The situation is critical,” says a local aid worker who requested anonymity. “People are falling ill, and without access to clean water, conditions will only worsen. Our healthcare resources are exhausted, and many suffer needlessly.”
Lack of clean water further complicates basic hygiene, contributing to disease spread. Many families use contaminated water for cooking and washing, intensifying the health crisis. According to a recent WHO report (December 19, 2023), approximately two litres of water per person per day are available for Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), far below the recommended minimum of 15 litres. Since early 2023, more than 30,000 cases of cholera have been recorded in North Kivu, where over two million displaced people now reside.
Displaced families in Nyiragongo use contaminated water sources due to limited access to clean water. Photo: The Niles / Daniel Buuma
When water is available, it comes at a price many cannot afford. Displaced individuals pay 500 Congolese Francs (about USD 0.18) per jerry can—a substantial amount for families who have lost their homes and livelihoods.
“It may seem small, but when you have nothing, it’s a significant expense,” says Dushimwe, an 18-year-old Nyabanda displaced people’s camp resident.
Beyond the financial strain, residents often spend hours waiting in line for water, which could be used to find food or work. The burden of accessing water adds to the economic hardships that displaced families face.
The price of water poses a financial burden for displaced families in Nyiragongo. Photo: The Niles / Daniel Buuma
“We have gone more than a week without clean water,” says Tushimwe, a resident of Nyiragongo’s camp. The water, often sourced from Lake Kivu in Goma and transported 15 kilometres to Kanyarutshinya, is difficult to access.
Another resident, Neema, shares her experience: “I wake up at 6 a.m. to fetch water, but by 11 a.m., I’m still waiting. Soldiers arrive and cut the line, bringing their jerry cans. We don’t know where to get water from NGOs, so many people walk up to two kilometres searching for clean water. It’s unbearable.”
Logistical and security challenges have disrupted water distribution. Even when water is delivered, it is often insufficient for the camp’s needs, leaving many residents without basic access.
Waiting in line for water is an arduous and lengthy process for many in Nyiragongo’s camps. Photo: The Niles / Daniel Buuma
Displaced people in Nyiragongo urgently need support. “We need help,” says Andre, a resident of Nyabanda camp. Clean water is essential for survival, and we are running out of options.”
The humanitarian crisis demands immediate and coordinated action. Organisations and governments are being called upon to increase aid and implement sustainable solutions, such as establishing infrastructure for clean water access. Swift intervention is crucial to prevent further suffering and to support displaced populations as they rebuild their lives.
Residents plead for clean water and international assistance to address the crisis. Photo: The Niles / Daniel Buuma
As conditions in Nyiragongo worsen, immediate action is crucial. Addressing the water crisis will alleviate the suffering of displaced people and help prevent a full-scale health catastrophe.
International organisations, local governments, and humanitarian agencies must collaborate to deliver emergency relief and long-term solutions. Without prompt intervention, the situation could escalate into a severe health crisis with devastating consequences for already vulnerable displaced communities. International support is vital to uphold the basic human right to clean water and to avert further humanitarian disasters.
Meeting the needs of Nyiragongo’s displaced people is challenging. Photo: The Niles / Daniel Buuma
* Note: The names used in this article have been changed to protect the individuals‘ privacy.
It’s a bright morning by the riverside. Golden sunlight filters through, illuminating River Kuja’s flowing waters in western Kenya while early birds chirp along its banks. A gentle hum of village life begins to stir as smoke rises from cooking fires and the sounds of greetings float through the air. The community is waking up, and each member plays a part in life along the banks of River Kuja.
A young woman does her domestic chores along the shores of River Kuja. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
As the sun climbs higher, its warmth spreads over the lush greenery of the riverbanks, bringing wildlife and villagers to life. Among them is Mary Akinyi Obunga, a 68-year-old water seller from Wath Ong’er. Known for her cheerful disposition, Mary brightens everyone’s day with her talkative nature and presence.
Mary Akinyi, 68 years old, is on her way to River Kuja to fetch water for sale to hotels and homes in Wath Ong’er. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Mondays are especially busy in Wath Ong’er as townsfolk prepare for Tuesday’s market day, a significant weekly event. Traders from Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda converge here to buy and sell livestock, woven goods, food products, and more. For over two decades, Mary Akinyi and her friend Mary Achieng Nyakore have supplied water to this market, transporting it from the river using donkeys.
Mary Akinyi and Mary Achieng Nyakore, both primary water sellers in Wath Ong’er, transport water from the River Kuja on their donkeys. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
River Kuja flows through multiple communities before reaching Wath Ong’er. It originates in the highlands of Kiabonyoru in Nyamira County and is known among the Kisii as River Gucha. As it reaches Migori County, the Luo call it River Kuja and its final destination is Lake Victoria.
Mary Akinyi, fetching water from the shallower ends of River Kuja. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
According to local stories, the name Kuja reflects both the good and bad things brought by the river; in Swahili, “Kuja” means “come.” The river converges with the Migori River and flows vigorously into Lake Victoria.
Wath Ong’er, located in Nyatike Sub-County within Migori, is at the heart of Kenya’s southwestern region. The journey from Migori town to Wath Ong’er spans 40 kilometres over relatively good terrain, though dust covers some roads leading into the market centre.
Mary Akinyi Obunga has followed the same path for twenty years, transporting water from River Kuja to the market centre. “This water business has educated my children, fed my family, built me a home, and now pays for my grandchildren’s education,” she says with pride. She calls her work “willing buyer, willing seller,” charging KSH 10 (USD 0.07) per jerrican. On each trip, Mary’s five donkeys carry four jerricans each, amounting to 320 litres.
“This river is the only water source for the community. We bathe, wash, drink, and even fight by its banks,” says Mary. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Despite her age, Mary is physically fit, energetic, and well-respected by her community. Her customers say she’s like a thread weaving through Wath Ong’er, always knowing what’s happening and where. Mondays are particularly hectic, and her son, Joseph Aloo, who lives with a disability, often helps meet the demand.
Mary’s friend, Mary Achieng Nyakore, delivers water to a family near the market. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Pamela Akinyi Mirima, a 37-year-old widow with four children, owns a small hotel near the river. Market days bring her a steady flow of customers, and she relies on Mary’s water deliveries to keep her business running. “Mary has been supplying me with water for 20 years; she’s like a mother to me,” says Pamela.
Mary is well aware of the risks associated with untreated river water. She uses purifiers at home and urges others to do the same, though many in the community continue to use the water directly from the river despite the risks.
Mary Akinyi pours water into a customer’s storage tank. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
In response to waterborne illnesses, CARE Kenya distributes water purifying sachets weekly through the Wath Ong’er Dispensary, helping households reduce contamination.
Purifying sachets, distributed weekly, are a common sight in Wath Ong’er. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
A resident, Joseph Onyango Ayaki, highlights the dangers of mining waste contaminating the river. “We have zero clean water. Diseases grow and worsen over time,” he says.
The Maji Safi (Clean Water) Kiosk initiative was introduced with rising health concerns. Using a sky hydrant filter, the kiosk purifies and sells river water cheaply. Joyce Onyach, 53, a local advocate, helped establish the kiosk through partnerships with Siemens Foundation and CARE.
Mary Akinyi at the Maji Safi Kiosk. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
“I wanted to provide clean water to my community,” says Joyce. The initiative has reduced cases of waterborne diseases and provided a safer alternative to river water.
The backflow of Lake Victoria has led to frequent flooding, with contaminated waters damaging homes and displacing families. In 1997, El Niño rains altered River Kuja’s course, and climate change has since increased the frequency and impact of such floods.
Backflow from Lake Victoria encroaches on homes near the lake. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Simon Awidhi from the Water Resources Users Authority warns that gold leaching and pollution from upstream mining worsen the river’s condition. Meanwhile, the Red Cross and local volunteers help relocate families to higher ground during floods.
Fish sellers await larger catches as fishermen arrive from Lake Victoria. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Dr. Jane Macharia, a research scientist, explains that the backflow disrupts fish breeding, threatens biodiversity, and contaminates riparian lands, leading to waterborne disease outbreaks.
Flooding displaces families, with backflow waters seeping into homes. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
Despite the community’s challenges, River Kuja continues to flow steadily into Lake Victoria, sustaining and endangering those living by it. Residents urge the government to develop solutions to manage backflow and prevent recurring displacement.
Today, Mary Akinyi returns from the market with a greater profit than usual. Her donkeys are laden with empty jerricans after a successful day. She walks home alongside her son, carrying the weight of her community’s resilience and hope.
Mary Akinyi and her son head home as the day ends. Photo: The Niles / Curity Ogada
At Masese Landing Site, just outside Jinja in eastern Uganda, boats arrive laden with goods as porters work tirelessly, hauling crates and supplies to keep this essential trade route alive. This bustling scene hides the unseen hardships faced by those who make it possible.
For men like 26-year-old George Kafuko, a porter at the site, Masese represents a lifeline and a daily struggle. Hundreds of porters, working without protective gear or job security, bear the weight of the local economy—both literally and figuratively—often under life-threatening conditions.
Masese Landing Site has long been a vital regional link, supporting the local fishing industry and connecting Uganda to inland trade routes. For many, like Kafuko, it’s the only source of income. Born and raised nearby, he lives just a few hundred metres from the site with his young son, while his wife works abroad in Oman. “Masese is my mother,” Kafuko says. “I depend on her for everything, even in the most challenging times.
But life as a porter here is risky. Littered with broken glass, fish bones, and other hazards, the site exposes workers to frequent injuries and infections. Porters like Kafuko often wade through polluted water without protective clothing or footwear. An injury means no work and, thus, no income. “I’ve seen friends hurt by broken bottles; some can’t work for days or even weeks,” Kafuko says.
Despite these risks, he persists, driven by the responsibility to support his son and household. On a good day, Kafuko might earn 40,000 Ugandan Shillings (USD 11), but his earnings can drop as low as 5,000 shillings (USD 1.50) on difficult days.
Efforts to address these challenges at Masese are under consideration. Improved waste management—such as placing more bins and organising clean-up campaigns—could help minimise injuries. Access to essential protective gear like gloves, boots, and durable clothing is also critical. Community efforts, including donation drives or partnerships with local businesses, could help porters work more safely.
Health services are another area of need. A mobile clinic near the landing site or a basic health insurance scheme for informal workers could relieve porters of medical costs. The idea of porter cooperatives is also gaining traction, offering potential financial support, savings programmes, and a platform for advocating better conditions.
Small personal changes could also make a difference for porters like Kafuko. Establishing a savings fund, even a modest one, could enable porters to invest in their protective gear over time. Diversifying income sources through side businesses, such as selling snacks at the landing site, could provide more financial stability.
Masese Landing Site remains a lifeline for the local economy but at a steep cost to the porters who sustain it. These men, carrying the loads at Masese, hold the future of their community in their hands. By addressing the immediate needs of safety and health, there is hope for a safer, more stable future for those who call Masese home.
Kafuko dreams of a day when he doesn’t have to choose between his health and livelihood. Until then, he will keep working, bearing the weight of Masese and hoping for better days ahead. The story of the porters is a call to action—for safer working conditions, fair wages, and recognition of those who carry the economic weight of their communities.
