Sephareng, Lesotho // For Mohlakoane Molise, the view of the enormous Katse dam from his smallholding high in the mountains of Lesotho taunts him daily.
His impoverished country is suffering through its worst drought in 35 years, but the vast and vital water reserve remains out of reach, destined instead for export to neighbouring South Africa.
“I am very angry about that water, because it could benefit us, we could use it to water the crops when there is a drought. But that’s not happening,” the 65-year-old widower says.
Kneeling in front of his round thatched hut, he sorts through his maize, examining every single grain.
The operation does not take long – his harvest for the year fills just two large sacks instead of the usual dozen.
According to the World Food Programme (WFP), Lesotho’s harvest of maize, its primary crop, is estimated at 25,000 tonnes this year, a dramatic drop from last year’s 78,000-tonne haul.
Instead, the mountainous kingdom – entirely landlocked by South Africa – must import food from its larger neighbour.
But South Africa too has been hit by drought after the El Nino weather phenomenon uspset the region’s rainfall patterns, and maize prices have skyrocketed by 60 per cent in the past year.
According to the United Nations, 40 million people across southern Africa risk malnutrition by next year’s harvest.
“From September, we’ll have nothing left and we’ll struggle to buy maize from the shop,” says Mr Molise.
Below, the immense dark blue of the reservoir stands out in stark contrast to the bare, brown mountains.
The valley here was flooded in the 1990s under a deal that provides hydroelectricity for Lesotho in exchange for a reliable water supply to the bustling cities of Johannesburg and Pretoria.
“There were fields around the river before the dam was built, and there were trees, but they are covered by water,” Mr Molise says.
“Since the dam is here, it’s difficult to get water. The crops are very poor, even the grazing land. It’s like a desert.”
In Sephareng, the village tap has been dry for months. Residents must instead make their way up the mountain – a good half-hour’s walk along a rocky trail – to a communal pump. There, a feeble trickle of water fills their buckets while their cows and donkeys drink from the small puddles left behind by a vanishing stream.
For its part, Africa’s second-largest dam is fulfilling its mandate, despite the drought.
“The level today is about 63.4 per cent, which is quite low,” says Tatuku Maseatile, Katse acting branch manager for the Lesotho Highlands Development Authority.
“We are still able to meet our annual targets in terms of both generation and water transfer.”
From his office high up on the dam wall, he has an unparallelled view of the waters below.
“I do think people are benefiting from the dam,” he says.
The benefits include a water supply system, construction jobs, two industrial fishing projects and schools, he says.
“And roads in the mountains, tarred roads brought by the project – another direct spin-off – and a clinic built and transferred to the government.”
Along those tarred roads, women trudge uphill for hours to reach the clinic for the WFP’s monthly food distribution.
“We give them four packs each,” explains Mamakase Grace Sello, 21, a nutrition student interning with the WFP.
“It’s for lactating or pregnant mothers, and infants below the age of two. But we know that often the whole family eats some, including the fathers, even if they should not. The nutrients are for the babies.”
In a country where the overwhelming majority of families depend on their own crops for food and where nearly a quarter of the population is affected by Aids, charities are predicting disastrous consequences by next year’s harvest.
Earlier this year, the Lesotho government declared the drought a natural disaster.
“I’ve never seen a drought like this,” says shepherd Ntoaesele Mashongoane, 32.
“This drought is really terrible, especially for the pregnant sheep. They don’t have enough grass and there’s no water.”
His flock moves down the steep mountainsides to the water’s edge for a drink – a small consolation – and the deep blue of the dam lake reflected the skies above, not a raindrop in sight.
* Agence France-Presse
