Drought At Lake Eyasi

Drought At Lake Eyasi

We spent the morning with the Hadzabe and Datoga tribes near Karatu and then headed southwest toward the large alkaline lake, Eyasi. By the calendar dry season had just begun but we found, as we proceeded along the rough, dusty road, that the drought was already well advanced. The land was nearly deserted. Trees were wilted or leafless. The Datoga tribe had already left the area to try to find green pastures for their goats and cattle, leaving only a few blacksmiths, women and one or two warriors. A few people could be seen in some of the non-nomadic settlements and we sometimes saw them hiking with empty water jugs to find a well or spring. Edward, our guide, said that, for many of them, much of the day would revolve around trying to find water.

"How are the people going to survive until rainy season?"

Edward shrugged his shoulders. I had learned in my short time in Tanzania that questions were easy and answers were tough.

Edward talked about the beauty of Lake Eyasi as a way of lifting our spirits from the somber plight of the drought. It was a destination for flamingos, in season, a bird that I much admired and wanted to photograph. Sometimes it was a destination for hippopotamus who came there from Ngorongoro Crater. Unlike Ngorongoro Crater, it was a place for hiking and casual exploring.

When we got to where the shore was supposed to be, though, it was not there. We drove further into what should have been the lake. The short, parched grass giving way to a brine crust dotted with fish skeletons that merged with the cloudless sky in an indistinct horizon which shimmered softly in the heat. There was no sign of life.

A mile or two further on and we became concerned with the possibility of the truck breaking through the brine crust and stranding us. We were about to turn back when I saw an object in the distance. We got out of the truck and walked gingerly on the crust to investigate. What we found was an abandoned dugout canoe. It was so incongruous to the barren surroundings as to be comical. At my encouragment, Edward, and our safari companion, Ally, clowned around on the dugout canoe while I snapped away on my camera. It was only a diversion of a few moments, though. I began to pack up my camera bag for the short walk back to the truck when I heard a howl. I looked up quickly to see Edward, arms out, screaming in pain and frustration at the wind, the sun, and the relentlessly barren land. Gone with the drought were the leaves from the trees, the crops, the cattle, the people who could no longer live in their homes and on their land. And now, as a final indignity to this compassionate man, gone too was Lake Eyasi.