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Enough, says the cuckoo bird
KATHMANDU, JUN 11 -
A cloud pours into the rounded palms of Khumjung and Khunde valley at 3,790 m above sea level. Over 100 runners, both men and women, feel through the fog to receive instructions on the race they are about to compete in—the second annual Beat the GLOF Action Run. The run and the subsequent Save the Himalaya—Khumbu Festival was organised by the Sherpa student group Sherwi Yondhen Tshokpa and the NGO iDEAS. The message was the same as last year—a call for action to protect downstream communities from the loss of culture, infrastructure and livelihood in the event of a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) caused by a breach in the embankment of Imja lake, and insistence on a global commitment to mitigate the effects of climate change on glacial environments.
Edgy and chilled, the runners stretch their muscles towards victory. Countdown. Go. Heels scuffle almost 400 m downhill to Namche Bazaar following the Dudh Koshi, into which the current trickle of Imja glacier flows. Crossing over from forecasts of future injury to the still-tender wounds of past outbursts, the runners meet the Bhote Koshi to see boulders left behind by the Dig Tsho GLOF of 1985 and riparian contours crumbling to frequent landslides.
Fruitless forewarning
The potential dangers of a fast-expanding Imja have been cuckooed by experts for almost two decades, resulting in hardly any mitigating or adaptive responses but plenty of anxiety for local communities. This is the second time in two years that locals came together to set their own agenda on what needs to be done: no more scaremongering; we want action.
According to ICIMOD, Imja has grown from several minor supraglacial ponds in the 1950s with a total volume of 0.03 sq. km to a massive nearly 1 sq. km lake today. Between 2001 and 2006 the Imja glacier melted at an astonishing 74 m per year, its meltwater nursing the lake. In the case of a breach, the assessed damage could exceed Rs. 2.5 billion affecting a population of over 96,000. Not to mention unaccounted for intangible costs such as loss of culture, dent to tourism, disruption to children’s schooling, and psychological trauma. These conditions warranted ICIMOD’s labelling of Imja as a ‘potentially dangerous’ lake in a 2007 publication, suggesting that “mitigation measures to reduce the GLOF risks are urgent” since it “is growing so quickly”. Also recommended was the setting up of an early warning system for downstream residents, in addition to the two monitoring devices already installed at the lake transferring real-time data to a website.
In spite of these exhortations, no expenditure to adapt or to mitigate the risk was made. The cameras have recently broken down and will only be reinstalled in October. Knowledge can be paralysing, especially when in the form of a diagnosis of terminal cancer. While an exaggerated analogy, the constant visits by scientists and journalists must have been akin to this for those living in the vulnerability zone. Some villagers sold their land on the cheap and others panicked. “Just last year we had a case where people fled their houses at midnight because they thought they heard the river rumbling,” says Duryodhan Karki, the Border Administration Section Officer based in Namche. “From now on, if anyone comes here trying to make an issue of Imja without providing us with a solution, we shall chase them away,” rages Chimi Sherpa, a Khumbu civil society leader.
Brooding surgeon
Previous enlightenment on the possibility of a GLOF at Imja saw more of the negative—fear—and less of the positive—prevention. Now “aware”, the indigenous community felt obliged to act as advocates for action by those they see as responsible—the higher carbon-emitting countries as well as the pedalling researchers, the government and the I/NGO community. “Climate Change has become too politicised an issue,” explains Tsering Sherpa, a local. The reality is that “we are bearing the burden of climate change for the luxury of the global North.”
Locals here want solutions tailored to their traditions and beliefs, not like the early warning system installed in Rolwaling valley downstream of Tsho Rolpa where people complained of neglect, theft, and false alarms every time it rained heavily; and not like the monitoring system installed in Imja where observations were not widely communicated. And they want local involvement in all aspects—from data gathering to dissemination and policy-making.
More immediately, Chimi asks for straightforward answers from scientists. “After conducting so much research here, they need to tell us what should be done about Imja, so that we can move forward.”
Recent ICIMOD publications and efforts are almost a direct response to criticisms of the hype, yet still short of making some specific recommendations. They advise a tempered reaction to scientific findings: “A cautionary note must be added, however, to qualify the use of the phrase ‘potentially dangerous glacial lakes’. The word ‘potential’ or ‘potentially’, as used in the scientific/scholarly literature will often differ in meaning from its use in popular writing, and especially in the news media.” And for the first time, ICIMOD held a knowledge-sharing workshop with the local community in Namche Bazaar in March, revealing that the previous year’s study of Imja showed reduced risk of an immediate GLOF event—external factors such as a seismic vibration or sudden rise in temperature, notwithstanding. Remote-Sensing Specialist at ICIMOD Pradeep Mool maintains that detailed monitoring and mitigation is still needed, but in order to determine the kind of mitigation measures, a more extensive study of the end-moraine dam would be required. “When you go to the surgeon, does he confirm a diagnosis without conducting the necessary tests?” Indeed, but the longer the surgeon broods the more the patients worry.
Action-raising
Throughout the festival day, Sherpa customs were showcased in a symbolic demonstration of prospective loss. Villagers from across the Khumbu arrived at Khumjung to eat riki-kur and hril-dok while sipping hot tea, and to admire the colourful aprons, swaying bakhus, and fur shyamahus. Come evening, many linked arms to dance for Chyangdung. For the locals, the fact that their survival, livelihood and culture is at stake is reason enough to insist on a response at utmost urgency.
There are around 20 glacial lakes of similar status across Nepal, unfortunately, the livelihood of communities living downstream of these glaciers will surely be left to the mercy of nature if the expansion of the most economically-strategic, accessible and researched glacial lake in the country doesn’t lead to concerted and appropriate action.
Posted on: 2010-06-12 09:36
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