Subscribe
Tanzania's Vision 2050 aims to tackle the climate crisis threatening the Great Ruaha River, a vital resource for agriculture and biodiversity.
With the river drying up due to climate change and mismanagement, the plan seeks to implement climate-smart agriculture, renewable energy, and equitable land governance to prevent economic collapse and environmental degradation.
The bed of the Great Ruaha River crunches underfoot like broken pottery. Where water once rushed with furious grace, only dust, cracked mud, and bones remain. Amidst the sweltering heat, crocodiles lie stranded in stagnant puddles, their massive bodies gasping for breath. A foul stench of rotting fish hangs heavy in the air, while vultures circle lazily above the carcasses of dead hippos, bloated and sun-baked.
“This place used to be paradise,” says Emmanuel Mwakipesile, a potato farmer from Kongolo village. “But due to drought, it is impossible to carry out any irrigation farming.”
Thirty years ago, the Great Ruaha never ran dry. Now it does—sometimes for over 200 days a year. With each passing dry season, the toll grows heavier. Tanzania’s largest river basin, once teeming with life and vital to agriculture, hydropower, and biodiversity, is collapsing under the weight of climate change and mismanagement driven by increasing human activities.
In southern Tanzania, farmers still speak of a time when the Ruaha roared through the land like a living thing—quenching fields, powering homes, and feeding wildlife. But each year, the once-mighty waterway grows weaker, leaving behind cracked riverbeds and thirsty crops.
“We used to fish right here, but as you can see now, there’s no water—it’s all dust,” says 68-year-old Jumanne Mbeyu, pointing to a parched bank.
This slow death of rivers, wetlands, and forests has stirred urgency in the nation’s leadership. Last week, the government unveiled its ambitious Vision 2050 blueprint—an economic roadmap aimed at transforming the country into a high-income industrialised nation. But beneath its optimistic rhetoric lies a hard truth: without confronting the climate crisis, the vision could crumble.
“When I stand here and see this dry riverbed, I feel so sad to look into the future we all try to avoid, the future without water, without life,” says Mbeyu. “We’ve been diverting its water for farms, choking it with silt from poor farming practices, and poisoning it with fertilisers. Now, nature is fighting back.”
He adds, “We must do everything to get the Ruaha flowing all year again. It’s not easy, but it’s possible—if we get political support.”
Tanzania’s economy is intimately tied to nature. More than 70 per cent of its population depends on farming, fishing, or livestock—sectors highly vulnerable to drought spells, floods, and shifting seasons. When rivers dry, crops fail. When floods strike, homes are swept away. And when heat waves roll in, disease spreads.
In Idunga village, 54-year-old Salum Seka checks the skies each morning—not for sun, but for signs of rain that never comes. “The seasons have forgotten us. Rain has become a rare commodity,” says Seka, a seasoned paddy grower.
Floods that once came every few years, now arrive with every heavy storm. Mosquitoes buzz higher into mountain zones, bringing malaria to areas once too cold for them.
According to Vision 2050, if no action is taken, climate change could shave off up to four per cent of Tanzania’s GDP by 2050, push 2.6 million people into poverty, and displace over 13 million Tanzanians.
“These projections are a red flag for urgent action,” says Fatael Mahoo, a senior climate scientist at Mkwawa University College of Education.
He warns that the displacement of millions due to floods, droughts, and rising seas could fuel internal migration, strain urban infrastructure, and spark conflicts over land and water.
“If we don’t invest in early warning systems, resilient infrastructure, and climate-smart agriculture now, the social and economic cost will be unbearable,” Mahoo says.
He adds, “Over 80 per cent of Tanzanians depend on rain-fed farming. If the rains fail, families go hungry. If we do nothing, millions of people could slide into poverty, thus erasing years of development progress.”
To avoid this future, Mahoo calls for a three-pronged strategy: adaptation, mitigation, and financing.
“We must scale up climate-resilient farming methods, improve water harvesting, and strengthen coastal defenses,” he says. “These are not luxuries—they’re lifelines for millions of Tanzanians.”
With rural communities struggling under erratic rainfall and prolonged droughts, Mahoo stresses the need to fast-track adaptation measures, particularly in agriculture where livelihoods are on the line.
On the mitigation front, he urges Tanzania to accelerate its shift to clean energy. “We need to embrace renewable energy—especially solar and wind—as part of our national strategy. At the same time, we must preserve our carbon sinks like forests. It’s a win-win for the planet and the economy.”
But even the best policies will falter without financing. Mahoo urges the government to unlock more climate funding—both domestically and from international partners.
“We must empower local governments and communities with the resources to act,” he says. “Climate resilience needs to be integrated into every sector—from infrastructure to education.”
For years, the drying of Tanzania’s Ihefu wetland in the Usangu plains has drastically reduced water flows into the Great Ruaha, impacting downstream hydropower plants like Mtera and Kidatu. This has created a domino effect—less electricity, more blackouts, fewer irrigation options, and strained rural economies.
A thousand kilometres from the capital, the Ihefu wetland once breathed life into the Usangu plains. Today, it lies dry, scarred by expanding farms and vanishing rains. The dying basin has pushed ecosystems to the brink—shrinking river flows, starving wildlife, and choking energy infrastructure.
Under Vision 2050, the government aims to reverse this trend by protecting wetlands and water sources, promoting smart irrigation, and halting illegal encroachments. It plans to expand community-led watershed management and work with global partners like the World Bank to implement climate-sensitive irrigation practices.
Despite Tanzania’s pursuit of a $42 billion liquefied natural gas (LNG) project in Lindi, the blueprint insists on balancing fossil development with renewables. Solar, wind, and hydropower are expected to play a bigger role in the country’s energy future.
“Energy access must be climate-smart,” says Imani Mruma, deputy commissioner for renewable energy at the Ministry of Energy. “We cannot industrialise while polluting our air and rivers.”
Still, critics warn that reliance on LNG may undercut Tanzania’s green ambitions. The real test will be in how the government reconciles growth with sustainability.
The plan also commits to decarbonising growth and expanding clean cooking technologies, aiming to reduce reliance on firewood and charcoal—two major drivers of deforestation.
Land remains the heart of Tanzania’s development dream—but also a source of tension. From village disputes to industrial expansion, land use must balance growth with conservation.
“We’re not against development,” says Paulo Ng’wandu, a herder in Mbarali. “But don’t take our land, kill our rivers, and call it progress.”
For many Tanzanians, land is life. But thousands—especially women, young people, and persons with disabilities—still struggle to claim it.
Vision 2050 supports equitable land governance, clear land-use planning, and stronger community rights. It calls for eliminating land-grabbing, formalising ownership, and recognising women and youth as rightful landowners.
“A nation that cannot govern its land cannot govern its future,” the document warns.
The effects of climate change are not felt equally. Women, children, and persons with disabilities bear the brunt—often with fewer resources, rights, and resilience.
Vision 2050 acknowledges this, emphasising inclusive climate planning that puts women and youth at the forefront of adaptation and resilience.
Tanzania is one of the most biodiverse countries in Africa. From the forests of the Eastern Arc Mountains to the coral reefs of Zanzibar, its ecosystems host thousands of unique species. But expanding agriculture, urbanization, and illegal wildlife trade are rapidly eroding this natural wealth.
With nearly a third of its land already under protection, Tanzania is a global heavyweight in conservation. Yet behind the numbers lies a growing struggle.
New policies under Vision 2050 promise to give local communities more control and benefits from the nature they help protect.
The plan pledges stronger wildlife laws, community-based conservation, and incentives for ecotourism.
“Our aspiration,” the document states, “is to be a country where ecosystems function fully, and diverse species thrive in their natural habitats.”
The document is filled with lofty goals and bold dreams. But Tanzanians have heard many such promises before.
“The difference now,” says Mruma, “is we don’t have the excuse of delay.”
He draws a powerful parallel to India, where a court gave the Ganga river the same legal rights as a human being. “We may not be there yet—but the Great Ruaha deserves our reverence. We must reject the idea that we have to choose between people and nature. Our survival depends on both.”
The real test, experts agree, will be in action—not speeches.
“This is a strong vision on paper,” says Mahoo. “But it must be funded, enforced, and owned by the people. Otherwise, we’ll be writing eulogies for our rivers—and our future.”
Back in Mbarali, Mwakipesile gazes at the lifeless riverbed. A child of this land, he remembers the roaring water of his youth, when the Ruaha shaped his days and watered his sugarcane.
“I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up thinking this is normal,” he says softly. “I want them to see the real Ruaha. Flowing, alive, powerful.”
If Vision 2050 holds, they just might.
