Egypt is abuzz with talk of Ethiopia's Grand Renaissance Dam. Construction on the $4.8 billion dollar project began near Ethiopia's border with Sudan in 2012.  When finished (there is a target date of 2018), it will become the largest hydroelectric power plant in Africa- providing one of the world's poorest countries with a steady flow of cheap electricity.  So who could object to such noble development?

Egypt has always been utterly dependent on the Nile waters.  One of the world's great ancient civilizations came into existence purely because of this natural phenomenon.  Indeed the importance of the Nile was not lost on Pharaonic Egyptians, who worshiped the Nile for centuries (see the Hymn to the Nile, written in 2100 BC).  The Greek historian Herodotus famously referred to Egypt as the "Gift of the Nile".


Egypt enjoys a most fortuitous location downstream from the river's two major tributaries.  The White Nile originates in the African Great Lakes region, while the Blue Nile comes down from the Ethiopian highlands.  The two rivers meet near Khartoum, before moving North through Egypt and eventually emptying into the Mediterranean. 

A common misconception among many in the West is that Egyptians are in some way a desert people.  This idea could not be much further from the truth.  Ask any Egyptian what they think of the desert, and they will scrunch up their nose in aversion.  Throughout history, through and through, Egyptians have largely been river valley farmers.


Egyptians have historically had a love-hate relationship with the Nile.  Floods ravaged crops and towns- though the rise in water was always preferable to the dreaded droughts (see the Book of Genesis, among others).  Egyptians first tamed the Nile on a large scale in the 19th century, when Mohamed Ali launched an ambitious irrigation project that facilitated year-round farming.  Egypt's relationship with the Nile would later change dramatically with the building of the Aswan High Dam.

The 1970 completion of the Aswan High Dam was a great success in that it regulated water levels, protecting Egypt from the aforementioned floods and droughts.  The dam has been a boon for electricity production.  But the impacts were not all positive.  Rich sediments which kept Egyptian soils stocked with vitamins and nutrients were completely cut off (farmers now rely on chemical fertilizers).  The dam also flooded much of lower Nubia resulting in the relocation of over 100,000 people, and dozens of ancient monuments.   
  

Along with the effects of the High Dam, Egypt's control over the Nile was cemented by a series of favourable water allocation treaties in the 20th century (Egypt and Sudan were delegated 99% of annual river flow).  This is a status quo that few in Cairo would like to see altered.  Unfortunately for Egyptians the times clearly have changed, as evidenced by the 2010 Nile Basin Initiative, signed by countries such as Ethiopia, Tanzania, Rwanda and Uganda demanding a greater share of the Nile's waters.

A major problem in all of this is that there is not actually that much water to go around.  While the Nile is the world's longest river at 6,650 km, its volume is actually relatively small (only 2% in volume of the Amazon River, and 15% in volume of the Mississippi).  Moreover, scientists now realize that over 85% of the Nile's waters come from Ethiopia.  With these numbers in mind, Egyptian anxiety over the Renaissance Dam should come as no surprise.  


Now a people with inextricable ties to and love for "their" river face a difficult reality.  The constant flow of the Nile can no longer be taken for granted.  A state still marked by great political upheaval struggles to find a strong and united voice on the issue. Even worse, last week government officials, including President Mohamed Morsi, were unknowingly filmed discussing possible retaliation against Ethiopian plans.  The incident was a dreadful embarrassment to which Egyptians can only shake their heads and laugh.

And so the Egyptian street rumbles with concern over the Ethiopian Dam.  Thoughts descend into fears of drought or further economic hardship.  And facing the prospect of being at the complete mercy of another state, Egyptians long for a Nasser or Sadat to put their fist down.  They say that when it rains it pours.  Figuratively speaking Cairo is flooded.  One cannot help but wonder if it will always be this way.