PLACE, PEOPLE AND POLLUTION: AN URBAN...
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PLACE, PEOPLE AND POLLUTION: AN URBAN ETHNOGRAPHY OF THE KLANG RIVER IN KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA, AND THE TORRENS RIVER IN ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA NOR AZLIN TAJUDDIN M.Sc. Social Research Methods, University of Surrey, England B.HSc. (Hons.) Sociology and Anthropology, International Islamic University Malaysia This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of The University of Western Australia School of Social Sciences Discipline of Anthropology and Sociology 2013
Transcript of PLACE, PEOPLE AND POLLUTION: AN URBAN...
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PLACE, PEOPLE AND POLLUTION:
AN URBAN ETHNOGRAPHY OF THE KLANG RIVER
IN KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA, AND THE
TORRENS RIVER IN ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA
NOR AZLIN TAJUDDIN
M.Sc. Social Research Methods, University of Surrey, England
B.HSc. (Hons.) Sociology and Anthropology, International Islamic
University Malaysia
This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of
The University of Western Australia
School of Social Sciences
Discipline of Anthropology and Sociology
2013
ii
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ABSTRACT
This thesis explores comparative river/human interactions in two contrasting urban
locations: Malaysia's Klang River in Kuala Lumpur, and South Australia's Torrens
River in Adelaide. Using ethnographic data, especially a series of river pollution
stories, I show how and why people‘s attachment to each river can be understood
within a place-based framework.
Drawing on an interrelated mix of literature focused on concepts and
connections to place by scholars such as Yi-Fu Tuan and Keith Basso, Mary Douglas‘s
understanding of dirt and pollution, and research embedded in anthropological studies
about people‘s relationship to water, I develop two overarching and interconnected
arguments. The first is that people‘s views and practices in relation to pollution are
profoundly affected by their sense of the river as a cherished but also often ambiguous
place. Building on this emphasis, I suggest, secondly, that despite the seeming
disparity between an Australian and Malaysian setting, people have similar views
about the concept and actuality of pollution.
Several common themes have emerged from my research. Threading a series of
what I describe as river stories or narratives, I show how respondents placed a strong
emphasis on visual perceptions of place with regard to a river‘s purity or cleanliness.
Both the Klang and Torrens residents minimally experience other sensations, such as a
river‘s sound and smell, and tactile experiences. The visual qualities of water, notably,
colour and clarity, were usually relied on as indicators of river quality. The abundance
and decline of aquatic species were also integral to people‘s conceptualisation of river
health. People with whom I worked in both locations held definite ideas about visible
human-made floating rubbish, such as water bottles and plastic bags. These were
described as ‗matter‘ that disrupted the order of a clean river. Local understandings of
a healthy river included its physicality, such as matter that was strewn along
riverbanks, apart from obvious water quality. Specifically, the presence of trees and
birdlife enhanced people‘s connections to river places and aesthetic experiences, as
well as contributing to their conceptualisation of a clean or polluted river. At another
level, environmental degradation provided ways for people to reconnect emotionally,
intellectually and physically to river places, and to invoke their sense of place. They
re-established their connections with rivers and the surrounding environs through
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various attempts to improve river quality, including community participation
programs, establishment of river-based organisations and engagement in on-ground
rehabilitation work that transformed the degraded rivers into what I describe as ‗fields
of care‘.
Notwithstanding several overlaps between Australian and Malaysian
informants, I also show that specific local conditions play out in people-place-pollution
intersections. On the one hand, the sighting of algal bloom and the lack of water flow
serve as the main indicators of pollution in the Torrens, whereas, on the other hand,
stories of the anthropogenic nature of the river are more prominent and intense with
regard to the Klang. The final and most revealing contrast refers to river stewardship.
Individuals in the upriver section of the Klang River largely undertook conservation
and rehabilitation work, whereas the emphasis along the Torrens was upon
participation in the community catchments groups efforts to save the water places.
By examining physically and emotionally loaded experiences, I highlight the
river as a stimulating place within which to explore the meaning and significance of
many human-environment relations. This thesis makes a contribution to comparative
theoretical and methodological issues in the anthropology of water, whilst also adding
to scholarship about people‘s complex connections to urban rivers as meaningful
cultural places.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Abstract .............................................................................................................................. i Table of contents .............................................................................................................. iii Acknowledgements ......................................................................................................... vii
Statement of contributions ............................................................................................... ix Translation Note ................................................................................................................ x List of Abbreviations and Acronyms ............................................................................... xi List of Figures ................................................................................................................ xiii List of Plates ................................................................................................................... xiv
List of Tables.................................................................................................................. xix List of Appendices .......................................................................................................... xx
Glossary of Malay terms ................................................................................................ xxi
Preface .......................................................................................................................... xxiii
Chapter One .................................................................................................................... 1
Introduction: Researching polluted urban rivers ........................................................ 1
Background ................................................................................................................... 1 Placing the researcher: Interest in river water and the choice of methods .................... 3
Introducing the Torrens and Klang Rivers .................................................................... 6 Research questions and aims ......................................................................................... 7 Methodology and research approach ........................................................................... 10
An overview of theoretical orientations ...................................................................... 11
Organisation of the thesis ............................................................................................ 14
Chapter Two .................................................................................................................. 17
The confluence of people-place-pollution ................................................................... 17
The experience of place ............................................................................................... 17
Understanding sense of place ...................................................................................... 20
Experiencing and knowing places through senses ................................................... 21
Place as emotional experiences................................................................................ 23
Anthropology of river and water ................................................................................. 26 Pollution and polluted rivers ....................................................................................... 30
Chapter summary ........................................................................................................ 32
Chapter Three ............................................................................................................... 34
Navigating the field: The who, when and how ........................................................... 34
Fieldwork in two settings ............................................................................................ 34
Gaining access and initiating contacts ..................................................................... 35
Locating and interviewing ‗river groups‘ ................................................................ 36
Observing people and rivers .................................................................................... 40
The fluidity of being an insider and outsider .............................................................. 46 Making sense of place and ethnographic fieldwork through walking ......................... 52
Chapter summary ........................................................................................................ 56
Chapter Four ................................................................................................................. 58
A tale of two rivers: Past and present ......................................................................... 58
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The Torrens River: Karrawirra parri (the river of red gum forest) ............................ 59
The Kaurna people and the Torrens River environment.......................................... 59 A brief history of the Torrens River and Adelaide city ........................................... 61 Pollution in the Past: The Impact of Early Settlement............................................. 64
Physical and demographic descriptions ................................................................... 70 Sub-catchment descriptions ..................................................................................... 71 ‗Let‘s Revive the Torrens‘: The Role of the Torrens Catchment Water
Management Board .................................................................................................. 75
Water Quality Studies .............................................................................................. 76
The Klang River .......................................................................................................... 78
The Klang River and Kuala Lumpur city ................................................................ 78
Past pollution of the Klang River ............................................................................ 82 Physical and demographic descriptions ................................................................... 83 Sub-catchment descriptions ..................................................................................... 84
Keeping the river clean: Institutional framework and water quality studies ........... 88
Chapter summary ........................................................................................................ 91
Chapter Five .................................................................................................................. 93
Narratives of pollution in the Klang River ................................................................. 93
Profiling the Klang River informants .......................................................................... 94
Teh tarik or jernih: Water appearances as indicator of pollution ............................ 95 Stories from the headwater down ............................................................................ 98 Ikan bandaraya and udang galah: Stories of presence or absence, decline or
abundance .............................................................................................................. 104
Angling experiences and sense of place ................................................................ 108
Rubbish and the less visible forms of pollutants ....................................................... 118
Placing ‗matter out of place‘ out of place .............................................................. 123 Attributing rubbish polluters .................................................................................. 126
Less visible pollutants ............................................................................................ 130 It‘s a big longkang (drain): The paradox of the ‗unnatural‘ Klang River .............. 131 Mixed emotions: Concrete banks for flood mitigation and highway construction 133
Linking pollution and embankment ....................................................................... 141
Chapter summary ...................................................................................................... 145
Chapter Six .................................................................................................................. 147
Narratives of Pollution in the Torrens River ............................................................ 147
Profiling the Torrens River informants ..................................................................... 148
‗Crystal clear‘ and ‗green algae‘: Colour and clarity as indicators of pollution.... 150 Amount and flow of water ..................................................................................... 159
The surface texture of the water ............................................................................ 165
Presence or absence of aquatic life ............................................................................ 167
The importance of native species........................................................................... 168
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European Carp as matter out of river place ........................................................... 173
Rubbish and invisible forms of pollutants ................................................................. 181
What constitutes rubbish? ...................................................................................... 181 The importance of trash racks ................................................................................ 186
Less invisible pollutants......................................................................................... 190
Matters surrounding the riverscape: Flora, fauna and concrete banks ...................... 195
Unnatural concrete banks and native plants .......................................................... 195
Birdlife ................................................................................................................... 201
Introduced plants as indicator and cause of pollution ............................................... 204
Chapter summary ...................................................................................................... 209
Chapter Seven ............................................................................................................. 211
Klang River stewardship ............................................................................................ 211
Sharing a field of care: An interplay of personal and river authorities‘
responsibilities ........................................................................................................... 212 Reviving the river: ‗10-Year Klang River Clean-Up‘ program and ‗Love Our River
Campaign‘ ................................................................................................................. 216
Stories of local care-takers ........................................................................................ 222
The Klang River at Klang Gate Dam Village (KGDV)......................................... 222 Hamid: Rivers as God‘s treasure ........................................................................... 226
Amin‘s stories ........................................................................................................ 233
Chapter summary ...................................................................................................... 240
Chapter Eight .............................................................................................................. 242
Torrens River stewardship ......................................................................................... 242
Sharing a field of care ............................................................................................... 243
Cleaning the Torrens: Government as River care-taker ........................................ 247
The Threat of Blue-green Algal Blooms: The Establishment of the Torrens
Taskforce ............................................................................................................... 250
Engaging People and Place: ‗Waterwatch‘ and ‗Our Patch‘ Catchment Programs252
Stories of volunteers of catchment groups ................................................................ 256
Mitch: The Upper River Torrens Landcare group founder .................................... 257 Clara: The native trees planter ............................................................................... 263
Tim: The ‗Waterwatch‘ local expert ...................................................................... 267
Amber: The local artist .......................................................................................... 272
Chapter summary ...................................................................................................... 276
Chapter Nine ............................................................................................................... 278
Analysis and Conclusion ............................................................................................. 278
The importance of water attributes ............................................................................ 279 Matter inside the river water: The placing of fish and rubbish ................................. 283
Matters out of riverbed: Concrete drain versus trees................................................. 286
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Rivers as a place of care ............................................................................................ 292
Concluding remarks .................................................................................................. 295
References ..................................................................................................................... 296
Appendices .................................................................................................................... 314
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This thesis, like an urban river, has overcome many challenges and taken a long time
to end its journey. I wish to express my gratitude to the many people who have
supported and prayed for me throughout the process of completing this project.
First, my sincere appreciation goes to my informants in Kuala Lumpur and
Adelaide who generously shared their time and valuable stories, knowledge and
passion for rivers, either in their homes or when walking along the river.
I would like to thank my supervisors who devoted their time and wisdom to
nurture me during my doctoral candidature. I am profoundly indebted to my main
supervisor, Professor Sandy Toussaint, for patiently waiting for me to evolve as an
ethnographer. She always had confidence in my scholarly ability and perseverance,
even when I seriously doubted it. I am grateful to my co-supervisor, Dr. Greg Acciaioli
who has provided invaluable comments and unfailing interest in my thesis. I can never
thank them enough for the time they devoted to proofread this lengthy piece of work.
My PhD friends were envious of me for having both main and co-supervisors to
persistently deliver prompt feedback on my work.
I am also grateful to numerous people and institutions, including the
Department of Irrigation and Drainage, Department of Environment, City Hall of
Kuala Lumpur, Global Environment Centre for assisting me in locating information,
and offering collegial discussions, as well as organising visits along and within the
Klang River catchment. In Adelaide, I greatly appreciated the co-operation of river
authorities, particularly Upper Torrens River Management Project, Our Patch, Keep
South Australia Beautiful, Adelaide and Mt Lofty Ranges Natural Resource
Management Board and Environment Protection Agency.
I would like to acknowledge the International Islamic University Malaysia
(IIUM) and the University of Western Australia (UWA) for the funding of this
research. Further thanks to staff in the Department of Sociology and Anthropology,
IIUM for their invaluable support. I also owe much to staff and postgraduate students
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in the Discipline of Anthropology and Sociology, UWA, for providing friendly and
intellectually stimulating environments, especially during postgraduate seminars.
My family and friends are my wealth. Steadfastly and faithfullly they have
provided humour, empathy, and support throughout the completion of this project. My
heartfelt thanks go to my colleague at IIUM and long life friends – Jusmawati
Fauzaman, Dr. Hariyati Shahrima Abdul Majid, Dr. Ainol Mardziah and Dr. Mardiana
Mohamed for their unfailing patience and for listening to my whining over the years.
My friends in Perth, Faizah Mas‘ud, Zati Sarip, Nurazzura Mohamed Diah, Siti
Zanariah Ahmad Ishak, Siti Zubaidah Othman, Zamani Ahmad Jusoh and Abdul
Razak Abdul Manaf, helped to ease the day to day mundane realities. I also treasure
friendships developed with Azizah Othman, Mariana Yusoff, and Zaiton while in
Adelaide. These are all my doctorates friends who have provided some scholarly but
mostly emotional support over the years. My former secondary school and university
friends, Amirah Kausar Basiron, Sabariah Hashim, and Siti Rahayu Hussin, whom
from time to time checked on my PhD progress‘s completion. My life is enriched with
your love and prayers.
I would like to dedicate my doctoral dissertation to my parents Tajuddin Mohd
Yusoff and Ashah Kamaruddin for their unconditional love, encouragement, and
prayers throughout my life, particularly during this difficult journey. This dissertation
is also dedicated to the memory of Arifin, Azamuddin and Azizah Kamaruddin, my
uncles and aunty, who passed away as this thesis was being completed. I am grateful to
my sisters, brothers, in-laws, uncles, aunties, and cousins who have kept my feet on the
ground and reminded me that there are other lives besides a PhD. My deepest thanks
go to my grandmother who has always supported my personal and intellectual pursuits
over the decades.
Without your practical support, love, encouragement, and prayers, I would not
have finished. Thank you, all.
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STATEMENT OF CONTRIBUTIONS
This thesis contains only sole-authored work, some of which has been published
and/or prepared for publication under sole authorship. The bibliographical details of
the work and where it appears in the thesis are outlined below.
Tajuddin, Nor Azlin. 2010. Reflections on the flow of emotion in environmental
research. World Anthropologies Network E-Journal 5: 85-96. http://www.ram-
wan.net/documents/05_e_Journal/journal-5/5-tajuddin.pdf (Chapter Three)
Tajuddin, Nor Azlin. 2011. Women as defenders of the earth: Voluntary restoration
activities with ‗Our Patch‘ group in the Torrens River Catchment, Proceeding of the
4th International Council of Women‘s Asia-Pacific Regional Council Seminar and
Training Workshop, Auckland, November 7-9. (Chapter Eight)
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TRANSLATION NOTE
Throughout the thesis, all translations from the Malay language are my own. All
Malay words are translated or explained in the text when they first appear. For
example: There was a preoccupation with images of sampah (rubbish). A translation
of Malay words is provided in the Glossary.
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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS AND ACRONYMS
Malaysia
AN Ammoniacal Nitrogen
BOD Biological Oxygen Demand
COD Chemical Oxygen Demand
DBKL Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur (City Hall of Kuala
Lumpur)
DID Department of Irrigation and Drainage
DO Dissolved Oxygen
DOE Department of Environment
EPU Economic Planning Unit
EQA Environmental Quality Act
ESA Environmentally Sensitive Area
FRIM Forest Research Institute Malaysia
FTZA Free Trade Zone Area
GEC Global Environment Centre
GPT Gross Pollutant Trap
HKFTZ Hulu Klang Free Trade Zone Area
KDK Kampung Dato Keramat
KGD Klang Gate Dam
KGDV Klang Gate Dam Village
KGQR Klang Gate Quartz Ridge
KL Kuala Lumpur
LORC Love Our River Campaign
LRT Light Rail/Rapid Transit
NAHRIM National Hydraulic Research Institute Malaysia
NIMBY Not in My Backyard
Sg Sungai (River)
SMART Stormwater Management and Road Tunnel
SS Suspended Solid
TOL Temporary Ownership Licence
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TTS Total Suspended Solid
WQI Water Quality Index
South Australia
AMLNRMB Adelaide and Mt Lofty Natural Resources Management Board
ANZECC Australia and New Zealand Environment and Conservation Council
CVA Conservation Volunteers Australia
EPA Environment Protection Agency
FSPB Friends of St. Peters Billabong
KESAB Keep South Australia Beautiful
PEPA People‘s Environment Protection Alliance
SARDI South Australia Research and Development Institute
SPB St. Peters Billabong
TCWMB Torrens Catchment Water Management Board
TLP Torrens Linear Park
TTF Torrens Task Force
URTLG Upper River Torrens Landcare Group
UTLMP Upper Torrens Landcare Management Project
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LIST OF FIGURES
Figure 1 Map of the Klang River catchment. 8
Figure 2 Map of the Torrens River catchment.
9
Figure 3 Plan of the city of Adelaide designed by Colonel Light
showing how the Torrens divides the city into two sections.
62
Figure 4 Map of The Klang River, the area around Kuala Lumpur and
part of Selangor in 19th century showing tin mines location
in shaded areas.
79
Figure 5 Klang River and Kuala Lumpur city centre in 1895. 81
Figure 6
Different species of fish as indicator of pollution across time
based on Tahir‘s stories.
108
Figure 7 Map of Selangor Heritage Park. 226
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LIST OF PLATES
Plate 1 Confluence of the Klang River on the right and the Gombak
River on the left at Masjid Jamek where Kuala Lumpur
begins.
42
Plate 2 Adelaide Festival Theatre with its white roof at Elder Park,
with the ‗Popeye‘ boat cruising along the Torrens River.
42
Plate 3 A trash rack across the Klang River at KDK. 44
Plate 4 A trash rack across the Torrens River at SPB during a heavy
rain.
44
Plate 5 Severe bank erosion on the Torrens in the heart of Adelaide
city in 1860.
69
Plate 6 Wool washing stages on the River Torrens in 1880.
69
Plate 7 Teh tarik colour of the Klang River on the right and green
kopi susu colour of the Gombak River at Masjid Jamek
confluence.
96
Plate 8 Crystal clear water near Hamzah and Amin‘s house at the
upper section of the Klang River, less than a kilometre from
KGD.
99
Plate 9 The bluish udang galah. 111
Plate 10 Rahim was about to cast his fishing line into the concrete
Klang River.
114
Plate 11 Tilapia caught by Rahim. 114
Plate 12 Rahim caught a bandaraya fish, a black-stripe fish, which
later he released back into the river.
114
Plate 13 Two red tilapias near Hamid‘s place swimming in the crystal
clear water at upper section of the Klang River.
117
Plate 14 A close-up view of the two red tilapias.
117
Plate 15 Rubbish trapped at KDK trash racks. 123
Plate 16 Herman balancing himself to scoop rubbish in the flowing
water.
125
Plate 17 Herman moved a gunny sack of bottles to the riverbank.
125
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Plate 18 Herman and co-workers scooped and pushed the rubbish to
the side of the bank while their supervisor monitored their
work.
125
Plate 19 Masjid Jamek LRT Station built across and on top of the
Klang River.
134
Plate 20 Masjid Jamek (left) and the ‗mild‘ embankment walls (right)
in 1938.
135
Plate 21 Masjid Jamek and the ‗mild‘ embankment walls in the 1950s.
135
Plate 22 The embankment of the Klang River at Masjid Jamek is more
prominent in the 2000‘s, as the grassy banks have been
concreted too.
135
Plate 23 An aerial view from Tan‘s high rise office building of the
Klang River.
136
Plate 24 The construction of Ampang elevated highway and LRT
tracks transforming the Klang River in KDK as a longkang
besar.
139
Plate 25 Natural rocks were put at the embankments of the Gombak
River near PWTC.
140
Plate 26 The invisible Klang River at Kampung Baru. The river is
under the road and embankment walls of the highway.
145
Plate 27 A sign was erected downstream of the Torrens Weir
prohibiting people from swimming in the polluted olive green
water.
152
Plate 28 Walking with Marion along the TLP (the river was obscured
by the lining trees) at Athelstone.
156
Plate 29 Jack and I in his Popeye boat during preliminary fieldwork in
November 2006.
163
Plate 30 A close-up view of the blue-green algae at Breakout Creek.
167
Plate 31 The Breakout Creek Weir and the fishway, a bluish ascending
structure at the far right.
173
Plate 32 Cody showed how to gently put in sweet corn in a hook. 175
Plate 33 Cody patiently waiting for carp.
176
Plate 34 Three bloody carp killed by a boy near the Torrens Lake. 176
Plate 35 Catching carp in the Torrens.
178
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Plate 36 A sanitary worker was trying to pick-up a water bottle floating
in the Torrens River.
187
Plate 37 A sign erected above Second Creek contained brief facts
about the trash rack.
189
Plate 38 An aerial view of the trash rack.
189
Plate 39 Tim showed a tennis ball he found buried in leafy rubbish.
189
Plate 40 Tim demonstrated how to pull a rope out of the trash rack.
189
Plate 41 Several horses in the far background at Breakout Creek.
194
Plate 42 A close-up view of the horses at the Breakout Creek − ‗Horse,
your hooves do not belong here and yet we love your form‘.
194
Plate 43 Third Creek has been transformed into a concrete drain. 199
Plate 44 Tulya Wodli native tree restoration projects.
199
Plate 45 Signage erected near the Tulya Wodli site.
200
Plate 46 Birds and wildlife in the Torrens River and along its banks.
202
Plate 47 Weeping willow trees at St. Peters.
205
Plate 48 The closing of the Torrens during summer 2008.
209
Plate 49 Despite his disappointment, Tyson helped to tighten the
loosen screws of the sign.
209
Plate 50 Two scientists from the Adelaide City Council checked the
level of various pollution parameters to determine the water
quality.
209
Plate 51 A sample of a leaflet distributed in relation to the ‗Love Our
River Campaign‘.
219
Plate 52 Kumar gave an overview of chemical and biological
assessment of river water quality.
221
Plate 53 Participants eagerly searched for aquatic species.
221
Plate 54 Kumar taught participants on how to identify various aquatic
species.
221
Plate 55 I managed to catch freshwater shrimp which was classified as
‗sensitive‘ to pollution.
221
Plate 56 A water strider skated across the clear water.
223
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Plate 57 An orange-pink dragonfly gripped a rock in the river.
223
Plate 58 Part of the Klag Gate Quartz Ridge near the source of the
Klang River.
225
Plate 59 Hamid‘s house overlooking the Klang River.
229
Plate 60 Hamid showed part of the rubbish dumping site before he
transformed it into his ‗field of care‘.
230
Plate 61 Interviewing Hamid at his open lounge space.
232
Plate 62 Amin‘s house overlooking the Klang River.
234
Plate 63 Amin cleared the crawling vegetation to show me the hidden
stone wall that he built to prevent bank erosion.
237
Plate 64 Interview session at the Klang River at KGDV, upon Amin‘s
request.
239
Plate 65 Various pamphlets of community involvement programs
include (from left) Waterwatch SA, Mid-Torrens Catchment
group and Upper River Torrens Landcare Group.
249
Plate 66 A sign erected adjacent to the main road.
249
Plate 67 A Watercare sign erected near Breakout Creek a contained a
brief facts about the floating litter facility.
249
Plate 68 The subdued crowd at the Santos Symphony Under the Stars
held at the Elder Park on 25 September 2007.
251
Plate 69 Kangaroo Creek Reservoir observed from the Lookout Point.
255
Plate 70 Ted explained trash rack as a device to trap rubbish on the
dried Third Creek/Drain.
255
Plate 71 A native revegetation site downstream of the Torrens Weir.
Newly-grown plants were protected inside the green plastic
bags.
255
Plate 72 Ted showed equipment for identification of aquatic species‘
activities.
255
Plate 73 Students excitedly tried to catch aquatic species to test water
quality.
255
Plate 74 Looking at the vast ocean at Henley Beach − the last place of
Catchment Crawl.
255
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Plate 75 A simple black-and-white URTLG newsletter, November
issue 1995.
260
Plate 76 David (with a hat) explained potential harmful impacts of
animal access to an unfenced section of the Torrens during a
field trip on October 1, 2007.
262
Plate 77 Clara pointed to patches of native aquatic plants on the dried
riverbed she had planted previously.
266
Plate 78 Clara showed one of the Aboriginal inspired wooden poles.
266
Plate 79 Tim took a water sample from the billabong to test for its
quality.
269
Plate 80 Swing Bridge constructed across what used to be Gilberton
Swimming Pool.
270
Plate 81 A swimming competition in the Torrens River held at the
Gilberton Swimming Pool pulled a crowd of hundreds in the
1920‘s.
270
Plate 82 The colourful snake mosaic and carved native flora and fauna
on reddish bricks.
275
Plate 83 The motif of a native animal carved by the students of the
East Adelaide Primary School.
275
Plate 84 Amber and school children pointing to the snake for a
photographer during the launching of the Snake Mosaic
Community Art.
275
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LIST OF TABLES
Table 1 Flooding incidents in Kuala Lumpur. 86
Table 2 Water quality classification based on beneficial uses developed
by DOE.
90
Table 3 Themes selected for LORC for each year.
219
Table 4 Dichotomies of natural and unnatural rivers.
288
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LIST OF APPENDICES
Appendix I Map of water resources systems in Mt Lofty Ranges including
the Torrens River catchment. The Torrens Systems comprises of
three reservoirs and the Mannum-Adelaide Pipeline.
314
Appendix II Map of Kampung Dato Keramat, Kampung Baru, Tiong Nam
and SMART Tunnel.
315
Appendix III Map of three Copper towns - Moonta, Kadina and Wallaroo. 316
Appendix IV Map of Torrens Linear Park showing the walking trail along the
river.
317
Appendix V Map of Walkerville, St. Peters, Vale Park and Gilberton. 318
xxi
GLOSSARY OF MALAY TERMS
air masin salt water
air tawar fresh water
atap palm thatch
bersih clean
besar big
binjai Malaysian mango
buang throw away
dokong lanson
Hadīth Prophet Muhammad‘s sayings
haruan snakehead
hitam black
ikan fish
ikan bandaraya municipal fish
ikan keli catfish
ikan putih white fish
jelawat sultan fish
jernih clear
kampung village
kati unit of measurement for weight
kelah mahseer
kepah mussel
ketutu marbled sand goby
khazanah heritage
kopi susu milky coffee
kotor dirty
lampam river or tinfoil bard
longkang drain
lumpur mud
manggis mangosteen
mandi wajib compulsory bath
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masak lemak coconut sauce
masjid mosque
niat ikhlas genuine intention
orang gila crazy person
penjaga care-taker
petai stink bean
pokok tree
puding garden croton
raba grop
rambutan rambutan
rumpai weed
rumput grass
sambal chilli paste
sampah rubbish
sebarau jungle perch
sungai river
tebing riverbanks
teh tarik milky tea
tempat buang sampah rubbish dumping place
tercemar, pencemaran pollution
toman giant snake head
udang galah giant freshwater prawn
wak-wak white-breasted waterhen
wudhu‟ ablution
xxiii
PREFACE
The Klang River1
Meandering through, dangling
Amidst griminess
Chest bursting with anger
Forgetting how it skilfully dances and sings
With hair blown free
While gyrating and waving
All through the midday
With an open heart
Smiling along
And I am the Mother of Rivers
From the heart of the City of Kings
Who shed you their tears?
If not for the tearful rain
Pouring in the whole lot
Of dirt and grime
From days and faithful rays
Tirelessly crawling
Forlornly lonesome
Accepting all
Urban dregs and scums, and of men
For her undivided love to the earth
Anon when the city is
Bare of dwellers
Mohidin 1974
1A friend –Jusmawati Fauzaman - who holds a translation certificate from the Malaysian Institute of
Translation loosely translated this poem.
xxiv
The Torrens River
I come to the Felixstow trash rack
Down there is green water
a vandalised pay phone –
press coin return, or follow on.
A child‟s pushbike
emerges from the sleep of mud,
its wheel turning
in currents of happenstance.
The trash rack is a library
stocked with wordless books,
saying who we are,
what we value and forget
Mike, local resident2
2 Interview: Adelaide, 12/02/08
1
CHAPTER ONE
INTRODUCTION: RESEARCHING POLLUTED URBAN RIVERS
Background
Water is an integral part of human life and living things, and rivers are one of the most
vital sources of clean water for most people. The significance of rivers is immense,
especially in providing a water supply for domestic, agricultural, and industrial
consumption. However, over the years, the problem of water pollution has increasingly
become more serious and widespread. Concerns increase when water is polluted; its
quality deteriorates, causing problems such as health hazards and water shortages.
Extensive and rich bodies of work on the physical, chemical and biological
characteristics of polluted water, as well as their corresponding scientific
measurement, and the impacts of polluted water both on human beings and the ecology
of river systems are regularly discussed in the physical sciences. Whilst these studies
are pertinent for better management of rivers systems, studies in the humanities and
social sciences on attitudes, beliefs, cultural meanings and practices related to rivers
are equally vital. This thesis is an exploration of local people‘s experience, ideas and
practices in regard to river pollution in the context of environmental anthropology.
Understanding the importance of human-environmental relationships is fundamental in
the study of any people (Anderson 1973), and people are the core business of
anthropology.
The river-inspired poems by Mohidin and Mike emphasise the degradation of
the Klang River in Malaysia and the Torrens River in South Australia respectively –
the settings of this study. A well-known Malaysian poet and visual artist, Latiff
Mohidin wrote the first poem in 1969. A study participant, Mike, a local poet in
Adelaide, recited the second poem to me. Through the prism of their own personal
experiences, the poems revealed their sense of river as place, showing how the rivers
are increasingly polluted. The concept of place is central to this thesis. I propose it as a
useful means to understand and analyse the manner in which people comprehend
environmental degradation, and more specifically river pollution, grounding this
understanding in people‘s experience of place. In other words, I argue that just as
2
water is embedded in a riverbed, so is an understanding of pollution rooted in place.
More importantly, I contend that recognition of pollution‘s causes and implications can
renew people‘s connection with a precious water body. In my case, this is two rivers in
contrasting urban locations.
Through visually emotive words, the poems describe the extent of pollution of
both rivers. In similar vein, I investigate in the following chapters how predominantly
visual perceptions of a river‘s quality influence people‘s understanding of its quality.
More specifically, I argue that direct sensory experience is the most significant means
by which people determine the health of the river (in contrast, for example, to the
influence of local newspaper coverage, official technical reports or social networking).
I suggest in urban settings where rivers have increasingly become polluted and/or
modified, and thus become less suitable places for humans and other species to interact
with the water, visual faculties play a determining role. From the perspective of
everyday users, and in accordance with data I have collected, what constitutes
pollution depends significantly on what can and what cannot be seen with the naked
eye. For example, objects (such as rubbish) intermingling with river water, the colour
and texture of water, flora and fauna found within and along the river are some of the
most common indicators of pollution. I also assert that regardless of different socio-
cultural, spatial and ecological contexts, people share common visual perceptions of
the physical qualities of water in determining its purity or cleanliness. Ethnographic
data collected during fieldwork provide strong evidence to support this claim. Whilst
physical properties of water also play a significant role vis-à-vis the health or
cleanliness of the river, participants revealed that they value what lies outside of the
riverbed as well. What emerges is that local people have a broad conceptualisation of
river pollution that goes beyond water in and of itself. The aspects of a healthy river
for the locals include not only its physical structure (make up/ mould), but also flora
and fauna along the riverbank and in its water, subsequently contributing to an overall
sense of a ‗river place‘.
Places as ‗fields of care‘ (Yi-Tuan Fu 1974: 414-419) emerged during
fieldwork and later in the analysis as a key to thesis development. I argue that pollution
issues are blessings in disguise, as they inadvertently provide (or prompt) a fertile
ground for local people to reconnect physically and emotionally with rivers.
Accordingly, pollution motivates people to protect the river through practical actions
as efforts to improve its water quality and riparian environs or what I called riverscape.
3
Embedded in this argument, I contend that the material quality of water provides a
context for a renewed sense of protection to care for the river as a ‗place‘ embedded
with socio-cultural and emotional meaning. In particular, the nature of the river water
blurs the physical and political boundaries between private and public spaces, one local
authority and another, and upstream and downstream suburbs. Any pollutant moves
freely from one end to another according to the flow of the river water.
In the section that follows, I illustrate how I became interested in water issues
as a result of my on-going everyday connection with water and intense engagement
with water places. In the succeeding sections I briefly outline academic bodies of work
that orient my study, state my research questions and aims, and outline the
methodological approach taken to answer the research questions. I then introduce the
study sites within which people‘s sense of river place are enacted. Finally, I provide an
overview of the structure of the thesis.
Placing the researcher: Interest in river water and the choice of methods
My interest in water and the natural environment began during my childhood years as I
lived in a housing area (a military camp, as my father was in the army) surrounded by
untouched tropical bush, a free-flowing stream, and clean beaches. Such natural places
were my common playgrounds. I vividly remember my positive feelings as I enjoyed
the gifts of nature: the freshness of air, the smell of leaves, the warm nurturing
temperature, the cold water of the stream, and the sound of waves splashing on the
beach. One of my favourite places was a small stream located less than a kilometre
from the back of my house. The water was crystal clear. I could see my feet submerged
firmly in the streambed, and colourful fishes swam gracefully in the river water. That
was my entertainment. My childhood encounter with nature informed my active
participation in recreational activities in schools and at university level, such as
mountain climbing, cross-country running and jungle-trekking. I once participated in a
recreational program called ‗Clearing Mount Ledang‘, which was remarkably different
from the typical recreation-for-fun activities. In this program, the participants were
given plastic bags and were instructed to pick up rubbish as they walked along the
pathway leading to the peak of the mountain and its surrounding areas. My heart bled
as I picked up bottles and cans along the stream of Mount Ledang. I was determined to
find remedies to the problem of pollution, a feeling that stayed with me into adulthood.
4
Another reason why I chose water as a subject matter is due to a strong
connection with water in my life. Like all humans, I need water to sustain basic living
tasks, such as drinking, washing, and cooking. But, another need for water is
connected with me being a Muslim. Water has a great ritual significance in Islam.
Prior to performing daily religious practices, such as praying and reciting the Holy
Quran, I need to perform wudhu‟ or ablution. The way to perform wudhu‟ is by
applying water to one‘s hands, mouth, face, forehead, ears and feet. I perform wudhu‟
five times each day as I perform my five compulsory prayers. In fact, during the last
day on earth, there is also a special bathing for dead people, usually performed by their
family members before they are put into coffins. As a Muslim woman, the significance
of water is even greater. Every month at the end of my menstrual cycle I have to
perform mandi wajib, literally translated as a ‗compulsory bath‘3 before I am allowed
to perform my religious obligations, including prayer. In all of these rituals, the water
must be clean and pure. Islam emphasises the importance of cleanliness; for example,
water is classified into certain categories according to its purity and cleanliness. In this
context, water used for such purposes needs to be pure and clean. This is known as
maamutlaq (an Arabic word). Maamutlaq which is water that is pure and can be used
to purify, such as from rain, brooks, streams, springs, wells, and seas. Maamutlaq can
lose its quality of purifying when in contact with polluted matter.
I frequently come across the word ‗river‘ in the Holy Quran. The word ‗river‘
appears 51 times in the Holy Quran, and 43 of these are used pertaining to Paradise,
which is described with such passages as ‗Gardens with rivers flowing beneath‘.
Paradise is where a place where the righteous people enter based upon their good
deeds throughout their life. The question that lingers in my mind every time I read
those verses is why rivers, among all natural gifts in this world, are given such
significance and placed highly in the eyes of God? On the contrary, evidence abounds
that current river systems worldwide are increasingly deteriorating largely due to
pollution and anthropogenic modifications. Making sense of this paradox equally
stimulated my interest to further investigate the subject matter.
Together with a Masters degree in Social Research Methods (with a strong
focus on quantitative approaches), I decided to pursue a PhD in quantitative methods.
Based upon a deep interest in environmental issues, I wrote a research proposal
3 This is almost like an ordinary bath where Muslims women have to apply water thoroughly all over
their bodies (skin, hair). A slight different is that they need to proclaim at the beginning of the bath that
they want to perform mandi wajib.
5
application which was highly quantitative in nature. The research process involved a
construction of a scale based upon of hundreds of statements or items to measure
attitudes towards water conservation and pollution. These items would be distributed
to respondents in the form of a survey questionnaire, with the responses then subjected
to statistical analysis to determine the final items included in the scale.
Two emotionally charged events happened a few months before I left for Perth
to study at The University of Western Australia, however, and these led to a change of
my research methods. The first happened in my work place at the International Islamic
University Malaysia when I was teaching a Sociology course that included a module
on ‗Environment and Society‘. I began the class by taking my students to the bank of
the Pusu River4, which flows through the University campus. I delivered the lecture
there with a view to capturing the interests of my students, as well as instilling
awareness about the importance of environmental protection. The outing to the
riverbank had a tremendous impact on some of my students. This was evident a few
weeks later, when, to my horror, I saw hundreds of dead, floating fish through a wide
glass window of my office overlooking the Pusu River. Several of my students visited
my office to express their concern, which I strongly believed would not have happened
if I had not brought them ‗close‘ to the river. I was very touched by their concern,
especially as it was so depressing to see the floating dead fishes in various stretches of
the river for days after the incident. The images of the floating fish and the concerned
look on my students‘ faces made me re-think the quantitative research approach that I
had planned to adopt: How could I possibly investigate pollution without being near or
along the river place itself? How could I approach this problem without taking account
of people‘s experiences?
The second event occurred in December 2004 when the world was shocked by
a great force of nature: the tsunami that killed almost 300,000 people throughout Asia.
I volunteered to be part of the Tsunami Support Relief Team, which focused on
rendering psychological and emotional support to the victims. We went to the affected
area at Kota Kuala Muda5, where I witnessed the impact of the force of nature on the
destruction of human life and people‘s possessions. A great sense of fear, sadness,
shock, and terror among the victims was obvious, especially through their facial
expressions and trembling voices as they narrated their ‗massive black wave‘ stories. I
4 The Pusu River is a tributary of the Gombak River, which eventually feeds into the Klang River.
5 Kota Kuala Muda is a small fishing village located at the mouth of the Muda River in Kedah (a
southern state of Peninsular Malaysia) overlooking the Straits of Malacca.
6
stepped into demolished houses and spotted the black muddy floors and walls. My
body shivered as I tried to visualise the waves rising high and crashing hard on
housing structures and occupants, living plants, and humans‘ possessions alike,
demolishing them into the devastating forms evidenced. The calmness of the Strait of
Malacca and the weak breeze at the time of my visit certainly helped to diminish the
image of the ferocity of the seawater when the incident had occurred. Taking the two
contrasting experiences together, I learnt that in order to understand people-
environment relationships, I had to be in place. I had to see, to touch, to smell, to feel,
to listen, and to walk near and along the place.
Consequently, I decided to change my research design from a quantitative to
qualitative approach. In particular, I adopted an ethnographic methodology, which I
outline below. I endured doubts as I was not trained in anthropology and had a
minimum6 exposure to conducting ethnographic work. Though I greatly appreciated
the merits of both quantitative and qualitative paradigms, I had had a stronger exposure
to quantitative research. Nevertheless, I gradually moulded a confluence between the
two methods, and learned to shape and reshape my course of ethnographic research in
Adelaide and Kuala Lumpur, as reflected throughout the thesis.
Introducing the Torrens and Klang Rivers
Sungai7 Klang or the Klang River with a catchment area of 1,200 square kilometres is
located on the west coast of Peninsular Malaysia, encompassing two states (see Figure
1). The river originates in the state of Selangor and then flows through the Federal
Territory of Kuala Lumpur before re-entering Selangor. The 120-kilometre-long Klang
River begins at the Titiwangsa Range in the upper basin, meanders in a south-westerly
direction, passing through Kuala Lumpur‘s city centre, and finally discharges into the
Straits of Malacca. It is the most densely populated area in Malaysia with its heavy
concentration of commercial centres, industries, and educational hubs.
The Torrens River, on the other hand, originates in the Mount Lofty Ranges, 55
kilometres north east of Adelaide in South Australia (see Figure 2). It flows
85 kilometres from its headwater through a few small towns in the upper reaches, and
meanders through Adelaide‘s city centre before it drains into the Gulf of St. Vincent at
6 My only exposure was when I did two weeks of participant observation at a children‘s early learning
centre for my Masters degree qualitative research paper. 7 The spelling of Sungai (river) is often abbreviated as ‗Sg.‘ especially in maps.
7
Henley Beach. It is Adelaide‘s largest metropolitan waterway (Torrens Catchment
Water Management Board 2006: 37) with a catchment area of 620 square kilometres
and total length of 85 kilometres.
Historically, both rivers were significant for the identification and development
of Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide into capital cities in Malaysia and South Australia. On-
going discussions on the existing and future planning of the river waterfront were
evident throughout the duration of fieldwork, as well as before and after it,
continuously signifying the inherent connection between rivers and urban
development. Ironically, like many other rivers around the world, the Klang and the
Torrens and their catchment areas have been highly modified to meet human needs,
including through such techniques as dam construction, transportation corridor
fashioning, flood mitigation control, and other land use practices. Such rampant land
use practices, along with population growth, have put a strain on the catchments‘ eco-
system, thus contribute to the declining river health. In this regard, both have been
identified as polluted rivers as reported in local official documents, scientific literature
and popular media.
Research questions and aims
The overarching aim of this thesis is to gain some understanding of local people‘s
perceptions of, and responses to, the pollution of the Klang and Torrens rivers through
local, everyday experiences. In particular, the study aims are threefold: first, to
illuminate people‘s past and present connection to each river, particularly when the
river has been in danger of being polluted; second, to learn more about people‘s
attitudes, beliefs and ideas about pollution; and third, to explore attitudes and actions
oriented towards the protection of the river as well as efforts to improve its water
quality.
8
Fig
ure
1 T
he
Kla
ng R
iver
catc
hm
ent.
Court
esy o
f N
atio
nal
Hydra
uli
c R
esea
rch
In
stit
ute
of
Mal
aysi
a (N
AH
RIM
).
9
Fig
ure
2 T
he
Torr
ens
Riv
er c
atc
hm
ent.
Court
esy o
f E
nvir
onm
ent
Pro
tect
ion
Auth
ori
ty (
EP
A),
So
uth
Au
stra
lia.
10
Correspondingly, the primary research question is: how and to what extent is a
sense of place a useful tool to facilitate understandings of river pollution? With this
broad guiding inquiry, my specific research questions following the sequence of
chapters include:
1. How do people know/become aware about river pollution − for example through
personal experience, everyday networking or mass media (Chapters Five and
Six)?
2. How and to what extent does a river‘s water play a role in people‘s conception
of pollution (Chapters Five and Six)?
3. What are the criteria used by local people to determine river water quality? In
other words, what criteria are being used to distinguish between a clean and
polluted river (Chapters Five and Six)?
4. What counts as pollutants to them (Chapters Five and Six)?
5. How do people respond to pollution and what roles have their sense of place
played in effort to care for the river (Chapters Seven and Eight)?
6. What are the ways in which pollution is experienced in two disparate
communities? Are there any similarities or differences (Chapter Nine)?
Methodology and research approach
To answer my main guiding inquiry and sub-questions above, I undertook qualitative
research with a number of groups associated in a variety of ways (as residents, workers,
government officers, non-government workers, and persons from the broader
community) along the Klang and Torrens Rivers. I conducted fifteen months fieldwork
in Kuala Lumpur and in Adelaide throughout the latter part of 2006 and early 2008. The
ethnographic methods employed primarily consisted of participant observation and in-
depth ethnographic interviews. In-depth interviewing allowed me to uncover meanings
that participants constructed about river places and pollution in their own words and
frames of reference. Participant observation, as the main method of ethnographic
research, is characterised by collecting information both through observation and
participating in local activities directly in the natural setting without creating an
artificial situation or site. This is very pertinent in my study, as I use place as my
analytical concept. In my experiential study, ‗being in a river place‘ serves as an
heuristic, conceptual and methodological tool.
11
In-depth interviews were conducted using open-ended questions. Participants
were asked, for example, about their pattern of interaction with the rivers, the changes
that take place, types of pollutants observed, and views on river stewardship. On the
other hand, my routine participant-observation activities included walking along the
river systems, observing how local people made use of the river and the cleaning-up
operations, and identifying various types of pollutant discharged into the river. I also
participated in various environmental workshops and seminars, and river restoration
activities that were conducted periodically. During all these events I spoke casually with
people about their daily experience with the river and their views in regards to pollution.
Through a series of visits and observations, and interviews, people‘s narratives
about the rivers and pollution were recorded either by digital audio and/or taking field
notes. In addition, hundreds of images of both rivers and their pollutants were captured.
The interview data have been transcribed and analysed. Both field notes and interview
transcripts were coded for analysis. The in-depth exploratory nature of the data enabled
interpretative understanding (Geertz 1973) of people‘s relationships to their rivers. This
ethnographic study was also complemented by documentary research to analyse the
ways that discussions over river use and pollution have played out over time at the local
level. Further discussion on methodology is provided in Chapter Three.
An overview of theoretical orientations
This thesis is an environmental anthropology of polluted urban rivers, sometimes
referred to as the anthropology of water. I build upon and seek connections among three
bodies of scholarship to examine cultural perceptions of and responses to the
degradation of river water quality.
Various concepts have been used to describe people-environment relationships
including place. As place is a common word or term that appears in everyday language
and experiences, it attracts scholars from multiple disciplines. The diversity of
scholarship on place includes, among other foci, the multiple ways in which places are
socially constructed and personally experienced, place as a site of conflict and
contestation, place as source of national and personal identity, attachment to place as
motivation for environmental protection and management, and the role of place in the
construction of community spirit. In particular, I employ a ‗sense of river place‘ as an
analytical concept addressing the theoretical lacuna identified by anthropologist Keith
H. Basso (1996b: 54):
12
Anthropologists have paid scant attention to one of the most basic
dimensions of human experience – that close companion of heart and
mind, often subdued, yet potentially overwhelming, that is known as
sense of place.
Senses of Place, edited by Basso and Steven Feld, is a key thesis reference. I also draw
on work by human geographers, such as Yi-Fu Tuan (1974, 1977, 1979, 1989), Edward
Relph (1976, 2008), and Tim Cresswell (2004), who have pursued phenomenological
lines of inquiry. These approaches complemented my study because of the focus on the
generation of meanings that emerge when people‘s everyday experiences of place are
recorded and analysed.
Second, any study of waste must come to terms with the celebrated work of Mary
Douglas (Hawkins 2006: 2). In Purity and Danger, Douglas (1970) observes the ways
in which ritual or pollution beliefs serve generally to maintain social and moral order in
so-called ‗primitive‘ societies. She argues that such phenomena are equally applicable
in modern societies. Although Douglas seems to reserve this understanding to refer to
transgressions within moral and religious systems, I extend the usage beyond its original
context to include ecological pollution, as I have found her work is underutilised within
environmental anthropological domains.
The most commonly cited phrase from her work – ‗dirt as matter out of place‘
(Douglas 1970: 53) − is increasingly used outside anthropology, for example in legal
and health studies, as well as those concerned with the construction of scientific
knowledge. I argue that the word ‗place‘, as it appears in this phrase, is more dynamic
as a concept in the construction of the meaning of purity or pollution, as compared to
the word ‗matter‘. Put differently, the ideas of clean and polluted, though culturally and
socially constructed, can in turn be rooted in place.
Third, I engage with scholarship about water both in the humanities and social
sciences, as well as the physical sciences, because water serves as a distinct feature of
rivers that distinguishes them from other parts of a landscape or environmental
resources. A proliferation of humanities and social science work on water in recent
years offers a useful perspective to engage in broader theoretical debates about human-
environmental interactions, as well as natural resource policies and practices. For
example, within anthropology, a ‗culturally attuned‘ (Toussaint 2008: 49) approach has
been employed to examine how people interact and attach meaning to water places such
as the sea, springs, wells, rivers, lakes, and marshes. Veronica Strang‘s (2005a)
ethnography of the Stour River in eastern England highlights the role of human sensory
13
engagement in the cultural construction of the meanings of water. Her critical analysis
of the engagements of the human senses with water is useful for this thesis. Sandy
Toussaint‘s work on the Fitzroy River in the Kimberly region of northern Western
Australia, on the other hand, explicitly employs two main concepts as addressed in this
thesis – water and place. In particular, she demonstrates ‗water‘s potential as a site of
anthropological investigation to explore attachment to place‘ (Toussaint 2008: 46). I
also depend on a rich body of scholarship on the environmental history of rivers to
provide a socio-cultural perspective on human-water interaction. Collectively, I build on
this work by focusing on people‘s connections with impure or polluted water, an angle
that is rarely evident in humanities and social science studies.
Physical and natural sciences bodies of scholarship provide important contexts
for this thesis. An extensive literature from river scientists illuminates, for instance, the
use of chemical and biological parameters to measure water quality, various types of
non-point and point-source pollutions, and ecological and physical impacts of river
pollution.
My analysis of the relationship between pollution and place can be interpreted as
a contribution to the large body of general theory that explores the relationship between
nature and culture, humans and nature (see for example Dove and Carpenter 2008;
Descola and Palsson 1996). However, I also seek to contribute specifically to
environmental anthropological scholarship particularly in Malaysia and Australia. To
my knowledge, ethnographic research in Peninsular Malaysia has been dominated by
studies in ethnic and race relations (for example, Hirschman 1975; Kessler 1978;
Nagata 1974; Shamsul 2001). In this context, environmental anthropology is a relatively
new discipline and my study could be among the first urban environmental
ethnographic studies in Malaysia. Previous studies on environmental knowledge or
relations with nature have concentrated on rural and remote places, including those
conducted among Orang Asli in Peninsular Malaysia, Sarawak and Sabah (see Dentan
1995; Lye 1997, 2004; Brosius 1986, 1997a, 1997b). My study also has the potential to
add to a growing literature on how non-Aboriginal Australians have conceptualised
their environment and their relations to it, particularly in urban environments (see
Davidson 2007; Head and Muir 2007; Mulcock and Toussaint 2002; Trigger and
Mulcock 2005).
14
Organisation of the thesis
This thesis consists of nine chapters, which include an introduction, a literature review
and discussion of methodology, presentation of ethnographic data about people‘s
experiences and interactions with the polluted river in each setting, as well as theoretical
discussion of their attitudes and activities, and a conclusion.
In Chapter One, I provide background information about my passion for water-
related issues, and discuss the two river settings as research sites. I also outline research
questions and methods, briefly introduce the theoretical framework, and present some
indicative findings.
Chapter Two provides a theoretical framework and reviews literature related to
rivers and pollution. It considers diverse but inter-related bodies of writing and research
about place, particularly the sense of place, Mary Douglas‘s conception of purity and
impurity, and the anthropology of water and rivers.
Chapter Three details the research approach and methodology adopted for the
thesis. It outlines strategies in locating specific sites in each river catchment, as well as
in recruiting participants. I also highlight important issues in conducting environmental
anthropology research in two different physical and cultural settings.
Understanding the Klang and Torrens Rivers as places cannot be accomplished
without a sense of their historical and physical specificities. Chapter Four provides
further contextualisation of the two rivers to aid an understanding of the ethnographic
chapters that follow. First, I provide an historical account of the transformation of the
Klang and the Torrens rivers as both natural and built space. In addition, I present a
brief history of pollution and initiatives taken by both state and local governments in
order to reduce pollution. Embedded in this discussion is an account of the use of
scientific and technical knowledge to measure and to combat the problem of river
pollution. The presentation of the ethnographic data extends from Chapter Five to
Chapter Eight. The four chapters are grouped into two broad themes: (1) people‘s
experiences and conceptualisations of pollution and (2) views and narratives of river
stewardship. The two themes are discussed for each setting.
People‘s lived experiences and understanding of river pollution in regard to the
Klang River are explored in Chapter Five. The employment of sensory personal
experiences either in the past or present rather than reports in the mass media is the
main way people come to know about pollution. People‘s knowledge of pollution
results from physical immersion in a particular environment. As mentioned earlier, I
argue for the prominence of the sense of sight to mark a distinction between a clean and
15
polluted river. For example, the teh tarik (milky tea) colour of the Klang River was
frequently associated with the extent of pollution of the river. Intricately weaved
through time and space were memories and nostalgia about the loss of fish and other
species, which were also revealed as an indication of deteriorating water quality. By
emphasising the importance of direct sensory experience of river, implicitly I highlight
the links between the importance of building ecological knowledge about pollution and
understanding of place.
Similarly, Chapter Six explores the experiences and views of pollution among
the people living along the Torrens River. Whilst visual cues are equally significant for
the Torrens people as in the case of the Klang in their perceptions of water quality, they
attribute the source of pollutants to the presence of introduced (i.e. non-native) plants
and fish in the Torrens. The putting of blame upon the introduced fish and plants as the
source of river pollution is absent in the case of the Klang River regardless of the
presence of introduced fish. Again there is a clear link between sense of place, and
perceptions of pollution, all of which can be symbolised by people‘s interest in
preserving native flora and fauna and eradicating introduced varieties.
In Chapters Seven and Eight I turn to an examination of how rivers are
transformed into ‗fields of care‘ by discussing people‘s views in regards to stewardship
of the Klang River. There was a consensus that both the public and government should
share equal responsibilities in protecting the Klang River. Individuals‘ efforts driven by
their own awareness and passion to save the Klang River are also a focus of Chapter
Seven. Through the narratives of ‗Amin‘ and ‗Hamid‘, two men who live with their
families in the uppermost section of the Klang River, I argue for the importance of
sensory, emotive and religious beliefs and practices in evoking human agency of the
river which have motivated them to undertake on-ground work restoration activities,
transforming this section of the river into ‗a field of care‘.
Correspondingly, Chapter Eight examines peoples‘ perceptions of
responsibilities in protecting the Torrens River. I show how local catchment groups
such as Our Patch and Landcare enacted their sense of place in regard to the Torrens
River. The volunteers enacted their sense of place regarding the Torrens River and its
environs through their on-ground work of river restoration, including such activities as
weeding out introduced flora and replanting native plants. I argue that rather than
inducing disengagement with the river, environmental degradation provides ways for
people to reconnect to river places and evoke their sense of water places.
16
Chapter Nine analyses ethnographic material presented in the preceding chapters
by comparing findings from both study sites in the context of my theoretical framework
and those of other previous studies. I focus on commonalities as well as specificities of
the Klang and the Torrens people‘s views, experiences and activities in relation to river
pollution. Following on from this discussion, I conclude the thesis with a reflective note
of my own experiences in conducting research about river places.
17
CHAPTER TWO
THE CONFLUENCE OF PEOPLE-PLACE-POLLUTION
In this chapter I review some core theoretical perspectives and conceptual frameworks
that underpin this study, drawing from various disciplines including geography,
sociology, psychology, history, and anthropology. At the broadest level, my study is
based on a particular domain of anthropological inquiry, environmental anthropology.
Environmental anthropology is a sub-discipline that is concerned with relationships
between people and their environment (Townsend 2000), and my approach considers
environmental anthropology as an overarching discipline to other related approaches
such as ecological anthropology, evolutionary ecology, historical ecology, and
ethnoecology.
This thesis is also informed by scholarly work on place, particularly the sense of
place, humanities and social sciences studies of river and water, and Mary Douglas‘s
(1970)8 conception of dirt and pollution. Taken together they provide important tools
for understanding people‘s connection to place and broader understandings of pollution.
I begin with a broad concept of ‗place‘ before moving to a particular emphasis on the
sense of place in this thesis. I explore how emotional, embodied and sensory
experiences are integral to people‘s sense of place. In the second section, I attend to
literature focused on how connections to rivers are formed culturally and symbolically.
Finally I draw upon Mary Douglas‘s seminal work on purity and pollution, as well as
other related river pollution studies.
The experience of place
Throughout this thesis I am concerned with river as place. It is important, therefore, for
me to elaborate how river as place will be treated. Anthropologist Thomas Thornton
(2008) observed that much scholarship on place proceeds without defining its central
concept. The fact that the word ‗place‘ is commonly used in everyday interaction in the
English-speaking world necessitates a need to distinguish it in an academic context. I
begin this section by briefly defining place via anthropological and non-anthropological
8 Routledge published the first edition in 1966.
18
literature. I then discuss several place-related concepts and their inter-relations with one
another. I provide definitions of these concepts as well examine empirical studies using
the concepts. It is important to note that I do not propose a universal definition of place
and its related concepts. Like many other concepts in the social sciences, they are open
to contestation and often debated. Rather I am trying to consider and synthesise how
scholars employ the term.
Being in place is a universal experience among people across cultures. Due to its
universality and commonality, the scholarship on place9 has been complex, and widely
diverse in delineating the nature of place. Its related concepts, such as ‗sense of place‘,
‗place attachment‘, ‗place dependence‘, and ‗place identity‘, have garnered much
interest within various disciplines, including human geography, anthropology,
environmental psychology, sociology, urban and recreational studies, philosophy,
natural resource management, arts and literature, and landscape architecture. Among
these disciplines, human geography is closely associated with place, as the discipline
itself is defined as ‗the study of places‘ (Creswell 2004: 1). At its most basic and
common level, place is a location invested with meaning and value. Specifically, place
encompasses the ideas of:
The interaction between people and a physical setting together with a set of
meanings that both emerge from and inform this experience and interaction
(Dovey 1985, cited in Altman & Zube 1989: 2)
Similarly, anthropologist Setha Low and psychologist Irwin Altman define place as
‗space that has given meaning through personal, group and cultural processes‘ (Low &
Altman 1992: 5). Adding a temporal element to the definition, Thorton sees place as ‗a
framed space that is meaningful to a person or group over time‘ (2008: 10). Indeed,
much discussion on place is in association with space, as reflected in the two latter
definitions. Following phenomenological perspectives, human geographer Yi-Fu Tuan
(1977: 6) discerns that, ‗What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get
to know it better and endow it with value. […] The ideas ‗space‘ and ‗place‘ require
each other for definition‘. Gieryn‘s explanation elaborates what it means to ascribe
meaning to spaces:
Places are made as people ascribe qualities to the material and social stuff
gathered there: ours or theirs; safe or dangerous; public or private; unfamiliar or
9 Creswell (2004) provides exhaustive discussions on place.
19
known; rich or poor; Black or White; beautiful or ugly; new or old; accessible or
not (2000: 472) 10
.
Tuan introduces two terms to describe human emotions to place. He uses the term
‗topophilia‘ to refer to the ‗affective bond between people and place‘ and negative
feelings to place such as fear as ‗topophobia‘ (Tuan 1974: 4). He also identifies two
types of ‗affective‘ places known as ‗public symbols‘ and ‗fields of care‘ (Tuan 1974:
412-419). ‗Public symbols‘ are high imagery places that potentially induce amazement
to both insiders and outsiders such as Ayers Rock. As the name suggest, this type of
place are imbued with symbolic symbol. In contrast, ‗fields of care‘ are places
significantly meaningful to insiders usually due to long-term residency. Such places are
visually less appealing to outsiders, or what he termed as ‗low imageability‘ (Tuan
1974: 412), for example, one‘s own home, street corner and neigbourhood. According
to him people would defend their home as field of care due to their real affection for the
place.
A number of scholars have observed the neglect of place in anthropological
inquir:y (Kahn 1996; Rodman 2003; Escobar 2001). Given that the discipline
significantly emerged through European explorations in various places of the world
(Kahn 1996; Hallowell 1965), the lack of obvious attention until recently can be
questioned. Margaret Rodman commented that place merely served as a backdrop in
ethnographic studies. She calls for a ‗more critical usage of place‘ (2003: 205) by
investigating ‗the physical, emotional, and experiential realities places hold for their
inhabitants at particular times‘ (Rodman 2003: 205). According to Arturo Escobar
(2008: 7), the ‗erasure of place‘ could be explained with the increased movement,
migration, diaspora, and dislocation in an increasingly globalised world. Hence, ‗there
is a need for a corrective theory that neutralises this erasure of place, the asymmetry that
arises from giving far too much importance to the ―global‖ and far too little to ‗place‘
(Escobar 2008: 10). However, in the last two decades anthropological literature on this
topic has increased substantially (see for example, Augé 1995; Basso 1996a; Escobar
2001, Escobar 2008; Feld and Basso 1996; Hirsh & O'Hanlon 1995; Low 1992, Low
1993, Low and Altman 1992, Low & Lawrence-Zúňiga 2003; Morphy 1993; Mulcock
2008; Myers 2000; Rodman 1993; Thornton 2008; Trigger & Mulcock 2005; Weiner
1991). In this context, my study contributes to this growing literature on the
10
For example, the Muslims accord to the powerful symbolic and sacred space of the mosque the
meaning of a place of worship. Thus, any attempt of disruption to the holiness of mosque may evoke
profound feeling of anger among Muslims.
20
anthropology of place by analysing people‘s physical and emotional connections to
place at a local level. It is hoped that my research, whereby rivers as place underpin the
discussion, has the potential to contribute to this body of literature.
Understanding sense of place
The term ‗place attachment‘ is one of the analytical concepts commonly explored in
place literature. An edited volume by Altman and Low (Low & Altman 1992) is
considered to be a classic, as it was the first attempt to bring together a variety of
disciplines in examining the concept systematically. At its simplest, place attachment
refers to an affective bond or link between people and a specific place (Low & Altman
1992). Based on their extensive review of the place scholarship elsewhere as well as the
contributions in the volume, Low and Altman (1992) found that affect, emotion and
feeling are vital to the concept. Positive feelings such as happiness, wonder, fondness,
security and belonging are experienced in childhood and adult places as well as built
and natural environments. Setha Low (1992, 1993) brings an anthropological
framework to further understand the notion of place-attachment, particularly in the built
environment. She defines place-attachment as the symbolic relationship formed by
people who culturally shared ‗emotional/affective meanings‘ in relation to a particular
space that provides the basis for the individuals‘ and group‘s identity (Low 1992: 65)11
.
The use of affective meanings in defining ‗place attachment‘ is common among other
scholars, although it cannot be claimed all place experiences are affective, pleasant or
awe-inspiring experiences.
A ‗sense of place‘ usually emphasises emotional bonding to specific places.
Sociologist Frank Vanclay asserts that a ‗sense of place refers to the individual, not to
the place‘ and defines it as ‗an individual‘s connection with place (location, building,
landscape, city and so on) and to their experience of place‘ (2008: 97). In my
judgement, however, some can be treated more broadly, allowing, for instance, the
incorporation of negative experiences, especially (for current purposes) in relation to the
impact of pollution. Akin to Vanclay‘s assertion, sociologist David Hummon
11
She offered six kinds of symbolic linkage of people that she termed as a ‘typology of cultural place
attachment‘. Her own ethnographic work in San José, Costa Rica, illustrates how the six-cultural linkages
describe people‘s connection within one particular setting. These include: 1) genealogical linkage to
land/place through history or family lineage; (2) linkage through loss of land (such as natural disaster) or
destruction of community; (3) economic linkage to land through ownership, inheritance, and politics; (4)
cosmological linkage through religious, spiritual, or mythological relationship; (5) linkage through both
religious and secular pilgrimage, and celebratory, cultural events; and (6) narrative linkage through
storytelling and place naming (Low 1992: 166). She further suggests these are not discrete categories, but
rather are often overlapping in nature.
21
emphasises, ‗Sense of place is inevitably dual in nature, involving both an interpretive
perspective on the environment and emotional reaction to the environment‘ (Hummon
1992: 262). Humanistic geographer Edward Relph‘s definition further refined the notion
of sense of place as ‗a synaesthesia faculty that combines sight, hearing, smell,
movement, touch, imagination, purpose and anticipation. It is both individual and an
intersubjective attribute, closely connected to community as well as to personal memory
and self‘ (Relph 2008: 314). Relph‘s definition of sense of place is more
comprehensive, as he concentrates on people who experience place through their senses,
perceptions and thoughts. In this thesis I use the term ‗sense of place‘ interchangbly
with ‗connection to place‘.
Of particular relevance to my research and analysis is Keith Basso‘s work
(1996a,1996b). Basso‘s research with the Western Apache in Arizona was among the
first anthropological studies delineating the notion of sense of place through the practice
of place-naming and storytelling. Threaded through his work is the assertion that human
existence is ‗irrevocably situated in time and place‘, and that sense of place is not only
derived from individuals‘ experiences but also from culture. According to Basso, sense
of place is ‗[t]he most basic of human experiences – that close companion of heart and
mind, often subdued, yet potentially overwhelming‘ (Basso 1996b: 54). Accompanied
by his Apache participants, Basso travelled to various places, and listened to the stories
on how the name originated from and what they mean to the Western Apache in
Arizona, revealing a form of people‘s connection to place through place-naming
practices. Taken together three main elements can be derived from the definitions: (1)
emotional responses to place; (2) sensory engagement to place‘ (3) cognitive memory of
place and construction of meanings. These elements are explicitly and implicitly
discussed in the following.
Experiencing and knowing places through senses
The establishment of an anthropology of the senses and anthropology of place appeared
as distinctive fields at around the same time in 1980s. Altork (1994) traces Miles
Richardson‘s edited work „Place: Experience and symbol‟, published in 1984, as a
starting point of the subfield of the anthropology of place. Classen (1997) identifies
Paul Stoller‘s (1989) ‗The taste of ethnographic things: The senses in anthropology, as
a pioneering work of the anthropology of the senses. I suggest that such parallelism
signifies an intimate inter-connection of these two profound human experiences. Such a
22
‗doubly reciprocal motion‘ is best captured by Steven Feld – ‗as place is sensed, senses
are placed; as places make sense, senses make place‘ (1996: 91).
Feld and Basso (1996) compiled six fine-grained periods of ethnographic
fieldwork in their landmark edited volume in the study of place, ‗Senses of place‟,
focusing on a cultural analysis of the study of place. The rich narratives of the everyday
interactions of people and their environments in this volume reflect the
phenomenological approach adopted by the contributors. Of additional interest to my
research is Feld‘s (1996) work with the Kaluli in Papua New Guinea, as it provides an
account on how the Kaluli formed an emotional connection to the rainforest and water
places. Feld asked a crucial question, ‗How is place actually sensed?‘ A response to this
inquiry is likely to centre upon the faculty of sight. The beauty or the ugliness of space
and places dominates a great deal of the discussion on the experience of place. Instead,
Feld argues for the sensuousness of sound in making sense of places. His work
explores 'ways in which sound is central to making sense, to knowing, to experiential
truth' about places (Feld 1996: 97). The sound of nature, especially water, creates a
‗special bodily nexus for sensation and emotion because of their coordination of brain,
nervous system, head, ear, chest, muscles, respiration, and breathing‘ (Feld 1996: 97).
Though it cannot always be seen, water can always be heard in the dense rainforest.
More recent work on the relationship between people and place includes a
conference organised by the National Museum of Australia in Hobart in 2006 that
attracted speakers from diverse background including a sociologist, anthropologist,
curator, philosopher, human geographer, and historian. Several conference paper
proceedings address the centrality of senses as analytical lens in the constituent of place
(see Bandt 2008; Gulliver 2008; Pocock 2008; Tudor 2008). Celmara Pocock (2008),
for instance, argues for the importance of the ‗least acknowledged‘ haptic senses in
relating to the Great Barrier Reef as a place. In particular, she examined people‘s sense
of place of the Great Barrier Reef by studying photographs, maps and other archival
resources diaries, letter and published articles. She noted how the rich tactile
experiences that inform early visitors‘ encounters with the reef life, has been
transformed to ‗contemporary imagined touch represented in vibrant imagery of
underwater coral gardens and tropical islands‘ (Pocock 2008: 78). Such sensory
transformations ‗have radically altered visitors‘ sense of place‘ (Pocock 2008: 78).
Of interest to my research, too, is literature on the practice of walking as a
means to evoke the sense of place, and various sensations experienced while engaged in
this everyday activity, an aspect I further discuss in Chapter Three. Tim Edensor (2005:
23
123-135) considers how journeys on foot through industrial ruins of cities across the
United Kingdom opened-up ‗sensual characteristics engendered by strolling through
ruins‘ that ‗coerce the walking body into unfamiliar states‘. Juxtaposing his experiences
with other aesthetically regulated urban spaces, he argued against the ‗dominance of
vision and the marginalisation of other kinds of sensory experience‘ (Edensor 2005:
134) as evident, such as in Urry‘s (2002, 2007) study about tourists‘ experiences. For
example, he was sensitive to the varying tactility and texture of surfaces – the
splintering floorboards, hard concrete, shards of glass, and mixed surfaces of foliage –
under his feet as he walked through the ruins.
Sarah Pink‘s series of works refer to ‗sensory ethnography‘ (2009), the urban
(2008a, 2008b) and walking experiences (2007, 2011, Pink et al. 2010), and everyday
life and practices (2005, 2012) has consistently emphasises the multisensory nature of
place experiences. Her concerns on the importance of walking and sensory experiences
overlap with my study, as discussed in Chapter Three and Chapters Five and Six,
respectively.
Taken together, the literature on the sense of place emphasises the sensual
experiences of place, and in turn evoked connections to places. In what follows I
examine an inter-related elements in sensing place – emotions – mainly drawing from
Kay Milton‘s work, as she made plain the intricate connection between human emotion
and natural places of the surrounding physical environment.
Place as emotional experiences
Anthropologist Kay Milton (2002, 2005a, 2005b, 2008) explores how emotions are
integral in human-environmental place interactions and how sensory stimuli are
embedded in it. In her seminal book, ‗Loving Nature‟ (Milton 2002), Milton asserts that
emotions are crucial in the formation of certain attitudes and beliefs about the natural
environment and subsequently determine one‘s involvement in environmental activism.
She argues that ‗the emotional and constitutive role of nature and natural things has
been underplayed in western environmental debates, which have been dominated by a
rationalist scientific discourse in which emotion is suppressed and emotionalism
denigrated‘ (Milton 2002: 91). Not only has she examined the role of emotions in
forming attachments to a spectrum of environments, emotions are also described as
fundamental to all aspect of human life. To quote Milton further, human actions are
‗fundamentally emotional; without emotion there is no commitment; no motivation, no
24
action‘ (2002: 150). In other words, she tries to show emotions matter and that their
impacts on human and non-human relations should not be dismissed.
Milton suggests that ‗emotions operate primarily (though not exclusively) in
ecological relations rather than social relations‘ (2002: 4). People are connected
emotionally to their environment and develop a sense of attachment through their
perception, engagement and experience with nature and natural things. Inspired by the
work of neuroscientist Antonia Damasio (1999) and psychologist William James
(1890), who identified two stages of emotion, physical response (identified as emotions)
and subjective feeling (perceptions of emotions), Milton writes that emotions are
elicited through interactions between human and their environments. There are four
elements involved in the process, namely, a stimulus, bodily response, feeling and
action. An emotional process begins with a stimulus; for instance, seeing a snake
produces a bodily response or emotion (tight stomach, quick heartbeat). It then leads to
a feeling or perception of emotion identified as fear. Next, a feeling of fear generates an
action such as throwing stone or running away from the snake (2005a: 203-204). These
processes imply that a direct sensory engagement with nature is integral to emotional
feelings. In this study, I seek to investigate people‘s direct personal engagement with
rivers (for example, as they walk along the river), and their perceptions in regards to
pollution. A direct sensory engagement with nature is central in this study, as most of
the people with whom I worked framed their ideas of a polluted river in terms of the
visibility of rubbish floating in the river.
Milton also makes the case of the interrelationship between memories, emotion
and learning, ‗Learning does not take place without emotions, and, second, emotions
play an important role in memory‘ (Milton 2005b: 33). People‘s modes of engagement
shape their memories, and therefore their knowledge. This is helpful in my study, as I
asked my participants to indicate the changes that they have observed in regards to river
place over the years. Such a question directly taps into their memories about the river
places in their locality. These narratives of my participants were rich with spontaneity
and alive with joy and sadness of the decline of the river water quality. Temporal scale
is framed to refer to a cleaner river in the past, compared with a more polluted river at
present.
Milton‘s ecological model of emotions stems from her long-standing research
interest on environmentalism, conducted mainly among Western environmental
protection groups and nature conservationists in Britain and Ireland. She is concerned
about why some people care about nature and others do not and acknowledges that
25
answers to these questions can be explained by reference to culture. However, she
argues the common underlying drive of the nature conservationists‘ desire to protect
nature is significantly influenced by their direct personal experience and attachment to
the natural world, particularly during their childhood years. Milton‘s idea is again
relevant in this study. In particular, perceptions and practices in relation to river
stewardship are addressed in Chapter Seven and Eight. Similarly to Milton, who worked
with nature protectionist groups, I include the perceptions of local conservation groups
as well.
A number of anthropological studies have employed Milton‘s work on human-
nature emotional relationships. Hillary Wulff (2007), for instance, quotes extensively
from Milton‘s work. In addition to Milton‘s emphases on direct experiences with
nature, Wulff suggests indirect experiences could equally evoke deep emotional
responses. Specifically, she argues visual imagery of nature can be emotionally
evocative, as these images often display emotions of ‗displacement, longing and
nostalgia‘ (Wulff 2007: 532). Echoing Milton, Wulff contends that though emotions can
be understood as cultural phenomena, there are important individual variations in
responding to images of the Irish landscape.
I suggest that debates on emotions among anthropologists have tended to operate
in parallel to those that have taken place across geography during recent years. Human
geographers, among others, are equally concerned with the marginalisation of emotions
in the production of knowledge, policy debates and human life in general. Developing
the notion of ‗emotional geographies‘, Anderson & Smith (2001: 7) observe, ‗[The]
human world is constructed and lived through the emotions‘; thus, ‗to neglect the
emotions is to exclude a key set of relations through which lives are lived and societies
made‘. Echoing Milton, they further assert, ‗social relations are lived through the
emotions, but that emotional qualities of social life have rarely been made apparent
within the lexicon of social research‘ (Anderson & Smith 2001: 8). Nonetheless, their
main focus is on the centrality of emotions in social life embedded in ‗heightened
spaces‘.
‗Emotional Geographies‟ (2007) and its successor ‗Emotion, Place and
Culture‟ (2009) – can be considered as a direct response to the notion of ‗emotional
geographies‘ proposed by Anderson and Smith. The editors seek to do an ‗emotional
turn‘ within the discipline by demonstrating that ‗a spatially engaged approach to the
study of emotions is capable of bringing new insights to geographical research‘ (Bondi,
Anderson & Smith 2007: 2). Contributors look at emotion and affect in different social
26
and spatial contexts, environments and landscapes. They have taken various theoretical
and methodological approaches to show the intersections between emotions and place
both explicitly and implicitly. Varied feelings of awe, dread, worry, loss or love are
presented (see, for example, Urry 2007 and Foster 2009).
In a moving and poignant account of childhood landscapes, Owain Jones (2007)
explores some of his own emotional experiences associated with the joy and loss of
grazing land as the farm gave away to the process of urbanisation and industrialisation.
Akin to Milton‘s ideas, Jones (2007: 205) suggests a dynamic interplay between ‗an
ecology of emotion, memory, self and landscape‘. His descriptions (focused on Cardiff
in Wales) of such childhood memories are beautifully interwoven with affectionate
relationships with non-human things – the grazing land, rivers, trees, grasses and sheep
- as well as loving relationships with his father, brothers and sister working and playing
together on the farm and surrounding places. Nostalgically, remembering the old
Rhymney River that ran through their farm, Jones writes in the last sentence of his own
narratives, ‗The river is still there – somewhere in concrete‘ (Jones 2007: 215). The
Klang River participants equally share a longing for more natural physical qualities, as
the river has been concreted too, as I show in Chapter Five. The following section
extends the discussion about sensory and emotional dimensions, as these permeate in
the humanities and social sciences work on water and river places.
Anthropology of river and water
Veronica Strang‘s works (2004, 2005a, 2005b, 2006a, 2006b, 2006c, 2006d; 2008)
provide what Milton terms a ‗cultural theory‘ to explain the complexity of human
interaction with water. Working with a diverse group of people (Indigenous and non-
Indigenous; local residents, local users, water managers, conservation groups) within
and outside Australia, Strang shows how an environmental issue such as water is inter-
twined with social, political, economic, moral and religious issues that permeate across
time and space. Two key themes filter Strang‘s work: first, the materiality or physical
qualities of water; and second, the construction of cultural meanings of water as
significantly based on its materiality. These two themes are linked and inseparable in
ways that could potentially integrate the materially grounded cultural ecologists and the
meaning-centred symbolic anthropologists. As she contends, 'Engagement with water is
the perfect example of a recursive relationship in which nature and culture literally flow
into each other‘ (Strang 2004: 5).
27
Through her fine-grained ethnographic work, Strang identifies how cultural
meanings are encoded in water, including as: a symbol of life and death; social and
spiritual identity; wealth and power; and as a process of generation and regeneration
(2005a: 115). These inter-related cultural meanings of water are derived from its
transmutability and fluidity (Strang 2005a: 98-99; Strang 2006c: 155). Water is easily
and readily changed from one form to another: from ice to fluid, from vapour to rain,
from fluid to steam. It can be massive as roaring flood; concrete as solid ice; warm and
calming as a hot shower. How would these changing material qualities of water relate to
its generation of meaning? The answer relies on the role of sensory and perceptual
processes of human engagement with water (further discussed in this section), an
emphasis that shares resonance with many of the place literature foci, as discussed in
the previous section. Strang‘s elucidation of sensory experiences has been particularly
constructive to development of my study.
Strang‘s comparative approach also provides a stimulating perspective upon the
study of human-river interactions in particular and environmental anthropology in
general, which is less evident in other works. She challenges anthropological emphases
on cultural relativism with the following guiding research inquiry: ‗How and why do
broad themes of meaning recur cross-culturally?‘ (Strang 2005a: 93). This guiding
question was explored via her ethnography of a Kowanyama Aboriginal community
living alongside the Mitchell River in far north Queensland, Australia; and second, the
wealthy, conservative predominantly English residents of the Stour River in Dorset,
located in the south of England. Obviously, both groups have distinct cultural traditions,
socio-economic and political structures, beliefs, values and religious practices, as well
as different modes of environmental engagement. Given the comparative interest of my
own research Strang‘s study is useful, as I too investigate two disparate cultural groups
in examining the notion of river pollution. Nonetheless, in contrast to Strang‘s work of
comparing two cultural groups in rural contexts, the groups examined in this study are
located in urban settings.
Based on the findings of these two diverse cultural groups, the Kowanyama
Aboriginal community and the Dorset English residents, Strang contends:
Despite this disparity, though, the meanings that people in both contexts encode
in water demonstrate some powerful common themes. This suggests that,
coexisting with their unmistakable cultural specificities, there are important
universalities – similar undercurrents – in the way that human beings engage
with and experience aspects of their environments (2006a: 69).
28
As mentioned earlier, the unifying explanation of these shared meanings is significantly
explained by human sensory experience with the particular qualities of water, the
physiological and cognitive processes that followed, which are common to all human
beings. Taken together these processes generate cross-cultural themes of meaning that
persist over time and space. For example, the most intimate experience with water is
based on the fact that water constitutes an essential part of the human body. Participants
in Dorset and North Queensland have articulated that water was integral to their
physical body and well-being; the human body could not survive long without adequate
water. Additionally, they highlighted their multisensual engagement with water, which
include the compelling effect of ‗hypnotic‘ visual experiences, the mesmerising effect
of the sound of water, and the refreshing effect of physical contact with water, such as
swimming and bathing. One of the participants in the Dorset study spiritually described
his visual engagement with water:
Rivers... they are superb for meditating aren‘t they? – the fact that you can lean
over a bridge and look down. I find them enormously compelling and calming,
with far more power than I ever feel inside a church (Strang 2005a: 101).
Participants in Dorset and Kowanyama also shared the meaning of water as an essence
of one‘s spiritual and social identity. In Dorset, the ritual practices of splashing or
immersion in water signify one‘s inclusion into a particular ‗congregation‘ or religious
communities rooted in Christian tradition. Similarly, baptism practices among the
Kowanyama involve the use of water to introduce new members to the ancestral forces
and consequently be accepted as members of the local community (Strang 2005a: 108-
110). Wealth and power are also associated with the ownership of water resources
within each cultural context. The ability to own a riparian land, to have a swimming
pool, to have water features in a garden signifies one‘s economic status in Dorset. The
economic wealth of the Aboriginal clans was equally measured by their ownership of
water sites.
Thus, Strang suggests that the comparative ethnographic analysis of people‘s
engagement with water provides the basis for a discussion about the relationship
between universal cultural experiences, contributing to the critique of cultural
relativism. Given the Western dominated theoretical precedents in Strang‘s analysis, as
well as the geographic location (Australia and UK), my research partly investigates the
extent of her claim on the universal nature of human sensory experience with water by
drawing on experiences from an Asian society − Malaysians (mostly Muslims) – as well
29
as the predominantly Anglo-Celtic South Australians in their conceptualisation of
polluted water.
On the other hand, in her book ‗The Meaning of Water‟ (2004), Strang focuses
exclusively on the Dorset participants in ways that also illuminates this study. In
particular she shows how water and river can be an emotive and psychological force
both at the imagistic and material level. Strang uses strong emotive words such as
‗sensory enjoyment‘, ‗pleasure‘, and ‗exciting‘ to describe equally strong feelings
expressed by her participants as they engaged with the Stour River. For example, one of
her Dorset participants noted, ‗The noise in water maybe – it certainly calms you down
listening to it‘ (Strang 2004: 53). Echoing Feld‘s (1996) assertion about the centrality of
sound, a woman noted, ‗I suppose it‘s just the senses being awakened by the movement
of water, the sound of water, cause there‘s something absolutely beautiful about the
sound of water trickling over stones‘ (Strang 2004: 53). The Dorset study also reveals
that water issues such as droughts, floods and pollution evoke negative feelings such as
‗enormous anxiety‘, as these are literally and meaningfully ‗life threatening‘ conditions.
Such observations emphasise a point discussed by Milton in the previous section that
people relate emotionally to their physical environment.
Strang‘s treatment of people‘s views on pollution relates directly to the main
theme of this study. Strang noted that many people in the Stour Valley were firmly of
the opinion that water quality has deteriorated considerably in recent years – a point that
resonates with findings from many of my participants about the Klang and the Torrens,
which were regarded as becoming increasingly polluted. A change in water quality is
best discerned through their comments on the changes in their recreational patterns.
They have not been swimming in the Stour River in their adult life; whereas this activity
was common in their youth. Several aged residents reported that in their youth they
would not only swim in the river, but also drank from it without hesitation. The most
cited reason given was that the rivers were now much more polluted than previously.
Various pollutants, including chemical industries, sewage, and agricultural
pesticides and herbicides, evoked a sense of anxiety among the Dorset participants.
People also made a distinction between the ‗natural‘, such as dead plants, and
‗unnatural‘ or man-made forms of pollution. However, ‗the most anxiety was generated
by chemicals such as pesticides and herbicides‘ as they contain properties ‗to kill‘
organisms (Strang 2004: 171). These findings are beneficial as whether such
classifications of pollutants are evident in this study.
30
There is also now a proliferation of literature dealing with environmental history
of rivers worldwide include the Columbia (White 1996) and the Fraser Rivers in North
America, the Singapore (Dobbs 2003) and Mekong River (Osborne 2000) in Southeast
Asia, the Murray River (Sinclair 2001 ) and Clarence and Bolence River (Lucas
2004) in Australia, and the Nile River (Collins 2002) in Africa. A common theme
threaded through these studies is the anthropogenic changes and modifications of these
river places. Work by Paul Sinclair and Damian Lucas are particularly useful in
understandings the ways people experience and respond to both physical
trasnfromations and associated river quality issues. I now turn to conceptualisation and
river pollution studies within humanities and social sciences literature.
Pollution and polluted rivers
Mary Douglas, in ‗Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Pollution and Taboo‟ (1970),
highlights the significance of ritual and religion as a system of order which
distinguishes dirty/clean and pure/polluted within a culture. For example, a discussion
based on the Biblical book of Leviticus illustrates the point via food taboos. Several
anthropological works draw on Douglas‘s text regarding moral and bodily pollution (for
example, Bean 1981; Hage & Harary 1981; Meigs 1978; Namihira 1987). She extends
her arguments on the social construction of dirt and pollution as setting cultural
boundaries in relation to environmental pollution later in Risk and Culture (Douglas &
Wlidavsky 1982). Douglas‘s conceptualisation that pollution is ‗matter out of place‘
(1970: 53) is relevant in my study, as I demonstrate particularly in Chapter Five and
Six.
Little has been written about the issue of polluted rivers from anthropological
perspectives. Several studies adopted a political ecology framework to examine river
pollution issues. For example, Krista Harper (2005: 53) highlights how the Hungarians
responded to the heavy metal pollution of the Tisza River in 2000. She mainly worked
with environmental activists to trace the development of a social movement as a
response to the environmental crisis. More importantly, she asserts that the
environmental struggles for the protection of the Tisza River are manifested as
‗symbolic ecologies‘ against the state government and systems. Based on earlier works
on symbolic ecology, she defines symbolic ecology as ‗the role of language and social
practices in creating a “sense of place” [emphasis added] and cultural values around
nature‘ (Harper 2005: 222).
31
A series of incidents of cyanide and heavy metal pollution of the Tisza River in
2000 has evoked enormous public support for the protection of the river, since the Tisza
is culturally significant for the locals, as it is associated with Hungary‘s national identity
and territorial integrity (Harper 2005: 226). Dreadful ecological, social and economic
impacts, such as the loss of thousands of tonnes of fish, the contamination of public
water supplies, and the damage to agriculture and fishing industries in several countries
were reported due to the catastrophic spills (Harper 2005: 255-256). Following the
disaster, several funeral processions were organised for the Tisza River in a few cities in
Hungary, evoking myriad political sentiments, such as the spirit of nationalism
specifically in relation to neighbouring country, Romania. Harper‘s work provided me
with a background understanding that there are multiple levels and ways regarding how
people responded to environmental degradation that reflect their sense of attachment to
rivers and surrounding areas, including demanding major institutional changes through
political demonstrations.
Another dimension of conflict is discussed by an American anthropologist, Brett
Williams (2001), in her critical analysis of the polluted Anacostia River that flows
through Washingtin, D.C, in which she examines the tension between people, the
environment, and economic growth. Drawing from Marxist thought, the environmental
justice movement, and political ecology literature she argues that ‗rivers exemplify the
conflict between use and exchange values‘ (Williams 2001: 427) where the exchange
values always override the use values. Consequently, the unsustainable agriculture
practices put a strain on the Anacostia, as silt from the clearing of lands washed away
and filled its riverbed, rendering it too shallow (Williams 2001: 414). Despites centuries
of pollution, the locals treasure the river as evidently echoed by a resident who used to
paddle along the river: ‗This has been my river. I love this river… it‘s terrible; it‘s awful
and smelly sometimes. Nevertheless I can‘t take my mind off my roots – the Anacostia
and ole Washington, DC‘ (Williams 2001: 424). Thus, the people of Anacostia fight for
environmental injustice and organize river conservation projects, similarly as portrayed
by the residents of the Danube and Tisza Rivers. They, for example, filed a legal suit to
the Navy Yard and the Environmental Protection Agency for the PCBs discharge and
violation of Clean Water Act (Williams 2001: 427). Williams‘s study provides me with
an understanding of the intricate connections between past and present, political, social
and economic dimensions of a place and its associated environmental issues. In this
regard, I examine the past history and present conditions of the two rivers in Chapter
Four.
32
My work has also been informed by ethnographic studies conducted by Kelly D.
Alley (1994; 1998; 2002) on competing secular and sacred concerns in Hindi society in
India. She examines the interpretation of the city waste and pollution in Benaras12
, now
Vanarasi, an urban centre of north-central India. The Ganga River flows through
Benaras. Both the river and city are important pilgrimage sites for Hindus (Eck 1982:
128; Motichandra 1985; Alley 1994: 128). Specifically, Kelly discusses the discourse
between the residents and the state on the two opposing qualities of the Ganga River:
being sacred and polluted. Alley begins her discussion of residents‘ cultural perceptions
on the sacredness of the Ganga as mostly stemming from Hindu sacred texts.
Informants remarked that the Ganga can never be polluted, as the river embodied
superior qualities, such as a purifier, sustainer, and mother. Nevertheless, after further
deliberation, some acknowledged: ‗the Ganga is pure, but we people make it polluted‘
(Alley 1994: 130). Interestingly, Alley presents the disputes that occurred in relation to
the sources of pollution discharge into the Ganga, as reflecting the paradox between
sacred and secular debates. The government‘s official data reported that religious
practices such as ritual offerings, ritual ablution and other local practices (for instance
dumping of dead animals) contributed to the high bacterial level of the polluted Ganga.
In contrast, a voluntary organisation, the Swatcha Ganga Abhiyan or the Clean Ganga
Campaign, which conducted its own independent water quality monitoring, argued that
a significant proportion of pollution came from approximately 250 millions litres of
diluted sewage that drained into the Ganga daily (Alley 1994: 137). Alley‘s discussions
on local people‘s conceptualisations of pure and polluted water and associated
responses are useful to my research, as I examine the theme explicitly in Chapter Five
and Six.
Chapter summary
In Chapter Two I have brought together literature central to describing and analysing
concepts of place. I have also canvassed the cultural meanings embedded in water,
emotional attachment to water, and ways in which divergent cultures can indicate
similar beliefs and practices when water serves as a research entry point. I have also
shown how and why writers such as Basso, Douglas, Milton and Strang have informed
my data collection, emphases, and analyses, whilst indicating the limitations and
qualities of broader scholarship. In particular, I have introduced discussion relating to
12
The spelling of ‗Benaras‘ and ‗Banaras‘ are both used in her collection of work.
33
concepts of pollution, drawing on Douglas‘s use of pollution as ‗matter out of place‘. In
Chapter Three I explain and outline fieldwork in both the Klang and Torrens River
settings.
34
CHAPTER THREE
NAVIGATING THE FIELD: THE WHO, WHEN AND HOW
Methodologies cannot be true or false, only more or less useful.
(Silverman 2001: 4)
In the previous chapter, a broad set of approaches to thinking about the relationships
among people, place and pollution was explored. I stressed that experiences of place,
including water places, are multisensory, embodied and emotional, and that this
understanding could also be applied to explain the ways people describe river pollution.
This chapter examines the richness and the complexity of fieldwork experiences, the
research process, and methods used to investigate the lived experience of local people in
the two river catchments – the Klang and the Torrens. I am concerned to explore, in
particular, the use of ethnography, in-depth interviews and participant observation. I
describe why decisions about the research were made, including gaining access to, and
initiating contacts, interview processes, and locating the specific sites for daily
observations. I also discuss specific issues relating to insider-outsider distinctions
during fieldwork in the two locations, and methods involving walking with persons who
participated in the research. There is minimal literature about this topic despite the fact
that a great deal of ethnographic fieldwork is carried out on foot (Ingold & Lee 2008:
3). I therefore highlight the potential of walking as a significant ethnographic device,
particularly for environmental anthropologists. I conclude by reflecting on conducting
fieldwork in two disparate cultural and environmental settings.
Fieldwork in two settings
Fieldwork in Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide was an enriching experience for me both
academically and personally. My fieldwork was conducted in two phases. The first was
for seven months from December 2006 to June 2007 in Kuala Lumpur; the second was
in Adelaide from August 2007 to February 2008. Prior to fieldwork, a pilot study or pre-
fieldwork stage occurred for one month in November 2006 in Adelaide. As mentioned
earlier, I relied mainly on in-depth ethnographic interviews and participant observation.
This section addresses fieldwork in both river catchments.
35
Gaining access and initiating contacts
Most parts of the Klang and Torrens rivers are public spaces; thus they are considered
open settings. However, certain information regarding specific river issues was held by
individuals who worked with catchment groups or kept in closed settings such as at the
Department of Environment (DOE) in Malaysia and Environmental Protection
Authority (EPA) in South Australia. This scenario resulted in initial contacts being
made formally and informally in order to obtain permission prior entering the fieldsites.
Additionally, the government of Malaysia required that any research conducted in
Malaysia by foreign researchers and Malaysian nationals from institutions and/or
organisations overseas required permission that must be obtained by applying for
written approval from the Economic Planning Unit (EPU), which acts as a co-ordinating
agency in all matters pertaining to research. I submitted my application to EPU in
September 2006 and obtained approval a month later. A human research ethics
application was also submitted and approved by The University of Western Australia
Human Research Ethics Committee in August 200613
. While waiting for the approvals,
I met regularly with my supervisors, carried out Internet research, commenced a
literature review, and identified government agencies and NGOs that dealt with river
issues in both settings. Upon receiving approvals, I wrote letters and emails to the
appropriate agencies providing information about the project, and inviting them to
participate in it. I received encouraging feedback from potential informants in both
settings, except for a decline and two non-responses in Malaysia and a non-response in
South Australia14
.
A pilot or pre-fieldwork study was conducted for one month in November 2006
in Adelaide. Not unusually, this turned out to be significant because it enabled me to
establish initial contacts, as well as to familiarise myself with the setting. Conversely,
pre-fieldwork was not conducted in Kuala Lumpur, because I had been living there for
more than twenty years. I managed to meet two local government officers who co-
13
The study was then conducted following the guidelines of the ethics committee. Firstly, I explained to
the participants the purpose of the research and asked whether they were willing to participate. The
participants were assured that they were under no obligation to participate, and could terminate the
interview at any time, should they feel uncomfortable. The objective of the study, interview procedures,
and time taken were also explained to them at the outset of the interviews. An information sheet and
consent forms were handed to them for their reference and to provide assurance that the data collected
would be used solely for this research (see Appendix I). All participants were assured that their names
would not be used in the transcriptions, thus protecting their privacy. 14
Syarikat Bekalan Air Selangor (SYABAS) or Selangor Water Supply Company declined to participate
and two industries located along the Klang did not respond to my letter. In Adelaide, I did not receive a
reply letter from South Australia Water.
36
ordinate programs in the Torrens catchment whom I had contacted earlier through
emails, and one became a key informant in Adelaide. While I was in Adelaide during
the pre-fieldwork period, I attended a conference entitled the ‗Urban River Symposium:
The Future of River Torrens‟ organised by the Adelaide City Council. Many of the key
players for the Torrens attended the conference, including volunteers from the
catchment groups, academics, NGO representatives and government officers, as well as
members of the Torrens Task Force – a newly established committee to protect the
Torrens. One of my informants introduced me to a few key players, especially among
the local communities. I also introduced myself and described my study to other
potential informants attending the conference, jotted down their details and contacted
them when I returned to Adelaide in 2007. Upon returning to Perth in early December
2006, I compiled a list of potential informants and gained a greater confidence about my
choice of the Torrens Rivers as a comparison with the Klang River.
Locating and interviewing ‘river groups’
I conducted 41 in-depth interviews in Kuala Lumpur and 42 (one of which was a focus
group interview) in Adelaide15
. As noted by Jorgensen (1989: 90), in-depth interviews
are significant because they seek to ‗explore particular matters in elaborate and
comprehensive details‘. Informants were divided into three major categories, namely:
(1) members of local group who lived along or within the river catchment; (2)
government officials; and (3) NGO activists and academics. These categories were
employed in both sites. Though the people in these categories have different
experiences and exposure to the rivers, as well as differences in socio-economic,
occupational and educational backgrounds, most of them shared one thing in common –
being members of a ‗catchment‘16
, living within the boundaries of the river catchments.
About five per cent of my informants lived outside the catchment boundaries. However,
they had seen, interacted and moved within the catchment areas, as well as having a
great interest in the state of the rivers. For example, an academic from Sydney and one
from Penang (a northern state of Peninsular Malaysia) had conducted studies on the
extent of heavy metal pollution in the Torrens River and urban rivers in Malaysia
respectively.
15
Subsequently there were fewer informants in Kuala Lumpur (41) as a focus group interview was
conducted in Adelaide (48) which is elaborated in Chapter Six. 16
This term is commonly used in geographical and hydrological studies to refer to areas of the earth‘s
surface where rainwater drains into a particular stream (Julien 2002).
37
The guidelines I had about people I wished to interview were that they had a
connection with the river either on the basis of geographical proximity, organisational
link or personal attachment. The selection of representatives from the local groups was
mainly based on their geographical proximity to the river. Generally, the location of
their houses was less than one kilometre from the rivers. Most persons had a higher
probability to become frequent users of the river and consequently observed changes to
the river system, emphases that were important to my study. There were also informants
who did not live close to the river, but frequently interacted with the rivers, for example,
as recreational users of the Torrens Linear Park which runs adjacent to the River.
The selection of government officials and NGO representatives was based on
their organisational links to rivers. I included certain government employees17
, as they
acted as official ‗care-takers‘ in managing the river systems. At the state level, for
example, interviews were conducted with officials from the EPA in South Australia and
from its counterpart in Malaysia, the DOE. I also interviewed city council officials in
both Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide, representing government agencies operating at the
local level. Similarly, the inclusion of NGO representatives was made on the basis of
the organisations they served having specific programs addressing river-related issues.
Multiple strategies were employed to recruit informants. Firstly, I followed up
potential informants identified during my pre-fieldwork, when I wrote emails and
letters, particularly to government officers and NGO representatives. Secondly, ‗being
out there‘ in the field was significant in recruiting local people. I met with a few of my
informants while I was walking along the rivers alone or with a key informant. I would
first initiate a casual conversation, and then invite them to participate in my research,
either on the same day or by arranging an appointment for a later date. Thirdly, using a
snowball strategy (Liamputtong & Ezzy 2005; O‘Reilly 2005), I sought names from
informants whom I had already interviewed in order to reach the unknown informants.
Finally, and not unusually in the field of research, attending conferences, workshops
and seminars proved to be an effective way to network with individuals of similar
interest, as well as identifying potential informants.
Most of the interviews were conducted on a one-to-one basis with the exception
of a few interviews with groups of government representatives. In accordance with
ethics approval, I always sought permission to tape record the interviews. Long
passages of these were transcribed verbatim later with accuracy using tape-recorded
files, which, as pointed out by Fetterman (1989) enabled a relaxed and interactive
17
Some of them have been helpful in suggesting potential local people as participants in my study.
38
conversational flow. All of the interviews were digitally recorded, except for a few
during which only notes were taken. Though the interviews were recorded digitally, I
also took short notes, especially for difficult words/terms, or place-names, and in case
the digital recorder did not work. All of the Adelaide informants were willing to be
recorded, whereas three of the government officers in Kuala Lumpur politely declined
to be tape-recorded. The interviews varied in length, the longest being around two hours
and the shortest thirty minutes18
. I initially planned to do follow-up interviews but, for a
range of reasons, this rarely occurred. Given the high number of informants for a
qualitative research project across two settings, I was also satisfied with the substantive
depth of the data that emerged during the interview, and followed-up only if a query
emerged.
As opposed to structured questions, and not unusually in anthropological
research, I conducted open-ended interviews in a conversational and informal way to
capture the depth and the ‗voice‘ of the informants. Working from a prepared complex
of guiding lines of inquiry, issues revolved around, but were not limited to, the history
of the river, experiences and contact with the river, observable changes to the river,
perceptions about water quality, sources of pollution, and responsibilities towards
protecting the rivers. I was primarily concerned to probe perceptions, values and
experiences related to polluted rivers.
There was a lot of flexibility and fluidity in the interview process, as informants
were free to discuss certain topics that interested them at greater length than others.
Taylor and Bogdan (1984: 77) assert in regard to qualitative interviews that ‗far from
being a robot like data collector, the interviewer, not an interview schedule or protocol,
is the research tool‘. While I was focusing on main themes relating to a river pollution
issue, I was also able to keep track of issues that uniquely emerged in each setting. For
example, during my fieldwork in Adelaide there was a heated public debate on the
possibility of a desalinisation plant being installed to tackle the water supply problem;
hence, one of my interviewees raised this issue when I asked about the polluted Torrens.
Spradley (1979: 25) makes the point that informants serve as ‗teachers‘ to
ethnographers, as they transmit their cultural knowledge via the process of interviewing.
Ensuring my informants‘ convenience and comfort was therefore vital in encouraging
participation and fluidity of the interview processes. I was very open, in terms of time,
18
At the end of each interview, all participants were given a souvenir as a token of appreciation for
participating in the study. I gave an Australian keychain to the Malaysian participants and a Malaysian
keychain to the Australian participants.
39
locations and language, to accommodating the requests or suggestions of my
informants. In all cases, I would ask my informants‘ their preferred location and time to
be interviewed. The interview locations varied, ranging across cafes, parks, boats,
informants‘ residences, offices and vehicles, as well as along the riverbanks. Some
locations were more challenging than others, such as interviews in cafes where I was
struggling with a background sound of coffee machines, clanking cutlery and chattering
voices competing with the voice of my informants. Interviews conducted at the
riverbanks were usually calming and relaxing, perhaps indicating the strength of
person/river associations and attachments. As one of my interviewees put it, „Let‘s meet
at the Torrens. It‘s cooling. And it‘s a subject matter of your study after all‘. Interviews
conducted at the riverbank were more common at the Torrens compared to the Klang.
This could be due to the fact that the Torrens has a more natural look, with lawn, shady
trees and other greenery along its bank, in contrast with the Klang, sections of which
have been channelised and concretised. Normally, after the formal interviews, my
informants would walk with me along the Torrens, reminiscing about the river during
their childhood days and explaining places that they mentioned during the formal
interview. Such informal conversations provided further insights that enhanced my
research. Occasionally, the formal interview itself was conducted while we were
walking along the Torrens.
Depending on the language competency and personal preference of my
informants, I believe I accommodated people‘s language choice. In Kuala Lumpur, the
majority of the Malays conversed in their mother tongue. On the other hand, the
remaining Malays, Chinese and Indians spoke in English, or mixed English and Malay.
In terms of the use of the English language, interviews were conducted smoothly in
Adelaide except for a few Australian items of slang about which I sought further
clarification from my informants. Each interview was transcribed verbatim19
.
Pseudonyms have been used throughout to ensure confidentiality. These appear in
single inverted commas the first time each appears in the text (for example ‗Amber‘).
Short phrases from my informants or scholarly literature are included as part of
sentences in single inverted commas (for example ‗erasure of place‘).
19
Transcriptions of these interviews provided valuable ethnographic information that has markedly
informed the argument of the thesis. I have cited these interviews in the following format (Interview:
location, date). Thus, (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/10/07) refers to the transcript of an interview held in
Kuala Lumpur in November, 2007.
40
Observing people and rivers
Fieldwork based on participant observation is one the main distinctions that sets
anthropology apart from other social science disciplines rather than the topics under
study (Gupta & Ferguson 1997: 2). However, it is precisely this hallmark of
ethnographic research that evoked feelings of fear and anxiety within me. As Hume and
Mulcock (2004: xxiii) recognise, ‗it is important to acknowledge these feelings,
especially to novice ethnographers about to embark on lengthy (or short) sojourns in the
field‘. I submitted my monthly fieldwork reports to my supervisors, often mentioning
one of my major concerns was whether my work was ‗ethnographic enough‘. Along
with this, I felt ill at ease about the lack of structure in qualitative research because I
was more used to defining a specific hypothesis and variables to be investigated at the
beginning of quantitative research.
My ‗ethnographic anxiety‘ stemmed in part from the notion of ‗fieldsites‘.
Doing ethnographic work in cities like Adelaide and Kuala Lumpur, a site‘s parameters
are unclear and unreadily defined. I therefore had to define and mark physical and
cultural boundaries for a manageable daily ethnographic observation. This was one of
the challenges, as will be elaborated below. The classical notion of fieldsites has been
contested by various scholars, including George Marcus (in Marcus & Fischer 1986,
1998), who claimed that the notion of multi-locale and multi-sited ethnography had
significantly contributed to the debate. Marcus‘s idea about the value of multiple site
engagements is further supported by Maanen (2006: 15):
[E]thnography is no longer confined to single-site studies of
supposedly isolated or conveniently distinct and isolated peoples
(the cultural island approach). With the rise and expansion of vast
human migrations, vanishing native groups, market globalisation,
enhanced information, communication and transportation
technologies, the anthropologizing of the west, ethnography has
become rather de-territorialised.
Notable too is Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson‘s (1997) contribution to the on-going
critique of what constituted a site and by whom as part of a broader critique. Hume and
Mulcock (2004), on the other hand, discuss the changing nature of the field, particularly
in a globalised world. My research is multi-sited given that it shares parallels with
Marcus and Fisher‘s claims:
rather than being situated in one, or perhaps two communities for
the entire period of research, the fieldworker must be mobile,
covering a network of sites that encompasses a process, which is
in fact the object of the study ( 1986: 94).
41
My multi-sited engagements did not only refer to working across two countries, but also
to various sub-sites within and outside the river catchments. My aim at all times was to
gain a deeper understanding of human interactions with and responses to urban rivers,
in particular the impact and implications of pollution.
I share a primarily methodological dilemma about ethnographic research faced
by others, such as by Muir (2004), who conducted a study on Aboriginality and ‗New
Age‘ culture in Australia. He experienced ‗ethnographic anxiety‘ (Muir 2004: 186), as
he struggled to find the articulation of New Age in a well-defined physical and social
location. Instead, his fieldsites occurred in ‗fragmented settings‘, such as in Internet
discussions, festivals, workshops, and gatherings he attended and Aboriginal souvenir
shops he visited. Similarly, in contextualising and investigating perceptions and
responses to river pollution, I did not limit myself to specific river courses. Rather, my
fieldsites throughout the data collection stage extended to within and outside the river
catchments. Like Muir, I also considered workshops, conferences and seminars on
rivers and general environmental issues as my fieldsites. This approach is consistent
with Spradley‘s (1980: 40) idea that ‗any physical setting can become the basis for a
social situation as long as it has people present and engaged in activities‘. These events
offered a platform for the three categories of my informants − government officials,
NGO representatives and members of local groups − to meet and discuss issues relating
to river management and conservation. Accordingly, the range of settings enabled me to
elicit rich descriptions about people‘s perceptions of, and responses to, polluted rivers.
For the purpose of daily observations I chose two sub-settings where the Klang
and the Torrens rivers meander through each city: first, a central metropolitan area and,
second, a residential area along the riverbanks, located somewhat upstream from the
city centre. I conducted observations alternately between these two sub-settings.
Specifically, in Kuala Lumpur, I conducted my observation around the Masjid Jamek20
area, which is located at the confluence of the Gombak River and the Klang River.
There is an old heritage mosque located at the confluence of the two rivers, which is
frequently visited by tourists. Many local Muslims who are working around the area
also visit the mosque regularly to perform their daily prayers. As can be seen in Plate 1
skyscrapers of commercial premises also surround the Masjid Jamek area. In South
20
Masjid is a Malay word literally translated as mosque, whereas Jamek is derived from an Arabic word
which means a place where people congregate for prayers. It is reported that Masjid Jamek is the oldest
mosque in Kuala Lumpur.
42
Australia, the central metropolitan area that I chose was the Elder Park area, where
many landmarks buildings, such as the Adelaide Convention Centre and Adelaide
Festival Theatre, are located (see Plate 2). Additionally, Elder Park is a tourist attraction
area, since there are passenger boats called Popeye and paddle boat services there for
cruising along the Torrens. Both Elder Park and Masjid Jamek can be considered as the
heartland of the city, as people flocked to these areas. These were strategic locations to
observe people‘s interactions with the river‘s water and, in particular, people‘s
responses to increasing pollution.
Plate 1 Confluence of the Klang River on the right and the Gombak River on the left at
Masjid Jamek where Kuala Lumpur begins. The mosque with a white doom is located in
between palm trees21
.
Plate 2 Adelaide Festival Theatre with its white roof at Elder Park, with the ‘Popeye’ boat
cruising along the Torrens River.
21
All photos presented in this thesis were taken by Nor Azlin Tajuddin unless otherwise stated.
43
Most people did not live in metropolitan centres. Rather, they commuted on a daily
basis to central commercial and business premises. Therefore, residential areas beyond
the centres were included as my fieldsites to get a feel for how people lived near urban
rivers. Kampung Dato Keramat (KDK) in Kuala Lumpur and St. Peters Billabong
(SPB) in Adelaide, were chosen, since both are located physically close to the city
centre, and socially and culturally accord with the space and place of an urban setting.
Both residential areas are less than five kilometres from the city centre area. More
importantly, city councils in both areas had installed ‗trash racks‘ (also known as ‗trash
booms‘) to trap all visible rubbish that flows along the river (see Plate 3 and 4). In this
regard, it is obvious that rubbish has been conceptualised as polluting the rivers, a point
to which I will return.
I did not live near the local groups in catchments, a factor that limited full
immersion in local cultural life and the extent to which I could observe and document
the minutiae of daily interactions with the polluted rivers. Instead, in South Australia, I
rented a room in Brooklyn Park, a suburb near Adelaide that is less than ten kilometres
away from SPB, where I often walked. Likewise in Malaysia, my rented house was less
than ten kilometres away from KDK, also a favoured site. I made up for this by walking
and travelling by bus or Light Rail Transit or also known as Light Rapid Transit (LRT)
extensively along parts of the Klang and Torrens rivers on an almost daily basis.
Observations included how the local groups made use of the rivers, including during
river-rubbish cleaning operations or during river restoration activities, such as when tree
planting occurred or weeds were systematically removed.
I also engaged in workshops and on-ground conservation activities in Adelaide
with two environmental groups Conservation Volunteers Australia (CVA) and Friends
of St. Peters Billabong (FSPB). I became a volunteer with CVA under the ‗Better Earth‘
program in December 2007 to February 2008. I completed a two weeks induction
workshop comprised of first aid, team building and identification of native flora and
fauna courses, simultaneously engaged in the on-ground conservation work for four
weeks. I was hoping that I would be given a project along the Torrens River; however,
44
Plate 3 A trash rack across the Klang River at KDK.
Plate 4 A trash rack across the Torrens River at SPB during a heavy rain.
there was no restoration work undertaken under the terms of this program during the
period I served as volunteer22
. As I became a ‗familiar face‘ around the SPB residential
area, I was also invited to be a member of the FSPB by my informant who was a
committee member of the group. This membership opened up an opportunity for me to
22
Among others I engaged in hand-weeding introduced species along a coast, constructing a wallaby
house, maintaining a public park (mulching, removing weeds), and collecting native seeds.
45
engage in river restoration, as I eagerly wanted to participate. I did a monthly23
river
conservation activity in the SPB section from early December 2007 until the end of
February 2008, which mostly involved hand-weeding and taking care of the area after
the native trees were planted. In contrast, I did not manage to participate in conservation
activities in Kuala Lumpur, as there were very few programs and limited opportunities
as such in Malaysia. In fact, there was no such program at the Klang River in which
members of the public could participate. I discuss this matter further in Chapters Seven
and Nine. Apart from daily observations, I participated in a number of ‗one-off‘
programs and events related to water and river issues in Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide.
For example, during World Environment Day in June 2007, I participated in an
educational environmental program organised by Global Environment Centre (GEC,
discussed in Chapter Seven), a local NGO at one of the Klang River‘s tributaries. In
addition, I followed a team of scientists and technical officers from the Department of
Environment for a day of water sample monitoring along the Klang River. Likewise in
Adelaide, a key informant invited me to join two meetings of the Steering Management
Committee of the Upper Torrens Land Management Project (UTLMP). As mentioned
earlier, participation in various workshops, conferences and seminars organised by
various sectors also provided deeper insights, as issues and policies on the rivers were
discussed and debated among scholars and practitioners.
In addition to participant observation and in-depth interviews, I collected printed
secondary materials, such as legislation and policy documents, management plans,
reports, government publications, local histories, tourism pamphlets, local newspapers
articles in relation to pollution and the historical development of both rivers. According
to Taylor and Bogdan (1984: 68),‗checking documents is a form of triangulation against
researchers‘ bias and checking out accounts from different participants‘. Various
libraries, including local and state libraries, as well as universities and government
agencies, were regularly visited in both settings to collect relevant materials also as a
way of providing historical contextualisation for the ethnographic data. Several
informants also gave their own collections of local news bulletins, newspaper cuttings
and pictures of the rivers. Sources such as television interviews and documentaries, as
well as Internet sources, including related websites and environmental e-group
discussions, were also consulted. The synthesis and analysis of these additional
materials shed light on ‗natives‘ perceptions‘ and insights into the urban river pollution
issues. The materials were also useful to contextualise my study, particularly in
23
The group held its on-ground activities on the third Sunday of every month.
46
Adelaide, as I was an outsider with limited knowledge of the social and cultural
contexts of the place and its people. Photographs have several advantages, including
capturing information that researchers might have missed while they were in the field
(Fetterman 1989). I took hundreds of digital photographs of the two rivers and of
activities around the rivers, such as daily clearing and cleaning of the trash racks of the
Klang River.
The fluidity of being an insider and outsider
The debates concerning the advantages and disadvantages of native/indigenous versus
non-native/foreign anthropologists, insiders versus outsiders, conducting research ‗at‘ or
‗away‘ from home, have been dealt with at great length within methodological, ethical
and epistemological discussions in anthropology (see, for example, Altorki & El-Solh
1988; Freilich 1970; Fahim 1977; Fahim et al. 1980; Narayan 1993) and the broader
qualitative research literature (DeLyser 2001; Dwyer & Buckle 2009). One of my aims
in this thesis is to add to these debates. A key point that has emerged in the literature
relates to researchers who are either insiders or outsiders. The dualism embedded in
these two statuses relies on fixed categories with prescribed strengths and drawbacks,
such as detachment and involvement, and subjectivity and objectivity. Critiques of such
a stance argue for inclusion of the dynamic and interactive nature of the statuses,
especially as a researcher moves along the insider-outsider continuum. Spradley (1980:
57) notes that ‗doing ethnographic fieldwork involves alternating between the insider
and outsider experience, and having both simultaneously‘. Similarly, as Narayan
reiterates, ‗we all belong to several communities simultaneously... [P]eople born within
a society can be simultaneously both insiders and outsiders, just as those born elsewhere
can be outsiders and, if they are lucky, insiders too‘ (1993: 676, 678).
I concur with the above view that just as water changes in response to various
temperatures, the status of a researcher also changes: each is fluid in nature, and
dependent on a variety of contexts and situations. My own status appears rather
straightforward at the outset, based as it is on my place of origin. In Kuala Lumpur, I
was an insider by virtue of my Malaysian citizenship and my upbringing and most of
my informants were of my own ethnic group – Malays. Conversely, I was also an
outsider through undertaking comparative research, as I was enrolled at an Australian
university and was conducting research among residents in Adelaide. But this is not as
simple as it at first seems. In what follows I sketch the contexts and nature of my
47
changing status, particularly when I was in Kuala Lumpur. I will also highlight the
benefits and challenges of being an insider, as well as an outsider, during fieldwork in
both settings.
Despite Narayan pointing out that ‗the term [native] is linked to place‘ (1993:
676, original emphasis) much of her discussion is about researchers‘ social relations
with their informants. For instance, she treats how language and culture became the
determinants of insider/outsider distinctions between researcher and informants of
different or similar ethnic group, class, religion, educational level background, and so
on. In my view, the discussion should be extended to include the ‗malleability or
situational nature of the boundary separating outsiders from insiders‘ (Kusow 2003:
592) in relation to the place they studied as well. As I will show, a researcher can be an
outsider in place where he/she is born or has lived. But if familiarity with culture and
language of people being studied is taken partly as indicative of being an insider, then
the same principle should be applied to all field settings.
I considered myself a ‘partial insider‘ (Narayan 1993: 676), or an insider-
outsider. I was an insider because I studied my own society, sharing similar culture and
language. Not only was I studying my own group, I also lived in Kuala Lumpur for
more than two decades24
. I was familiar with, and had an affinity with, Kuala Lumpur to
the extent that I could not imagine myself living in other cities. I have intimate
knowledge of Kuala Lumpur − I can show its busiest roads, best shopping complexes
and food outlets, explain its integrated transportation systems and am aware of the
history of its place-naming.
Conversely, before I embarked on this research, my inside knowledge of and
affection for the Klang River was almost absent despite being a long-time resident of its
catchment. I had seen, walked along, and crossed the bridge of the Klang River section
that flows through the heart of Kuala Lumpur countless times. The river is like
pedestrians whom I encountered along the short-walkway adjacent to the Klang River: I
saw but did not notice them. The river was unfamiliar to me as a study subject, as it was
to foreign anthropologists. Failing to give a definite answer, I felt ashamed as my first
interviewee who was a government official asked me ‗Do you know exactly where the
river begins?‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 15/01/07). I was an outsider to the river that
‗gave birth‘ to the capital city of Malaysia. Indeed, I have no advantage in this regard
compared to anthropologists who are insiders. Upon reflection, the selection of the
24
I was first sent to a boarding school in Kuala Lumpur when I was thirteen years old.
48
Klang River as my fieldsite arose partly because, as one informant put it, the river ‗is
invisible in the city .... we are detached from the Klang River‘ (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 18/05/07). Indeed, as Shami explicates, ‗my choice was not so much guided by
how much I knew, but rather by how much I felt that I did not know about ―my own‖‘
(Shami 1988: 118, original emphasis) river. As in the case of the Torrens River, I
started to discover the Klang River almost from scratch and found that my internally
growing sense of place for and knowledge about both rivers developed in similar stages
as the study progressed.
Relph (1976) has coined the terms ‗insideness‘ and ‗outsideness‘ to explain
one‘s relationship to people and place. He asserts that if a person feels inside a place, he
or she would feel secured rather than endangered, comfortable rather than stressed, and
identifying him/herself with it. These notions reflect my experiences in the field. My
first entry point for both rivers was at their middle sections as they cut across the city
centres. Initially, I was afraid and fearful to start my observation at this point of the
Klang River that, to some extent, limited my plans of walking along its banks on my
own (walking experiences will be described more fully in the following section).
Equally I was afraid to walk alone in the KDK section further five kilometres upstream
from the city centre. In these sections, the river has been transformed from a natural-
looking riverbank to a concrete riverbank, evoking a feeling that I was trapped in
another world, though the bustling city was a few metres away and above me. I
sometimes asked a former student or my brother to accompany me in the early stage of
the research to walk along the banks of the Klang River, as I felt insecure and
uncomfortable walking alone. Homeless people, mostly drug addicts, who lived under
the overpasses along the river added to my anxiety. Certain places have inherent
qualities that welcome their visitors. Strangely I felt an almost immediate sense of
comfort and security with the Torrens River, though the place was unfamiliar to me.
The inviting nature of the green landscape, and a 35-kilometre cycling and pedestrian
trail that ran through the city centre constructed adjacent to the Torrens riverbank
helped me to feel at ease. Unlike my experiences of the Klang River, I did not ask
anyone to accompany me even on the very first day of my walk along the Torrens
River25
. I was on my own throughout my fieldwork, except on the few occasions when I
was invited by local walking groups to join them.
25
I simply asked my friend to teach and show me the way to get to the Torrens River.
49
It is also not necessarily easier to work in one‘s own culture, as there are many
sub-cultures within the wider Malaysian culture in which one could belong, including
those that encompass ethnicity, religion, class or occupational groups (see, for example,
Prato 2009). Researching subject matter that has been traditionally identified with the
physical sciences tested my abilities as a perceived insider, at least in terms of picking
up terminologies that were different from everyday language use, and the human and
social sciences. This arose because many of my Klang informants were government
officers, NGO workers and academics who had mostly come from physical science
backgrounds, such as engineering, environmental sciences, biology, and hydrology. As
such, they used specific scientific or technical terms unfamiliar to me, especially when
discussing pollution issues. I had to learn to be ‗attuned to and explore the meanings of
words‘ (Taylor & Bogdan 1984: 51) used by my interviewees in their own professional
cultures. Similarly to other researchers, I learnt many new terms through the research,
both from reading the literature and when conducting interviews. I knew that I needed
to learn quickly terminologies like non-point source pollution, macrophyte, and
eutrophication, otherwise I would be lost during the interviews. At times, my
interviewees simply used acronyms like BOD (Biochemical Oxygen Demand), TSS
(Total Suspended Solid), and GPT (Gross Pollutant Trap), and such usages generated
problems during transcription. Similar problems emerged during the Torrens River
component of the research.
Another challenge was the comparative nature of my study. I was questioned by
some of my informants who seemed unclear, and sometimes a little suspicious, about
my intentions. I noted a sense of worry among Malaysian interviewees, for instance,
who seemed concerned that I might portray a bad image of my own country by showing
the Klang as more polluted than the Torrens. As an insider, most likely they expected
me not to be over-critical about my own country. I overcame peoples‘ wariness by
ensuring that I did not plan to compare which river was much polluted than the other. I
restated my neutrality by systematically refusing to comment on the degree of water
quality of the river. In contrast, as an outsider in Australia, at times I was taken aback
by some of the remarks of informants. For instance, an informant at the Waterwatch
Conference in Canberra, Australia, said to me ‗So you‘re comparing river pollution
back in your home country and here. Third world countries often dumped their waste in
the river … understandably your river was more polluted than ours‘ (Fieldnotes:
Canberra, 27/11/07). I felt offended by his cynical comments.
50
Nevertheless, there were advantages to my position as a partial insider. Though I
did not have a prior association with any of the informants whom I have worked with,
as a Malaysian, I knew the culture and society well enough to recognise metaphors or
symbols and the body language used in communication, as well as implicit cultural
norms and values. For example, many informants equated the dirtiness of the Klang
River with teh tarik − a very popular drink in Malaysia. I immediately grasped the
meaning of teh tarik, and imagined its milky tea yellowish in colour as they shared their
concern with pollution. Another example drew me to the work of Lila Abu-Lughod
(1988), who, as a Muslim, is familiar with Islamic teaching, practices and themes raised
by her Muslim informants in the Middle East. In that sense, I could relate to religious
themes discussed by several informants as they revealed relationships between the river,
humankind, and God.
Though I was an outsider to the people of Adelaide, I did not experience
dilemmas of remoteness and the search for social acceptance and ties with local people,
as some anthropologists do. My entry to the field was relatively easy despite not having
had any contact with local people or stepped foot in Australia prior to beginning my
PhD research. Before entering the field, I was quite concerned whether my physical
appearance, a Malay Muslim woman with a headscarf and an Asian accent, might
restrict my ties with local people and abilities to gather rich data. In contrast, I found
people were more than willing to speak to a foreign researcher. In fact, eventually I
discovered that the Torrens River data produced ‗fine[r] descriptions‘ (Frake 2007)
compared to the data elicited along the Klang River. While I return to this point in later
chapters, people spoke extensively about their personal memories of the river and
explained in great details its history and physical characteristics, flora and fauna of the
riverine environment, changes and development taking place along and within the river.
The river came to life as they also shared their personal albums showing pictures of
different sections of the river, changing conditions of the river during flood and drought,
and leisure and restoration activities. They also generously loaned me their own
collections of pamphlets, local news bulletins and reports about the Torrens. Several
informants offered to spend more time with me for a walk along the river,
simultaneously providing further information beyond what they have shared during
interviews. Perhaps this was because they were willing and excited to accept any
persons who were interested to ‗save‘ their river.
A related issue refers to being considered naïve; that is, I had the outsider‘s
advantage of seeing the strangeness of what is familiar. As an outsider unfamiliar with
51
the social and physical environment, any new elements and concepts attracted my
ethnographic eyes and mind. For example, I could immediately distinguish flora and
fauna along and within the areas unique to the Torrens River that I had not seen in
Malaysia. Gradually I learned and identified some of them, such as red gum trees,
kangaroo grass, Salvation Jane, jacaranda, willow trees, purple swamp hens,
kookaburras, and Adelaide rosellas. Moving briefly back to the middle section of the
Klang, it was impossible for me to take much native flora and fauna simply because
they ceased to survive in this embankment structure. In the inception of this study, what
was so interesting for me as an outsider was that these flora and fauna were categorised
into ‗native‘ and ‗introduced‘ by the Adelaidians. The terms were used widely by most
of my informants as well as in official documents. Back in Malaysia, the term ‗native‘
was limited in its usage referring to people (as in Australia too) in the everyday
language. I was curious and wondered whether I was too ignorant (even stupid) for not
knowing such categorisations and what I thought of as basic ecological knowledge.
My naiveté and status as an outsider was most evident when I attended an
induction course of the ‗Better Earth‘ program organised by Conservation Volunteers
Australia (CVA) targeted to introduce the program, and CVA in general, to potential
volunteers who had agreed to join and sign the form. The supervisor in charge, ‗Jono‘,
delivered an hour-long power point presentation before we departed to the CVA
outdoor training centre located in the upper catchment of the Torrens River. While
walking around the park, Jono told us that one of the main components of the program
was a course on identification of native and introduced flora and fauna. He requested
that we listen and observe attentively whether we were able to identify native birds, or
plants in the area. To double-check my understanding I asked, ‗What do you mean by
native?‘ The other potential volunteers who were white teenagers and retirees turned
and looked at me surprisingly. He asked me where I came from; he nodded as I
answered ‗Malaysia‘. Their reactions suggested that I was asking about a fact that was
familiar to the indigenes.
Even more interesting and puzzling for me were common sentiments of
indifferent feelings, values, and attitudes attached to flora and fauna labelled as
‗introduced‘. For instance, European carps and willow trees were identified as
pollutants. My curiosity guided me to further observe such unfamiliar values and
practices related to pollution held by local people in the Torrens River, as discussed in
Chapter Six, and led to the production of interesting anthropological insights. In what
52
follows, I discuss further how walking as a research tool was central to ethnographic
production.
Making sense of place and ethnographic fieldwork through walking
The advancement of modern public transportation such as trams, LRT, and monorails
increasingly characterises life in cities, including Adelaide and Kuala Lumpur. Apart
from traditional modes of transportation, such as taxis and buses, these help people to
move quickly from one urban place to another. In this situation, it is easily to dismiss
the importance of a ‗taken-for-granted practice of everyday life – walking‘ (Pink 2010
et. al : 6). Drawing from more recent work on the practice of walking (particularly Lee
and Ingold 2006, 2008; Pink 2007, 2011; Pink et. al 2010) and my fieldwork
experiences as discussed below, I posit that walking is vital in evoking one‘s sense of
place, as well as in researching urban rivers.
Matching the speed of the flowing water moving from one point to another is
physically challenging, or rather impossible, not unlike conducting research. A
considerable proportion of my time (at least two hours each day) was spent walking
along the Klang and Torrens Rivers, watching and engaging with both places and
people. My fieldwork diaries are full of notes describing short walks in between
arranged interviews, local events and meetings, and long walks during non-eventful
days. My feet took me to common places along and within the river catchments
recognised generally by most of my informants. I also ventured into remote and
secluded river sections across different suburbs that were unfamiliar to participating
locals who had lived along the river longer than I had.
As alluded to above, one of the challenges that I faced while walking was the
issue of personal safety. A few of my interviewees, especially around the Klang River,
were concerned about my safety. One person put it this way: ‗You should not walk
alone down there. Bring someone along‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 12/05/07). This
warning stemmed perhaps from media publicity that a few sections of the Klang River
harboured homeless drug addicts. Concrete flyovers crossing the Klang River with grey
concrete banks underneath provide a protective shelter for them, as I observed when
wandering along the Klang. Another reason is that most of the time no one was strolling
along the river. Indeed, months of observations revealed that only sanitary workers and
I myself walked regularly along the Klang River. Most probably the unappealing
53
conditions of the bland built environment of the concrete structures was not inviting for
the locals to stroll along the river. Once in a while, I bumped into a few Indonesian
migrants who fished along the river. Unlike the Torrens River, with the construction of
the Torrens Linear Park (TLP, discussed in Chapter Four), the Klang River is not meant
to be a recreational spot; thus there is no reason for people to stroll along the Klang
River. It took me some time to feel safe near the river, since I was aware that in case
anything happened to me, there was no one around to call for help. I took a few safety
measures, such as informing my friends of my exact location and the time spent at the
location. Notwithstanding the initial fear, the uncommon activity of walking along the
Klang has given me a sense of the complexity of the riverine environment that
transcends what many local residents would have. I gained insights and a closer
relationship to the river, thus, providing a richer sense of place than the majority of
Kuala Lumpur residents except for a few a few more articulate upstream informants
(discussed in Chapter Eight).
Another concern related to my health. Walking along both rivers over 15 months
of fieldwork tested my physical fitness. I found myself easily dehydrated and
sunburned, especially during summer in Adelaide. A few times during the course of my
research my friends questioned my practice of walking. I remembered vividly after
months of observing me over winter and summer coming back from fieldwork,
exhausted, my concerned Adelaide housemate asked me, ‗Why did you have to do this,
Lin? Why do you have to walk along the Torrens everyday? You have done your
interviews. What else did you search for?‘ We debated the issue heartedly. Apart from
arguing that walking proved to be an efficient strategy to meet many of my insightful
informants, I felt offended and defeated, as I could not clarify my ‗walking approach‘
more convincingly. I could not defend the nature of my unplanned and seemingly
aimless walking then. Notwithstanding these challenges and reflecting on my fieldwork
experiences, I learned that walking shaped the course of my research and allowed me to
realise that it served as an important methodological tool and, in my case at least, was
integral to my evolution as an ethnographer.
It was while walking that I developed a rich understanding of both rivers‘
physical features and social history, consequently a heightened sense of place, as this
activity allowed me to take advantage of the ‗multisensorial‘ (Pink 2009) stimulation
and corporeal sensation. As Lye shows in her ethnography of the Batek, ‗walking
comprises a suite of bodily performances‘ that include among others observing,
monitoring, remembering, listening, and touching (cited in Ingold & Lee 2008: 5). I
54
experienced what my informants described as a ‗calming effect‘ and the lifelines of the
two rivers as I watched the river water flowing further downstream. My acoustic
sensation captured the rhythm of water during raging floods. I equally longed for the
sound of the flowing water when the Torrens River dried during a drought season, an
outcome that simultaneously aided my understanding of the physical differences
between the two rivers, as the Klang constantly flowed throughout the year. My body
captured the sensory moisture of river water as it detected the changes in the
temperature – the coolness as I moved closer and warmness as I walked further from the
riverbanks. Similarly, I learnt about pollution via the senses particularly visual
modality. I strained my eyes to identify various types of pollutants clogging and floating
in some sections of the rivers. I visually detected the change of colour of water as I
walked further downstream. This transition of multisensory descriptions in regards to
general engagement with the river to privileging visual modality in determining the
river health was also evident among members of both local groups, an aspect upon
which I focus in Chapters Five and Six.
Walking was not the only mode of exploring the riverscape in both settings.
Driving, boating, cycling, and riding on the LRT (in Kuala Lumpur) or O-Bahn Busway
(in Adelaide) were other ways to experience the Klang and the Torrens River. I had the
privilege of navigating along the rivers using all of these modes of movement.
However, these forms of movement were limited in term of accessibility and sensing
the river environs. For example, in some sections of both rivers it was impossible to get
closer, as development had taken place, preventing driving near and along the
riverbanks. Apart from the short stretches near the estuary of the river, the Klang River
is non-navigable, mainly because there have been many trash racks installed across the
river. The shallowness of the river due to siltation and modification also prevents boat
cruising. Similarly, boating was only limited to approximately less than ten kilometres
back and forth near the Adelaide city centre section of the Torrens River. Hence,
walking was the only viable means to experience the river. On the other hand, the speed
and dynamic movement of a vehicle (car, boat, and bicycle) restricted my depth of
visions and prevented me from absorbing all the main elements crucial to the river
environs and in the making of a sense of place. Interesting images, such as tree-lined
riverbanks or floating pollutants, were constantly shifting. In contrast, as I embarked on
my walks, I had more freedom to pause and reflect on these significant images. I could
manoeuvre my steps to find the best angles to take pictures that embedded throughout
the thesis.
55
Walking also served as an excellent way to learn more about my informants. In
Adelaide, I found that walking turned out to be the primary means for the locals to
interact with the Torrens River, as revealed in Chapters Six and Eight. In this regards,
my feet allowed me ‗the opportunity to experience place as the indigene does – a
landscape layered with knowledge and meaning‘ (Altork 1994: 92). The direct
experience of walking also allowed me to deepen my understanding of river stories as
shared by my informants and my reading of official and historical documents. For
instance, through walking, I encountered many panel boards that contained information
on such topics as the history of the Torrens River in general, the local history of a
particular section of the Torrens, and pollution prevention measures taken by the local
councils which were erected in strategic locations along the river. Information contained
in such boards helped me to fill the gaps in the narratives and documents. My feet also
brought me to various trash racks or booms (introduced by Mike in the preface poem)
the devices installed to trap rubbish pollution which were frequently mentioned by
some informants and in official reports of the Klang and Torrens Rivers. These trash
racks were mostly installed in the least visible sections of both rivers, away from public
gaze, which were only accessible by foot. Whilst the documents and narratives proved
great sources of data, they cannot generate tingling-yucky sensations that I directly
experienced when walking and observing trash racks and the pollutants they trapped. In
other words, as an ethnographer, like ethnographers elsewhere, I was very directly and
immediately engaged, not only in the local, social milieu, but also in the broader, water-
based environment.
Apart from walking alone, I walked with informants during their leisure
activities and interview sessions, as well as participated in a few walking events with
local groups dedicated to protection of the river. Katrin Lund (2005, 2008), who has
participated in hill-walking in Scotland and festive processions in Spain, shows ‗how
walking with others can bring ethnographers closer to the sensory and affective
dimensions of other people‘s everyday, leisure or festive practices‘ (Pink 2009: 78).
This statement reflects my own experience in the field. The journeys on foot with my
informants along the rivers invigorated defining moments and revelations. People
shared their intense feelings and affection, dwelling on the glory of the river in the past,
worrying about current pollution and imagining the future of the rivers. At times many
took a few steps backward, slowed down or hurriedly quickened their pace to show and
explain certain spots along the rivers that evoked their memories and concerns that
otherwise had been buried deep in their thoughts, for example, with memories of the
56
river as a playground during their childhood, as a dangerous place during a raging flood
or as a restoration site they engaged in. These evolving insights were absorbed and
recorded by me, eventually finding their way into this thesis via the chapters that
follow.
Chapter summary
Though conducting environmental research in and across multiple sites in two settings
was both mentally and physically taxing, at times even overwhelming, the ethnographic
approach enriched my fieldwork experiences and was personally rewarding for me.
More importantly, it yielded rich and in-depth data in ways that expanded the survey
research method that I had originally intended to use. As I have explained in this
chapter, decisions were made and processes occurred in each fieldsite that were aimed
at exploring people‘s understanding of and responses to river pollution.
Walking, while not the only strategy used, provided the most productive means
to take me from one location to another along a river. I observed a range of human
activities and flora and fauna, experienced different sensations, and encountered
different objects and materiality (trash racks and concrete riverbanks) by small steps on
foot. Both my informants‘ and my own walking experiences reinforced each other, often
providing for me rich sources of reflective insights to understand human-water
interactions in urban contexts. Nonetheless, this situation is more evident in Adelaide,
as the construction of the Linear Park allowed the Torrens to be more accessible and
convenient for walking.
On the one hand, my frequent walking along and within the Klang and Torrens
catchments allowed me to experience the ‗multisensorial‘ nature of the encounters with
the rivers in general. On the other, walking facilitated a growing understanding of
highly visual centric experiences in relation to people‘s conceptualisation of pollution.
Consequently, walking also permitted me to transform from a partial insider to a total
insider in the Klang River and from an outsider to a partial insider in the Torrens River
by the end of my fieldwork. In this regard I posit that the dynamic nature of
insider/outsider status should take into account researchers‘ relationships with their
fieldsites rather than solely with informants.
Whilst I have attempted to illustrate the insider/outsider debates in this chapter
by highlighting my own fieldwork experiences, in reality, the thought rarely crossed my
mind during the data collection stage. Rather, I concentrated on listening attentively,
57
asking questions thoughtfully and learning humbly from my informants as well as
observing details of the places. Regardless of researchers‘ status, people have
responsibilities to gather, analyse and write a good ethnography that represents the
people they studied as accurately as possible and enhances the anthropological pool of
knowledge.
In the next chapter, I discuss in detail the two settings, including a little about
their social history, and the physical and built environment of the Klang and Torrens
Rivers. The nature and challenge of river pollution is also treated.
58
CHAPTER FOUR
A TALE OF TWO RIVERS: PAST AND PRESENT
Unlike the Danube, Amazon or Nile Rivers, all of which are well-known worldwide for
their sheer size, heritage, natural and cultural values, the Klang and the Torrens are
smaller and less well-known. Nonetheless, the Klang and Torrens catchments are
equally unique as river-inspired places. In this Chapter I concentrate on human-river
interactions – how the two rivers at the centre of this thesis have impacted on human
civilisations and, in turn, how the rivers have been affected by civilisations over time.
The discussion is aimed at assisting contextual understandings about people‘s views in
regards to pollution, and a sense of place, for the ethnographic chapters that follow.
The literature specifically on the social history of the Torrens and the Klang is
scarce in comparison with the scientific-technical literature. Socio-historical texts about
the Torrens mostly focus on the history of the colonisation of South Australia and of
Adelaide more broadly. Recently, catchment management reports have contributed
another body of literature, evident in government reports, journal articles and
conference proceedings by ecologists, engineers, and environmental scientists. Common
themes discussed in this literature include flood mitigation, water allocation and
catchment management. For example, Smith and Twidale (1987, 1988a, 1988v, 1989)
wrote four comprehensive volumes on flood occurances and management in the Torrens
Rivert. There are also reports about water pollution and engineering and scientific
solutions, a point I address later. Of particular interest to my research are that local
people‘s perceptions and experiences of water in all its guises – including polluted
water – have not been explored in any depth.
A similar trend can be seen in the literature on the Klang River. However, it is
even scarcer than that on the Torrens. It is also the case that literature on the Torrens is
widely available on the Internet compared to that about the Klang River. As with the
Torrens, images of the Klang River have been briefly shown in the histories of Kuala
Lumpur, Klang or Selangor. The Klang River has also been considered in relation to
flood mitigation and catchment management (for example, Abdullah 2005; Asian
Development Bank 1994; Asian Development Bank 1996; Asian Development Bank
2007; Rustam et. al 2000). Pollution river studies in the Klang have been limited to
59
natural physical sciences analysing chemical, biological or physical aspects of the river
(for example, Balamuguran 1991; Department of Environment 1990; Kenzaka et. al
2991; Mohamed 1990; Tan 1775). Whilst an anthropologist would argue that these
matters would benefit from cultural description and analysis, this is rarely recognised
outside that domain. It is this knowledge gap that I hope my thesis will fill.
Specifically, I discuss three inter-related themes − historical overviews,
pollution issues confronting the Klang and the Torrens, and present physical and socio-
economic features of each river. Embedded in these discussions are three important
stages (at times overlapping) of the development of both rivers. First, in the period of
‗discovery and (intensive) use‘, I show the role of the two rivers in the establishment
and growth of the capital cities of South Australia and of Malaysia. I also discuss how
each river has been transformed into an anthropogenic place as people worked upon and
modified places along and within the river to meet their needs. Second, in the period of
‗abuse and neglect‘ I highlight the past and present nature of pollution simultaneously
physical and demographic characteristics of the rivers. Third, I examine the fight of
both federal and state governments have put in to save the rivers that gave birth to their
cities. I present briefly the enactment of legal acts, the establishment of institutions, and
the evolution of water quality studies and measurement, to demonstrate what I term as
the period of ‗revival and care‘ that emerged when pollution issues and their
implications became increasingly noticed, increasingly a cause of concern, especially
for local groups who lived near the river.
The Torrens River: Karrawirra parri (the river of red gum forest)26
The Kaurna people and the Torrens River environment
The discovery and use of the Torrens River began with the occupation by Aboriginal
people. Aboriginal people with the language name Kaurna had occupied the land and
river thousands of years prior to the arrival of the European settlers. One estimate is that
the Kaurna occupation had been identified as 30,000 years (Edwards 1972: 3). I found
several signboards27
on both sides of the banks in the city centre section which read:
26
This Indigenous translation is from Kaurna language group as discussed in this section. 27
The naming of the Torrens River and other places in the Kaurna language as reflected in the signboard
is an effort of the Adelaide City council to recognise the community‘s cultural history. This is in relation
to the implementation of recording Aboriginal/native geographical names mandated by the United
Nations resolutions on the standardisation of geographical names (Watt 2002: 2).
60
The locality along the river was known as Karrawirra parri − ‗redgum
forest‘ (karra ‗redgum‘ + wirra ‗forest‘) and the river was named after
this locality, parri being the Kaurna word for ‗river‘[...].The Council
acknowledges the prior occupation of this land by the Kaurna people
(Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 11/09/07).
Karrawirra parri or the ‗river of the red gum forest‘ is also known as ‗high-wooded
river‘ (Cockburn 1990: 221).
The Torrens held a significant place in the history and survival of the Kaurna
people, as they sustained socio-cultural connections with the river, a point several
participants were keen to raise with me. For instance, at the end of an interview,
‗Amber‘ reflected, ‗Sometimes you walk down to the river and you imagine how the
local Aboriginal people used to swim, to drink, or used the river in many different ways
(Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07). The Torrens River was a source of water as well as a
rich food supply of fish, insects, birdlife, and aquatic plant for the Kaurna. As Tindale
and Lindsay (1963: 54) note, ‗[t]ravel [for the Australian Aboriginal groups] is never
aimless. A water supply of some kind is always their destination and the route to it is
one which takes in many known sites of food supplies‘. Indeed, the Torrens provided a
link between the Adelaide Plains and the Adelaide Hills. Women, men and children
caught freshwater fish, yabbies, cockles and waterbirds along the Torrens as they moved
between the ranges, plains and coast in rhythm with the seasonal changes. To keep
warm in the cooler weather, the Kaurna people moved to the timbered area at the
foothills of the Mount Lofty Ranges for better shelter and firewood (Ellis 1976: 116).
The group would return to the more congenial coastal sites during summer for various
sea life, coastal berries, and larger catches of fish. The natural resources found in the
catchment were equally useful as the Kaurna used reeds from the wetlands found in the
Reedbeds near the mouth of river to make basket and mats (Torrens Catchment Water
Management Board 2006: 2).
The Kaurna people‘s movements along the banks of the Torrens River were
based on religious and ceremonial events as well. Whilst having connections with the
river as a whole, the Kaurna had a unique association with the areas surrounding the
Torrens Lake. The area is marked by camps, evidence of ceremonies, and burials,
signifying a spectrum of culturally significant activities (Torrens Catchment Water
Management Board 1997). The Kaurna‘s place-naming practices for different stretches
of the Torrens according to its seasonal flow and ecological significance reflect their
connection to and concern with their river places. For example, Yatala, which means
‗water running by the side of a river‘ (Manning 1990: 351), refers to the Torrens in
61
flood during winter. Wittoingga or ‗a place of reeds‘ refers to the abundant presence of
the plants as the river dissolves into the swamp on the coastal area (Manning 1990:
351). Whilst the Aboriginal people have marked their presence much earlier, ‗the
impact of the Kaurna was less intense than that of the European settlers who followed
them‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 1997: 3.25), as presented in the
following sections.
A brief history of the Torrens River and Adelaide city
The Torrens River28
has been instrumental in the development of Adelaide city since
European settlement up to the present day. Indigenous groups sustained socio-cultural
and ecological custodianship of the river for countless generations. From a non-
Indigenous perspective, the river was discovered by a survey team that consisted of
Lieutenant W.G Field, G. S. Kingston and John Morphett in November 1836 (Cockburn
1990: 220). In fact, the river was a major factor in determining the position of Adelaide
as the capital city of South Australia by Colonel William Light, who supervised the
survey of the city. Regardless of strong objections from other surveyors due to the
river‘s narrowness, which limited navigation, and its inland location away from any
port, fertile land and a freshwater supply from the catchment were the main elements
underlying Colonel Light‘s decision. Light wrote in his diary:
I cannot express my delight at seeing no bounds to a flat fine rich
looking country with an abundance of freshwater lagoons, which, if
dry in summer convinced me that one need not dig a deep well to
give a sufficient supply. The little river too, was deep; and it struck
me that much might be made of this little stream (Light 1839: 12).
Colonel Light, then, named the Torrens in honour of Robert Torrens, Chairman of the
Colonisation Commission, who played an important role in the establishment of the
Colony. On the other hand, Adelaide bears the name of the consort of King William IV,
Amelia Adelaide (Cockburn 1990: 3). Additionally, Colonel Light designed Adelaide as
a city following the topography of the river. The original plan of Adelaide city clearly
shows the Torrens as a key feature of the cityscape (see Figure 3). The river dictated the
pattern of settlement and clearly divided the city into two sections, known as North
28
I noticed that the name Torrens River and River Torrens are used interchangeably, though River
Torrens is more popular among the locals. I use Torrens River throughout this thesis in order to be
consistent with my use of the term Klang River.
62
Figure 3 Plan of the city of Adelaide designed by Colonel Light showing how the Torrens
divides the city into two sections. (Source: Gill 1911: appendix)
63
Adelaide and Adelaide. Generally, the former was residential, while the latter was
reserved for the chief commercial and government offices. As elsewhere, the land
adjacent to its banks was highly valued. It had been promptly occupied with
government buildings, residential areas, farms, and industrial plants (Hassell Pty. Ltd. &
Land Systems 1979: 4-5).
The reason for the growth of settlement initially along the Torrens River is
obvious − the river was a major water resource for the first colonists. In fact, the
Torrens was the only source of surface water for Adelaide for at least the first twenty
years of the settlement (Hassell Pty. Ltd. & Land Sytems 1979). Adelaide‘s water
supply depended on horse- or oxen-drawn water carts before piped water was
introduced. The price depended on the distance it had been carted from the Torrens
River (Altmann et al. 1999: 6). As demands for reliable and clean water intensified, the
City Commission began looking for innovative ways of supplying water. Consequently,
the construction of Thorndon Park Dam began in 1857. This first storage reservoir for
Adelaide‘s water supply was constructed to hold water diverted from the Torrens.
However, the Thorndon Park Reservoir was decommissioned and converted to a public
park in 1977 (The Australian Institute of Landscape Architects: n.d.). Apart from
drinking water, the river was used for a multitude of purposes, ranging from watering
stock, swimming and bathing, and farming, to serving industrial production, as well as
fire-fighting (Hassell Pty. Ltd. & Land Systems 1979). Like other rivers, the Torrens
was simultaneously used for conflicting purposes, for instance, as both as a water
supply and a drainage system, a point I elaborate below.
Longing for their homeland in England, the early settlers transformed the natural
Torrens River into a built landscape. In the first few months of my fieldwork in
Adelaide in 2007, I was much captivated by the green lawns and shady trees as I
strolled along the banks of the Torrens. I had no knowledge that the willow trees that
have been placed along the Torrens are classified as an‗introduced‘ species, or that they
absorbed high quantities of water. Gradually, I learned from my informants that much
of the ‗native‘ vegetation, such as red gums, had been cleared and removed during
settlement, as noted by Auhl (1976: 297):
The clearing of the native forest and undergrowth to make way for
productive crops and orchard was the natural accompaniment to
settlement. What is more difficult to explain was the antagonism of
settlers to almost all native flora and fauna, resulting in its
replacement, at least around homes and townships, by exotics and
aliens. There was obviously nostalgia in this practice, and the need to
have at least some touch of one‘s native land that ‗would be forever
64
England‘ – or Scotland. The craze for all things exotic did not abate
until after World War II.
Similarly, Elizabeth and Jim Warburton (1977: 28) affirm that during the early years of
South Australian settlement, Europeans altered the creek banks by addition and
subtraction – on the one hand, by planting willows, ashes, poplars, and, on the other, by
removing ferns, flowers, shrubs and stones. The presence of these introduced trees has
had enormous consequences for the water quality of the Torrens as identified by
informants (discussed in Chapter Six).
Pollution in the Past: The Impact of Early Settlement
This section examines the period of abuse and neglect of the Torrens River.
Environmental degradation and its subsequent preservation did not take place in a
socio-historical vacuum. The Torrens and Adelaide city environment has undergone
massive transformations over the past decades due to anthropogenic impact, as alluded
to above. According to Colwell and Naylor:
Adelaide reveals a fascinating written and pictorial history, a history
which demonstrates that the issue of pollution, conservation, ... and
industrial unrest are by no means modern phenomena, and have not
only affected the lives of past generations, but shaped the growth of a
comparatively young city (Colwell and Naylor 1974: 2).
My concern, therefore, in this section is to provide an historical overview, in particular,
of the impact of the early European settlers on the Torrens‘ ecological context and water
quality. I undertake this discussion for two reasons. Firstly, many participants used in
their conversations with me related terms such as ‗pre-European vegetation‘, ‗early
settlers‘, ‗pre-settlement days‘ while discussing the Torrens. Some participants
envisioned romantically the conditions of the Torrens during the pre-settlement period.
Mike, the ‗walking poet‘ whom I discuss in greater depth in Chapter Six, boldly pointed
out the impact of the early settlers on the Torrens:
It‘s [the Torrens] easily damaged, and it has been damaged very
badly for the last nearly 200 years. Especially between 1836 − when
the City of Adelaide was set up − to around about 1880, the river was
very badly degraded. People cut all the trees down on the banks for
wood and building. They dug up gravel from the [river] bed, and they
polluted the water with all their new industries. From my own
reading and research of the history of it, you can find examples of
raw sewage being put into the water, of blood from slaughterhouses
and tanneries, all the run-off. They really degraded the river fast, and
of course damming it, and interrupting all the natural flows, all had a
65
major impact [upon the river]. It‘s only more recently that people
have tried to bring the river back to a healthy state (Interview:
Adelaide, 12/02/08).
Secondly, the impact of the first European settlers is widely described in official reports.
For example, the Torrens Catchment Water Management Board (1997: 2.2) highlights:
From the pre-European settlement nature of a ‗flashy‘ seasonal
stream supporting a diverse flora and fauna, the Torrens and its
tributaries [during European settlement] have lost much of their
biodiversity ... [and] destruction of riparian vegetation by agriculture,
exotic species and decline in water quality affect the ecology of
much of the region.
A decade later the Board reiterates the same concern, ‗To understand the state of the
waters of the Torrens catchment as they were when the Board was established, it is
necessary to go back to the pre-European and early days of settlement‘ (2006: 2), as the
‗water quality in the Torrens has been severely compromised since the early days of
European settlement‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 2006: 24).
The reason for the growth of settlement initially along the Torrens River is
obvious − the river was a major water resource for the first colonists. In fact, the
Torrens was the only source of surface water for Adelaide for at least the first twenty
years of the settlement (Hassell Pty. Ltd. & Land Systems 1979). As noted earlier, the
water carters served Adelaide for more than twenty years before piped water was
introduced upon the completion of Thorndon Park Reservoir in 1860. The water carters
used buckets to collect water from the Torrens, filled their barrels, and then carted the
water to the householders' wooden casks and iron tanks. Apart from drinking water, the
river was used for a multitude of purposes, ranging from watering stock, swimming and
bathing, farming, to serving industrial production, as well as fire-fighting (Hassell Pty.
Ltd. & Land Systems 1979).
Ironically, the river also had a conflicting role as the recipient of raw sewage
from its inhabitants for at least forty years (Warburton & Warburton 1977: 73). The use
of rivers as a major disposal point for raw sewage was a common practice for most
European cities in the eighteenth, nineteenth and, in some cases, in the early twentieth
centuries. Night soil was collected from homes and businesses for composting, or
disposed of in the parklands or the Torrens River. Public grievances in regards to
Adelaide‘s poor sanitation and the use of the Torrens for the city‘s refuse were
frequently reported in local newspapers. A concerned settler noted, ‗[R]ivers and
streams have in many instances been utilised in connection with the methods adopted in
66
towns and populous cities in England for the disposal of town refuse‘, as he smelled the
‗offensive odours, especially in summer time‘, and observed ‗a weakly [sic] and
sluggish steam, ill able to carry away the filth with which the waters are thickened‘ (The
Register 1879: 4d).
The use of the Torrens both as a ‗town sewer‘ and drinking water supply was
highlighted by William Bickford, a chemist, who described its poor characteristics in
1839:
A great many people are obliged to drink the river water ... and it is
very little better than stagnant water ... When it is boiled and allowed
to get cold there is a sediment at the bottom like starch or thick
mucilage (cited in Warburton & Warburton 1977: 72-73).
Consequently, he wrote:
[T]yphoid fever was raging very much, a great many died of it [in
April 1839] ... The principal disease at present is dysentery which
almost every person suffers from ... It carried off a great number of
children particularly those fresh landed (cited in Warburton &
Warburton 1977: 73).
Polluted water was a major cause of human disease, misery and death in Adelaide and
remains a major problem in some countries including England29
. As early as three years
after the founding of Adelaide city, an epidemic of dysentery killed five children in one
day at the end of summer 1839 (Hammerton 1986: 3). Subsequently, George Gawler,
the second governor of South Australia, took the first steps towards controlling water
quality in the Torrens. He prohibited the throwing of dead animals into the stream, the
washing of clothes, and the practice of bathing within one mile of the city – an area
where water carters filled their barrels for the distribution of Adelaide‘s water supply
(Altmann et al. 1999: 6).
Adelaide continued to experience the threat of water-borne diseases as the
colony tried to cope with the rapid development of the city. The Register – the first
South Australian newspaper – regularly published public complaints regarding poor
sanitation, as the outbreak of typhoid recurred each summer. In spite of the growing
problem of public health and sanitation, the struggle for a better sanitation system was a
difficult, slow and lengthy process, as reflected in parliamentary debates. While the
29
London was subjected to a series of cholera outbreaks during the 19th century (1831-2, 1848-9, 1853-4
and 1866) due to the contamination of water supply as human waste was discharged directly into the
Thames River (Luckin 1986: 69). The ‗Great Stink‘ of the summer 1858 was among the most dramatic
incidents of pollution in the Thames, as an offensive odour of untreated sewage filled the air of central
London and eventually led to a decision to construct a main drainage system for the city (Luckin 1986:
143).
67
colonial administrators and engineers undertook several health and water resources
protection measures, it failed to act with vigour and timeliness as the years passed. For
example, the Public Health Act was passed as late as in 1873, which led to the
establishment of the Central Board of Health. Though the Board of Health had powers
to control drainage into the Torrens, there were complaints in regards to its inefficiency.
An irate resident wrote a letter to The Register‟s Editor entitled ‗The pollution of the
Torrens‘ to lodge a complaint about the ‗exceptionally nauseous features‘ and
‗offensive odours‘ of the river section in the city centre, noting that such a ‗state of
affairs has not escaped the notice of the Board of Health, but we are bound to say that
they are meeting it in a very half-hearted manner‘ (The Register 1880: 4d).
The unhurried efforts in putting an efficient sewage system in place proved fatal
and severely threatened public health. By 1870s, the water pollution problem had
become horrendous in Adelaide and elsewhere in the colony. Many suffered from
dysentery, and died of typhoid or ‗night soil fever‘ and cholera. In 1874-75, Moonta,
Kadina and Wallaroo30
‗suffered the horror of widespread outbreaks of typhoid fever‘,
caused by ‗a contaminated and poorly constructed water supply system‘ (South
Australia Water: n.d). Not surprisingly, the colony suffered a high mortality rate of
26.25 per 1,000 head of population in 1877 (Warburton & Warburton 1977: 73).
Insufficient funds partly contributed to the delay in contracting a better sewage
system in the early colonial period. Priorities were given to other infrastructure makers
of a thriving city, including the sewage‘s close rival − the potable water systems − and
construction of a railway line. A series of epidemics, particularly the Moonta, Aldina
and Wallaroo outbreaks, finally forced the Parliament to act promptly. The colony
enabled the construction of a water-borne sewage system in 1881, and became the first
city in Australia to install such a system. A 470-acre sewage treatment farm was built
north of Islington31
. The main sewer line was installed from Adelaide to Islington along
the Railway Reserve. Sewage that had previously run into the Torrens was then piped to
Islington (Department of Environment and Heritage South Australia: n.d).
Apart from the raw sewage, pollution from factories was another grave concern.
Industrial plants had been built on the Torrens bank, as well as adjacent to its tributary
creeks, as early as in the beginning of the settlement. The readily available ‗natural
facilities‘ provided by the Torrens, such as washing, diluting, cooling, cleaning and a
30
These towns are known as the Copper coast towns, located approximately 150 kilometres north of
Adelaide in the York Peninsula, refer to Map of the Copper towns in Appendix III. 31
Islington is located 6 kilometres north of Adelaide.
68
convenient place for waste disposal, attracted industries, such as saw mills, wineries,
distilleries, breweries, and fellmongers within the immediate vicinity of its banks. The
river‘s natural resources were equally important. A plentiful supply of nearby firewood
of the red gum trees and deposits of sand, gravel, and clay facilitated the establishment
of brick-making and pottery near its banks. Initially, some of these plants were built
within the city limits. Later, the industries moved out and clustered mainly in the inner
western suburbs of Thebarton, Hindmarsh and Torrensville in response to complaints of
contamination of water supply.
Each of the industries brought more pollution to the waterway. The digging of
enormous deposits of clay and sand from the riverbanks for a brickyard and pottery
making muddied and silted the river. Silt and sludge waste from brick and pottery
productions were disposed of back into the river, and had a deleterious effect on the
aquatic environments and their water quality. A survey in 1937 revealed that there were
sixteen such plants in the catchment. The last ceased operations in 1972 after operating
under licence for decades (Hassell Pty. Ltd. & Land Systems 1979). The extraction of
sand, gravel and soil also damaged many sections of the riverbanks and beds
extensively, leaving unsightly marks where the material had been removed. Such
activities caused serious riverbank erosion (see Plate 5), which was further intensified
by timber extraction. Tanners and fellmongers, soap, candle and wool manufacturers
(see Plate 6) used large quantities of water and similarly discharged their wastes into the
Torrens and its tributaries in an acidic and offensive condition (Warburton & Warburton
1977: 74). Copper and gold mining companies washing ore in the upper reaches also
had a devastating effect on the Torrens. Disposal of toxic waste known as tailings,
containing harmful chemicals such as mercury and heavy metals, killed fish and
destroyed other aquatic life. The impurities also came from the government‘s own
slaughterhouses, which discharged blood and refuse into the Torrens (Warburton &
Warburton 1977: 74).
Whilst industrial plants clustered to the west and northwest of city, the area to
the east of Adelaide city centre, the upper reaches of the catchment, were devoted to
horticultural pursuits. 20,000 hectares of land were cultivated by 1849, and by 1855
there were two million sheep and over a quarter of a million cattle in the colony
(Whitelock 1985: 51). Horticultural practices such as land clearing, ploughing,
fertilising and manure spreading, pesticide application, and irrigation caused substantial
damage to riverine ecology and reduced water quality.
69
Agricultural practices were not the only reason for the land clearing and tree
cutting. The landscape had been modified due to the longing for a picturesque landscape
of homeland Britain and the quest to tame the wilderness of Australian flora and fauna.
Whitelock (1985: 105) observes, ‗The Adelaide Plains had become thoroughly
domesticated, the comfortable villas and cottages surrounded by English lawns, English
flowers and English trees‘. The creek banks were modified by addition and subtraction.
Plate 5 Severe bank erosion on the Torrens in the heart of Adelaide city in 1860. Parliament
House can be seen in the distance on the left, and on the right are the railway sheds (Courtesy of
State Library of South Australia).
Plate 6 Wool washing stages on the River Torrens in 1880 (Courtesy of the State Library of
South Australia).
70
Red gum and mallees were removed and replaced by willows, ashes, and poplars (Auhl
1976). Removal of trees and vegetation from the riverbank and catchment dramatically
changed the river. Enormous amounts of sediments have been released into the river
channel, affecting its water quality, as well as increasing the frequency of flooding.
More significantly, many of my participants had identified introduced flora and fauna as
one of the sources of pollution of the Torrens.
In summary, and to borrow the words of Wattchow, who discusses the poor
current state of Australian rivers, the Torrens had become ‗a place that speaks both life
and death in the same sentence‘ (Wattchow 2008: 28) during the early period of
settlement. At its widest, the discussion sheds light on the nature-culture struggle of the
earlier settlers. As Warburton suggests, ‗[a] full account of the poisoning of Adelaide‘s
mountain streams would give many insights into the city‘s social and economic history‘
(Warburton and Warburton 1977: 73). Subsequent sections in turn examine the
contemporary Torrens River, concentrating on its physical and geographical features,
land use patterns, the nature of present pollution and efforts to revive the river.
Physical and demographic descriptions
The Torrens catchment experiences a Mediterranean climate with hot dry summers and
wet cool winters. It is located in the driest continent in the world and driest state in
Australia, with an average annual rainfall of 550 millimetres. The rainfall varies across
the catchment from 819 millimetres per year in the Adelaide Hills and 419 millimetres
at the coast in Port Adelaide (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 2002: 12).
The bulk of the rainfall occurs from May to October during the winter-spring period.
The rainfall and climate pattern affect the highly variable flow of the Torrens. In winter,
the water is much deeper and the surrounding land frequently flooded. In summer, ‗the
Torrens was reduced to a few miserable water holes separated by muddy expanses
which rapidly dried into dust ... you might dam back the Torrens with an Irishman‘s hat‘
(Altmann et al. 1999: 3). The Torrens River catchment on average supplies 60 per cent
of Adelaide‘s public water supplies (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board
2002: v).
Thirteen tributaries that add volume to its current are similarly dry throughout
the year, with the exception of a high flow in winter and spring. Warburton and
Warburton (1977) identify five main tributaries and provides a comprehensive account
of the geological, ecological and historical background of the tributaries. These
71
tributaries are identified as First to Fifth Creeks32
, with Fifth being the farthest from
Adelaide‘s city centre and the rest numbered consecutively westward. Some sections of
these creeks had been highly modified and channelled, particularly First, Second and
Third Creeks, turning them into drains.
Close to 500,000 people, amounting to 32 per cent of the State population, live
in the catchment. It is also home to approximately 18,000 commercial and industrial
premises, which represents a major proportion of Adelaide‘s economic and business
activity (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 2006: 3). The Torrens River
catchment encompasses twelve local governments, amongst others including the most
upstream division, the Adelaide Hills Council, passing through the Adelaide City
Council in the middle section, and the City of West Torrens and Charles Sturt Councils.
The Torrens River can be divided into three regions: the Torrens watershed, the Torrens
urban-rural and the Port Adelaide region, as presented in the following section.
Sub-catchment descriptions
Light‘s intimation that ‗much might be made of this little stream‘ (1839: 2) has
tranformed into a material form from its discovery up to now, and most likely beyond
his imaginings. Over the decades, the Torrens catchment had been highly modified. One
of my informants acclaimed, ‗It‘s more regulated, more controlled than any river I‘ve
ever seen... South Australia seems very good at turning rivers into engineering
structures‘ (Interview: Adelaide, 27/02/08), highlighting its main attributes, land use
pattern and modifications.
Torrens watershed region (upper catchment)
The Torrens watershed includes its headwater to Sixth Creek and the rural towns of
Mount Pleasant, Birdwood, Gumeracha and Kersbrok. I had opportunities to track down
the headwater of the Torrens, located within a private farm at Mount Pleasant. Contrary
to a pre-conception, its headwater was merely a brook with grassy riverbank and dried
riverbed. The landlord explained why: it was summer and the drought was more intense
than usual. I had imagined the source as a small stream with slowly flowing water.
32
In Australia, the term creek applies to ‗a small tributary which dries up in summer‘ (Warburton &
Warburton 1977: 25).
72
Rural pasture production for livestock is predominant and accounts for 66 per
cent of the total land use. Other land uses in this region include rural living, agriculture
and conservation parks and forest. As the name – Torrens Watershed – suggests, this
sub-catchment is a major component of the water supply for Adelaide. Presently, there
are three reservoirs within the catchment: Hope Valley completed in 1873, Millbrook in
1918, and Kangaroo Creek Reservoir in 1969. These are multi-purpose water supply
and flood control dams. There are also Gorge and Gumeracha diversion weirs that
respectively link supply to the Hope Valley and Milbrook Reservoirs. Farm dams are
another feature with approximately 1,200 dams constructed in this region (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 2002: 21). The construction of these dams has
impacted on the water quantity of the Torrens by impacting its quality, as less water
results in less ability to dilute pollutants.
A less visible modification of the river occurs in the form of controlling the
water flow. ‗Revolutionary for its time‘ (South Australia Water n.d.), the Engineering
and Water Services constructed the Mannum-Adelaide pipeline of 60 kilometres length
from Mannum33
, through the Mt Lofty Ranges to Adelaide. The raw water of the
Murray-Darling River travelled into Adelaide‘s reservoirs, and then into water treatment
plants, before it was delivered to consumers via a potable water reticulation system. It
receives water transfer from the Murray River with the Torrens River‘s mainstream
being used to convey water for eventual use in Adelaide. During a low rainfall and long,
dry summers, the Murray-Darling River34
water provides 90 per cent of Adelaide‘s
water supply, and in an average season this river supplies over 50 per cent, as explained
by one of my key informants (Personal communication, 20/01/08).
Torrens Urban Region (middle reaches)
The region is approximately 162 square kilometres and covers the First to Fifth Creeks
up to the urban reach of the Torrens River, including Adelaide city. A major land use of
this region is urban living and development. I spent much of my fieldwork within this
region. Major features of the Torrens Urban Region include the Torrens Lake, Torrens
Linear Park, St. Peters Billabong and Breakout Creek.
33
Mannum is located in lower reaches of the Murray River, and 84 kilometres east of Adelaide. 34
Nonetheless, the Murray-Darling itself suffers a host of environmental threats, such as high salinity
levels, over-extraction, pollution, and climate change.
73
Initially, I was puzzled when several local people referred to a section of the
Torrens that runs through Adelaide city centre as Torrens Lake instead of Torrens River.
Later, I was informed by participants, several of whom invoked the words of Clarke35
(2004: 130), that the lake was ‗a natural world constructed by the artistic hand of man‘.
Deepening and widening, and constructing the Torrens Weir across the river to create an
ornamental lake in 1881 for public recreation, was a major engineering project. The
‗Popeye‘ boats, recreational ferries, and much later paddle-boats were launched on the
Torrens Lake. An English landscape was also established to form Elder Park adjacent to
the Torrens Lake. Both Torrens Lake and Elder Park have become major attractions for
both locals and tourists. Elder Park has hosted many local and international festivals and
events. Major landmarks, such as Adelaide Festival Centre and Adelaide Convention
Centre, were also constructed facing the lake.
A more recent feature of the modern Torrens is an integrated Torrens Linear
Park (TLP), which was completed in 1997. 30 kilometres of bitumen trail were
constructed along both sides of the riverbanks linking the foothills at Athelstone with
the coast. The ‗first linear park‘ developed in Australia, it integrates a diverse range of
functions including stormwater management, recreation, flood mitigation and use as a
transportation corridor. The park is easily accessible, as the trail connects to local streets
at various points of the river. A pamphlet distributed by Department of Recreation and
Sport (1988) states that the planning of the park has been designed ‗to achieve a
landscape which is pleasant, ecologically sensitive, mindful of flooding and readily
maintainable‘. O-Bahn Busway is a concrete bus track that connects part of the TLP
with a total length of approximately ten kilometres.
St. Peters Billabong (SPB) is located less than three kilometres from the centre
of Adelaide, near Gross Court and River Street, in the town of St. Peters. The
Billabong36
was part of the Torrens River before a massive development of this section
took place in 1976. It had been used as a rubbish-dump since the early period of
European settlement. Originally, the Billabong was a loop which resembles the U-
shaped curve meandering from the mainstream of the Torrens River at St. Peters. The
riverbanks in this section were also severely exposed to bank erosion and frequently
flooded. The development of the Torrens at St. Peters involved a big river diversion and
35
See Sharyn Clarke‘s (2004) PhD thesis, ‗The creation of the Torrens: A history of Adelaide's river to
1881‘, University of Adelaide, which is very useful for understanding the evolution of both society‘s
values and physical changes of the Torrens River up to 19th
century. 36
Billabong means a small lake – a stagnant pool of water attached to a waterway. It is an Australian
English word.
74
construction of a recreational park. It relied on the diversion of the Torrens River by
cutting across the neck of the U-shaped loop. The course of the river was 700 metres
shorter after the neck was cut. In turn, the water from the Billabong flows back into the
Torrens through an underground pipeline.
Previously, the Torrens did not flow to the sea. I was told by a few of my
informants that in an average season the water seeped into sand dunes near the coastal
area. During flood, the water from the Torrens found its way south to the Patawalonga
or north to the Port Adelaide Rivers (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board
2002: 3). As with the Torrens Lake, I was unable to identify the anthropogenic nature of
engineering work of the Breakout Creek outlet. Though the Breakout Creek resembled a
straight canal, the green lawn established on both sides of the banks ‗naturalised‘ this
artificial channel. With the completion of the Breakout Creek, the Torrens eventually
flowed to Gulf St Vincent at Henley Beach South, serving its flood mitigation purposes.
Port Adelaide River region (lower reaches)
The Port Adelaide region covers approximately 133 square kilometres from the Torrens
Urban region up to the coast. It is highly urbanised with predominantly a mixture of
residential and industrial land uses.
Major feature of this region include the Port Adelaide River located near the
coast, which is the only river that is not a tributary of the Torrens River, but located
within its catchment. The Port Adelaide riverbanks have been the location of a ‗variety
of often noxious industries for many years‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management
Board 2002: 22). Apart from along the Port Adelaide riverbanks, other major industrial
zones are also located in this region and have become a significant source of diffuse
catchment pollution.
In the following sections, I discuss the period of revival and care focusing on the
evolution of an institutional framework and water quality studies in an attempt to rectify
past and present pollution in order subsequently to improve the Torrens‘ riverine
environment and its health.
75
‘Let’s Revive the Torrens’: The Role of the Torrens Catchment Water Management
Board
Rivers often serve as a natural boundary between two areas of land in many parts of the
world. Ironically, flowing, fluid water itself defies any boundaries. The upstream water
flows downstream, carrying with it dirt and pollutants, passing through various local
councils‘ areas along its course. In other words, river pollution is boundary-less, as a
steady stream of water flows across the imaginary socio-political boundaries of the local
councils. Recognising that river pollution is a complex and intricate environmental
problem, as it cuts across physical and organisational boundaries, the State government
enacted the Catchment Water Management Act 199537
to promote a more coordinated
approach to water resource management in South Australia. The enactment of the Act
led to the establishment of the Torrens Catchment Water Management Board
(TCWMB), a state government statutory body, in the same year:
[When the Board was established] in 1995, watercourses across the
Torrens catchment were badly degraded and on-ground physical
works to prevent pollution and sustain our water resources were few
and far between ... Over the years, individual projects have been
implemented in an attempt to improve water quality in areas
throughout the catchment, but until the establishment of the Board in
1995 there was no comprehensive approach to water quality
monitoring or improvement on catchment-wide scale (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 2005: 6).
The Board aimed to integrate existing efforts of federal, state and local councils‘
agencies to restore the Torrens River and to improve its water quality. The
establishment of the TCWMB, as the construction of the TLP was nearing its
completion in 1996, was also expected to save the deteriorating Torrens River. The
Catchment Environment Levy was designated for the Board to fund various river
quality improvements, restoration and conservation works. Among recent
developments, the TCWMB was incorporated into the Adelaide and Mount Lofty
Ranges Natural Resources Management Range Natural Resource Board
(AMLRNRMB) in 2006.
37
The Catchment Water Management Act 1995, as well as the River Torrens (Prohibition of Excavations)
Act 1927, the River Torrens Protection Act 1949 and the Water Resources Act 1990, were later revoked
by the Water Resources Act 1997. In turn, the Water Resources Act 1997 was repealed by the Natural
Resources Management Act 2004 in 2005 (Government of South Australia 2005: 26).
76
Water Quality Studies
One of the earlier tasks of the Board was to analyse the fragmented and intermittent
water quality data from the 1940s to the 1980s that were compiled by several agencies,
especially the Engineering and Water Supply Department (now known as South
Australia Water Corporation). The analysis of accumulated water quality data was
fundamental as a starting point for the setting of management strategies and plans for
sustainability and restoration of the Torrens River. Water quality can be defined in
terms of physical, chemical, radiological, microbial and biological indicators. The
TCWMB used the Australian and New Zealand Environment and Conservation Council
(ANZECC) Water Quality Guidelines to evaluate the health of the Torrens in term of its
physical, chemical and biological characteristics. The ANCEZZ has developed the
Water Quality Guidelines in relation to a variety of end users of water resources.
Different levels of parameters of water quality, such as faecal coliforms, lead, pH, total
nitrogen, and total phosphorus, were developed separately for ecosystem protection, raw
drinking water, recreation and aesthetics (further divided into primary contact and
secondary contact recreation), agricultural water and industrial water (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 1997: 5.3).
The TCWMB also established its own monitoring water quality system for the
Torrens. The water quality of 16 stations along the river was monitored from February
to August 1996. The analysis of water quality from previous studies, as well as the
Board‘s own water quality monitoring, revealed that the river had remained as active
conduit of various pollutants as it had been during colonial settlement. Nonetheless, one
of the main differences between the colonial periods and the contemporary period is the
current appropriation of scientific knowledge, particularly evident in terms of reporting
of various levels of parameters of water quality. Based on the ANZECC guidelines, the
analysis of both sets of data ‗strongly suggest that the quality of water in the Torrens
Catchment is often below the quality recommended for use as raw drinking water and
likely to cause a deterioration of the aquatic ecosystem‘ (Torrens Catchment Water
Management Board 1997: 5.17). Specifically, high levels of total phosphorus and total
nitrogen were found throughout the catchment. There was also a high level of faecal
coli forms throughout the catchment, hence, preventing (1) ‗primary contact recreation
(e.g. swimming) throughout the catchment, and (2) secondary contact recreation in the
lower urban catchment‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 1997: 5.17). In
addition, there were intermittent high loads of toxic chemicals, such as chromium and
lead, and low levels of dissolved oxygen at many points along the river.
77
Noticeably for my study, the Board also reported sources of pollutants that led to
water quality problems above the stated acceptable limits. In contrast to the early
colonial settlement, which struggled with the problem of sewage pollutants, urban
stormwater38
run-off (interchangeably known as urban run-off or stormwater run-off)
was now identified as one of the major contributors to reduced water quality in the
catchment. The stormwater carrying dirt and pollutants directly flows into surface water
bodies, such as the Torrens, without filtration. Major contaminants contained in the
stormwater include natural (i.e. organic) material such as leaves (containing nutrients
such as phosphorus and nitrogen), animal faeces, silt and sediments, detergents, oil,
fertiliser, heavy metals from motor vehicles, as well as litter. Apart from urban
stormwater run-off, poor agricultural land practices in the upper and lower rural
catchments continued to cause a decrease in water quality through siltation and erosion,
pesticide and nutrient inflows, spread of weeds and pests, and stock watering.
Additionally, rural townships, commercial and urban activities impact on water quality
through discharges of septic tanks and effluent, quarry sites, township stormwater
drains, and leachate from landfills (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 1997:
5.19).
Based on these water quality studies, the Board drafted the first five-year
catchment management plan of 1997-2001, followed by the second six-year plan of
2002-2007. The plans set out important strategies and actions in pursuit of the
TCWMB‘s vision: ‗To revitalise the Torrens Catchment, its rivers, lakes and streams to
a state of clean water and healthy ecosystems, and to ensure a resource that is available
for the sustainable use and enjoyment of all‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management
Board 1997: iii). One of the goals of the Board is ‗to facilitate community involvement
and ownership in the care, protection and restoration of the catchment‘ (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 2006: 17). Specifically, the Board has funded and
co-ordinated the nation-wide ‗Waterwatch‘ programs. Waterwatch is a river health
education and monitoring program aiming to increase community understanding and
ownership of local rivers and creeks. Waterwatch groups are taught how to use water-
testing kits to monitor the quality of their local waterways. The Board also initiated its
own on-ground community involvement programs. ‗Our Patch‘ is an on-ground
program that encourages the community to be involved in activities to help clean up
waterways. Through such programs, heightening a sense of, and attachment to, place,
38
Stormwater run-off is rain that falls onto hard surfaces such as roads, parking lots and pavements and
thus does not soak into the grounds.
78
configured in this instance to the Torrens, is demonstrated via on-ground volunteering
catchment works, a theme I explore in Chapter Eight.
The Klang River
The Klang River and Kuala Lumpur city
The period of discovery and use of the Klang River is the focus of this section. The
name Kuala Lumpur was non-existent in official documents before the 19th century.
Instead, officials, businessmen and local people in towns of the Straits Settlements
vaguely referred to the area as ‗Klang‘. As mentioned by historian J.M Gullick, (1994:
v) ‗until the early 1870s, the name ―Kuala Lumpur‖ was by then in local use, but did not
appear in contemporary records until 1880, when it became the state capital of
Selangor‘39
. The development of Kuala Lumpur as a small town, and later as a
metropolitan city, began at the junction of the Klang and Gombak Rivers. It is
significantly linked to the history of the Tin Rush in Selangor in the 19th
century (see
Map 4). A passage in the memoir of Kuala Lumpur‘s centenary celebration captures the
development of Kuala Lumpur in relation to the river, as well the changes that occurred
within a decade:
The Klang River was Kuala Lumpur‘s early life line. Men and
provisions were laboriously poled up it in boats which returned to the
coast with loads of tin ingots. No boats ply there now, and there are no
jetties bustling with activity, but the commercial heart of modern
Kuala Lumpur is still only a stone‘s throw from those once busy river
banks at the confluence of the Klang and Gombak Rivers. How
different it all was a hundred years ago … (The Kuala Lumpur
Municipal Council 1959: 7).
Unfortunately, despite the recognition of the importance of the river in the formation
and growth of Kuala Lumpur, relatively few descriptions of the river (for example how
local people made use of the river, and how the river contributed to the development of
the city) were recorded or have been retained.
39
Kuala Lumpur was previously under the rule of Selangor State before the formation of Kuala Lumpur
as a Federal Territory in 1974.
79
Map 4 The Klang River, the area around Kuala Lumpur and part of Selangor in 19th
century showing tin mines location in shaded areas. (Source: The Kuala Lumpur Municipal
Council 2000: 2)
Historically, Raja Abdullah40
was one of the influential persons who contributed to the
establishment of Kuala Lumpur. He decided to send a party of 87 Chinese labourers to
open new and larger tin mines in the upper reaches of the Klang River in 1857. Gullick
elaborates on this momentous journey:
[T]hey [the party] poled the clumsy boats along the silent, empty
reaches of the winding Klang river. On either side jungle and swamp
came down to the water‘s edge [...]. Here and there along the river
they came on (2000: 3).
Nonetheless, as the boat and the miners reached the junction of the Klang and Gombak
rivers, they were stuck by the muddy and murky condition of the landing place. They
then disembarked, unloaded their mining equipment and made the confluence of the two
rivers as their landing place. They trekked further upstream about five kilometres to the
east of the confluence and established tin mines at a place called Ampang41
. As the
place of confluence had no name, Raja Abdullah called it Pengkalan Lumpur, following
Pengkalan Batu42
, a place where they had embarked downstream. Pengkalan and
lumpur are Malay words which mean ‗landing place‘ (or ‗jetty‘) and ‗muddy‘
respectively. Over time, the Chinese may have shortened the word pengkalan to kalan,
40
Raja Abdullah was an administrator, a Malay chief who governed the entire Klang River Valley from
the estuary to the watershed in 1853-1869 (Adil 1972). 41
A Malay word for dam. 42
Pengkalan Batu, meaning ‗Stone Landing Place‘, is approximately 10 kilometres from the Klang
River‘s estuary and 40 kilometres from Kuala Lumpur.
80
and then the name Kalan Lumpur (Sheppard 1972). As with the official registration of
the name, the work kalan may have been rejected. It was replaced with the word kuala,
which meant ‗confluence‘ and was similar to other Malay place names like Kuala
Selangor. Kuala Lumpur or ‗the muddy confluence‘ has remained ever since (Sheppard
1972).
On the other hand, the word Klang yields different theories. Klang town situated
in the lower reaches, which is about 60 kilometres west of Kuala Lumpur, was named
after the river. A web page of the Klang Municipal Council (n.d.) provides two theories
of the origin of the word Klang. Firstly, klang derives from the Mon-Khmer word klong
or from the old meaning of the Malay word kilang43
meaning warehouses. This may be
due to the fact that in the old days, Klang town was full of warehouses, as it served as
the main port located near the river mouth. Secondly, Klang refers to canals or
waterways, since there were numerous streams in Klang district, such as Bertek, Pinang,
Sementa, Binjai, Kapa, and Jati rivers, apart from the Klang River.
Nonetheless, like Captain Light, Raja Abdullah discovered Chinese and
Sumatran Malays had inhabited the land, possibly since at least the 1820s. Each group
had its own kampong or village along the Klang River (Gullick 2000: 1). These
settlements were comprised of densely clustered, small houses roofed with atap (palm
thatch). At the triangular stretch of land formed by the confluence, there was a cemetery
that served the communities, the site of today's Masjid Jamek (see Figure 5).
43
Nowadays, kilang refers to factory.
81
Figure 5 Klang River and Kuala Lumpur city centre in 1895. Adapted from a map redrawn
by K M Foong from a map prepared by the Federal Town Planning Department (Gullick 1994:
i).
82
Like many other rivers, the Klang River can not only be conceptualised as a ‗place‘
embedded with meaning in and of itself, the Klang also served as a link between land-
based places. Prior to the construction of the Klang-Kuala Lumpur railway in 1886,
Kuala Lumpur had been a secluded place (Gullick 1983: 54). The Klang River was the
only means of transportation into the inland of Selangor. Settlements were thus
clustered along the riverbank because ‗the river was the only highway through the
jungle, the main road into the heart of Selangor‘ (Gullick 1983: 3). It took three days
during rainy periods to navigate by poling up the Klang River along its meandering
course from Pengkalan Batu to Kuala Lumpur. The river became an important route to
transport the tin ingots from the inland to Port Klang at the estuary.
On the other hand, the jetty at the confluence of the Klang and Gombak Rivers
was soon bustling with trade activities, as it was used for loading tin ingots and
unloading food supplies, weapons, heavy goods and mining equipment, such as the first
steam engine imported to drive the pumps of tin mines in Ampang. The opening of the
tin mines provided the momentum for Kuala Lumpur to grow as a town. Lands adjacent
to the riverbanks were rapidly occupied. Government buildings and British bungalows
were erected on the west bank (Gullick 2000: 49) connected by bridges to the town.
Brick buildings sported tile roofs, of a standardized shop-house design, later replaced
the Malay kampungs or villages of the east bank.
Past pollution of the Klang River
Unlike the Torrens River literature where pollution was sometimes considered, there is
almost no description about the pollution that occurred in the Klang River during the
early establishment of Kuala Lumpur, although I did find occasional references in
footnotes. This finding will become evident as I sketch a brief history of pollution in the
Klang mostly via discussion of Peninsular Malaysia‘s growth and development,
reflecting a period of river abuse and neglect.
As elsewhere, the detrimental impacts upon the Malaysian environment can be
intricately linked to its rapid economic development. Firstly, it can be traced back to the
intensification of tin export during the British colonial period at the end of the 19th
century. The tin industry was considered one of the oldest and main contributors to
economic growth in Malaysia (Drabble 2004). Moreover, the founding of its capital city
Kuala Lumpur was due to tin mine exploration, as discussed earlier. Notwithstanding
83
the economic benefits brought about by the discovery and proliferation of this precious
metal, the mining industry‘s growth has generated great environmental impact. Over
time, untreated mine wastewater and sludge discharged into water bodies, consequently
diminishing the river water quality.
Agricultural expansion had other deleterious effects on the environment. As tin
is a non-renewable natural resource, the British colony diversified its economy to be
based on agricultural mass production of natural rubber and oil palm as well. Both
natural rubber and oil palm have been planted commercially, since 1896 (Beinart &
Hughes 2007) and 1917 (Hai 2002) respectively, in the Klang River catchment. The
lucrative trade of both commercial plantations continued in the post-colonial period.
Numerous mills were established around the plantations in order to meet the needs of
rubber and palm oil production. The production of crude palm oil uses unprecedented
volumes of water; eventually untreated wastewaters must be discharged into water
bodies. Apart from the effluent, chemical pesticides and herbicides from both rubber
and oil-palm plantations were washed into rivers, streams and water bodies. Both the
wastewater and chemical run-off affected the quality of streams, rivers and coastal
water.
After gaining independence from the British in 1957, the Malaysian Federal
Government continued with an economic diversification policy, simultaneously
reducing its reliance on primary commodities for foreign income. A massive
industrialisation program was launched with the establishment of Free Trade Zones
(FTZs) in various states to manufacture goods for export. The Klang River catchment
has its own FTZ, called the Hulu Klang Free Trade Zone (HKFTZ), located in its upper
catchment. Further downstream of the HKFTZ, a range of both legal and illegal
factories scattered along the riverbank emerged, as well as within the catchment. The
catchment has become a home for textile production, electronic machinery, leather
tanneries, food-processing industries, and chemical factories. As with the mining and
agro-industries, the manufacturing industries produced a large quantity of pollutants
discharged from factories, resulting in serious pollution in rivers and coastal water − a
problem that also generated consequences for nearby and distant human populations.
Physical and demographic descriptions
The catchment has an equatorial climate with a relatively high humidity and
temperature. The annual mean rainfall is also high, about 2300 millimetres, with its
84
peaks during April-May and October-November. The annual rainfall ranges from 1,900
millimetres near the coast to 2,600 millimetres in the foothills of the upper catchment
(Wardah et al. 2008: 285). Compared with the Torrens, the Klang is generally a fast-
flowing river. Unlike the Torrens, the Klang‘s riverbed has never dried. Thirteen
tributaries feed the river. The main tributaries are the Ampang and Batu in the upstream;
the Gombak in the middle; and Kerayong and Keroh downstream of Kuala Lumpur.
The catchment falls within the jurisdiction of several local authorities, including Hulu
Klang, Ampang, Kuala Lumpur City Hall, Petaling Jaya, and Kelang. Locally, the
Klang River catchment and its surrounding areas (such as Langat River catchment) are
referred to as the Klang Valley.
The Klang Valley is the most populated area in the country. It is home for
approximately 3.6 million people, which amounts to 21 per cent of the national
population, with a growth of almost 5 per cent a year (El-Shafie, Jaafer and Seyed 2001:
2880). The Klang and Langat Rivers catchment contribute about 28 per cent of GDP
while occupying only 1.3 per cent of the total area of Malaysia (Karim, Abdullah, and
Jaafar 2004: 2). Such a high population and economic growth have put much pressure
on the ecology of the catchment, subsequently affecting its water quality.
Sub-catchment descriptions
The Klang catchment can be divided into three relatively distinct sections: the upper
catchment of approximately 468 square kilometres, the middle catchment of
approximately 265 square kilometres, and the lower catchment of approximately 545
square kilometres (Abdullah 2006: 2).
Upper reaches
The land use of the upper reaches of the Klang River is predominantly devoted to
suburban living with a patch of tropical forest reserve at its headwater. Thus, it serves as
an important source of the water supply to domestic users, as well as industrial
activities. There are two dams, namely the Klang Gate and Batu dams, which provide
60 per cent of the water supply in Kuala Lumpur. The Klang Gate Dam was constructed
approximately 10 kilometres from the headwater and 20 kilometres upstream from
Kuala Lumpur city centre. The construction of this first dam in Malaysia was completed
in 1958.
85
While I tried on several occasions to reach the headwaters of the Klang River by
walking, it was impossible, as they were located in the deep tropical forest. My journey
along the river started from the Klang Gate Dam, the first point where the river was
accessible. As the course was narrow and the water level was low, I decided to stroll
within the riverbed rather than along the riverbanks. I can still feel the coolness of the
water as it gently slapped my feet when I walked in the shallow river. The water was
crystal clear. The surroundings were luscious green and I could feel the purity of the air
when I inhaled, and see pebbles on the riverbed, as well as water creatures and tilapia
merah or red tilapia. The coldness and colourless of its water, the freshness of the air
and the lush greenery of the area reminded me of an image of a traditional Malay
village. Another distinct feature of this sub-catchment is Klang Gate Quartz Ridge. The
ridge is one of Malaysia‘s most valuable geological monuments, composed almost
entirely of quartz44
. Running in a semi-circle and spreading about 16 kilometres long
and 200 metres wide, it has rugged cliffs up to 120 metres high. The Klang Gate Ridge,
also known as the Tabur Hill Ridge, is rated as one of the longest quartz ridges in the
world. The Klang Gate Quartz Ridge has been identified as an environmentally
sensitive area (ESA), a place I will return to in Chapter Seven.
Middle reaches
The middle region, the most heavily populated part of the basin, is generally flatter and
lies between 30 and 60 metres above mean sea level. It is a highly urbanised area with a
mixed land use of township, residential properties and industrial parks.
Significant landmarks here include Masjid Jamek which is located at the
confluence of the Klang and Gombak Rivers. During fieldwork, I visited the mosque on
several occasions, and also regularly walked along this section of the river. As I stood
and observed the intense body of water that surged across the city, I realised that it was
impossible to trace its tin-transport history, as both Kuala Lumpur and the Klang River
confluence were surrounded by a concrete jungle of skyscrapers (see Plate 1 in Chapter
Three).
The history of the Klang River and its stunning city Kuala Lumpur is incomplete
without referring to flood occurrences in the catchment. Kuala Lumpur‘s city centre and
Masjid Jamek area are prone to flooding, as they are located in the floodplains. Ever
44
Popularly known as quartz crystal.
86
since the early days, heavy rains had caused serious flooding in Kuala Lumpur. Gullick
(2000: 252) reported that, there had already been some straightening of the river below
the Gombak-River confluence, partly as flood mitigation measures in the 1890s 45
. The
first officially recorded major flood occurred in December 1926, which flooded the city
to a depth of three feet. It was reported that the Klang River that meandered through the
city centre became obstructed by silt carried down from the mines upstream. It claimed
few lives, but extensive damage was recorded. For example, when the flood subsided,
several million dollars worth of soggy banknotes of the Chartered Bank were taken out
to dry in the sunshine, spread out on the field under surveillance of armed guards.
Another major flood was recorded in 1971. Accordingly, ‗the lesson had been learnt, a
new and straighter channel with flood retention wall‘ was built bordering the road
(Gullick 1983: 144). Indeed, the concrete banks at the confluence of the Klang and
Gombak Rivers have also radically erased the image of the once busy jetty.
According to Abdullah (2006), incidents of major flooding have increased over
the decades, often in parallel with the rapid pace of development. In particular, there
was one major flood in the 1950s and 1970s respectively, but the number increased to
three in the 1980s, four in the 1990s and five incidents to date in the first decade of the
new millennium46
(see Table 1). As a result, modification of the Klang River largely
revolved around minimising the impact of floods in the catchment. Some of the early
works included: extension of straightening of the Klang River in 1915, rechannelisation
and protective works on the Klang River completed in 1933, and improvement of the
channelisation of Klang River through the city, completed in 1960 (Abdullah 2006:5).
Subsequent modifications were undertaken at different stages later in response to flood
occurrences. Engineered modifications such as concretisation and straightening of the
Klang have influenced people‘s sense of river place, as well as their conceptualisation
of pollution.
Table 1 Flooding incidents in Kuala Lumpur
Period No of times Year
Before 1950 1 1926
1970s 1 1971
1980s 3 1982, 1986, 1988
1990s 4 1993, 1995, 1996, 1997
2000 to date 5 2000, 2001 (April & October), 2002, 2003
Source: (Abdullah 2006: 3)
45
Another reason for the straightening of the river was to accommodate the construction of the next
phase of the railway line and station. 46
The study was conducted up to 2003. Major floods occurred almost on a yearly basis ever since.
87
The most recent engineering work has been the SMART Tunnel (Stormwater
Management and Road Tunnel), which functions as an innovative solution to mitigating
both traffic congestion and flooding. Officially launched in March 2007, it is a
submerged tunnel which can carry traffic as well as stormwater run-off 47
. This effort
provides a stark illustration of the human struggle to ‗tame‘ the river, a scenario that has
parallels with the Torrens River, a matter to which I will return in Chapter Five.
As discussed in the previous chapter, a significant portion of my ethnographic
fieldwork in Kuala Lumpur was conducted at Kampung Dato Keramat (KDK) where
two trash racks were installed. I observed types of rubbish trapped at the trash traps, as
well as trash racks-cleaning operations conducted by the city council. KDK (see
Appendix II) is also an interesting place because it marked the beginning of physical
changes of the Klang River from a ‗natural‘ into what I describe as a ‗concrete‘ one,
resembling a drain, a point I will discuss in Chapter Five. The river has been
transformed into a transportation corridor in the late 1990s. As if the river and its bank
offered a suitable space, a modern public transportation system – Ampang Elevated
Highway48
and Light Railway Transit (LRT)49
lines – were constructed along and above
it. Simply put, both the Highway and the LRT lines run parallel to the river.
The riverbanks were lined with concrete two meters thick extending ten metres
from the river on each side, allowing for water to flow through. Cylindrical concrete
columns (about two metres in diameter and ten metres in height) were erected
approximately five metres apart from each other to support the highway. Subsequently,
the important social and natural values of a meandering river have disappeared. From
the air, this section of the Klang River would resemble a narrow water highway. Indeed,
the Klang was transformed from a natural river entity into a ‗humanature‘s‘ river – a
term used by an art photographer Peter Goin (1997) to describe the process of
modifications of the Kissimmee River into a canal for flood control, and then later,
turning the canal back into a ‗natural‘ river under its intensive restoration program. The
trash racks (both as a technical and cultural response to pollution), and the
47
Specifically, when regular drainage infrastructure is overwhelmed, vehicles are evacuated from the
tunnel and the entire tube is used as a gigantic storm water drain to prevent Kuala Lumpur from flooding.
The water flow during heavy rainfall of the Klang River will be diverted into this tunnel, and kept in the
storage reservoir near the end of the tunnel. 48
This first elevated highway in Malaysia connects Ampang (a suburb approximately 20 kilometre from
the city centre) and Kuala Lumpur. This highway was built to reduce traffic jams and make access to the
city more convenient. Construction began in 1999 on the banks of Klang River and was completed in
2001. The highway was opened to traffic in May 2001. 49
The 29-kilometre-long LRT line first operated in 1998 with 24 stations. KDK is serviced by two LRT
stations, namely Damai and KDK.
88
transformation of the Klang from a natural into a cultural riverscape, have made KDK
an interesting ethnographic setting.
Lower reaches
The lower reaches of the Klang River are relatively flat with some swampy areas.
Previously, the surrounding lands were mostly converted into estate type planting of
commercial crops, such as rubber and oil palm. Recently, however, substantial portions
of these commercial plantations have been converted for development into new
townships and residential areas (Abdullah 2006: 2).
Downstream, the Klang turns back to a natural river, once more void of concrete
channels as established in the middle reaches. The river is allowed by local councils and
river authorities to meander until it meets the sea at the Straits of Malacca. Following
my request to conduct research on pollution problems of the Klang, I was given the
opportunity to cruise downstream with the State Director of the Selangor Department of
Irrigation and Drainage, and several of his officers. We went to visit the last of a series
trash rack installed across the Klang River. I observed fishing boats, fishermen and
anglers occupying the riverbanks, evoking the Malay village life of the 19th
century as
described earlier, signifying more positive human-river interactions. I also had a
glimpse of the busiest days of the confluence jetty, as our boat navigated towards the
busiest and biggest seaport in Malaysia, which was located right on the estuary of Klang
River.
Keeping the river clean: Institutional framework and water quality studies
This section highlights the period of revival and care for the Klang River. The co-
existence of traditional industries − tin mining, natural rubber and palm oil − and the
new manufacturing industries have created environmental stresses, especially on water
resources (Global Environmental Forum 2000). By the early 1970s, the damaging
effects on the environment had become more apparent, resulting, in 1974 in the
Malaysian government implementing the Environmental Quality Act (EQA). It was the
first federal law to regulate pollution, including wastewater, air pollution, and solid
waste problems. Many acknowledge that the EQA‘s enactment serves as a direct
response to water pollution problems (Global Environmental Forum 2000; Vincent &
Ali 2005). Water pollution ‗is arguably the most fundamental environmental issue in
Malaysia, since the country‘s pollution problem began with water pollution‘ (Global
89
Environmental Forum 2000: 10). In addition to responding to the local environmental
threats, the passing of the EQA was in part attributed to the global environmental
pledge. ‗Ahmad‘, Director of the Marine and River Division, who joined the DOE in
1978, stated:
If you remember, there was a meeting in Stockholm on environment and
development in 1972. The Stockholm conference is the setting where
environmentalism was officially recognised at the global scale. Many
people attended the conference including Malaysia. Once our people
returned from the conference, subsequently in 1974, we formulated and
passed the laws. We passed a new act, which was called the
Environmental Quality Act, in 1974 (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 8/1/07).
Subsequently, the Department of Environment (DOE) was established under the
Ministry of Science, Technology and Environment in the following year to enforce the
EQA. The EQA and its several amendments set out the basic legal authority for federal
regulation of environmental quality, covering issues of enforcement, environmental
monitoring, pollution and prevention control, waste management, environmental
planning, environmental information and education, and coordination of environmental
management between states and countries.
Recognising the water pollution problem and the threat that dirty water posed to
the public health and welfare of the human population and the broader ecology, the
DOE embarked on the River Water Quality Monitoring program in 1978, aimed at
detecting water quality changes in major Malaysian river systems. Since then water
samples have been collected at regular intervals from designated stations for in-situ and
laboratory analysis to determine their physio-chemical and biological characteristics. In
the year 2010, there were 143 of 189 Malaysian river systems monitored under this
program. There are six different physio-chemical and biological analyses conducted on
water samples, which include tests for dissolved oxygen (DO), biological oxygen
demand (BOD), chemical oxygen demand (COD), suspended solids (SS), and
ammoniacal nitrogen (AN). The water sample analyses are then subjected to the Water
Quality Index (WQI) classification in order to determine the overall river water quality.
The WQI is expressed in a numerical value ranging from 0 to 100 in which rivers will
be classified into three categories namely, ‗polluted‘, ‗slightly polluted‘ and ‗clean‘
based on their values50
. Based on the WQI reading, and apart from an occasional year,
50
Higher score indicates a cleaner water quality. The score is categorised as follows: i) 81-100 (clean) ii);
60-80 (slightly polluted); iii) 0-59 (polluted).
90
Table 2 Water quality classification based on beneficial uses developed by DOE
Class Uses
1 Conservation of natural environment
Water Supply I − practically no treatment is necessary
Fishery I – very sensitive aquatic species
IIA Water Supply II − conventional treatment required
Fishery II − sensitive aquatic species
IIB Recreational use with body contact
III Water Supply III – extreme treatment required
Fishery III – common of economic value and tolerant species; livestock drinking
IV Irrigation
V None of the above
Source: Department of Environment 1986
the DOE has consistently classified the Klang as ‗polluted‘ since the program‘s
inception51
.
In addition to the WQI classification, the river water quality is also classified
into six categories according to its beneficial uses (see Table 2). Class I rivers represent
water bodies of excellent quality. Water bodies such as those in the national park area,
fountainheads, and in the highlands forests and uninhabited areas come under this
category, where practically no treatment is necessary for the water supply. Class IIA
rivers represent water bodies of good water quality, where conventional treatment is
required. Most existing raw water supply sources come under this category. Class IIB
rivers are suitable for body contact recreational activities. Class III is considered
appropriate for propagation of tolerant aquatic species. Water under this classification
may be used for the water supply with extensive or advanced treatment. Classes IV and
V water are highly polluted and not suitable for the water supply. Class IV water,
however, may be used for irrigation (Department of Environment 1986). Under this
classification, the Klang River catchment as a whole has been consistently categorised
under Class IV, though the upstream catchment falls under Class II. A decade after the
implementation of the River Quality Monitoring, the DOE recognised that a rigorous
and practical approach should be adopted to improve the quality of the Klang River and
other rivers nationwide.
51
The Klang River was classified as ‗slightly polluted‘ in 2008 (Department of Environment 2009: 43). It
was reported that an increase of rainfall in the catchment meant more water for diluting pollutants.
91
Chapter summary
In this chapter I have outlined the socio-historical and environmental history of the two
river places that together form the basis for ethnographic research. I have suggested that
despite ecologically and geographically distinct characteristics, both rivers share certain
socio-historical characteristics. Just as the rivers can be understood by exploring a series
of events and government decisions, their low and high flows, the socio-historical
journey of the Klang and Torrens Rivers is marked by the alternating glorious and
gloomy moments. I have specifically looked at human interactions with these two rivers
and used these interactions to construct a broad classification of three important stages
chronologically (at times overlapping) − discovery and (intensive) use, abuse and
neglect, and finally revival and care.
The banks of the Torrens and the confluence of the Klang and Gombak Rivers
became the birth places of Adelaide and Kuala Lumpur as cities respectively. The rivers
became the engine of growth and development that transformed the riverbanks into
sprawling metropolitan cities. In a period of discovery and intensive use, each river was
an ‗organic machine‘ (White 1995), when subjected to intense modification for human
use and consumption. For example, such engineering structures as dams and weirs were
constructed and the water was controlled for water supplies, flood mitigation or
recreational purposes. The water was instrumental for domestic, agricultural, mining
and industrial uses as discussed earlier. Additionally, the Klang River was straightened
for flood mitigation and transportation corridors, whilst the course of the Torrens River
has been expanded to flow to the sea for draining floodwater as well.
The period of abuse and neglect coincides with intensive use. Conflict arose as
the Torrens and Klang Rivers became the conduits of human and industrial waste.
Mining, agricultural, horticultural, industrial, municipal and domestic activities along
and within the river catchments have progressively changed the quantity and quality of
water.
Water quality studies conducted in Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide have shown that
the pollution of the Klang and Torrens Rivers has reached alarming levels over time. In
response to the deteriorating health of both rivers, various environmental acts were
enacted and institutions and organisations were established to restore and clean the
rivers. In recent years, on-ground practical programs were introduced in the Torrens
River catchment to encourage local people‘s stewardship. I term this period as one of
revival and care. The discussion on the Torrens and the Klang as a field of care will be
further extended in Chapter Seven and Eight.
92
At one level, this chapter reveals the inconsistency of the availability of
published sources concerning the two rivers. Only meagre descriptions of the Klang are
available. Regardless of the same strategies adopted, I spent more time and effort in
accumulating the Klang River material, as the search for Torrens literature generated
significantly more information in terms of quantity and quality in comparison to the
Klang. This situation leads me to conclude that the importance of the Klang River has
been insufficiently highlighted in the socio-historical development of Kuala Lumpur.
I have also introduced past and present pollution issues as these refer to the
Klang and Torrens rivers. Paying particular attention to local groups, I expand these
points in Chapters Five and Six.
93
CHAPTER FIVE
NARRATIVES OF POLLUTION IN THE KLANG RIVER
[We] will teach them how to monitor the river water with the
physical monitoring. Just looking at [the] physical
appearance of the river…of course you can tell whether the
river [is] clean or dirty just looking at it. So the physical
appearance is to be like….whether the water is clear or not,
whether there can be smell, whether they find garbage
dumping along the river and garbage floating the river. What
is the colour of the river water if the water is flowing freely
or is it fragrant? Is there any fish life in the water…any
organism? Butterfly? Any plants [lined] along the
riverbanks? Are they healthy? So these are the physical thing
that they can look for and we teach them. If all these things
are there, then the river is quite healthy. And then we also
teach them how to use some equipment to measure the
chemical quality of the river water. We have meter to
measure the Ph level.
(„Kwong‟, local resident)52
The previous chapters established the theoretical, conceptual and methodological
contexts of the study. I also established the physical and social-historical evolution of
the Klang and Torrens Rivers as places, an emphasis that underpins the analytical lens
of this study. In this and in the next three ethnographic chapters, I explain people-place-
pollution intersections. Specifically in this chapter I concentrate on the Klang to
examine relationships between local people, their sensory and emotional engagement,
and simultaneously their past and present interactions with the river to explore the
perceptions and practices related to river pollution.
Beginning with Kwong‘s observation, I am concerned to develop a key thesis
theme: the centrality of visual observation in determining the health of the river.
Kwong, a geologist lecturer who established Waterwork, an NGO based in Penang53
,
told me that he had conducted community monitoring of water quality of several rivers
in Penang with school children. Embedded in Kwong‘s narrative (above) is a number of
themes intertwined throughout this Chapter and elsewhere. ‗The colour of the river
52
Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 07/06/07. 53
A northern state of Peninsular Malaysia.
94
water‘, for instance, shows the value of water clarity as an indicator of the health of the
river. Second, ‗any fish life‘ encompasses the issue about the presence or absence of
aquatic life, such as ikan bandaraya and udang galah. Third, ‗garbage floating‘ relates
to the issue of rubbish polluting the Klang River. Fourth, his concern with any plants
along the riverbanks relates to the issue of embankment of the river, a process in which
trees had to be cleared to make way for the concrete banks.
I interacted and talked with a range of people throughout my fieldwork, either in
formal or informal contexts (as explained in Chapter Three). Thus, I continue by
explaining more about my Klang River informants, followed by a discussion of
indicators of a healthy or polluted river.
Profiling the Klang River informants
The informants who participated in this study were predominantly middle-aged with
minimal to higher levels of education. The age range of the informants was from 25 to
79 years with the majority falling within the age of 40-60. Two-thirds were male. The
ethnic distribution of informants generally reflected the overall ethnic composition in
Peninsular Malaysia. 64 per cent of respondents were Malays, 18 per cent were Chinese,
16 per cent Indian, and 2 per cent foreigners.
As mentioned in Chapter Three, almost everyone with whom I worked and/or
spoke lived in the catchment. The majority originated from various states in Malaysia;
however, they had settled in Kuala Lumpur and surrounding areas during the past two
decades. In terms of spatial distribution, approximately half lived along and close to the
riverbanks; others frequently moved along the Klang River, particularly around the
Masjid Jamek confluence. Among those who lived in close proximity to the riverbanks,
all lived in the middle catchment, except for three informants who had homes in the
upper catchment near the Klang Gate Dam (KGD).
The Klang River group came from diverse occupational backgrounds, ranging
from teachers and academics, government officers, environmental activists and officers,
sanitary workers, a businessman, a chauffeur, and retirees, as well as self and non-
employed informants. Though I interviewed a sizeable number of government officers,
the crucial actors in my study were the local residents. Most of my ethnographic data
were collected from members of this group. Notably, it was they who drew my attention
to the problem of pollution. A similar outcome emerged from discussion with the
Torrens River informants.
95
Teh tarik or jernih: Water appearances as indicator of pollution
Each person I interviewed described visual memories and experiences related to river
pollution. Most were unhappy with the poor quality of the Klang River water, for
example, they used expressions such as tercemar (polluted) or kotor (dirty), basing their
responses on visual observation of the appearance of water. In particular, the majority of
informants used colour and clarity to determine water quality. People made plain their
preference for transparent water as that which, they believed, indicated a bersih (clean)
and healthy source of water, using words such as jernih, Malay word for ‗clear‘
repeatedly. Occasionally reference was made to ‗crystal clear‘ water as an indicator of a
good quality. Colour was also an obvious and an important marker. Coloured water
such as ‗black‘, ‗yellowish‘, ‗brownish‘, or ‗greyish‘ were used to indicate the polluted
nature of the Klang River. More interestingly, the colour of Klang River‘s water,
particularly at the Masjid Jamek confluence, was associated with a very popular local
drink in Malaysia − teh tarik (literally, ‗pulled tea‘). Malaysians can easily relate to teh
tarik, as it is a very popular beverage and can be commonly found in local restaurants,
and food stalls. Teh tarik and teh susu (milky tea) are the same in colour, as both are
made from black tea and condensed milk, hence, a milky brownish-yellow colour. The
difference is, teh tarik is prepared by pulling or pouring tea across two glasses to
produce bubbles. Thus, most informants used either teh tarik or teh susu, whilst other
informants use similar drinks such as kopi susu (milky coffee) to describe the Klang
River‘s water. In other words, I found that the issue of transparency and colour of its
water was inseparable about beliefs relating to its quality. In the middle section and
further downstream, the coloured water has always been murky, never transparent. In
turn, coloured murky water generally indicates pollution.
Evidently, a sense of sight is vital in how people evaluate clean or polluted
water. ‗Liza‘, a 40-year-old Malay woman who was a regular commuter using the LRT
Station at Masjid Jamek, made a clear connection using her naked eyes as opposed to
scientific parameters in judging the water quality of the Klang River:
If I want to compare with other rivers, definitely I would rate it as 8.5
over 10 of the polluted rivers [score closer to 10 indicates more
polluted]. My observation is not based on scientific facts, but we can
even see with our eyes, the colour of the Sungai Klang is very terrible...
like yellowish … teh susu or greyish-chocolate, sometimes you can
even see dark effluent. But it is not from [a] scientific [point of view].
I‘m not sure. This is merely visible observation through my naked eyes.
But apart from that [the colour of the river], there is trash in the river,
96
which we can see a lot of them, especially at the confluence of Sungai
Klang and Sungai Gombak at Masjid Jamek (Interview: Kuala Lumpur
17/10/06)54
.
Liza‘s remarks revealed the prominence of a sense of sight in determining the degree of
pollution of the Klang River particularly at Masjid Jamek confluence (see Plate 7),
although, somehow, she felt her observation was less valid than established scientific
facts. She identified the main characteristics as the colour of water and the presence of
trash, emphases I discuss shortly. She listed different shades of colour ranging from
yellowish teh susu, ‗greyish-chocolate‘, up to ‗dark effluent‘ to show the degree of
pollution.
Plate 7 Teh tarik colour of the Klang River on the right and green kopi susu colour of the
Gombak River at Masjid Jamek confluence.
Another informant, ‗Lien‘, a young Chinese woman, who was a student in New
Zealand, compared the Klang with a river that she had observed in New Zealand:
The river [in New Zealand], it‘s very clear water. Because the water is
so clear I think you can just drink like that. In New Zealand, the water is
not like Malaysia, we have chlorine. There is no chlorine used [in New
Zealand]. So we just open the tap and drink the water from the tap.
That‘s how safe it is. You just open the tap and then you can drink. In
Malaysia you can smell chlorine. […] I have been, like, to a small river
[in New Zealand]. It‘s so clean you know. […] We can see at Masjid
54
I conducted an interview with Liza, a UWA student, prior to my fieldwork in order to assess the
contents of my interview schedule. I include her excerpt here as the point she was making is relevant, and
she had also lived in the Klang River catchment throughout her life.
97
Jamek − the longkang [drain] – ayooo I saw the water was not so good
laa (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 15/2/2007).
Like many other Malaysians, Lien used a lot of ayoo55
and laa, which are not words, but
exclamations to express many levels of dismay and related emotions. She used the
words to emphasise that, in this case, the river was polluted as it was not clear. She also
referred to the Klang River as a longkang or drain, as apparent at the Masjid Jamek
confluence. I probed further by asking what she thought about the Klang River. She
answered succinctly: ‗The Klang River itself I know is the dirtiest in Malaysia‘. I then
asked her how she defined a dirty river. Akin to Liza, she responded:
I think it‘s more on the colour of water. […] That‘s why I said it‘s the
dirtiest, eeee yuck … you see chocolate-ish [colour] … you have no
mood to eat the next minute you see food. I think [it‘s] the dirtiest
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 15/2/2007).
The importance of visual quality also has a direct relationship to other sensory
engagements. Lien‘s remark about how, upon seeing the murky colour of the water, her
appetite would be disturbed presents an example of this link. ‗Naim‘ echoed similar
concerns:
I determine the cleanliness [of a river] in the sense of … you can see the
riverbed. The Klang River [water] … is like teh tarik, you cannot see
anything underneath it, OK? (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/10/06).
He elaborated when I elicited further what teh tarik meant:
Well, of course, it‘s polluted. You can see the colour of the river. Sorry
to say … last time, an environmentalist, an Indian guy, who paddled
from Klang straight to Gombak Rivers and he said that when he tested
the river - the river water can be used to kill the mosquitoes. The river
[water] looked like kopi susu something like that, it doesn‘t look nice. It
isn‘t [suitable] for tourism (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/10/06).
Not only did Naim use the term teh tarik, he also used kopi susu or milky coffee to
describe different colours of the Klang River water, emphasising his view that the
Klang River was polluted.
The above comments highlight the attributes of colour and clarity as an indicator
of water‘s cleanliness or impurities in general. In what follows I further examine the
sense of sight to show the changes of the water quality across different stretches of the
55
Ayooo, aiyaa, laaa are actually common to the Indians, Chinese and Malays respectively. However, as
noted here Lien used ayooo and laaa signifying assimilation of language/slang in a multi-ethnic society
like Malaysia.
98
Klang River – the upper and middle sections. The stories are presented in geographical
order starting from the headwater at the KGD passing through Hulu Klang Free Trade
Zone (HKFTZ), Taman Keramat56
and Kampung Dato Keramat (KDK).
Stories from the headwater down
It appears that clear and clean water is more likely to be mentioned by those who lived
near to the source of the Klang River at KGD. ‗Amin‘ and ‗Hamzah‘ lived
approximately one kilometre downstream from the main entrance of the KGD, an area
known as Kampung Klang Gate Dam or Klang Gate Dam Village (KGDV)57
. In this
area, the riparian vegetation was still intact, and the river was still in its natural physical
form. Amin, a self-employed informant who had built his house overlooking the Klang
River, demonstrated his local knowledge of the river and general water systems when he
proudly observed:
In our section here, the water is beautiful… we have clear water. It is
clean, indeed very, very clean because there is no pollution. There is no
source of pollution except few people who throw rubbish. But we
picked and cleaned it up. From my observation, there is nothing which
can harm the water here. At least the water is clean here because the
water flows 24 hours. You can see the water is flowing, right. It‘s
flowing 24 hours. It means that the water can be classified as Grade A.
If you walked further the main road until Sekolah Menengah Melawati
[Melawati Secondary School], before the Food Court area, that‘s last the
point that the water is clear. After that point, further downstream, the
water is dirty. The colour becomes teh tarik. You can see yourself …
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/04/07).
Apart from the clarity of water, Amin identified the flow of water as one of its strongest
attributes indicating the cleanliness of water, a point rarely raised by other informants.
This is due to fact that he lived closed to the dam where the water was released and its
current or flow was more rapid compared to further downstream. Indeed, for me, the
KGDV was the best section of the Klang River. As stated in Chapter Four, water at this
end of the river was crystal clear. I could see my feet submerged on the gravel riverbed.
I enjoyed observing water life such as water scrappers and mayflies in this section (see
Plate 8).
56
Literally, it means ‗Sacred Park‘. 57
I will further discuss this village and the three informants in Chapter Eight.
99
Plate 8 Crystal clear water near Hamzah and Amin’s house at the upper section of the
Klang River, less than a kilometre from KGD.
The apparent cleanliness of the water was also noted by Amin‘s neighbour, Hamzah.
Hamzah equally felt fortunate that he was able to enjoy ‗clean‘ and ‗clear‘ water
flowing a few metres in front of his house. Hamzah compared the flowing water in front
of his house at KGDV with other sections of the river:
Further downstream, the water becomes brownish. What‘s the source of
pollution? It‘s no longer clear. It‘s teh susu. It‘s no longer clear. I‘m not
sure what the cause is. Maybe it‘s due to the sand mining activities. So
that‘s why it turned to be teh susu (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 17/04/07).
The Federal Territory state officer of the Department of Irrigation and Drainage shared
the observations of local residents. He had ridden his motorbike and walked along the
Klang and its tributaries within the Federal Territory, as the following quote reveals:
The water from Kemensah River is very clean. I have traced the river up
to the source [where] it passes the forest area. If you were there, you
will feel at peace. The water is very clear […]. The water at the Klang
Gate Dam is clear as well. But unfortunately the clear water is not that
long. As it enters the housing area not far from the source, the water
turn[s] teh tarik (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 17/07/07).
Taking all of the stories together, the water quality at the uppermost section of the river
appeared to be good based on its clarity. As mentioned by Amin, beyond Melawati
Secondary School, located in Taman Melawati, the colour of the river water changed.
Taman Melawati was one of the oldest residential areas, with rising business and
100
commercial centres, and rapidly increased population. Hence, significant domestic and
municipal waste has affected the clarity of the water. Indeed, the colour of the water
beyond KGDV and the upper section of Taman Melawati was no longer clear, as I had
noted the same conditions when walking and being driven along the sections.
From the KGDV, as the Klang River water flows to the east passing through
Taman Melawati, HKFTZ and Taman Keramat. I met several informants at this
location. Taman Keramat was an extension of KDK as the village expanded and
population increased over time. Geographically, Taman Keramat was located in
between the HKFTZ in the upstream and KDK in the downstream of the Klang River.
This was the last section where the banks were not concreted in the upper part of the
river. ‗Hanif‘, a teacher in his forties, had lived in one of the of low-cost flats locally
known as Columbia Flats in Taman Keramat for almost thirty years. The Columbia
Flats were built a few metres from the Klang riverbanks. I met him when he was sitting
and chatting with a friend under a small wooden hut overlooking the Klang River. He
described the river as ‗beautiful‘, claiming that there was ‗no pollution‘ when he first
arrived in 1973. Much later, the usual colour of the Klang River was ‗muddy‘ and ‗not
clear‘, which was also the state of the water on the day I met him. According to him,
such conditions indicated pollution and the ‗dirtiness of water‘. However, he also stated:
I noticed a few times the water was hitam [black] usually during
weekends and late evening. A few times I noticed that. The whole
stretch turned black … from the factories areas [pointing finger
upstream and downstream] to here. Most probably they have a filtration
system problem discharged in the drain and then into the river. The
problem is there are lot of factories in this area. The river becomes the
dumping site. At this hour you can see the river is OK. They didn‘t
discharge it during the day. You wait until 7pm or 8pm – the whole
stretch turned black. I think it might [be] dye ... it might be cyanide.
They just don‘t care (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 29/03/07).
He passionately shared with me a number of ‗black‘ Klang River stories. When asked
for an olfactory indicator, he answered, ‗It didn‘t smell, it didn‘t smell. I just saw the
river was black [in colour]‘. He insisted that I should walk along the Klang River to
trace the source of the pollutant from the adjacent factories zone or car garages. He
asked me to come back and bring bottles to collect ‗black‘ water from any drains, which
were then connected into the river, and send them to a laboratory for chemical analysis.
In this way, he said, I could pin-point what were the sources that contributed to
pollution, and consequently my study would be ‗exclusive‘ and ‗comprehensive‘.
When I met him for a formal interview a few weeks later, he reiterated the same stories:
101
From up above [my flat], I can see the river water was black. Sometimes
you can even see the sand [of the riverbanks] was black. That‘s why I
stressed earlier, things like this we can‘t simply tell stories like what I‘m
doing now. You have to go … you have to go search for the outlet [that
contributes to pollution] … you have to see. You have to see yourself
what contribute[s] to pollution [such as] oil, sewage, or factory waste
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 14/04/07).
A ‗black‘ river story was also told to me by a middle-aged woman, ‗Hasnah‘, who had
lived for more than twenty years in a place just a few blocks downstream from Hanif‘s.
It was a strikingly similar story she told me: ‗I can see that sometimes the river water
became black. It means they [factories upstream] have discharged it. They didn‘t care‘.
When I asked whether she still noticed such an incident recently, she answered, ‗Yes, at
times, during weekends and late in the evening. They waited and took advantage during
a heavy flow so that people won‘t see their waste. It won‘t be that obvious. They were
smart. They were afraid that people would lodge a complaint‘. She explained that when
the water subsided, she could see the remnants of black effluents on the riverbanks.
A few informants shared a snapshot of the changing colour of the water over
decades. I met ‗Tahir‘, then in his sixties, when he was cleaning drains at the backyard
of his house, a few metres facing the riverbanks at KDK. We had an informal
conversation under the Light Railway Transit (LRT) track, where the train that passed
over our head frequently interrupted our conversation. In the 1970s, he reminisced, the
water was bersih and jernih. He could see fish as the water was clear. People swam in
the river. Looking at the teh tarik colour of the water, he sighed, ‗Now, there‘s a lot of
pollution‘. He told me that the water was volumnious as it was raining yesterday,
suggesting a connection between the clarity of water and the level of pollution. Another
KDK resident, ‗Malik‘, in his seventies, shared similar stories, making clear the
relevance of story-telling and shared knowledge for local groups. He told me, for
instance, that there were people swimming in the river and some parents brought their
children for a picnic in the past. The river water was cantik (beautiful), clean and clear.
In fact he told me people used to call the Klang River as Sungai Jernih (Clear River)
due to its clarity. Looking at teh tarik colour, the most common sight throughout my
fieldwork, I found it hard to believe the Klang River in this section was once crystal
clear. Occasionally, the water became dark grey during heavy downpours.
‗Rahim‘ complemented Tahir‘s and Malik‘s stories in much greater detail in
regards to the changing colour of the Klang River water over time and events. In
Chapter Three, I explained that my fieldwork in Kuala Lumpur was conducted from
102
December 2006 to June 2007. I re-visited the Klang River to gain additional or new
insights as well as to detect any changes in the setting when I went back to Malaysia
from June to August 2009. I did not intend to search for additional participants or to
conduct new interviews. I decided to conduct a brief observation by strolling along the
Klang River at KDK section after an hour of a heavy downpour in Kuala Lumpur, when
I saw Rahim, who was fishing in the river. I observed Rahim for several minutes.
He was concentrating on the movement of the river water to detect the presence
of fish. As soon as he detected a movement in the water (an indication of the presence
of fish), he tossed his fishing line into the river, and briefly waited before he tossed it
again. After a few minutes observing him, I initiated a conversation by asking him
whether he got any fish and what kind of fish that he caught that day. He sounded
pleased when he answered, ‗Tilapia. There should be a lot of fish after the rain today‘,
while pointing at a basket containing a few tilapia (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur,
16/08/09). I introduced myself as a PhD student conducting a study on issues of
pollution at the Klang River. On this note, I detected an immediate change in his facial
expression. I thought he was uneasy with the idea of participating in research. Instead,
gazing down at the murky water, Rahim spoke eloquently, ‗The river issue has been an
on-going battle for several decades. It is an on-going issue, it keep[s] re-emerging; but
never been tackled holistically and successfully. This river is totally different now, 99
per cent different from what it used to be in terms of the physical outlook and the water
quality‘ (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09). I realized that his initial reaction was
not because of uneasiness with the idea of participating in research, but due to the
subject matter itself – the Klang River. What followed was Rahim‘s intense narratives
of his complex, interwoven and heartfelt connections to the Klang River. Noting his
enthusiasm to share his experiences, I decided to arrange a follow-up interview with
him, as it was inappropriate to disturb him fishing at that time.
Rahim, in his mid-40s, had lived in KDK for more than thirty years, and his
house was located about a ten-minute walk from the river. He mentioned that though he
was not highly educated, he read and listened to the local media news coverage and
searched the Internet to seek information on various issues, including about water. He
was one of a very few participants who consistently demonstrated his intense emotive
reaction to the changes (his stories are embedded in all four themes in this chapter)
along the river, particularly in the section of his residential area.
Rahim consistently used colour as an indicator of the river‘s water quality. He
detected a transformation of the colour of the river water quality over the decades:
103
A long time ago, the colour of this river water was the same as our tap
water - crystal clear. The river water was clear; it was so special. But
you can see it now ... [sigh]. If someone lost her necklace, you could see
the necklace on the riverbed. Just imagine how clear it was before. Back
then there was no concrete. Can you see what has happened now? Can
you see what I‘m talking about? What‘s the use of development if the
river is polluted? (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09).
In recent years, the water had become cloudy. It was no longer clear and transparent.
Accordingly, Rahim adjusted his colour indicator of a clean river. I detected his tone of
disappointment as he gazed upon the murky water:
When I was here this morning, the river was green. Green means clean.
You can come in the morning and see the difference (Fieldnotes: Kuala
Lumpur, 16/08/09).
Later in the evening, after the rain, the water became murky. He asked me:
How can the river water become so cloudy [now]? Can you see the river
water? What is the colour of the water after the rain? Within a short period
of time the water got cloudy. The water is cloudy because of the
development projects upstream. Less than an hour [after the rain], the river
water becomes cloudy. This was because of the construction near Ukay
Height58
. Whose fault is this? (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09)
It is evident from the above quotes that, as I found elsewhere, colour and clarity or
transparency served as a significant indicator for Rahim to determine the cleanliness of
the river. Such sensitivity is also evident when I interviewed him later at home. He also
clearly demonstrated his awareness of the use of the river as a source of drinking water,
a point rarely raised by other local informants. ‗The river water needs our attention, as it
involves a water security issue‘, he remarked. He described the process entailed in
providing the tap water supply at home, simultaneously sharing his fear of declining
water quality:
We drink from the rivers. The tap water we enjoy in our home is clean
in our naked eyes. The fact is the water has been treated. I‘m so sad
when I fish here to see the water is polluted. This is the water where my
children, my wife and my neighbours drink. Can you see the colour of
the water? Can you just imagine if we turn on our tap water and the
colour would be just like that? All Malaysians would be upset!
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09)
58
Ukay Height is a new residential project located about five kilometres upstream of KDK. During my
fieldwork there was intensive construction of residential buildings in the area.
104
Rahim was referring to the brownish-yellow teh tarik colour of muddy water during the
day I met him at the riverbank. It is also interesting to note that despite his earlier
indications that the clearer the water, the cleaner it was, he was very much aware it was
not necessarily so, as clear water contained unseen harmful bacteria, unwanted life
forms, which had been killed by various treatments. He was also concerned about
pollution in the Klang as he was frequently fishing in the river. The subsequent section
elaborates how Rahim‘s connection with the river, and ultimately his sense of the river
as place, is formed through fish and fishing. More specifically it further explores the
presence of aquatic life forms in the Klang River, a matter that is evidently intertwined
with river quality issues.
Ikan bandaraya and udang galah: Stories of presence or absence, decline or
abundance
Stories of a river place where pollution is at the core of the discussion are incomplete
without reference to fishes, crustaceans and other aquatic life forms it supports. These
aquatic species make rivers, sometimes referred to as ‗riverscapes‘ (noted in Chapter
Four), as special and unique places compared to terrestrial land. Moving the focus
briefly back to Australia, Sinclair (2000: 122), for example, has declared, ‗The Murray
cod have always been a potent symbol‘ of the Murray River. But what would the
absence of various aquatic species indicate? What would the presence of certain species
mean to local people? In this section, and drawing on emphases established in the
literature review, I present how a sense of river place intertwined with stories of various
species of ikan (fish), such as tilapia59
and bandaraya60
(municipal or city) and also
udang galah61
(freshwater prawn), and in turn how their decline or abundance are
significant to people‘s conceptions about the health of the river.
Informants who lived approximately 20 kilometres from the Klang made general
remarks about the way a river was regarded as polluted according to the absence or
presence of certain fish. For example, after explaining colour as an indicator of
pollution (discussed in the previous section), Lien commented: ‗I can‘t even think to do
fishing there. I don‘t think fish can survive there‘. Most likely the teh tarik colour of the
59
Tilapia fish (the generic name of the two most common tilapia species – tilapia mossambica and tilapia
nilotica) are originally from Africa and introduced to Asia as a food source, often in pond cultivation. 60
Bandaraya (scientific name – hypostomus plecostomus) is native to South America. 61
Udang galah (common name – giant freshwater prawn or also known as Malaysian prawn; scientific
name – macrobrachium rosenbergii).
105
water restricted one‘s visibility to see fish and other aquatic life forms. Two informants
mentioned that they had seen ‗floating dead fish‘, suggesting that the Klang River was
polluted. Some informants, in turn, asked me whether any fish survived in the polluted
river, a question that to me helped to reflect two-way research possibilities and
processes via an exchange of information. In contrast, ‗Jaya‘, an environmental activist
who lived away from the vicinity of the Klang River, offered a more specific
observation. He compared the good quality of the Klang River in the past and the
present contaminated water in relation to aquatic species:
At one stage they [local people] say you can catch udang galah in
Gombak and Klang Rivers. Now there‘s no way you can get udang
galah in the rivers. You can get what you call it…what you call the
black fish that‘s [survive] in all parts of the Klang River. But I wouldn‘t
want to eat that fish because I think it‘s highly contaminated, because all
sorts of chemical is coming in through the drain into the Klang River
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 03/03/07).
Jaya claimed that the udang galah ceased to survive in the present Klang River due to
its poor water quality. The extinction of udang galah was then replaced with the
emergence of bandaraya black striped fish, as this species was more tolerant of polluted
water. Most informants who lived closer to the Klang‘s banks, and, thus, had greater
opportunity to be physically connected and observed the changes within its riverbed and
surrounding environs echoed Jaya‘s remarks.
The present Klang River is an increasingly interesting place to get to know, as I
gathered memories from informants who lived closer to its banks. Physical proximity
offered people the advantages of familiarity, a key point in determining how people
connect to river-places. They reported intricate details of the inter-relationships between
the level of water quality with the extinction and abundance of certain aquatic species
across time. Some informants, recalling a period of several decades ago, remembered
the Klang River as a place full of fish and other aquatic species. In particular, the glory
of the place, and happy memories of the Klang River were associated with the
abundance of udang galah or Malaysian freshwater prawn vis a vis the decline of udang
galah, indicating a nostalgia for a prior sense of place. Many believed that udang galah
was part of the past history of the Klang River, as these shrimp had become extinct
there due to the declining river health. On the other hand, the most frequently cited fish
of the present Klang River were tilapia and bandaraya fish. Both fish were claimed to
be tolerant of polluted water by the locals. Several informants and anglers told me that
bandaraya was a ‗sucker‘ fish and good at cleaning water by eating algae growth
106
accumulated in aquariums and ponds. Such a cleaning task is similar to that performed
by many municipal councils, such as Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur or DBKL
(Kuala Lumpur City Hall), which are responsible for garbage collection and cleaning
the urban areas.
Stories about the Klang as a river place struggling with pollution could trigger
both excitement and sorrow. For example, ‗Zain‘, in his 40s, had lived in KDK all his
life. Like many other houses here (also elsewhere in most Klang sections I visited), the
architecture of his plot was oriented in such a way that the frontyard was facing the road
and the backyard faced the river. He occasionally swam and fished in the river when he
was a child. His yearning for the old ‗clean‘ Klang River was evident as he started his
conversation: ‗In the past, there were freshwater prawns. We had haruan62
and the
water level was deep. Everything was there‘. Akin to those who lived downstream of
the HKFTZ, Zain proceeded by commenting on the colour of river water has changed
from clear to teh tarik and occasionally black. As such he declared, ‗In KL, this is the
dirtiest river – the Klang River‘. Consequently, he observed:
Now we have tilapia. We have ikan bandaraya. In the past we have
many types of fish. There were ikan putih63
. There were many types of
fish. But there was no crocodile. Snakes and monitor lizards were there
also. But there are none now (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 19/02/07).
Similarly, Tahir, reminisced that ‗in the past the water was clean‘ and ‗clear‘. He most
probably had lived there since the 1960s, as he recalled he had already built his house a
few meters away from the Klang River bank at KDK when the racial riots of May
196964
occurred. Tahir observed, ‗When I first arrived here freshwater prawns could
survive here. If freshwater prawn can survive, it means the water was clean‘. He also
observed there were people swimming and fishing in the river and, once again,
emphasised the valuable presence of prawns:
62
Haruan (common name – snakehead; scientific name – channa striatus). 63
Ikan putih literally translated as white fish (common name – common barb; scientific name – puntius
binotatus). 64
The 13 May 1969 tragedy is widely considered as one of Malaysia‘s dark histories. On that day, the
racial clash especially between the Chinese and Malays started in Kampung Baru (a Malay-dominated
village), Kuala Lumpur, leading to the declaration of national emergency and suspension of parliament.
The incident stemmed from the provocative actions of the Chinese opposition party‘s supporters during
their electoral victory parade in Kampung Baru. The riot then spread elsewhere in Selangor for several
months. Officially, the riot claimed 196 lives and left hundred others injured. Other deep-rooted causes
were proposed including the economic imbalances between the Chinese and Malays.
107
A long time ago this river was clean. We could use the water. I could
also see ikan putih […]. There were not many residential areas. It was
clean. There were prawns. So it was clean (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur
15/04/07).
Tahir implied that the land use activities such as residential areas have compromised the
water quality that nevertheless appeared clean previously. Later, he told me ‗people
started to throw rubbish in the river‘ and observed people caught ikan keli besar (big
catfish). The period of ‗people throwing rubbish‘ coincided with mushrooming of
squatters along the Klang River approximately in the 1980s. Finally, he observed people
fished along the concrete river:
Tahir: Then there were red tilapia for a while.
Azlin: Red tilapia?
Tahir: Yep .... now they are gone.
Azlin: What are the fishes in the river now?
Tahir: The striped one ...
Azlin: Oh... ikan bandaraya?
Tahir: Yep ikan bandaraya fish ... fish with [black] stripes.
Azlin: Ooo ... so there were lots of white fish and freshwater prawn before. Why
are they gone?
Tahir: Maybe because of pollution (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur 15/04/07).
The manner by which Tahir narrated his stories indicated the evolution of different fish
species chronologically as the health of the river deteriorated due to development that
took place along this section of the Klang River. I have tried to visually transform his
stories into Figure 6 below:
108
Figure 6 Different species of fish as indicator of pollution across time based on Tahir’s
stories.
Up to this point I have presented narratives based on informants‘ visual perceptions,
memories, and stories. In the following section I examine specific stories from three
informants – Rahim and ‗Chan‘ and Hamid. They not only reported visual experiences
of the many types of fish in the Klang River and/or its tributary the Gombak River.
They also loved fishing and could talk about the unique qualities of fish, such as smell
and taste, or distribution of the fish population. Rahim and Chan not only fished in the
river, but also swam frequently in it resulting in an experiential closeness and a deeper
level of understanding than others with whom I worked. Such a finding is not unusual in
ethnographic research where certain informants are able to convey to an ethnographer a
particularly intense and insightful response, in this case to the Klang River.
Angling experiences and sense of place
I was introduced to ‗Chan‘ by his niece ‗May‘, an accountant and a volunteer treasurer
for an environmental NGO whom I shall discuss in the following section. After I had
interviewed her and we visited the upstream of the Gombak River, May insisted that I
should talk to her uncle, and she willingly drove me from Gombak district to Kelana
Jaya (a downstream suburb of the Klang River, approximately 45-minutes drive from
Gombak) where I interviewed Chan in his house. According to May, for years, her
Uncle Chan repeated stories about his experiences of swimming and fishing in the
109
Klang and Gombak Rivers despite his Alzheimer‘s65
. Chan had lived in Tiong Nam66
settlement for almost two decades, since its opening in the early 1960s until the late
1970s, where he had developed intimate physical and emotional connections with both
the Gombak and the Klang Rivers. The 20-acre settlement is actually situated between
the two rivers – Gombak and Klang – as they flowed into a confluence at Masjid Jamek
(see Appendix II).
Earlier in the interview, I asked him to share his stories about the Klang River,
some of which he had shared with May. In response, he asked me, ‗Do you know that
the two rivers are joining together? – the Gombak River and the Klang Gate River‘. He
elaborated, ‗The river from the Klang Gate Dam flows downstream until it meets the
other river. So one is the Gombak River, another is the Klang River. Both rivers, [then]
join together at Masjid Jamek‘. In the earlier days, ‗the Gombak River was a bit muddy
and the Klang River was quite clear‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07). His
descriptions depicted how he was geographically in close proximity with the
confluence.
During a 45-minute interview Chan enthusiastically shared his experiences of
what he called raba udang galah. Raba literally translates as groping, which actually
means, catching giant freshwater prawn in this context. Indeed, the word udang galah
(see Plate 9) had appeared more than twenty times in Chan‘s interview transcripts.
Narrating his groping freshwater prawn experiences in the Gombak River, Chan stated:
We used to dive and swim in the river. We used to fish in the river. We
caught udang galah. The river had rocks and udang galah. That‘s where
you got all prawns. The prawns would be there near the rock. The
current was so strong, very strong; the current in the river was not
peaceful. We jumped into the river […]. But we didn‘t go during heavy
rains. We went [to the river] after the rain. We went there usually after the
rain - plenty of prawns in the river […]. In the 60‘s, we called it „raba
udang galah‟ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07).
He repeatedly shared his stories:
Big prawns! Prawns! The current down there was strong. There was a lot
of current in the river. The current went very fast. Don‘t play a fool [with
the current]. But we were so used to it. We could go up and down [in the
river]. We could be in the water for hours. We used our bare hands. We
65
To May‘s surprise, Chan‘s story-telling of the two rivers remained even after her uncle has been
diagnosed with Alzheimer‘s – a degenerative disease generally affecting members of the older generation
with a commonly recognized symptom of memory loss. While not within the scope of this thesis, it would
be interesting to explore why his particular memories of the rivers persist despite suffering from
Alzheimer‘s disease. 66
Tiong Nam settlement is one of the oldest Chinese residential and commercial areas in Kuala Lumpur.
110
knew where the river had rocks and just caught [the prawns] using our
hands. Why should we be scared? We got a few katis67
of udang galah - a
few katis of big ones (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07).
At one point, Chan excitedly stood up and demonstrated how he caught udang galah by
grabbing and swinging his hands in the air and simultaneously explained, ‗The water
was muddy, but we knew where the rocks were. We knew where the udang galah were
sleeping and hiding‘. He even shared his knowledge of local dishes to cook udang
galah, ‗We made sambal and masak lemak all the brain inside [the prawn‘s head].
Wahh! Lovely udang galah. Do you know what colour udang galah is?‘ I answered,
‗Bluish68
‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07). More importantly, he added, ‗udang
galah need clean water, it‘s OK if the water was brownish and muddy but clean‘.
Interestingly, unlike other informants, being muddy does not necessarily signify
pollution for Chan. This means, for him, a clean river could be coloured and transparent
water.
Asked about his memories in relation to the Klang River, he remembered the
river as a place for picnicking, particularly near the Klang Gate Dam. He recalled, ‗You
see, the clear water came down [in the upstream]. We went for a picnic. The Hulu
Langat River69
was good for a picnic. The water was very clean, the river upstream
quite shallow. We picnicked and cooked there. It was a very nice place‘. Currently, he
was unsure ‗whether anybody was going there or not. The river upstream is still very
clean [now]‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07). He proceeded, comparing the
upstream and downstream of the Klang River, ‗The water was clear before. Now, it has
become worse. Look at the water. Aiyaa.. aiyaa70
why so dirty.. now? [The water looks]
like teh tarik. Too polluted. They dumped all chemicals in it‘ (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 26/04/07). Evidently, like many others, he used the different shades of colour
to evaluate river water quality, uttering aiyaaa twice.
67
Kati is a traditional local unit of measurement for weight. One kati is approximately equal to 600
grams. In the 1980s, the Malaysian government converted the local and British measurement to the metric
system. However, local people, especially older customers, still use the word kati in their transactions,
particularly in wet markets and grocery stores. 68
I knew udang galah is blue in colour because I have a special memory of udang galah. It always
reminds me of my late grandfather. When I was a child, every time I went back to visit my grandparents
in my home town, my late grandfather would buy or fish for fresh udang galah for me from the Kinta
River. He put the udang galah still-alive in our bath tub while waiting for me to arrive. I had observed
and played with the udang galah before my grandmother cooked sambal udang galah as well. Sambal
udang galah is actually prawn in a fried chilli paste. 69
He used ‗Hulu Langat River‘ to refer to the Klang River because the upstream of the river near the
Klang Gate Dam is located within the Hulu Langat district. 70
As mentioned earlier, aiyaa is not a word. Instead, it is an exclamation common to the Chinese in
emphasizing certain points and expressing levels of dismay and related emotions.
111
Plate 9 The bluish udang galah.
Besides picnicking at the upstream of the Klang River, Chan had swum towards the
confluence of the two rivers regardless of the risks:
We didn‘t care, we dove into the water. At times the current was so
strong. The current was very fast. We were so used to it. From the
Gombak we went right to the Masjid Jamek. We swam all the way.
There is a mosque there, isn‘t? We came to the Klang River and caught
[udang galah]. We came to the Klang River all the way there. The
current [brought us] downstream several miles away. We were so fond
of fishing and swimming […]. We swam to the confluence and then we
walked back (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07).
May, listening to our conversations, interrupted, ‗Today the river‘s got many fish also,
but funny fish bandaraya fish‘. As he swam and fished in the rivers, Chan also
detected the changes of the fish species. He responded proudly:
In our days, there was no tilapia, there was no bandaraya [fish]. At that
time there was no bandaraya fish. It‘s a new breed ... You can‘t eat
bandaraya fish. It is poisonous. They breed very fast […]. Bandaraya
are the majority now (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07).
He explained that the Chinese fishing pond operators had reared and released the
bandaraya fish into the rivers. He further compared this to the old Klang when he had
caught udang galah, ikan keli71
, sebarau72
. Sharing his experiences with handling the
fish, ‗Ikan keli was very hard to hold, very slippery‘; and ‗Sebarau is a game fish, it can
71
Ikan keli (common name – walking catfish; scientific name Clarias batrachus) is an edible fish, native
of South-East Asia including Malaysia. Currently, it is one of the most popular fish commercially farmed. 72
Sebarau (common name – jungle perch; scientific name – Hampala macrolepidota) is also a native of
South-East Asia. It is both an edible and sport fish and well-known among the local anglers for its
fighting spirit.
112
jump. [It‘s] a very lovely fish and very difficult to get‘. Asking whether there were any
white fish, udang galah, sebarau currently, he replied, ‗Now [it‘s] very hard to get.
[The water is] very polluted‘ and added I ‗must know the habits of the fish‘ in order to
catch them (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/05/07).
I wondered and asked whether he still had gone fishing in both or either river in
recent years since he moving to Kelana Jaya. I detected a tone of sadness as he shared:
I don‘t go for fishing. I don‘t go for swimming anymore the water got
very dirty. Where to fish now? I fish in the pond now. [There is] no
river, anyway. The river got dirty and is like a longkang73
[…]. Now,
you can‘t swim, they put rubbish traps (Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
26/04/07).
Towards the end of the interview, Chan also assisted me discussing about people‘s
sense of place when he revealed how and why he felt a declining connection to the
river. In Chan‘s case a disconnection occurred when the river became polluted and
concreted. Whilst feeling a certain detachment, he also retained a vivid sense of the
material and tactile qualities of the river – rocks, strong currents, muddy water, and
clear and clean water. His experiences groping for udang galah signify stories of
abundance (‗plenty of prawn‘, ‗a few katis‘, ‗we never buy the prawn‘), when the Klang
River and its tributary the Gombak River were clean enough for the prawn to survive.
The rivers were previously their ‗source of food‘, as Chan put it.
Rahim was another person who obviously had an intense physical and emotional
connection with the Klang River, particularly because he was an avid angler. As noted
in the previous section, I met Rahim while he was fishing at KDK concrete section.
Throughout my daily fieldwork, I observed anglers fishing along the Klang River at
KDK at least twice a week. All of them were Indonesian anglers except Rahim. I knew
they were Indonesians based on their slang as I spoke to them asking about their fishing
experiences briefly. However, they all declined to be interviewed. Hence, Rahim‘s
stories are significant, as he has had continuous physical and emotional connections
with both the old and contemporary Klang River.
Rahim‘s physical connection with the river was most pronounced when he
talked about his childhood and teenage years. He used ‗to play and swim frequently in
the river‘ (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09). The Klang River indeed had provided
a place for his childhood play. He had a history of experience with the Klang River, as
73
As mentioned earlier, longkang is a Malay word for drain, as will be further explained in the following
section.
113
he mentioned, ‗I could drink while swimming. I drank from the river previously. I swam
in this river when I was a child‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09). As the river
became increasingly polluted and turned into a concrete drain, he was no longer able to
swim in the river. In contrast, he could ‗still fish in the river‘. Unlike Chan, Rahim had
fished continuously in the river for the past thirty years (see Plate 10) including the day
I met him. He mentioned,‗Whenever I‘m not working, I fish‘ (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 20/08/09). This meant that on average, he fished in the river once a week since
he has one day off per week. He poetically shared with me, ‗I frequently fish here. Take
a deep breath, close your eyes, listen to the sound of water, ask yourself – what kind of
river do you want?‘ He particularly enjoyed fishing especially during the wet season, as
there were many fish found in the river after the rain.
Rahim plainly expressed a relationship between water quality and various
freshwater species. As soon as he caught his tilapia, he claimed, ‗There are still fish in
the river, meaning it is not completely polluted. 70 per cent almost polluted‘. He had
already caught a few when I joined him (see Plate 11). Over the years, tilapia has
become a supplementary food source for him and his family, and sometimes he
distributed them to his neighbours. This is congruent with his remark that the river was
not ‗completely polluted‘, thus he was brave enough to eat them. When asked about
other fish he had caught, he listed, ‗There‘s carp, catfish and bandaraya fish. I have no
idea where they come from. They were not there a long time ago‘ (Fieldnotes: Kuala
Lumpur, 16/08/09). Several anglers told me that these were hardy fish highly resistant
to polluted water. A few minutes later he caught a bandaraya or municipal fish (see
Plate 12), which he unhooked from his fishing lure and released back into the river.
Rahim‘s passion for nature and wildlife was evident as he explained briefly, ‗The
bandaraya fish wants to live too. It is part of Allah‘s creation. It has its own function‘
(Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09). Rahim regretfully commented on the common
practices of most of anglers when they caught the fish: they let it die under the hot sun.
The changes in the water quality were detectable by the presence of certain aquatic
freshwater species. Later, Rahim made plain this relationship:
Fish migrated because of water quality. Jelawat and toman74
ran away
when the water was tercemar [polluted]. When there‘s no poisonous
[substances], then only can the fish live. Previously they were toman. I
74
Jelawat (common name – sultan fish; scientific name – Leptobarbus hoeveni) and toman (common
name – giant snake head; scientific name – Channa micropeltes) are freshwater fish common in Asia and
particularly South-East Asia.
114
Plate 10 Rahim was about to cast his fishing line into the concrete Klang River. At the far
right is KDK LRT station.
Plate 11 Tilapia caught by Rahim.
Plate 12 Rahim caught a bandaraya fish, a black-striped fish, which later he released back
into the river.
115
used to get a bucket of kepah. There were the blue kepah75
. Now, not even
a single piece […]. I used to fish udang galah too (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 20/08/09).
For Rahim, local freshwater species like udang galah, kepah, toman and jelawat had
become symbols of a cleaner Klang River years ago. Rahim and his family members
were no longer able to enjoy additional protein provided by these freshwater species76
.
He realized that these species were heading to extinction as the river‘s health was
declining. In addition to chemical waste disposal upstream, he blamed property
development, stormwater discharge, and activity by squatters.
In Rahim‘s and Chan‘s cases, it was not just the immediacy of sight that was
illustrated, but also the touch, smell and sound (like yummm) of the river and the aquatic
resources it produced. Rahim and Chan clearly appreciated and benefited from the
sound of jelawat, toman, ikan putih splashing in the water as they struggled to bring
these fish onto the riverbanks.
Another inquisitive informant was Hamid who had lived in KGDV, near the
KGD for almost 20 years in which he enjoyed crystal clear water. Historically, Hamid‘s
grandfather was one of the earlier inhabitants of the old KKGV who had to be displaced
when the dam was constructed: ‗My father came from the submerged village‘.
According to him, before the construction of the dam, the water level was deep and
there were many ‗indigenous fish‘ swimming freely along the Klang River.
Interestingly, among my Malaysian informants, Hamid was one of two interviewees
who used the terms ‗foreign‘ and ‗indigenous‘ – in similar vein and in a way that was
widely used by almost all of my Australian informants to classify various flora and
fauna according to its origin. In contrast, Malaysians generally classify fish based on its
usual habitat, firstly, ikan air tawar (fresh water fish) that are found in the inland water
bodies, and secondly, ikan air masin (salt water fish) which are found in the sea.
Though Chan and Rahim had identified bandaraya fish as a new breed in the Klang
River, they had not explicitly identified them as ‗foreign‘ or ‗introduced‘. Hamid, on the
other hand, distinctively classified two categories of fish in the Klang River as (1)
‗foreign fish‘ such as tilapia, bandaraya and catfish; (2) ‗indigenous fish‘ such as
sebarau, toman, lampam77
.
75
Kepah or mussel is a freshwater shellfish. It requires a constant source of cool and clean water to live. 76
They bought fish from the nearby wet market. 77
Lampam (common name – river or tinfoil barb; scientific name – puntius schwanenfeldi, barbodes)
116
When I first met Hamid, he gave me an outdoor tour around his house, which he
had built overlooking the crystal clear Klang River water78
. In this section, at its source,
as rivers elsewhere, the Klang was merely a small stream. Most of his fishing
experiences and views about pollution were shared while we were walking around the
area and along the river. He told me that this upper section of the river was
‗comparatively very clean‘ in relation to the Klang River downstream in Kuala Lumpur
city centre. Most of the time there were lots of tilapia (see Plates 13 and 14):
Tilapia is a hardy fish. They didn‘t consume much oxygen. Rubbish,
when it rots, it consumes oxygen, so the river dies and cannot sustain
living things except hardy fish … so ikan tilapia can survive. They
are very resilient. These are imported fish from Africa. Many
foreign fish wiped out others [...]. But too many tilapias, other
species become extinct (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 23/04/07).
According to him foreign fish such as tilapia had a good survival rate, as they were
well-adapted to many conditions including pollution. Whilst the other residents simply
noted the extinction of udang galah and other (native) species coincided with the
abundance of introduced tilapia which could be due to the level of pollution, Hamid
provided another factor. He highlighted the predatory nature of tilapia (‗wiped out
others‘), possibly by feeding on young fish larvae or competing for food that eventually
contributes to the extinction of other species including the natives. Apart from tilapia,
he identified bandaraya and catfish as hardy foreign fish that survived further
downstream of the Klang and Gombak Rivers. He said, ‗There are lots of ikan
bandaraya and they eat all the dirt‘ and ‗they survived‘ in a ‗very dirty‘ water,
indicating that these fish had a high level of tolerance towards pollution and
successfully colonised.
Interestingly, two or three times a year, the upper section of the Klang River
would be full of lampam sebarau and toman, to which he referred as ‗cleaner‘ fish. This
was because the influx of water would be released from the dam flowing along with
various fish species that otherwise were trapped behind the huge constructed walls.
However, for Hamid, this condition did not reflect a true picture of a natural river and
its inhabitants. This seemed to be because the dam controlled the water‘s flow. Hamzah
(whom I discussed in the previous section), Hamid‘s neighbour, also mentioned there
was an abundance of various native species such sebarau, toman, lampam, ketutu79
within the reservoir. He told me that he and his friends frequently (and illegally) entered
78
I shall further discuss his practical on-ground work at this stretch of the river in Chapter Seven. 79
Ketutu (common name – marbled sand goby; scientific name – oxyeleotris marmorata).
117
Plate 13 Two red tilapias
near Hamid’s place
swimming in the crystal
clear water at the upper
section of the Klang River.
Plate 14 A close-up view of
the two red tilapias.
the prohibited dam to catch those fish. He would bring a boat (which he carefully hid) to
fish in various small lakes of behind the dam80
.
Hamid, however, did not fish along the Klang. Instead his passion and skills for
fishing emerged when he was at the Kenyir Lake and its surrounding river systems.
Throughout the tour around his house, he constantly shared his fascination with ikan
kelah81
or Malayan mahseer which he called ‗the king of the river‘82
. He repeatedly
mentioned that kelah can only survive in clean water, so the presence of the indigenous
species shows that the river was clean and unpolluted:
If you want to know whether the river is clean, you look for Malayan
mahseer. They can only survive in very clean water. They spawn in
clean water (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 23/04/07).
80
He actually invited me to fish by trekking in the nearby secondary forest to reach the dam. Though
tempted to go, I declined his invitation due to safety and ethical reasons. 81
Kelah (common name – mahseeer; scientific name – tor tambroides). 82
There is a similar book title:Kings of the Rivers: Mahseer in Malaysia and the Region (Kiat 2005).
118
His face was glowing with excitement as he listed five main species of kelah. The most
precious golden mahseer was very rare and only survived in the clean water of upper
reaches of Cacing River. As I turned my head and gazed at the river, I asked:
Azlin : How about here?
Hamid : No way … this one?? There is no way kelah can survive … if
you were to put kelah here it will die.
Azlin : What about before?
Hamid : Yes… during my grandfather‘s time the kelah was here –
green kelah, they called it kelah tengas. There were also
sebarau. Those are indicators of a very healthy river
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/04/07).
Hamid attributed the decline of kelah and other indigenous fish in the Klang River to a
combination of anthropogenic factors that included pollution, the invasion of foreign
fish released intentionally or unintentionally into the river, and the construction of the
Klang Gate Dam. It was evident that, in a similar vein with many other informants,
Hamid‘s evaluation of the lack of cleanliness of the Klang River depended on the
decline of certain species, particularly indigenous species such as kelah. Finishing his
stories on kelah fish in the Klang and Cacing Rivers, he advised me that in order to
know a place, I must know ‗the inhabitants of the river‘ because ‗they are all
interconnected‘. This evocative comment spoke volumes in relation to the crux of this
thesis with its concern to learn more about river pollution, the meanings embedded in a
water-place, and a river‘s permanent and/or moving inhabitants. Hamid‘s stories
suggest how the presence of native fish indicated good quality and heightened his
connection to water places. His comments also drew my attention to how polluted
matter tells us something about what is ‗out of place‘, as defined by Douglas (1970).
The previous and this section talked about God-created inhabitants within the riverbeds
– water and fish. The following sections reveal human-made ‗inhabitants‘ of the river as
matter out of place.
Rubbish and the less visible forms of pollutants
In this section I show how evaluation of changes in water quality in the Klang River can
be further determined by visual evidence. Although there were no predetermined
options when I asked questions along about how people would know that the river was
119
polluted, the unanimity of the informants‘ responses was startling. In particular there
was a preoccupation with images of sampah or sampah-sarap83
(rubbish) floating or
trapped at trash racks in the Klang River. The rubbish was large or obvious enough to
be easily detected by naked eyes. All informants mentioned the problem of rubbish, and
for some it appeared first in the list of pollutants.
Sightings of rubbish were commonly cited irrespective of a person‘s gender,
socio-economic status, educational level, occupation (government or non-government
officers), environmental organisation membership, and residential place (within or
outside vicinity of the river) differences, indicating its position as a major indicator of
pollution by all informants. Criticising the construction of certain physical infrastructure
stations above the Klang River, ‗Amri‘, the Director of Department of Irrigation and
Drainage of Selangor, observed that rubbish tended to stuck at the bridges and LRT
pillars especially during heavy rainfall. He also criticized the architecture of most
houses and buildings where the backyard facing the river, observed:
The backyard facing the river is not the right concept because people
will regard the river as a place for rubbish dumping. All dirty things will
be thrown in the river. If the frontyard [is] facing the river, people will
take care of the river (Hamid, Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 9/02/07).
Hamid, and ‗Muthu‘, an environmental activist, respectively echoed the Director‘s
concern regarding the presence of rubbish in the river:
For me, pollution includes rubbish, sewage, wasterwater from factories,
dirty oil from car garages. Those are the things that we can consider
contribute to pollution – sampah-sarap [rubbish] and sewage (Muthu,
Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/04/07).
[Y]ou have companies that broke the rules and the community that live
close to the river that think it‘s a big drain and a rubbish dump, so they
can throw every single plastic bag in it. People don‘t care [...] We treat
[the] river now … we treat [the] river like a big drain (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 12/02/07).
Similarly other female informants, May, Lien and Liza respectively opined:
I hate to see rubbish ... wrong materials like that polluting the Klang
River … very polluted river … dirty river (May, Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 26/04/07).
83
Sampah is a singular form, and sampah-sarap is a plural form.
120
In Malaysia, you see river is like tempat buang sampah [rubbish
dumping place]. That‘s our mind set. (Lien, Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
15/02/07).
[E]very time during rainy days the river water overflowed and caused
the flash flood in the nearby area and the rubbish in the river thrown
over […]. The first definition [of pollution] is quite clear – which we
can see from the point of view that there is no proper management of
rivers – like dumping garbage freely and the dumping of chemical
toxins. This would be one definition (Liza, Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
17/10/06).
What is evident in all of the above remarks is that their interpretations and views are
about the visible or observable forms of pollution. Additionally, pollution issues are
intertwined with flood occurrences, as indicated by Amri and Liza.
Findings suggest that floating rubbish or accumulated rubbish trapped at various
trash racks became a defining symbol of a polluted Klang River. Firm negative feelings
were expressed as the river was choked with rubbish, and these signify rubbish as
matter out of place. Other terms used interchangeably to signify rubbish include
included ‗garbage‘, ‗solid waste‘, ‗debris‘, ‗trash‘ and ‗litter‘. My daily observations
along the river enabled me to suggest some interesting points about the visibility of
various type of rubbish. Looking at it from the polluters‘ vantage point, flowing river
water is able to move ‗matter out place‘ out of the immediate place to be out of sight in
minutes: rubbish travels from one place to another along the river; it constantly moves
from a polluter‘s immediate sight suggesting that flowing water performs an effective
task in terms of time and cost. I also observed that during heavy rain a generous amount
of water could move the most stubborn or large amount of rubbish, even surmounting
the trash racks. References regarding how the fast flowing water during rainy days
helped to move the rubbish are described below. More interestingly, it would be almost
impossible to trace the exact polluters given the concentration of residential and
commercial areas along the river. This combination of attributes makes and facilitates
the idea of the river as an appropriate place for a dumping ground. On the other hand,
looking at the non-polluters‘ perspectives, the sighting of rubbish was possibly due to
the flowing water as well. The flowing water enables whatever matter is inside the river
to be constantly and simultaneously moving along with it: an object from upstream can
be seen not only by people in that section, but also by those further downstream as it
moves with the flow of water.
121
What constitutes rubbish?
Visual indications of what is considered as rubbish that has polluted the river equally
yield interesting findings. May offered useful insights:
What goes through the river is rubbish, mainly plastic bags, bottles,
glass bottles, plastic bottles, tin cans … sometimes you see boxes.
People throw [away] wooden boxes. What is more natural is most
probably dead tree trunks − big branches...tree trunks...going through.
That is usually after a big rain. You will find the water is very fast and
deep and all flow down through the current. That is more natural − tree
trunks [and] branches. What is not natural are plastic bags, papers,
cardboards and all this. So that's number one. Number two is you see a
lot of factories. Factories and industrial [complexes] can be placed very
close to the river. And you notice, if you drive through PJ [Petaling
Jaya], where Sungai Klang flows through, you will find big huge pipes
[with a] diameter of probably two feet, one half feet like that coming out
from factories and just go straight into the river. [Laughing] So, waste-
water pouring through into the river! That's how horrible, you know. I
thought... I have seen oil, I don't know … chemical[s] of different
colours...something like very brown-blackish (Interview: Kuala Lumpur
26/04/07).
May identified two categories of pollutants: rubbish (or solid waste, using a term used
also by other informant) and liquid waste or waste-water. She further classified rubbish
into two types: natural and non-natural. She listed the non-natural category as including
plastic bags, paper, cardboards which were of human-made origin. On the other hand,
trees trunks and branches were classified as natural, of organic nature.
Applying May‘s categories of rubbish to other informants‘ responses, most of
them frequently listed non-natural rubbish such as ‗plastic bags‘, ‗plastic bottles‘,
‗Styrofoam‘ and ‗polystyrene‘ [food containers]; less frequently listed rubbish included
‗tins‘, ‗cans‘, ‗baby diapers‘, and ‗mattresses‘. These were basically domestic rubbish.
One woman shared with me a rather brief but ironic remark, ‗In the past people caught
fish in the river to earn a living. Now, they get bottles‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
28/3/07). Another resident at Flat Columbia observed that there were local people
collecting old tins and bottles along the river: ‗There was lots of rubbish. There were
lots of bottles. There were kids who picked and sold them out‘. Within this context, I
bumped into an Indonesian woman who had collected mineral water bottles and other
bottles from the Klang River near Flat Columbia, as well as various rubbish bins in the
neighbourhood. She was happier during rainy days because she would not need to range
far away in the neighbourhood, as many plastic bottles could be found along the Klang
River near her home. Indeed, throughout my fieldwork, plastic drinking bottles topped
122
my list of matter trapped at trash racks installed at the KDK section. I agree with the
founder of ‗garbage archaeology‘, William Rathje (1992), who has shown that rubbish
reflects the consumption patterns of a society. It was rather ironic that the empty
floating bottles, which coincidentally symbolise human waste as well as a struggle for
clean drinking water, eventually end up polluting the river – one of the main sources of
such manufactured bottled water84
. In contrast, only two informants identified natural
rubbish polluting the Klang River. Tahir whom I mentioned earlier was cleaning the
drain at the back of his house at KDK when he pointed out:
There were lots of leaves from the street trees planted by the local
council. The leaves choked the drain and [moved] into the river
[eventually] especially during [the] rainy season (Fieldnotes: Kuala
Lumpur, 15/04/07).
Another informant ‗Herman‘, was a sanitary worker along the Klang River at KDK who
was exposed to rubbish on a daily basis. He was able to provide an accurate picture of
matter trapped at the trash racks. He recalled the matter out of place he found:
There were lots of plastic bottles. There was also rubbish like Styrofoam
[food containers], bamboo trees, big tree branches. I was surprised at
how come there was lots of rubbish like tree branches during rain. There
was a lot of rubbish during rain − a lot of bottles, a lot of grasses, a lot
of trees, a lot of branches. At times there were even refrigerators. The
river was full of bottles (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 09/04/07).
Here, he identified two types of rubbish, natural (bamboo, trees, branches) and non-
natural (styrofoam, refrigerator, bottles) both intermingled with the river water. Based
on my daily observation, indeed there was organic rubbish such as coconuts, tree
branches and leaves along with human-made matter trapped at the trash racks. Tree
branches especially were most visible after the rain as the water volumes were higher
and the currents were strong enough to move them downstream. But organic rubbish
was at minimum compared to escalating human-made rubbish such as bottles, plastic
and styrofoam food and cups containers, as evident in numerous pictures of trash racks I
compiled throughout my fieldwork (see Plate 15 and 16).
84
There are two types of bottle water in Malaysia, namely, ‗packaged drinking water‘ and ‗natural
mineral water‘. The source of packaged drinking water is the public water supply (mainly derived from
river systems). Natural mineral water would come from natural sources such as ground or spring water
that have been approved by the Ministry of Health. Both water sources will undergo required water
treatment processes. The identification of these two sources is possible as the Ministry requires that the
bottle cap for packaged drinking water must be white and non-white (normally blue) for natural mineral
water.
123
Plate 15 Rubbish trapped at KDK trash racks. There were mostly human-made rubbish
included water bottles, Stroyfoam, and plastic bags. Natural rubbish, like coconut leaves at the
right, was less visible.
As such the locals were less concerned about organic rubbish, and it did not figure
much in rubbish-river stories. Another probable explanation for the absence of trees or
leaves in the narratives of pollution is that they could be regarded as part of the natural
river system, hence not considered as rubbish, a point to which I return in Chapter Nine.
Placing ‘matter out of place’ out of place
It is apparent that many regard rubbish as matter that contravenes the order of the river
as a ‗natural‘ place. Human-made pollutants, for example bottles, plastic bags, food
containers, need to be removed promptly from the river. The working of cleaning
services provided by the DBKL appeared as one of the themes raised by the informants.
Mary asked me whether I knew, ‗How much solid waste is collected from the river
daily?‘ For her, an indication of an efficient ‗solid waste management‘ was determined
by ‗the absence of floating debris in the water‘. One of the mechanisms to displace
floating rubbish from the Klang was by installing trash racks across the river, as well as
other kinds of rubbish trap at its tributaries and stormwater drains.
My daily routines during my fieldwork at the Klang River included observing
the cleaning of the trash racks at KDK. As mentioned earlier, there were two trash rack
units located at this section, installed about one kilometre apart from each other. Apart
124
from Herman, I became a familiar face to another two Indonesian sanitary workers,
‗Sari‘ and ‗Wari‘. They were all workers attached to a cleaning and maintenance
company appointed by the DBKL to maintain the section at KDK. Herman and Sari
were husband and wife; they had been working for more than ten years as sanitary
workers. Sari and Wari were mainly responsible for sweeping and picking up all
rubbish that was scattered on the concrete riverbanks along KDK. Herman‘s main task
was to clean the rubbish trapped at the trash racks. Basically, he needed to balance
himself on the trash racks while holding a long stick used to push all the trapped rubbish
to either side of the concrete riverbanks (see Plate 16). When he finished his task of
pushing the rubbish to either side, he would collect water bottles, put them in gunny
sacks, which he kept for a few weeks until he had gathered several kilograms of bottles
(see Plate 17). He earned additional income by selling such ‗out of place matter‘ to a
recycling collector. The accumulated rubbish was then scooped up by a tractor into a
lorry (see Plate 18). This rubbish was then transported to a sanitary landfill about 15
kilometres away from KDK. Their daily routines started at 9 am and finished at 3pm.
Sari kept telling me that she needed to do her job diligently, as their manager closely
monitored their work, ‗People would complain to our boss if they saw rubbish on the
banks‘.
Indeed, local people were aware of the functions of trash racks to capture
rubbish and voiced concern about the efficiency of ‗solid waste management‘. Some
residents pointed out to me the importance of removing rubbish and maintenance of
trash racks by DBKL regularly. We were standing in the backyard of Tahir‘s house
when he asked me to direct my gaze to the trash rack a few metres distance from his
house:
The river was clean in the past. Now there are loads of rubbish. [...] Can
you see that? [pointing to the trash racks]. There is lots of rubbish.
When it was raining like yesterday, you can see lots of rubbish [trapped]
at the [trash racks]. Sometimes they didn‘t pick up the rubbish. [...] At
times they picked it up late, as there were no lorries to pick it up. When
they didn‘t pick it up, the rubbish accumulated (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 11/02/07).
125
Plate 16 Herman balancing himself to scoop rubbish in the flowing water. Later, he would
push all the rubbish to either side of the banks. Various types of water bottles and white
Styrofoam food containers trapped along the trash racks.
Plate 17 Herman moved a gunny sack of bottles to the riverbank. He usually collected
bottles after he had completed his task to clear the rubbish along the trash racks.
Plate 18 Herman and co-workers scooped and pushed the rubbish to the side of the bank
while their supervisor monitored their work. The backhoe scooped the accumulated rubbish
into the waiting truck.
126
While the trash rack was not exactly at the back of his house, it was still visible. He
repeated his complaints about the schedule of cleaning of the trash racks twice,
intensifying his disgust by declaring that the rubbish was ‗not in my backyard‘
(NIMBY) any more.
An environmental activist, Jaya, provided a long response to my question on
pollution in the Klang River declaring, ‗Visible things [rubbish] move on certain parts
of the river. The rubbish is floating in the river‘. As such, he noted, ‗There are trash
booms [installed] across the Klang River where they trap a hundred tonnes of solid
materials dead bodies, pesticide containers, mineral bottles, plastic bags and anything…
you name it‘. Jaya continued, ‗Once in a while we have [cleanliness] campaigns and
after that everybody forgets. So the litter is still being thrown [away]‘ (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 03/03/07). He went on to complain about the failure of the installed trash racks
that contributed to the unpleasant images of the Klang:
The trash trap is a levered one it pushes through. There is a metal trap
door or a hinge. The idea is it should push the water through and trap the
rubbish. But when there is big rubbish and there is a lot of water coming
in, then it pap..! All the rubbish will accumulate and powwww! It [the
rubbish passed through the trap and] goes back down into the river. That
defeats the whole purpose. So that‘s the reason why you need to clean it
[the trash trap] every day and to make sure they [are] clean. If not, it will
defeat the whole purpose – the rubbish will then go back into the river, and
it will be an eyesore (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 03/03/07).
Anecdotes and observations strongly suggested that human-made rubbish was
considered as matter out of place that disturbed visual connections with the Klang
River. They also indicate that locals assign responsibilities to a local authority such as
DBKL for improving the quality of the river. Additionally, people attributed blame to a
particular group or entity for polluting the river.
Attributing rubbish polluters
Water flows, as discussed above, can innocently perform an efficient job of transferring
pollutants from upstream to various places downstream. This attribute of water
eventually led to the situation in which the downstream residents attributed blame to
those living upstream for throwing rubbish indiscriminately into the river. In particular,
fingers were firmly pointed at squatters. ‗Ismail‘, whose house was located between the
Klang River and its tributary Bunus River in Kampung Baru, reflected:
127
It‘s not a clean river. It‘s definitely a polluted river. There were lots of
squatter‘s areas in Selangor state upstream [emphasis added].
Previously, they built their toilet on top of the river85
. They threw
rubbish into the river. That‘s why now we have a series of trash racks
along the river. So the rubbish was trapped there. The [local council]
workers will clean the trash racks. Within a few days they will collect
the rubbish, If they didn‘t do that, there would be a lot of rubbish
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 27/05/07).
Like Tahir and Jaya, Ismail was aware of the significance of trash racks. More
interestingly, he identified spatially the source of pollution was from squatters
who lived along the river in the state of Selangor. As stated earlier, the Klang
River is a transboundary river that flows through two states − Selangor and the
Federal Territory. Implicitly, he suggested that those who lived downstream
including himself were not polluters. Ismail lived in the section of the river
within the Federal State Territory managed by the DBKL. Similarly, Hasnah,
who lived in Flat Columbia, shared the following opinion:
The rubbish was from the upstream [my emphasis]. All rubbish was
floating from the upstream. Back in 1970s, there was no rubbish. There
were no squatters. The river was beautiful. Clean and beautiful. The
squatters were mushrooming since the 80s. One or two houses were still
OK. But they, many squatters, lots of people threw rubbish (Fieldnotes:
Kuala Lumpur, 18/02/07).
She observed the evolution of rubbish prior to and after the period of the coming of
squatters, whom she claimed to be the main polluters. Embedded in her responses was
the appreciation of aesthetic beauty of the river when it was without the rubbish, and
she identified squatters for destroying the beauty and polluting the Klang.
Hanif echoed Hasnah‘s concern that in the past, before the coming of squatters,
the condition of the river was ‗not too bad‘. Later, it became ‗worse‘. Hanif explained
that the local council installed trash racks in order to capture rubbish: ‗It can trap almost
every [type of] rubbish‘. He also noticed that recently there was a reduction of rubbish,
as the local council has cleared and moved the squatters along the river at Flat Columbia
to another places. I have seen remnants of the squatters‘ houses along this section
including a toilet bowl at the brink of the riverbanks. He asked me to include in my
writing that the immigrants were ‗one of the contributing factors‘ of pollution. He
claimed that ‗it has become their culture‘ to throw away rubbish and other pollutants:
85
In many South-East Asian societies (e.g. in Borneo and Sulawesi), it is considered preferable to
defecate in running water, as the flow of the water washes the feaces away.
128
There was no problem with the river in the past. Pollution started when
there were many squatters. People like us – ordinary local people like us
– didn‘t create much problem. Those who contribute to more rubbish
pollution and whatnot are squatters (Interview: Kuala Lumpur
29/03/07).
He continued to explain that ‗people like us‘ – the Malays – still have a
‗conscience‘, not to indiscriminately throw rubbish into the river. When asked
who the squatters were, he succinctly responded, ‗99 per cent of [the] squatters
were Indonesians‘. Taking all anecdotes together, embedded in all responses
was not only that these polluting Indonesian newcomers were blamed for
deteriorating quality of the river, they themselves were also considered as
matter out of their proper place.
Nevertheless, a few informants provided a balanced perspective in
regard to squatters as ‗people out of place‘ along the river. ‗Tan‘, who lived in
Petaling Jaya, a downstream suburb, observed:
You know it used to be a squatter area in section 19. They [the local
council] already cleared the area about 2 years back. So you don‘t see
them anymore. And you have the squatters at one time also contributing
to pollution by throwing into river. They have their own reasons. I don‘t
blame them; they have no rubbish collection, so the nearest place is the
river. That is more a management issue. We can‘t blame [them]
completely (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 04/06/07).
Tan refused to completely blame the squatters, as the local council and other authorities
failed to provide basic sanitation to the areas, prompting the squatters to treat the river
as a ‗dumping ground‘ or ‗convenience [place] for disposal‘. However, of recent
developments, he noticed that the squatters had been moved to other places. In a similar
vein, Jaya was intolerant of rubbish dumping practices into the river, ‗You shouldn‘t
treat the river as your … you know…convenient sampah-sarap [rubbish] clearing
mechanism.‘ He made a series of connections between a higher density of population
and the higher amount of rubbish that would be found in the river. He observed that
Kuala Lumpurians tended to blame squatters for polluting the Klang as DBKL did not
provide the rubbish cleaning services in their illegal settlement. So, ‗the squatters set the
rubbish on fire or threw into the river‘. But more recently he observed many squatter
areas have been provided with rubbish collection services. Unfortunately, the Klang
River was still clogged with rubbish. He thought that it might be the squatters still
throwing in their rubbish. But he was more convinced the situation signified the attitude
of members of the larger Malaysian population rather than solely the squatters:
129
When they‘re driving the car, they eat and buang [throw away]. Eat
durian, they throw away. Plastic bag… they drink [from] plastic thing,
[and] they throw away […] I think that‘s our attitude problem
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 03/03/07).
He cited the same rubbish dumping problems occurred in Sibu, Miri and Malacca86
. He
observed that few years ago hawkers near the Malacca River threw their rubbish
directly into the river, and they were not squatters.
Individuals, squatters and other Malaysians, were not the only parties
responsible for polluting the Klang River, however. Apart from the colour and fish
stories of the Klang River water, Rahim, who had many river tales flowing through him,
shared his unpleasant experiences of noticing rubbish disposal in the river. From KDK,
he once walked further upstream towards the KGD, behind the factories of the
HKFTAZ. He noticed, ‗the rubbish was discharged directly into the drain, and later the
rubbish [flowed] into the river. There‘s no monitoring‘. He complained about the local
council politics as the development was allowed near to the river reserve. According to
him such situations would encourage factories located near the river to ‗discharge their
waste‘ and ‗throw their rubbish‘ into the river. He then suggested that there should be a
‗fence built along the drain. The purpose of the fence is that ‗people can‘t come close
and throw rubbish directly into the drain‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09).
Up to this point, the impression was that squatters and other polluters would
dump rubbish directly into the river. In practice, they needed to move physically near
the river and consciously dump their waste. A few informants offered another
possibility on how the general public contributes to rubbish pollution outside the
vicinity of the river. This is related to what Aiman said in the beginning of the chapter:
‗I need to understand the ‗drainage issues‘. In Malaysia, as elsewhere, stormwater
drainage systems are installed in such a way as to be connected to the larger river
systems as an effective mechanism to channel rainwater. Nevertheless, the latent
function of these drainage systems became an equally effective means to move rubbish
and other pollutants into river systems. May reminded me that Malaysians should ask
themselves:
Am I throwing [rubbish] into the drain which leads to a river, a stream
or a canal and ending up in the sea? People throw rubbish on the road,
86
Sibu and Miri are towns in east Malaysia, and Malacca is located in the southern region of Peninsular
Malaysia.
130
it trickles down during the rain and flows into the drain, and that drain
leads to a river (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 26/04/07).
Evident in May‘s reflection is that the movement of rubbish from drains to a river
eventually reaches its estuary and into the sea. Additionally, rainwater plays an
important role as a mechanism to transfer the rubbish from drains into river systems.
Less visible pollutants
I conclude this section with narratives about non-rubbish pollutants. Discussion about
this type of pollution was less lengthy and rich compared to elicited data concerning
rubbish pollutants. Recalling May‘s earlier classification of indicators of pollution
rubbish and waste-water from factories, I suggest that, to an extent, there is a complex
spectrum of classification that can be applied to polluted matters and polluters. On the
one hand, individuals throw out rubbish. On the other hand, factories and industries
discharge chemical waste-water. This conceptualisation is embedded partly in the
earlier section where I discussed the clarity of water as an index of the health of the
river. Mary, for example, listed sources of pollution as from ‗chemicals from industry‘,
‗our solid waste‘, and ‗soil erosion‘. Hanif added a few more pollutants besides visible,
obvious rubbish, i.e. matter out of place that may not be immediately recognised as a
cause of a pollution problem:
The first one is the soil itself. If the soil is really clean, the river is
clean. The red soil - that‘s pollution. That was the reason the water
turned muddy, is not clear. That‘s the first; the second was from local
drainage … what you do you call it, sullage water from drainage … or
what you call waste-water … drainage water. Third was human faeces.
The fourth was the factory and workshop because the factory discharged
a lot of chemical waste (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 29/03/07).
Recalling ‗black‘ river stories shared by Hanif and Hasnah, they attributed the discharge
of dark effluent they observed to some of the industries along HKFTZ areas. However,
such an observation was restricted to those who lived close to the industrial areas. The
visibility of the dark effluent was also temporary, as they could observe it for a few
hours. Again, I argue that the attributes of water determine the visibility of certain
pollutants. One of the properties of water is that it is a good solvent. In the case of black
river stories, the dark effluent was dissolved or diluted during heavy rain, rendering
only temporary visual experiences. Hence, there was disproportionate concern about the
131
chemical waste-water except to those who lived closer to the source of pollutants. As
mentioned by a government official, ‗those chemicals cannot be seen‘.
Rahim gave rivers human emotions when he described that rivers were ‗deeply
frustrated with human beings‘ attitudes‘. He explained further, ‗The river water changed
when development took place – infrastructure and industrial sectors‘. This was evident
as he walked along the river reserve located at the back of the HKFTZ area. He claimed,
‗For several decades Stirling factory dumped their toxic waste‘. Similarly, ‗Texas
factory and other [factories] in the industrial zone channelled their toxic and solid waste
into the river‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09). Rahim also echoed the point
mentioned by Jaya in the previous section: ‗the development of residential zones in the
water catchment areas‘ can contribute to pollution. In addition, he complained about the
covering of the drains and the discharge of waste-water into the drainage systems that
connected into the river systems eventually. As such, he urged the local communities to
be ‗the eyes and ears for the river‘ by reporting instances of pollution discharge.
Other less frequently mentioned types of non-solid or less visible waste included
‗heavy oil lubricants‘ from cars and workshops, ‗heavy grease from restaurants and
hotels‘, ‗detergent‘, ‗ ‗grease and oil from kitchens‘, ‗cooking oil‘ , and ‗food waste‘.
The seemingly hidden nature of human faecal matter is another interesting fact. A very
few informants mentioned that human faeces contributed to poor water quality, even
though most non-squatters‘ residential areas are interconnected to the public sewage
treatment plant system that eventually discharged into the river (after treatment). Even
for those who mentioned human waste, including Hanif as noted above, the comments
were limited to those squatters who directly discharged their faeces into the Klang
River. Similarly, Ismail complained that squatters occupied the areas along the
riverbanks in Selangor where they built their house and toilets, eventually discharging
human waste directly into the river. In relation, there was no mentioning of animal
faeces as neither farms nor animals were within the vicinity of the riverbanks. In the last
section below, I discuss another sort of ‗matter‘ that exists within the spectrum I am
concerned to delineate.
It’s a big longkang (drain): The paradox of the ‘unnatural’ Klang River
So far I have focused on what I called ‗water matters‘ in the riverbed – the appearance
of water, decline or abundance of aquatic species and rubbish floating in the river. This
section deals with what lies outside the riverbeds – the surrounding riverscape. Local
132
people expressed a deep concern about the physical transformation and modifications of
the surrounding riverscape from ‗natural‘ to ‗unnatural‘ that affected their visual
experiences and overall sense of place. Almost all informants intensely shared their
views and stories about the modification of the Klang River as a longkang besar or big
drain. Despite being given an overview of my study about river pollution at the
beginning of interviews or conversations, a quarter of informants shared stories of the
concretisation and straightening of the Klang River first rather than other specific
pollution issues without explicitly connecting the two. ‗Aiman‘, a director of an urban
drainage institute, reminded me that although my study was about pollution, I needed to
know ‗the whole thing about rivers‘; I did not ‗have any choice‘ but to understand
‗drainage issues‘, and, I interpreted that to include modifications of rivers. As an
anthropologist, such an holistic approach made sense to me, and it became increasingly
obvious that local people‘s experiences and understandings of pollution were
intertwined with other concerns, such as flood occurrences and its consequences in
relation to embankment of the river. Moreover, as will be revealed here, the locals had
broader conceptualisations of river pollution that included ‗matter out of place‘ and
‗unnatural‘ elements, such as concrete walls and columns compared with the common
scientific definition, which was usually and intrinsically associated with water qualities.
As stated in Chapter Four, the embankment or concretisation part of the Klang
River begins at KDK where the river is completely roofed by an elevated highway and
LRT. The embankment continues at Masjid Jamek confluence, approximately ten
kilometres downstream from KDK. Here, the embankment of the river served as a flood
mitigation scheme (see Plate 19). Artificial concrete grey riverbanks were raised above
the immediately surrounding bank land to redirect flood water in the city. The river was
widened, deepened and straightened so as to resemble a canal. Instead of following its
meandering nature, the river was caged to follow a straight path. In addition, the LRT
track was constructed adjacent to the riverbank near the Masjid Jamek confluence area.
Visual experiences of the embankment walls and straightening of the river were very
prominent in the local people‘s conceptions that the Klang River had lost its integrity as
a natural river. Subsequently, their narratives of the river were saturated with terms such
as longkang (drain), longkang besar (big drain), or ‗monsoon drain‘ all of which reflect
a similar meaning in relation to the unnatural features of the river.
Persons who lived within and outside the vicinity of the Klang River equally
shared rich stories of feelings, ideas and understanding about the ‗engineered river‘. The
colossal structure of the ‗engineered river‘, especially at the Masjid Jamek confluence,
133
was visibly apparent due to its location in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, resulting in it
becoming a great concern for both groups who lived within and outside the vicinity of
the Klang River. Unlike the fish stories in the previous section, distraught narratives
emerged. A paradoxical ‗love-hate‘ relationship was evident with the unnatural Klang
River. The enormous concrete structure that was supposed to be a symbol of progress
and modernisation, a conquest of nature by culture, a saviour for the city and its people
from flooding or traffic woes, was turned into a visually appalling experience for many
people. Many informants considered the concretisation of the Klang visually
unappealing and robbed of its natural aesthetic beauty. Negative feelings and words
such as ‗ugly‘ and an ‗eyesore‘ were used to describe the ‗Klang River−Drain‘ (the term
I coined, inspired from an interview with Aiman), as revealed below.
Mixed emotions: Concrete banks for flood mitigation and highway construction
Twenty-five per cent of informants interviewed started their stories about the Klang
River in regards to its modifications. When asked to describe the Klang River in the
past, my expectation of the responses were along the line ‗the river was clean
previously‘; instead, the engineering structure of the river regularly came first,
signifying the importance of the issues. The most prominent spots were at the
confluence with the Gombak River and surrounding area of Masjid Jamek. Liza noted
the changes of the Klang River:
We can see changes in terms of development around Sungai Klang
itself. Originally near the Masjid Jamek area, there was no LRT Station
or any infrastructure as such. After the construction of LRT for public
transportation, we can see the construction of the wall of the riverbanks.
The strengthening of the river may be done by the LRT authority
because previously it was not there. I would suspect in one way or
another there is an impact on the river due the channelling of the river
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 17/10/06).
.
May immediately talked about the embankments near the Masjid Jamek confluence
after she briefly introduced herself (see Plate 19):
Now I live very close to the stretch of Sungai Gombak which flows into
the confluence. [ …] Nowadays you have the main two LRT stations
meet near Masjid Jamek. There are lots of buildings there – our high
court is there, Dataran Merdeka is there. That confluence ... what you
call it... [is] very visible. If you walk to the Central Market, you‘ll walk
by the river bank in that sense. But it's all concrete [sigh].
134
Plate 19 Masjid Jamek LRT Station build across and on top of the Klang River.
Whilst Liza and May commented on the transformation of the section of the Klang River
near Masjid Jamek due to construction of LRT stations and railway tracks, Muthu
attributed it to flood mitigation. He compared the old and contemporary Klang River:
[It was] pretty much like this. But they didn‘t put the concrete. It was
very prone to flooding. The name of the city … you know [derived
from the word] lumpur [muddy]. So the Klang-Gombak confluence,
where the two meet, was very prone to flooding and there has been
periodic flooding in modern times. The last major flooding was in 1971
up to the Selangor Club you know … the whole area was flooded.
Whole areas – Medan Pasar, Melaka Road, Tun Perak Road – were
flooded in 1971. After that they put an embankment for channel flow
and never succeeded in converting the river from being anything more
than just a trench, a big drain, you know, a big drain! And that has
largely been noted. I think the Klang River is one of the most researched
waterways in the country (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 12/02/07).
Evident in Muthu‘s account was a struggle with nature in taming the Klang River to
combat the flood problem, especially in the heart of Kuala Lumpur city – the Masjid
Jamek confluence (see Plate 20, 21, and 22). Revealing a mix of emotions, he
acknowledged the function of the embankment, but also had ambivalent feelings
towards it. Indeed, the newly appointed Director of the Department of Irrigation for
Selangor State explained to me, ‗In order to cater for the high volume of water during
heavy rain, we built the concrete lining, to discharge the water quickly further
downstream to the estuary‘. He also noted that the approach did not completely solve
the problem, but rather transferred the influx of water from the central district business
135
Plate 20 Masjid Jamek (left) and the ‘mild’ embankment walls (right) in 193887
.
Plate 21 Masjid Jamek and the ‘mild’ embankment walls in the 1950s88
.
Plate 22 The embankment of the Klang River at Masjid Jamek is more
prominent in the 2000’s, as the grassy banks have been concreted too.
87
Source: http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?t=438753&page=26 88
Source: http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?t=438753&page=26
136
areas to further downstream. Despite numerous and rigorous efforts to rectify the
situation, including the construction of SMART tunnel (see Appendix II), it was
claimed in the local media that these were not effective, as flash flooding regularly
submerged the streets of Kuala Lumpur in knee-deep water after torrential rain.
Muthu was not alone in wondering whether ‗we can strike the balance between
development and environment‘. Tan shared the same concern. Looking at the concreted
Klang River from his wife‘s tenth floor office at Jalan Ampang, he reminisced about the
old Klang River (see Plate 23). He had lived in Petaling Jaya for 25 years, a suburb
approximately 15 kilometres from Kuala Lumpur city centre. He remembered that when
he used to drive to Kuala Lumpur, the scenery were ‗very very green‘ along the
roadsides. However, currently, he noticed that the Klang and its tributaries that
crisscrossed or ran parallel along various roads ‗were no longer streams but longkang‘.
He continued, ‗Before that you saw along the roads, the water was still very clean and
clear, you know, but now they‘ve concretized and turned it into a big longkang. It‘s not
natural anymore‘.
Plate 23 An aerial view from Tan’s high rise office building of the Klang River.
He then told a story about ‗a very little river‘ – the Penchala River − at the back of his
house. He bought the house because he believed, ‗Staying beside the river, the river is
actually giving you some extra value‘. He even named his house ‗Tebing Penchala‘ or
Penchala Riverbank. The Penchala River is a tributary of the Klang River and ten
kilometres in length, flowing in the lower reaches of the catchment. Nonetheless, Tan
137
told me that eight years ago, the riverbanks at the back of his house suffered erosion that
led to flooding occurrences. He recalled:
What happened after that, there was a big engineering work done on the
river. They put in the U-shaped concrete slab and the height was about
15 feet. And you can see that the river water level was only one foot
during non-rainy days. [It‘s] very shallow. But if it is raining, maybe
[the water level would be] a bit more, about five feet. So you still have
ten feet. Looking at that you realize that it is actually meant to control
flood, to mitigate flood (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 04/06/07).
Abruptly, however, he revealed other emotions, ending with a cynical laugh:
There‘s no aesthetic value. It‘s looks so ugly! […]. The older days
before they concretised the river, it‘s more beautiful … very beautiful
rather than now − ugly. It‘s more like engineering a kind of river now
rather than your natural river − I suppose [because of] the shape and the
look. I don‘t blame people that they think it‘s a big longkang. It‘s look
like a longkang. A big longkang [laughing] (Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
04/06/07).
Tan acknowledged the benefits of the concrete riverbanks to reduce flood damages.
However, he had negative feelings for what he valued about the river as a water place –
the greenery on the riverbanks and the meandering course. The changes of the
riverscape were drastic and glaring rather than subtle. Nonetheless, he was hopeful
things would improve gradually in the future. He told me that he and other concerned
citizens rigorously planted various trees where possible along the remaining patches of
land along the Penchala River, as well as conducting cleaning activities as efforts to
bring back nature to the river.
Mary, an Indian woman aged 62, is an environmental activist who grew up in
Kuala Lumpur. She started our conversation by noting that the history of Kuala Lumpur
was intimately intertwined with the river. When asked to reflect upon the conditions of
the river in the past, she felt that ‗the best part of the Klang River‘ in Kuala Lumpur had
been along Lornie89
Road, which was known for its collection of old trees that adorned
89
Lornie Road, currently known as Jalan Syed Putra (Syed Putra Road), is a major federal highway in
Kuala Lumpur. It was named after Mr. James Lornie, the British Resident of Selangor (1927-31) during
the British administration in Malaya. The name Jalan Syed Putra was taken from Almarhum (literally
meaning ‗the late‘) Tuanku Syed Putra ibni Almarhum Syed Hassan Jamalullail. He was the third Yang
di-Pertuan Agong (Supreme Ruler) of Malaysia.
138
the roadside. Nevertheless, the ‗problem‘ of the present Klang River that ran along
Lornie Road was ‗it doesn‘t look like a river. They [the authority] channelized the river
for flood and they put concrete to make it into a drain. You look at this longkang!‘ She
expressed herself as being ‗angry‘ and ‗very disappointed‘ over the changes that
transformed the river into a ‗canal‘. For her, ‗it is not a river anymore‘. She also
complained, ‗there‘s a flyover‘ on top of the river. She then called for the
‗beautification‘ of the concrete Klang River, transforming it back to its naturalness by
landscaping the riverbank with trees:
The theory is that when you beautify the river and make it pleasant with
planting and everything, people would value the river more, rather than
treating it as a dumping ground (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 05/03/07).
She noticed that there were efforts being made by the municipal councils to landscape
and beautify certain sections, but to her ‗it‘s too late‘. Interestingly, Mary made plain
how pollution issues were linked to the concretisation of the Klang River. The
transformation of the river as longkang seemingly provided a justification for people to
continue polluting the poor river.
Those who lived in KDK talked about the physical transformation of the Klang
River in relation to the construction of transportation routes (see Plate 24). A retired old
man whom I met at KDK the backyard of his house overlooking the concrete grey walls
said:
A long time ago there were lots of trees along the river. Now they have
an elevated highway. Now it has the LRT trail and tunnel (Interview:
Kuala Lumpur, 11/02/07).
Paralleling the comments that opened this Chapter, the old man chose to speak about the
embankment in his first comment when I asked him generally about the river.
Rahim, another inhabitant of KDK, provided thorough observations on the
physical transformations of the Klang River that were complex and rich in images. As
noted in the previous section, he mentioned how ‗back then, there was no concrete‘
when I met him fishing at the concrete riverbank. I explored in greater depth in
conversations with him his feelings in general towards any changes that had occurred
along the Klang River. He expressed his frustrations movingly, commenting specifically
on the concrete structure of the river to accommodate the construction of the highway
and railway at KDK:
In the early 1990s, the river was still OK. Now, the river is not natural
anymore. The natural features of the river are no longer there. It loses its
139
original shape. There are no green trees. The naturalness is lost. I can‘t
feel the wind blow. The river is compressed in between the concrete.
What has remained is the sound of the concrete pillars. The natural
structure of the river disappeared (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09).
Plate 24 The construction of Ampang elevated highway and LRT tracks transforming the
Klang River in KDK into a longkang besar.
Listening to the first part of Rahim‘s mourning over the loss of naturalness of the Klang
River, I felt that I was attending a declamation of a Malay poem. His chosen words were
beautifully crafted (and not normally used in everyday conversation), naturally flowing
and uttered in a deep emotive voice. The remainder of his reflection is as follows:
Development is necessary for future generations, but not to the extent of
destroying the natural beauty of the river itself. It is an eyesore [my
emphasis]. The infrastructure destroys the riverbanks – the concrete was
built as if the river has no value. The wildlife has gone. There used to be
wak-wak90
birds playing at the edge of the river water. Even if they want
to build the infrastructure, is it too much to ask … to put aside funds for a
walking track and to plant trees so that people can relax, or fish? [But]
there is none. The loss of the river‘s natural features is so obvious. The
transformations are so drastic along the river (Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
20/08/09).
He explicitly listed well-defined criteria that constitute a river as a loved and nurtured
water-place. In addition to visual experiences, he described the loss of auditory
experiences around a natural river that were replaced with the sound of concrete pillars.
I could relate to what he said, as I was also familiar with the sound of the concrete
90
Wak-wak (common name – white-breasted waterhen; scientific name – Amaurornis phoenicurus) is a
waterbird and commonly found in South-East Asia. Obviously, the Malays named this bird
onomatopoetically, following its distinct croaking kru-ak,kru-ak, kru-ak-a-wak-wak.
140
pillars as the LRT trains passed over my head. He was no longer feeling the wind
blowing on his bare skin. Apart from the concern over the loss of riverine flora, he
noted the extinction of waterbirds such as wak-wak due to the decline of its habitat.
Taken together these were constitutive aesthetic elements that rendered the river as a
natural place, and also representative criteria of the health of the river.
In addition to the Klang River, Rahim also opined on the embankment
of the lower reaches of the Gombak River. The local council put rocks in the middle of
the river as an effort to bring back the naturalness on a section of the Gombak River
near Putra World Trade Centre (PWTC)91
, which had been channelised and straightened
(see Plate 25). He commented:
They put in the rocks for landscaping purposes. But what is the use of it if
the water is polluted? What is there to beautify the river? We can‘t drink
and can‘t bathe in the water. What‘s the use of it [beautification of the
river]? (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09).
Plate 25 Natural rocks were put at the embankments of the Gombak River near PWTC.
Embedded in Rahim‘s response is his balanced perspective of maintaining the aesthetic
beauty of the river place, as well as the importance of having clean water quality.
Interestingly also, he objected to a mere simulacrum effort (one that prompted thoughts
about the perspective of Baudrillard (1994) of the anthropogenic Klang River by putting
in the rocks.
91
This is one of the main convention and trade centres in Kuala Lumpur. It is owned by United Malays
National Organisation (UMNO), Malaysia‘s ruling political party.
141
Linking pollution and embankment
One of the most interesting informants was Naim, who had the opportunity to observe
both the Klang and Torrens Rivers. He was an undergraduate Geography student in the
late 1980s at the University of Adelaide (which, coincidentally, is a short distance from
the Torrens). He frequently walked along Torrens Linear Park and had knowledge about
the history of the river. In addition, he grew up near the banks of the Gombak River and
had fond memories of fishing along the river with his father, as the river was ‗very
clean‘ and ‗a very beautiful place‘ in the past. However, upon the completion of the
Karak Highway he no longer enjoyed fishing, as the place was too noisy for the fish. He
had shared with me a collection of stories of the Klang and Gombak Rivers.
Naim conceptualised embankment of the Klang River as a type of pollution
when I prompted him about how he conceptualised river pollution:
River pollution to me is anything that changes the natural outlook of the
river itself, the area around the river, the tributaries or even the mouth of
the river. Any changes to the natural way [including] the flow of the
river, and the natural surroundings of the area near the river, is
considered pollution. Whether it be from agriculture, it be from human
activities like building houses or what not − that changes the river, it
changes the natural course of the river. That‘s considered as pollution,
maybe it‘s an extreme [definition] but [laughing] to me anything that
changes the river is considered pollution, especially the unnatural thing
you know (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/05/07).
I probed him further for clarification of ‗the natural surroundings of the area near the
river‘. He went on to say:
Well, I considered any human changes to the river as 'pollution'.
Embankment of the Klang River is a form of changing the river and the
natural surroundings of the river. (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/05/07).
Naim‘s definition encapsulates the concerns of other informants with respect to the
embankment of the Klang River. The concrete walls are indeed ‗matter out of place‘
according to the definition proposed by Douglas (1970) as discussed in Chapter Two.
His strict conceptualisation above was understandably reasonable, taking into account
his warmly appreciative stories and memories about the Klang River and its tributaries.
Naim told me that back in the 1940s his grandfather and father used to paddle from the
Gombak River to Masjid Jamek for their weekly Friday congregation prayer. His father
always shared the stories of how they paddled their sampans from their house in Batu 5,
Gombak along the Gombak River to the confluence. When they reached the confluence,
they would tie their sampans near the staircase that led to the mosque. He asked me
142
twice whether I have seen any staircase at the front yard of the mosque going down to
the water edge of the confluence. Of course, I have not seen any, since the section was
concreted after the big flood in 197192
, and the staircase was abolished. I have
frequently prayed in the mosque since I was thirteen years old whenever I have matters
to attend at the city centre. Today, I observed that many Muslims still attended the
mosque for Friday prayers. The difference is that, now, the mosque is easily accessible
via LRT. There are two stations serving areas to the immediate north and south that are
only five-minutes-walk away from the mosque.
Aiman, as mentioned earlier, had explicitly reminded me of the inter-connected
issues of pollution and embankment of rivers. He advocated and also conducted
research on a natural drainage system as a solution to river pollution problems. His
research mainly dealt with how to control pollution from the point source, particularly,
local drainage systems as the drains connected to the river systems. As he said to me, ‗If
you want the river clean, so you have to clean [the drain] before the water enters into the
river. Aiman listed features of a natural river, juxtaposing it with the engineered
concrete river:
Klang River…I think physically it is almost destroyed, the whole lot.
There is nothing much we can do because the boundary is already rigid
[…]. So, the best we can do for the time being is probably to bring back
the Klang River into a river, you know. Now, it is just a big drain
because the river is something else. A river has banks, a river has stones
inside, a river has a bed, you know. [But the Klang] the whole thing was
concreted. It‘s a drainage, a big drainage. If we didn‘t change that, it‘s
proper that we change the Klang River [name] to Klang Drain. It‘s a
monsoon drain. It‘s a big monsoon drain. It‘s a drain, it‘s not a river.
Rivers don‘t have concrete banks. Rivers have to meander and rivers
don‘t have a straight cut. A river is beautiful … it‘s like a woman you
know, it‘s got shape. A drain is ugly. […] Basically you need to
highlight this main point because the river water was coming from
beautiful shapes (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 23/03/07).
Aiman‘s intriguing metaphor highlights the loss of aesthetic beauty of the old Klang
River, which resonates through many informants‘ narratives. This is apparent as he
regarded the meandering shape of a river like a ‗woman‘s body‘, reflecting the tendency
of the gendering of (natural) place (see, for example, Massey 1994). The dichotomies
persist that the transformed concrete sections were viewed by just about everyone with
whom I worked as ugly and visually unpleasing. In contrast, the natural river was
beautiful. He then expressed his worries that the future generation, particularly those
92
I was only one year old in 1971.
143
who lived in cities, would not recognize what a river looks like because to him, ‗There
are no rivers in towns. They are all drains‘. He was afraid that eventually when asked to
draw a river, children might draw a drain. He insisted a few times that the place-naming
of the Klang River in signage should be changed to Klang Drain to reflect its attributes
accordingly. For him the signage of the ‗Klang River‘ could mislead the younger
generation, as they would grow up with images of river as a straightened and concrete
structure. I personally have seen the signage of ‗Sungai Klang‘ was placed at the
confluence of Masjid Jamek and few other spots along the river embankments.
An NGO officer, ‗Kumar‘, who worked on environmental education and
community river rehabilitation projects, brought a humanistic approach to
understanding the link between pollution and embankment. His comments argue that
people have a greater tendency to pollute when the Klang River appeared to them as
concrete drains:
This act [the embankment of the Klang River], I think, will lead to the
worst scenario we can have because people tend to see the river as a
monsoon drain. So when they see the river as a monsoon drain it looks
like it permits them to pollute … throw the waste without knowing. Like
Penchala – all along it is a river. But all this while they thought it‘s a
drain. So this [the embankment] not only impacted on the ecology and
hydrology of the river, but also what you call the perceptions of the
people. The perception is very dangerous. And from our knowledge,
once you channelized, it‘s not easy to treat the water. In fact, there‘s no
element of ecological … there‘s no vegetation that can act as a natural
filter, okay? Because when the river is flowing, when there is
vegetation, it was filtered by itself (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 21/6/07).
He cited the example of an environmental education program that he conducted with
local people near the Penchala River. In addition, here, he provided an example of how
the engineered river would also eventually alter the ecological processes of the natural
river that help to reduce pollution levels.
A stark contrast when looking at pollution and embankment was provided by
Ismail. He has lived in Kampung Baru93
throughout his life. The Klang River was
located at the southern edge of Kampung Baru (see Appendix II). Previously, he used to
take his children walking along the river in the evening. There was a jogging track along
the river before the construction of the Ampang elevated highway. In contrast to the
other sections in which the Klang River was still visible, here, the river was completely
93
Loosely translated as New Village. It was the first Malay neighbourhood in Kuala Lumpur. Originally
the villagers lived at the confluence of Masjid Jamek before the mosque was constructed. They were
relocated to Kampung Baru (the old spelling is ‗Baharu‘).
144
covered to make a way for the highway. Ismail evocatively complained about the new
structure of the river:
No one fishes in the river anymore. The river has been completely covered with
concrete. It has been culverted. You cannot see the river anymore. The river has
been concreted and culverted. They put in a road above the river. So we can‘t
see the river anymore. The river is below the structure. It can‘t be seen. I think
they have covered the river about 5 years ago. You can‘t see the physical feature
of the river. The meandering of the river is no longer there. It has been
straightened too (Interview: Kuala Lumpur 27/05/07).
Local residents at Kampung Baru no longer enjoyed positive physical interaction with
the riverscape, such as fishing, jogging and biking once the Klang River had visually
disappeared completely. Following his stories, I asked which form of river that he
preferred. Surprisingly he responded:
I prefer the old river … [it‘s] peaceful. I prefer it like this too [a
complete covering of the river]. We don‘t see the rubbish. If people
want to throw the rubbish into the river, they can‘t. Unless, they are
willing to go into the tunnel and climb down the stairs [to throw the
rubbish into the river, laughing] (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 27/05/07).
I laughed with him over the ironic situation. A paradox of pollution and concretisation
of the river was once again revealed, as Ismail was able to see the benefit of covering the
river. I had seen the culverted94
structure described by Ismail. Indeed the river was
completely covered. Hence, I did not see floating rubbish, as I frequently observed in
KDK and other sections. I also noticed an entrance that looked like a tunnel, as
described above. Most likely it was used for maintenance purposes for local council and
highway maintenance workers.
Non-villagers would have no idea that there was a river buried inside the high-rise
embankment walls (see Plate 26). But I would have known. I had lived in a high rise flat
adjacent to the Klang River at Kampung Baru for almost a year way back in 1994.
Unfortunately, back then I was not aware that the river next to my flat was the Klang
River. I vaguely remembered as I observed from a distance that local people used to
cross the bridge that links Kampung Baru with Ampang Road. I remembered some
people walked and others rode their motorbikes along the riverbanks. I also can recall
there were lots of shady trees along the river. I felt a deep regret as I listened to Ismail‘s
94
Culvert was the actual word used by Ismail. This word was frequently used by Department of Drainage
and Irrigation officers. It was a device used to channel water and to allow the water to pass underneath
transportation routes such as a road, trail, and railway.
145
Plate 26 The invisible Klang River at Kampung Baru. The river is under the road and
embankment walls of the highway.
story because there were few times I was curious and felt the surge to cross and see the
river, but I procrastinated. When I returned for my fieldwork I could make sense of the
fact that the river at Kampung Baru was the Klang and excitedly rushed to the section.
To my dismay I saw no trace of the river, making Ismail‘s story of loss very real for me.
Chapter summary
In this Chapter I have presented a series of narratives that reveal people‘s relationship
with Malaysia‘s Klang River, especially in relation to the problem of pollution.
Generally, I have shown that local people view the Klang as polluted, an emphasis that
is shown via how people identify and respond to pollution, its causes as well as its
implications. Contrary to my initial assumption that people would indicate the river is
polluted partly based on their readings or listening to local mass media reports or
networking, they relied heavily on their personal experiences and interactions with the
river. People‘s knowledge about and responses to pollution are commonly embedded in
everyday experiences, including those of a sensory kind, such as sight, sound, and
touch.
Past memories and nostalgia as well as present interactions with the river evoke
emotions and influence ways people articulate ideas about pollution. My ethnographic
data argue for the prominence of visual evidence in the evaluation of clean or polluted
146
water. Many people shared evocative visual experiences with me; matter both in and out
of place was often determined by what could be observed with their naked eyes.
This Chapter has also shown how the health of the Klang River can be discerned
by four key indicators: the appearance of water based on its colour and transparency, the
abundance or absence of aquatic species, the presence of rubbish, and the state of
riverbanks. I suggest that local people had a broad conceptualisation of pollution which
is not limited to what exists in the riverbed only.
I now turn to Chapter Six where I consider pollution narratives and practice in
the Torrens River as also being embedded in the experience of living in a water-based
place.
147
CHAPTER SIX
NARRATIVES OF POLLUTION IN THE TORRENS RIVER
[A polluted river is determined] just on visual look, smell,
and seeing rubbish thrown into the stream, but I‟m not a
scientist[…]. One that is not safe to drink or to swim in or to
fish from. One that is visually polluted − the water‟s turbid,
it‟s smelly …one where the native creatures are declining
because of elements in the environment that have been
introduced that they can‟t live with. I saw plastic bags full of
garden refuse, old refrigerators, [and] old mattresses, and
because it‟s got a steep bank, they [local people] just throw
it down, so I really don‟t like those people [laughing]. There
are still obviously polluted green algae, especially as the
summer came along […]. There‟s a lot of ash trees and they
look beautiful but they‟re probably the wrong tree to be
there, if you know what I mean. They were obviously
introduced.
[A clean river is one with] native fish, and it should be
running clear. The water should not smell. There should be
no gross pollution like foreign objects thrown in there, like
shopping trolleys and bottles, and that sort of thing. It would
be rich in birdlife and native grasses.
(Mike,local resident)95
In Chapter Five I referred to local narratives concerning the Klang River. Major foci of
those narratives related to everyday experiences that evoked sensory and emotional
connections, including memories that reflected a sense of river place. Collectively, such
experiences (regularly discussed as connections) are significant in shaping meaning and
understanding by which different individuals describe river pollution. In this chapter I
focus on South Australia‘s Torrens River to examine recorded narratives that highlight
the way in which respondents revealed the intersections they saw between people, place
and pollution.
I opened this chapter with two excerpts from Mike, who described as mirror
images his perceptions of a polluted and clean river. Underpinning the images are four
95
Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 12/02/08.
148
interrelated reasons. Firstly, both excerpts eloquently encapsulate many of the voices
and concerns of informants, as well as of those whose words I have omitted. Secondly,
Mike‘s statements reiterate a point I made in Chapter Five, in which I argued for the
primacy of sight in evaluating the qualitative cleanliness of rivers. The present chapter
continues to contend that people‘s construction of a polluted river is significantly
determined by their naked eyes, as indicated by Mike‘s words, for example, ‗visual‘,
‗visually polluted‘, ‗look, and ‗seeing‘. Thirdly, whilst the centrality of the visual is
evident, Mike also revealed the potential influence of odour in his river quality
assessment – a point rarely raised by other informants. Fourthly, the above excerpts
allow me to introduce the four main themes discussed in this chapter.
Before outlining the themes, I describe the socio-demographics of the Torrens
River informants. I begin with an exploration of the sense of sight in regards to water
characteristics as indicative of pollution. Mike‘s comments on how the ‗water‘s turbid‘
and on the presence of ‗polluted green algae‘ reflect this theme. Second, as with the
Klang River narratives, I examine the presence and absence of certain aquatic species as
constitutive of river pollution. The distinctive element is the sentiments local people
attach to ‗introduced‘ and ‗native‘ fish. Third, I examine the presence of ‗rubbish
pollution‘, a term used by Mike, as another determinant of the river quality. Finally, I
explore matter in or out of place surrounding the riverscape, such as terrestrial plants
and birdlife. I draw attention to the tension between native and introduced or ‗foreign‘
plants, such as ash trees, and how the introduced plants are considered as one of
pollutants in the Torrens River catchment.
Profiling the Torrens River informants
The Torrens River informants were all European Australians. One third were female.
Their ages ranged between 17 to 78 years. Out of 48 informants, 70 per cent were
between 40-60 years of age, with various levels of education from secondary school to
doctorate qualification.
Geographically, all informants lived in the catchment, except an academic who
frequently commuted from Sydney to Adelaide to conduct his Torrens River research
project. Among those who lived in the catchment, two had homes in the lower, four in
the upper, and the remaining informants resided in the middle region. In regards to
proximity to the Torrens, informants can be classified into two groups. The first group
comprised those who lived along or close to the banks, particularly in the wealthy
149
property along the Torrens Linear Park. Several of the first group even enjoyed a
riverfront view, whilst others were living a bit further away, but still within walking
distance. The second group lived in distant residential areas less than 20 kilometres
from either the west or east sides of the river. Many had lived in the same
neighbourhood for 20 years or more. In terms of place of origin, 75 per cent had been
born in South Australia, while another quarter migrated from other Australian states.
The occupational backgrounds of informants represented a wide range of key
industries, including agriculture, education, banking, the non-profit sector, maintenance
and services, and manufacturing. In particular, they worked as teachers and academics,
government officers, farmers, city council administrators and bio-diversity workers,
environmental activists and officers, a community artist, a mayor, a bank manager, and
the Torrens Task Force director. Several of the informants were retirees. As in the case
of the research upon the Klang, though I interviewed a spectrum of informants, the
study focused mostly on those who sustained a close relationship to the river. Some
people became volunteers with catchment or other environmental groups, such as Our
Patch and Landcare. They tended to offer both scientific explanation and understanding
about pollution alongside daily observations, as evident in the following discussions.
Colour and clarity, flow, and texture: Water characteristics as indicators of
pollution
Generally, local people expressed their dissatisfaction with the Torrens River‘s quality
by referring to its conditions as ranging from ‗not good enough‘, ‗slightly polluted‘, and
‗quite disappointing‘, to ‗bad‘, ‗too dirty‘, ‗never look[ing] clean‘, and ‗worst
pollution‘. Though they considered the Torrens noticeably polluted, there were some
who noted that the health of the river had improved over the years. Akin to the Klang
River pollution narratives, a range of visual evidence, which can be categorised into
water and non-water attributes, were used in the assessment of the polluted river. Terms
such as ‗slimy‘, ‗stagnant‘, ‗[lack of] clarity‘, ‗scum‘, ‗black‘, ‗green‘, ‗algal bloom‘
characterise the former, while ‗rubbish‘, ‗birds‘, ‗fish‘, and ‗plants‘ are examples of the
latter. In this section, I highlight water attributes as indicators evaluating whether the
river is clean or polluted. Whilst the main focus of this thesis in on pollution, accounts
of contrasting clean river are equally important. A good analogy here is a reference to
two sides of a coin: there are different images on the opposite sides, but both are closely
related.
150
Three inter-related visible characteristics of water were commonly cited to
identify whether or not the Torrens was polluted, with visual evidence encompassing:
(1) colour and clarity; (2) volume and flow; and (3) material qualities. Similarly to the
Klang River stories, colourless ‗clear‘ or ‗crystal clear‘ was highly valued by local
people. In contrast, coloured and/or non-transparent water, such as green, black and
muddy water, was considered as polluted. Apart from its colour attribute, the amount
and movement of water, whether it was flowing or stagnant (or dried up) was crucial in
determining its quality. Flowing water was highly associated with descriptions of a
clean river. Water appearances, such as slimy, frothy, and foamy, also indicated that its
quality was declining.
Interestingly, the above three characteristics of water are often embedded in the
stories of the ‗blue-green algal bloom‘ − a biological phenomenon commonly found in
lakes, ponds, stagnant rivers, and oceans. Almost everyone narrated the sighting of the
bloom as indicative of pollution in the Torrens. Based on local people‘s narratives and
literature, blue-green algae are actually invisible micro-organisms (bacteria) naturally
found in water bodies. However, their photosynthetic characteristics, which resemble
those of green plants, make them unique and render them as a hybrid of plant and
bacteria in local understandings. Various favourable conditions, which can include
warm temperatures, much sunlight, and rich nutrients, would accelerate the growth of
blue-green algae, exploding into visible ‗blooms‘, and, in turn, enabling them to
colonise the water bodies. Soon, the blooms could also contribute to the discoloration,
opacity, and sliminess of the water. In what follows, blue-green algae stories are
repeatedly shared, highlighting the blooms as matter out of order in regard to a river
place, as well as their impacts upon the local people. Other indicators that render the
water as polluted are also considered.
‘Crystal clear’ and ‘green algae’: Colour and clarity as indicators of pollution
The transparency or opacity of the Torrens serves as a good indicator to determine
whether it was a clean or polluted place. Several informants shared their hopes for
‗clear‘ and ‗crystal clear‘ water in the future and cited the same characteristic as
indicating a clean river. ‗Murky and ‗silty‘ water were considered as markers of a
polluted river. Whilst – the milky yellow of teh tarik was the symbolic colour of
pollution in the Klang, green serves a similar function in the Torrens. As mentioned
earlier, local people frequently talked about how the Torrens was polluted in relation to
the occurrences of blue-green algal bloom. Apart from blue-green, the algae could be
151
bright green, black, brown or red in colour, as found in various part of the world.
Nevertheless, ‗blue-green algae‘ is a common phrase adopted in the media, official
reports, and local everyday conversations. In the Torrens River, the visible algae were
green in colour. I noted that some of my informants might unconsciously notice the
discrepancies between the commonly used term and the actual colour of the algae found
in their river. They simply used instead the term ‗green algae‘, omitting the word ‗blue‘.
Some even placed an emphasis on the word ‗green‘ by way of pronouncing it, for
example, ‗greeen‘, or ‗green-green … algae‘. Pollution stories intensified in summer
time, as this was the period of blue-green algal bloom formation, subsequently leading
to the closure of the Torrens Lake for water recreational activities due to public health
issues.
My pocket journals were filled with notes, and my folders contained hundred of
images of the Torrens water. Throughout the months of fieldwork, in most sections of
the river, the water was usually olive green and cloudy. Unlike my experiences in the
upper section of the Klang River, I did not observe a colourless crystal clear state of the
Torrens throughout my fieldwork. However, I was able to see colourless see-through
water in its tributaries (Second Creek and Third Creek). During blue-green algal
periods, water in the Torrens Lake, the most popular section of the river, was still olive
green, but it was murkier and cloudier than usual. Occasionally, there were variations in
colour and clarity of the water, depending on flood and drought phenomena.
I met ‗Steve‘, in his late 20s, while he was fishing on a small wooden bridge
across the Torrens, located not far from the Torrens Weir96
. Initially, I inquired briefly
about his fishing experiences. When asked for his opinions about the water quality of
the river, he replied:
It‘s not good [laughing]. I think it would be really good if they [local
council and state government] could clean the river further up […].
There‘s [a] problem of algae or something (Fieldnotes: Adelaide,
25/10/07).
As evidenced, algae were the first form of polluted ‗matter‘ that came into his mind.
However he refused to further elaborate about the algae problem, as he had little
substantive knowledge of it. I asked then how else he would determine that the water
quality ‗was not good‘, and he listed three main sources of his unfavourable assessment.
His first response reiterated the importance of one‘s visual experiences, as he answered
96
As mentioned in Chapter Four, the Torrens Weir was constructed to create the Torrens Lake in the
heart of Adelaide city.
152
‗by looking at it – it‘s very dirty‘. Second, ‗you hear from everyone‘ that the Torrens
was not ‗a good river‘. None of the informants interviewed directly cited listening to
others as a source of knowledge except Steve. All narrated their own personal river
place experiences. Finally, he turned his head and gazed towards the end of the bridge,
and answered ‗the sign‘. Spontaneously I followed his eye movement and saw a
‗Polluted Water‘ sign prohibiting swimming near the bridge (see Plate 27). I found such
signs were installed along the river, particularly in the Adelaide city centre section.
Using his own words, I also asked him what he ‗looked at‘ to indicate that the river was
‗dirty‘. Looking at the cloudiness and olive green colour of the Torrens, he tersely
responded, ‗colour … clarity‘ and ‗a lot of rubbish‘. Though I had a limited time and
opportunity for a lengthy discussion (notably, he was busy taking the carp out of the
river), his responses echoed concerns put by others.
Plate 27 A sign erected downstream of the Torrens Weir prohibiting people from
swimming in the polluted olive green water.
An interview with 49-year-old ‗Matt‘, a bank manager, further explicates the
significance of colour and clarity in evaluating the quality and the cleanliness of rivers,
particularly the Torrens. He had lived in Underdale, a suburb approximately five
kilometres downstream from Adelaide city centre, for more than 20 years. He was one
of several informants who enjoyed the riverfront view of the Torrens Linear Park (TLP).
In fact, the TLP view was ‗one of the features that attracted‘ him to buy the house.
Indeed, he frequently utilised the park for walking, riding his bicycle, and running.
Reminiscing about the old days of a much cleaner Torrens when he was still in primary
school, he explained how ‗kids swam in the river, [they] jumped in and out of the river‘
153
particularly at the Torrens Lake section. According to him, in those days swimming
events were common, especially during the hot days. Looking at the murky olive green
colour of the present lake, it was hard for me to imagine it was a swimming place more
than 40 years ago.
For Matt, the current state of the Torrens water was ‗quite disappointing‘:
In my view the river is not much use. I describe it as not much more
than an open drain in the sense that I think most of the water that runs
through it isn‘t much more than storm water. So the river never looks
clean, the river water never looks clean and never looks tidy. It‘s always
green [emphasis added] (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
Matt‘s response confirmed my personal observation that the Torrens water was green at
least throughout the period of my fieldwork. His elaboration on what constitutes a clean
river adds weight to my arguments that translucency and colour of water are a large part
of everyday pollution experiences:
Look, I went on a holiday to New Zealand two years ago. In the City of
Christchurch, which is by coincidence the sister city to Adelaide, there‘s
a river runs through that, can‘t remember the name of it, think it‘s called
the Avon River, and the water was clear. It‘s not very deep, you can see
the bottom and we can actually see trout swimming in that river. So you
can see right to the bottom of this river; it‘s not very deep; to me that
was a clean river, to me. The River Torrens to me never looks clean;
when I go to Melbourne, the River Yarra never looks clean because it‘s
always brown. It always has been and it always will be. It‘s a brown
river, but they just don‘t look clean. I love to see reasonably clear water
and the other thing … I really … there‘s two things … I‘d [also] like to
see no debris; there‘s always rubbish either in our water or on the edges
of the banks where it‘s been washed (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
Interestingly, Matt‘s remarks resemble Lien‘s narratives, as shown in Chapter Five.
Both revered the transparency of New Zealand‘s river water up to the point that they
can see through to the riverbeds. Both regarded the rivers they saw there as cleaner, as
the water was clearer compared with their own local rivers. In contrast, for Matt, green
and brown coloured water was a sign of polluted rivers, including the Torrens and
Yarra. Additionally, as for Steve, for Matt the presence of rubbish marked a decline in
river quality – a point elaborated in the subsequent section. His voice tone was more
pronounced as he talked about swimming trout in a colourless transparent water
reflecting positive sense of river place. He also told me he himself has not seen a single
fish swimming in the Torrens, except when some anglers pulled fish out of the river.
154
Most likely, the cloudiness of olive green water restricted the sighting of the river‘s
aquatic life.
‗Clara‘ provided an interesting twist to Matt‘s comment on the brown water of
the Torrens River. She was a volunteer for the ‗Our Patch‘ group and expert botanist
(elaborated in Chapter Eight). When asked to describe what constituted a clean river,
she answered:
In Australia, a pristine river is not clearly transparent; because of the
tannin it would look like mild tea. They call it black water, brown water.
So pristine rivers in Australia … would be clear … you could see the
bottom […]. You would see brown [water] anyway. So brown does not
necessarily mean pollution here. (Interview: Adelaide, 18/02/08).
Clara provided another dimension: lean water was not essentially colourless. Reflecting
her degree in Botany and Zoology, she explained that tannin was actually natural
organic matter from decaying plant matter, turning the water into light brown, a mild
tea-like colour. Though tannin caused discoloration of water, it did not indicate
pollution.
During an interview with ‗Marion‘, whom I describe further below, she told me
that apart from strolling alone, she also walked with her walking group, which
comprised eight frequent members. I requested her help to invite her walking group
members to participate in my research. Three months later, during summer, she called
me and said that she had arranged for a focus group interview, instead. We went to a
café in Athelstone97
for the group interview over breakfast. The group comprised seven
members, three married couples and a lone male, who turned up for the interview98
. I
did not have much time, as the group would resume their normal routine of walking
along the TLP after having their breakfast. I began directly by asking them to share
pollution stories of the Torrens. There were about 15 anecdotes, half of them replete
with references to water attributes. Other issues included rubbish, fish, birdlife and
plants, as well as a comment that the completion of the TLP made them more alert to
pollution issues. Of those water attributes mentioned, half were in regard to colour
and/or clarity of water:
Other pollutants come from industry. For example about two years ago
we noticed that some outlet pipes were spewing out a revolting green
cloudy coloured liquid just east of the bridge, and it seemed to spread
everywhere in the river. I was so angry that I rang the EPA
97
It is a suburb approximately ten kilometres to the north-east of Adelaide city centre. 98
Since the group was quite large, Marion offered to take notes so I could concentrate on asking
questions and conducting the session.
155
[Environmental Protection Agency] and they located it to a car repair
place. They stopped it. They phoned us back and reported that the
business had been caught before and they went [brought the case] to
court.
Also, there‘s another place near Klemzig99
, we noticed the water was
black and oily.
Another problem… there‘s not enough rain at the moment. So the
Torrens is murky at the moment … there is an algae problem.
In the late 60's we could swim near the Torrens weir. The water was
clear.
Slightly polluted at the moment, cannot swimming in it. It is not very
attractive with the algae and being murky.
(Focus Group Interview: Adelaide, 09/02/08 [emphasis added])
Words appearing in italics reiterate the importance of colour and clarity as determinants
of people‘s conception of polluted river. Conversely, when asked to describe images of
a clean river, two of the members immediately responded − ‗crystal clear water‘,
followed by ‗no rubbish‘. Others nodded their head sympathetically.
It is also apparent that green algae emerged as an important issue, especially as
the interview coincided with the blooming of green algae in summer. Another informant
shared the concern raised by the walking group, as he described how an ‗unhealthy
river‘, like the Torrens, was ‗full of algae by the end of summer, with lots of sun getting
into the water, lots of green turbidity and colour in the water‘. Again, his remarks put an
emphasis on the colour and clarity qualities of polluted water (Interview: Adelaide,
27/02/08). The out-of-place green algae caused water to be turbid or cloudy, causing the
Torrens to appear ‗unappealing‘. Many were concerned about how the murky green
water could destroy the aesthetic beauty of the river.
Forty-nine-year-old Marion was a research student advisor at the University of
South Australia. She had bought a house more than 20 years ago in Athelstone. Both her
workplace and home were a short stroll away from the TLP. She walked everyday along
the TLP, ‗going back and forth most of the time‘, and religiously counting her steps
using a pedometer. I joined her walking along the TLP twice (see Plate 28). When asked
to describe the Torrens in the past, she recalled warm memories of teaching her son to
ride a bicycle on the ‗concrete path‘ along the TLP, signifying the river as a meaningful
99
It is an upstream suburb approximately six kilometres to the north-east of Adelaide city that is also a
starting point of the TLP.
156
place of significant events. She told me the Torrens, particularly at Athelstone, was
‗generally clean enough‘, at least for the survival of fish and tadpoles she saw there, and
added:
You can actually look into the water and see it‘s clear. And I‘ve done a
lot of walking, so I can see that. But I noticed this morning on my walk
it‘s a bit polluted. It‘s quite silty. The other day it was quite clear, but
today it‘s a little bit muddy. And I‘m like ‗wow‘ …because you can see
the changes (Interview: Adelaide, 25/10/07).
For her, the river evidenced good quality based on its apparent visual clarity. Marion
had a slightly favourable judgement about the quality of the Torrens compared to her
walking mates. This could be due to the seasonal variation, as her interview was
conducted during spring, in which the weather tended to be wetter.
Plate 28 Walking with Marion along the TLP (the river was obscured by the lining trees)
at Athelstone.
Mike100
, in his mid-fifties, whose poem I quoted in the thesis preface and observations
at the beginning of the present chapter, was a writer and local radio station producer.
Interestingly, he combined his passion for literature101
and his daily walk along the
middle stretch of the Torrens to embark on a special walking journey along the Torrens,
starting from its source to sea. His ultimate aim was to publish a collection of short
articles with snippets of poetry about his intimate experiences with the river in the
100
This is his actual name instead of pseudonym like other informants. He requested I use his real name,
as ‗there is no reason to hide it‘. 101
He was an undergraduate double major in Philosophy and Modern Poetry.
157
Adelaide Review, a fortnightly local newspaper in South Australia102
. Thus, this chapter
pays special attention to Mike‘s views. He could be the only person in South Australia
who has undertaken such a journey along the river.
Even though Mike had life-long connections with the Torrens through 45 years
of walking, especially along its banks near his workplace, he realised he knew little
about the ‗centrepiece of the city‘. He just saw ‗bits of the river‘ and wanted to see the
whole thing together. He wondered, for example, where the source was. He wanted to
draw local people‘s attention to the river, as it was ‗a very important part of the city of
Adelaide‘, culturally and historically, yet its condition was ‗so fragile‘ and ‗delicate‘.
Such strong feelings and awareness that he felt for his local ‗stream‘ motivated him to
walk along and concurrently write about it. He started walking along the Torrens at the
end of May 2007 and continued to mid-November 2007. He walked alone103
, taking his
little notebook, traversing multiple aspects of the Torrens riverscape, from paddocks,
winery farms, reservoirs, weirs in the upstream, passing through the TLP (see Appendix
IV) and Adelaide city, towards an artificial wetland and finally to the Breakout Creek
downstream. It took him approximately six months on foot, tracing the meandering
Torrens from its source at Mount Pleasant to its mouth at Henley Beach. He did a round
trip for each section of his walks so that he would end up walking along both banks,
leading to a heightening sense of river place, and more comprehensive observations of
its ecology and people, as evident in his writings. Each day he walked for four or five
hours. Eventually he wrote about fifteen articles interspersed with his haiku (short
poems)104
in the Adelaide Review, published over the span of a year105
. His passionate
102
The Adelaide Review has been published for the past twenty years, highlighting the political, cultural
and social affairs of Adelaide city. Mike informed me that he was in the process of combining those
articles into a book (Personal Communications, September 2009), and it was finally published in early
2012 (see Ladd, 2012). 103
During an interview session I had with him in his office, he politely rejected my request to walk along
with him in one of his journeys. 104
Mike drew his inspiration to walk and write simultaneously about the Torrens from his idol, Basho, a
Japanese ‗walking poet‘. According to Mike, Basho wrote a famous travelling journal − Oku no
Hosomichi or ‗The Narrow Road to the Deep North‘, recording the details of his journey and observations
of the Japanese landscape in the journal and interspersed it with short poems. My own search revealed
that Basho (1644-1694) was the pseudonym of Mastuo Munefusa. He is generally regarded as Japan‘s
greatest haiku poet. Haiku is a form of Japanese poem in three metrical phrases of 5, 7, and 5 syllables
respectively. Basho started his five-month walking journey in the late spring of 1689 from Tokyo to the
north-eastern part of Honshu Island, and concurrently wrote his masterpiece, ‗The Narrow Road to the
Deep North‘. 105
Later on Mike sent me an email attachment of a compilation of articles he submitted to the Adelaide
Review, which partly had already been published during my fieldwork in Adelaide. My analysis and
understanding of Mike‘s interview transcript, as well as the writing of the present chapter, were enhanced
by his compilation of articles.
158
writing depicts the Torrens and its people, the past and present, social-cultural and
ecological issues, the ‗natural‘ and built environment of the river.
His intimate walking experiences were beneficial to his understanding and
knowledge about pollution and other related river issues, as he explained them vividly
and in great depth. Contrasting to other informants, he used a wide spectrum of words to
describe the degree of pollution and other qualities of the Torrens along its course,
ranging from ‗fairly polluted‘, ‗clearly polluted‘, ‗bit ugly‘, ‗worse‘, ‗bad‘, ‗not so nice‘,
to ‗clean‘, ‗pretty‘, ‗very pristine‘, ‗really beautiful‘, ‗a lot prettier‘ and ‗healthy‘. In
fact, he frequently referred to the river as ‗a real mix of hopeful bits‘, signifying he was
fully aware of the contradictory qualities of the Torrens.
His varied observations and comments on water clarity and colour accord with
his views that the Torrens was ‗a mixture of promising signs and bits that were clearly
polluted‘. He kept a list of many beautiful spots along the Torrens. The first ‗pretty
spot‘ in his list was an area between Mount Pleasant and Birdwood – small towns in the
upper reaches of the River. The stream in this section was ‗very young‘, and ‗very
pristine‘. He found the water was clean and clear near the Birdwood area. When asked
about the colour, he recalled:
The water was transparent – you could see down into it, with a light
brown colouring from the natural tannin in the leaves (Interview:
Adelaide, 12/02/08).
His descriptions accord with Clara‘s that clean and pristine river could be slightly
coloured but yet be transparent. He also showed a basic understanding of botany, as he
mentioned the tannin compounds in plants.
On the other hand, he identified the inner western suburbs, particularly
Torrensville and Thebarton, as the ‗worst pollution‘ areas. Both suburbs were located in
the Port Adelaide region, the lowest reaches of the catchment. As mentioned in Chapter
Four, traditional major industrial zones were located in this area. As Mike put it,
Thebarton used to be ‗really bad‘ because there were a lot of ‗noxious trades‘
established in the area such as slaughter houses, tanneries, and fell mongeries, which
eventually produced wastewater and ‗bad smells‘. He told me the conditions were bad
in the past, but things have improved a lot lately. Nevertheless, he still found there were
factories established right by the edge of the river. The water in this section was not
clear, ‗not good‘, and its ‗quality looked bad‘ compared with the upper reaches. He
added:
159
[O]nce you hit summer especially, the algal bloom gets worse. It was also just
the smell of the water too. I‘m talking like past South Road. Once you get past
South Road106
going west, through that factory section. I think it‘s seasonal too,
especially in summer, the river definitely looks worse because the flow is
reduced [Interview: Adelaide 12/02/08].
Like many other Adelaidians, his worst fear was during summer with the occurrence of
visible algal bloom. When asked about the colour of the water, he described it as a
‗sickly cordial-green‘, in other words, ‗a bright green colour like lime cordial‘ which
was caused by algae. His anecdotes revealed the smell of bad water as another indicator
of pollution – a point rarely raised by other informants, as noted above. Interestingly,
though the Torrens was ‗polluted‘ and ‗pretty ugly‘ in some of its sections, and
regularly invaded by the blue-green algal bloom, he insisted that he was ‗still
fascinated‘ by the river, providing a clue to his heartfelt connection to the river. I now
turn to the flow of water as an indicator of polluted water, as identified by Mike and
indirectly by others with whom I worked.
Amount and flow of water
What makes a river is its water. People make sense of a space as a river when it contains
running water. In fact, flowing water is one the defining criterions that distinguishes a
river from a piece of land or a lake. Lakes are basically still bodies of water that
occasionally move as the wind blow, whereas, river water flows on its own in a long
journey downstream towards its estuary. What would happen when the water is not
flowing or stagnant? What would significantly reduced water or a dried river indicate?
What would it mean when the matter that matters most is not in its place? A river with
such conditions becomes a polluted river − this is a general feeling of the Torrens
residents.
The loss of water would be dreadful to the river ecologically, and it affects
people‘s conceptions about, and use of, it. ‗Stagnant‘, ‗sluggish‘, ‗no water movement‘,
‗not flowing‘, and ‗no water‘ are some common words used to describe the lack of
water in the Torrens, subsequently its deteriorating quality. Conversely, flowing water
indicates a good river quality. Ending our conversation, I asked Steve what would be his
hopes so that the Torrens could be cleaner in the future. Looking at the unhurried
Torrens water, he responded concisely, ‗Clearer water. Running all the time‘. Akin to
106
Thebarton is bounded by the South Road to the west.
160
Steve, Marion and her walking group members shared their feelings on the lack of
water, when I asked about pollution stories with regard to the Torrens:
Sometimes in summer when there is not enough flow, you can actually
see it looks quite stagnant in some areas. So that would be my hottest
summer. The other day after it rained there was a little bit of water
again. And then sometimes you would see flooding, rubbish would
come down in terms of trees like that (Marion, Interview: Adelaide,
25/10/07).
The current is always sluggish, and sometimes there was none at all
(Focus Group Interview: Adelaide 09/ 02/08).
Matt and a member of the focus group posited a direct relationship between the amount
of water and pollution:
Most of the time it hasn‘t got enough water in it … so generally people
think it‘s polluted. There‘s also signage up saying it‘s polluted … I can‘t
remember exactly what the signs say, but they certainly say you
shouldn‘t swim in the water (Matt, Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
And you know the fact that the river‘s flow is another indicator of
pollution, especially in summer. Yeah…the Torrens River is not
permanently running. Before the Kangaroo Creek dam was built, the
river in the gorge was constantly running into the Torrens, but now there
is no active water flow – the river is not flowing like many years ago
(Focus Group Interview: Adelaide, 09/02/08).
Combined together, the above excerpts suggest two important factors for the lack of
flow in the Torrens, namely, the seasonal variation especially during summer, and the
anthropogenic factor of the constructions of dams along its course. Both my preliminary
(November 2006) and extended fieldwork (August 2007 to February 2008) coincided
with the period when Adelaide was coming to grips with one of its worst droughts.
‗David‘, my key informant, told me that the year 2006 could be considered as ‗the worst
drought in 1,000 years‘ taking into account to the falling dam levels and prolonged
drought period. Another informant told me that Adelaide went without rain for almost
three months consecutively from August to October 2006. Personally, I have also
experienced the ‗severe drought‘ as I walked in the dried riverbeds along different
sections of the Torrens and its tributaries in spring and summer.
‗Jody‘, in her 50s, was born in Melbourne and moved to Henley Beach
approximately 20 years ago. The Torrens became ‗so accessible‘ for her to walk along
its course with the completion of the TLP. She frequently walked along various sections
161
of the river, making a trip along each side. She recounted the most vivid memories
along her walk:
We had a huge flood here in November 2005 and I went for a walk that
day. And it was amazing because you could only walk on the south side
because the water had covered the track [on the other side]. It was a
very impressive flood; it was just amazing to see so much water,
because often in the summer there‘s hardly any water (Interview:
Adelaide, 13/12/07).
What first came to Jody‘s mind was the river‘s flow. She then described different
indicators of pollution. According to her, the river was not that polluted in term of
rubbish, as she had seen even worse rivers in other states that were filled with litter.
Similarly, she quite favourably remarked that the water was not that ‗terrible‘, as she
has observed several turtles surviving and swimming in the river occasionally. She told
me her uppermost concern:
The thing for me is the water flow. I think it looks to me as if it doesn‘t
have … it needs to have some movement in it, to move things through
the system. There was the year of the flood in November 2005, but prior
to that most winters we would get enough rain so you could see the
water really flowing (Interview: Adelaide, 13/12/07).
As a contrast to other informants, Jody somehow put a ranking on different indicators of
pollution. Reflecting for the second time on the flood in 2005, the most important
indicator of pollution for her was the water flow, as evidenced above. Similarly, when
asked to describe a healthy river, she replied, ‗A healthy river for me is one where it‘s
not so stagnant, and it‘s clear water, and it‘s moving, not so fast that it‘s eroding
everything, but it‘s got some movement in it‘ (Interview: Adelaide,13/12/07).
Indeed, water is precious to all – even more so to Adelaide, a city in the driest
state of the driest continent. Most informants relentlessly reminded me of the water
crisis in this driest city. Instead of directly answering my question on the water quality
of the Torrens, ‗Dave‘, who enjoyed a ‗cooling effect next to the water‘ when he walked
along the TLP, demonstrated his understandings of the hydrological cycle:
Well, I guess my understanding of the importance of water, and being
the driest State in the driest continent, I always know and appreciate that
river systems need flushing. And we‘re not just talking about the
Torrens, we‘re talking about the River Murray. We‘re at the end of the
River Murray, it starts in the Snowy Mountain Scheme. Last year they
had very little snow, so there was no snow to melt into the tributaries,
and go into the Murray, and then create a replenishment of the Murray,
162
and proper flows. The Torrens is the same, you need reasonable rainfalls
for the catchment to become wet, and then that feeds back into the
Torrens and allows the water to be flushed through. And especially last
year, it‘s very unsightly when the rainfall is low and you don‘t get that
flushing effect. Last year I walked along the Torrens a number of times
and you saw algal blooms; the water was very stagnant – this is down
near Portrush Road – the water was stagnant. There was no water, it was
that bad (Interview: Adelaide 11/09/07).
Dave emphasised the importance of flow to revive both rivers and recalled a ‗severe
drought‘ in 2006. He was also concerned about the unattractive quality of the Torrens,
as the water was stagnant, signifying pollution was equated with an ugly-looking river.
As noted earlier, stagnant water caused an algal bloom. In turn, the proliferation and
density of algal bloom could make the water even more stagnant. A quarter of
informants, including Dave, mentioned the Murray‘s contribution to fulfilling
Adelaidians‘ basic need for clean water. As mentioned in Chapter Four, the Murray
joined the Torrens water via the Mannum-Adelaide pipeline into reservoirs, and then
into treatment plants before domestic consumption. During drought conditions, water
extraction from the Murray was higher than during the normal non-drought period (see
Appendix I).
There is a set of desirable and undesirable qualities held by people that contribute
differentially to a sense of river place, and connections to it. As has been shown
throughout this and previous chapters, the perceptions were significantly defined in
terms of visual appreciation. Additionally, some indicated tactile qualities of river
experiences such as ‗wind blowing‘, ‗cooling effect‘, and ‗refreshing‘ on skin and
bodies. Apart from odour qualities, Mike added another sensory dimension of running
water that was missing from other informants:
I actually think that very deep into our consciousness, especially in such a
dry state as South Australia, a dry environment, water is precious. And if
you can hear water running it gives you a really deep sense of hope and
sense of serenity, and of life. Psychologically, it‘s very important, really.
And for me that‘s one of the beauties of the Torrens, just to be able to walk
along by running water and to sit down right by the water and to hear it, to
hear water running (Interview: Adelaide 12/02/08).
In particular, the above comment highlights an auditory quality of the Torrens. Mike
described how listening to the running water was significant to experiencing the river as
a spiritually uplifting place. Perhaps his account partly explained why people revered
the flow of water beyond its usual visual aesthetic values. The sound of running water
163
helped to create the river as a distinctive place. By implication, the loss of water could
mean the loss of a sense of river place.
Whilst some informants expressed negative feelings towards sluggish water per
se, others, for example ‗Jack‘, went on to clarify how stagnant water contributed to
pollution. Aged 30-years-old, Jack was a Popeye boat operator on the Torrens Lake. He
proudly introduced himself, ‗I‘m the Popeye captain. A great 17 years of working! This
is my only job ever‘.
Plate 29 Jack and I in his Popeye boat during preliminary fieldwork in November 2006.
Like Mike, Jack has a life-long heartfelt connection with the Torrens. However, instead
of walking, Jack‘s connection to the Torrens was formed through cruising107
. The
Popeye boat cruise was an iconic symbol of the Torrens and Adelaide (see Plate 29). A
print on a postcard Jack gave to me − ‗Popeye Motor Launches: Winner of Adelaide‘s
Tourist Awards‘ − reflects the popularity of cruising on the Popeye among tourists. The
Popeye-boat postcard describes the cruise on the Popeye as ‗a delightful way to enjoy
the six kilometres108
of placid winding waterways of the Torrens River. Its picturesque
scenery and prolific birdlife provide a beautiful backdrop to the city of Adelaide‘
(Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 21/11/06). He briefly explained the intricacy of the polluted
water ecology:
107
He started to operate the Popeye when he was thirteen years old during weekends and became a full
time Popeye operator when he was eighteen years old. 108
It is actually six out of the total 80 kilometres length of the Torrens. Popeye departed from the Elder
Park landing stage on a hourly basis from 11.00 am to 3.00 pm daily. In off peak seasons, Jack made five
trips per day during week days. The demand increased to nine trips per day during the weekend, school
holidays and during the summer. The fare for the 45-minute cruise was $9 AUD.
164
Blue-green algae are algae which grow in warm water. The algae will
grow at the top level of water. And I think once you got the algae for the
first time, it keeps coming back every year. The algae come down when
the temperature hits 40 degrees and [there is] no water movement.
Bingo! Algae! Blue-green algae! (Interview: Adelaide, 14/09/07).
In accordance with the bulk of scientific literature, Jack provided two of the
precipitating factors leading to the proliferation of blue-green algal bloom, high
temperature and no water flow during summer. Later, like many Adelaidians, he blamed
the occurrence of the algal bloom for the closure of the Torrens consecutively for the
last seven years. In particular, the section of the Torrens Lake that offered a water place
for leisure was closed for rowers and paddle boaters. They were not allowed during this
period of shut-downs, as the rowing and paddling boats ‗were too close‘ to the polluted
water. On the other hand, Popeye was allowed to operate because it‘s ‗big and safe‘ and
higher up from the water bodies. Though his Popeye boat was allowed was to operate,
he was still unhappy with the closure of the lake, as this could mean a dwindling
number of visitors, which consequently could affect his income.
Up to this point, I have presented stories of those who lived in the middle and
lower catchment. The residents of the upper section provide a further dimension to the
consideration of river places and pollution. ‗Kevin‘, a property manager, has lived in a
farmland near Mount Pleasant for 26 years. Mike started his special journey from
Kevin‘s farmland, as the Torrens River headwater is located there. I enjoyed my visit to
Kevin‘s countryside property once we finished the interview in his office. Nonetheless,
like Mike, I found that the headwater of the Torrens was almost untraceable due its very
tiny size and completely dried riverbed. Mike described it as ‗the first pencil line of the
river‘. Interestingly, Kevin described pollution issues of the Torrens in the upper and in
the city centre sections as two ‗completely different scenarios‘. The city centre section
of the river was suffering from litter and algal bloom problems, whereas the main issue
for the upper reaches was to keep the river ‗as natural and as free flowing‘ as possible.
He added:
I guess these little waterways are always going to be subject to seasonal
conditions; I actually would like to see some sort of pooling of water.
Once we did have a reasonable year, some sort of receptacle so the
water wasn‘t just let down the Torrens, the whole lot just goes, but there
should be some retained here in the area to make it more
environmentally and aesthetically a better environment, for not only the
local people, but for the people going through, the people who are
tourists and/or people visiting the area. I think people like to see a body
165
of water. It‘s not always that you will be able to, but some years we are
able to have a body of water (Interview: Adelaide, 26/10/07).
Like many others, Kevin thought that the flow of the Torrens was heavily subjected to
seasonal influence. He valued the aesthetic qualities of running water. Additionally, the
flow was also needed for environmental benefits, as it encouraged revegetation, put
‗moisture in the soil‘, and created ‗an environment where small frogs‘ and other aquatic
life could survive. However, these conditions were possible only if the catchment had
sufficient rainfall. He went on to say:
I don‘t think we need any more … if we had any rains we don‘t need
any more dams on the Torrens. It‘s important that we limit the number
or the size of the dams that are on the Torrens, to sort of recognise the
stock and domestic supplies rather than irrigation dams. I don‘t think
that‘s an appropriate tool to be irrigating from, such a small resource. I
think it‘s just too much strain on the resource, and you don‘t get any
flow further down because you‘re putting too much pressure at the top
of the catchment. (Interview: Adelaide, 26/10/07).
Kevin drew attention to water contestation, which is also a great concern shared by
government officers and academics whom I interviewed. Increased competition for the
water flow for multiple uses and across different scales (between the upper and lower
reaches of the river) was evident was evident elsewhere in Australia, for example, the
Murray itself. The conflicting multiple demands for irrigation dams in the upper
reaches, as well as for domestic supply, recreational activities, and environmental
benefit further downstream of the Torrens could be further intensified during the
drought periods. As noted in Chapter Four, there were approximately 1,200 farm dams
in the upper reaches of the Torrens. Consequently, ‗none of the water would flow
further downstream due to over-extraction in the upper reaches‘. Kevin‘s overall
concerns signify water as a scarce resource as suggested by many political ecologists
(see, for example, Derman & Furgeson 2003; Johnston 2003; Moore 1998).
The surface texture of the water
The last attribute of water integral to conceptualisation of pollution is its surface texture.
It is worth considering the surface texture of the Torrens, though these are lesser
complaints in comparison to its colour and flows. Various sightings of such water
attributes figure in how people assess the cleanliness of the Torrens:
You can actually see there‘s quite a lot of bubbles and this indicates to a
large extent chemicals are getting into the water system (Interview:
Adelaide, 25/10/07).
166
Sometimes we see sudsy stuff from washing going into the storm water,
and then into the river (Interview: Adelaide, 09/02/08).
There‘s oil on the road. When the first rain comes down, the river goes
really soapy. And when the rain finally stops, there‘s oil here ... all over
the top of the water (Interview: Adelaide, 18/02/08)
References to water attributes, such as ‗bubbles‘, ‗sudsy‘, ‗soapy‘, ‗slime‘ and ‗foam‘
that floated on its surface, indicated the impurities of the Torrens. They also indentified
the sources of pollution, which included chemical spillage, washing laundry, and oil
from vehicles on the road.
Several informants mentioned the ‗slimy‘ surface of the Torrens water. ‗Amber‘
in her 40‘s, has lived in St. Peters town for more than 20 years; her house was about
five minutes walking distance to the St. Peters Billabong109
and the TLP. When
questioned how she would know the Torrens was polluted, she stated that her
observation was rooted in her long-term residency at St. Peters. She paid particular
attention as well whenever local councils put up signs declaring ‗No swimming‘, and
she trusted that ‗there are enough signs to say it‘s polluted and thus people are actually
stopping using the water‘. Additionally:
There are times when you see the disgusting froth at certain times of
the year, I think more in the summer. There‘s a lot of green algae that
grows on the surface certain times of the year and it seriously looks
disgusting, absolutely disgusting. There‘s not much flow and you see
these poor ducks go wading through this slimy surface of the water
and you really know just by looking at it, it‘s not fresh (Interview:
Adelaide, 21/11/07).
For Amber, the ‗disgusting froth‘ and ‗slimy‘ surface water were obviously
unappealing, suggesting they threatened the aesthetic qualities of the Torrens. Later on,
when questioned about how she would describe a clean river, she conversely answered,
‗You wouldn‘t see the slimy top of the river, it‘d be running‘. These particular visual
qualities are central to her river place experiences, and significantly are the means by
which she acquired her understanding about pollution.
I managed to see the slimy blue-green algal bloom at Breakout Creek, the last
3.5 kilometres of the Torrens, during spring 2006. Not only had the long thread of green
algae with brown patches covered almost the whole stretch of the creek, but it also
formed a scum up to several inches thick below the water. The buoyant green slime
109
As mentioned in Chapter Four, the billabong was a loop which has been cut off from the mainstream
of the Torrens River.
167
slightly moved to the side as the wind blew. There was no movement in the water.
Coincidently, I was able to take pictures of Pacific black ducks struggling to wade
through the thick, slimy algae (see Plate 30), as described by Amber. The following
section examines whether other aquatic life could survive in such conditions.
Plate 30 A close-up view of the blue-green algae at Breakout Creek. Two Pacific black
ducks waded through the slimy green algae.
Presence or absence of aquatic life
Similar to the Klang River narratives, the construction of the Torrens as a river place is
incomplete without references to its aquatic life. More importantly, the presence or
absence of certain aquatic and semi-aquatic species, such as fish, turtle, platypus, yabby,
and frog, consistently emerged as integral to local people‘s conceptualisation and
possible use of a polluted or clean river. However, the situations in the Torrens are
much more complex compared to the Klang. Stories of fish and other aquatic life are
extended to their classification based on place of origin. In particular, three-quarters of
informants shared their experiences, memories and knowledge along the line of
nativeness or foreignness of certain fish. ‗Native‘, ‗original‘ or ‗local‘ species were
those originally found in Australian waters. They were highly valued and considered as
the ‗symbol of a clean river‘, whereas ‗introduced‘ or ‗foreign fish‘ were originally non-
Australian, and were detested due to the ecological decline they caused, including
pollution. A general perception was native fish live in cleaner water, whilst introduced
fish were more resistant to polluted water. In this section I begin with an overview of
aquatic life as an indicator of pollution before presenting native species stories. In the
168
next sub-section, I focus specifically on narratives about the European carp110
, an
introduced fish, because it was the most frequently cited and intensely shared by the
locals.
The importance of native species
One of the best quotes on the importance of aquatic species came from a member of the
focus group interview. One of them succinctly defined a clean river as existing when
there was ‗lots of wildlife in the river and on the banks‘. Conversely, a polluted river
was indicated when people ‗don‘t see aquatic life‘, highlighting the prominence of
visual experiences. Similarly, Jack commented, ‗there should always be fish‘ in a
healthy river. In relation to that judgment, he observed that the number of people who
went fishing in the lower section of the Torrens near his residence had significantly
declined nowadays compared to two decades ago, indicating its deteriorating
conditions. Others used the presence of aquatic life to mitigate their judgment of the
polluted state of the Torrens:
I don‘t think the pollution really strikes me … I‘ve seen about four or
five turtles in the water and they obviously survive in there so it can‘t be
terrible for them (Interview: Adelaide, 13/12//07).
I‘m trusting there are enough signs to say it‘s polluted […]. Isn‘t it that
the frogs are a sign of the health of the river? The frogs have been
coming back a little bit more, but still you don‘t hear all that many.
Ten years ago there were more frogs and you could hear them croaking
at night a lot more, but in the last couple of years there doesn‘t seem to
be so many frogs (Interview: Adelaide, 10/11/07).
In sharing his walking experiences along the Torrens, Mike also commented on the
variety of species along and in the river, including frogs and birdlife. Interestingly, in
accord with few others, he brought a new insight about pollution as an acoustic
experience. The sound of the frogs indicated their presence, signifying the Torrens was
reasonably healthy, since it could support such life forms. Personally, I have not seen
any, but I often heard frogs‘ croaking sound during my walks. In fact, it became a
background sound of my interview sessions where I felt like I had been transported
back to the Torrens while transcribing the interviews in Perth. Later, Mike sadly
exclaimed, ‗I don‘t think I saw any native fish. I‘m sure they‘re in there, but I didn‘t see
any. There are supposedly still native fish in there‘. Though the native fish were
110
European carp (scientific name − Cyprinus carpio). I simply use ‗carp‘ from here onward for brevity,
as was also common among the locals.
169
invisible during his walk, through his own library research, and conversations with
experts and friends, he was informed that native fish still exist. He reported that some of
native fish have not been seen for a long time, for example, purple spotted gudgeon111
,
which was last seen in 1960.
Indeed, local people associate a clean river with the presence of native species.
Kevin wished:
I‘d love to see some native fish in the river, or basically see the native
animals that have obviously been a part of this area over many years ago
return in some numbers, and be able to inhabit that area. So I think it‘s
more about […] seeing things swimming in the river so it‘s more or less
the enjoyment of seeing a healthy river system, yeah … (Interview:
Adelaide, 26/10/07).
This quote echoes Mike‘s concern above and in the preface of this chapter, as well as
those of many other informants, on the importance of native species in the judgment
whether the Torrens was polluted or clean. Not only did the sighting of the native
species serve as an indicator of a healthy river, it was also a pleasurable visual
experience for Kevin. One of the native species that inhibited the Torrens many years
ago was the platypus112
, a semi-aquatic mammal. The Torrens Taskforce (TTF) in its
report indicated rare sightings of this unique species up to at least the end of the 19th
century (Torrens Taskforce 2007: 18). Only two informants mentioned the presence of
the platypus in relation to polluted water – a situation reflecting its endangered status in
the ecology. Subsequently in local people‘s discourse, matter out of place was out of
sight, and eventually could be out of mind. ‗Aaron‘, a biologist, had more than 30 years
experiences in ‗fishery survey and management‘ in various government agencies around
Australia113
. Once retired, he served as a volunteer with Friends of Gulf of St Vincent.
When I asked him to describe a clean river, he drew attention to:
The symbol that we‘re all talking about now is if we have platypuses
back in it. We‘ve talked about this, the so-called iconic species or
whatever, and that to all of us now would be the symbol of a clean river
[…]. I have to say in my own mind I don‘t know that I ever expect to
see a platypus in the river (Interview: Adelaide 08/02/08).
The above quote was actually referring to the TTF suggestion to set ‗an overall
aspirational objective‘ (Torrens Task Force 2007: 2) in the effort to clean the Torrens
111
Purple spotted gudgeon (scientific name − mogurnda adspersa). 112
Platypus (scientific name − ornithorhynchus anatinus). 113
Initially I choose to interview him in his capacity as a volunteer as well as a local who lived in
proximity to the Torrens River and only learned about his vast scientific background during the interview.
170
that would be suitable eventually for bringing back the platypus in its riverbed.
Nevertheless, Aaron, who believed that the Torrens had been fished by Aborigines for
20,000 years, but later the ‗Europeans were messing it up‘, was sceptical about the
coming back of this ‗iconic species‘ in the polluted Torrens water. The TTF Chairman,
‗Charles‘, enunciated the same reservations when the committee considered the ‗iconic
objective‘ of the reintroduction of platypus along with technical objectives. He
explained his fear about mentioning putting the platypus back in its original place
because some people think it was over-ambitious, as the platypuses only survive in high
quality water. He stated some of these conditions:
The platypuses used to exist in the river. They are sensitive to water
quality, both directly and indirectly. So if the right habitat is not
available, if the right food is not available, and their food sources, things
like macro invertebrates and so on, [they] don‘t proliferate well enough
because of the pollution effects. They want a healthy ecosystem, they
don‘t want the water quality problems, and if we manage all that
properly then the platypus could survive there (Interview: Adelaide,
10/01/08).
Additionally, the selection of the platypus was due to its unique features that clearly
differentiate them from other ‗pretty ordinary-looking‘ animals and smaller native fish.
In such cases, the platypus would be more attractive to school children and local people
in promoting community participation programs to care for their local river.
A more commonly cited native species was yabbies114
, crustaceans common in
Australian water. Some believed that the yabbies were still in the Torrens, though they
have not actually seen them. One informant affirmed, ‗There are tortoises in here and
water rats and yabbies – they‘re still here – lots of little shrimp, little freshwater shrimp‘.
Another mentioned, ‗Kids can go fishing and catch yabbies‘ in the Torrens. Three
informants, Mike, a member of the focus group, and Aaron, talked about the presence of
yabbies in a distant past in the middle section of the Torrens. Based on his research,
Mike wrote in his article, ‗Until sand mining disturbed it, the water ran clear and was
full of yabbies and turtles and fish-hunting birds‘ in Walkerville back in the 1930‘s. A
member of the focus group interview, on the other hand, shared vivid memories of his
own childhood play:
Over 50 years ago we would swim in the river at Gilberton, but we
could not be keen now. After school I would swim with a friend in the
river near the caravan park at Vale Park. Back then it had bigger water
holes and the children would swing off ropes and drop into the water.
114
Yabbies (scientific name − cherax destructor).
171
You cannot do that now. We could put traps in the water to catch
yabbies – now they don‘t survive (Focus Group Interview: Adelaide,
09/02/08).
According to him, the yabbies had ceased to survive due to both lack of water and its
pollution. Aaron, who also lived in Gilberton, found that the yabbies were already
extinct when he first moved to the neighbourhood in the early 1980s:
In the time that we‘ve been here, in the waters that we go to, things like
yabbies, have you caught up with yabbies? They‘ve pretty much
disappeared […]. That‘s not a good sign because generally yabbies, as
crustaceans, they‘re pretty well adapted to living in a wide range of
water conditions. So all the time we‘ve been here the dominant fish in
the river has been the carp (Adelaide: Interview, 08/02/08).
Likewise, Aaron later attributed the absence of yabbies due to the deterioration of water
quality in the Torrens. In contrast to the disappearance stories of yabbies in Gilberton,
Valepark and Walkerville, suburbs in the middle catchment, 70-year-old ‗Mitch‘ offered
promising stories of native species. Mitch was a retired teacher and then became a
volunteer for the Upper River Torrens Landcare Group (URTLG), as he owned
farmland near Birdwood. I met him at the Mt. Pleasant Natural Resource Centre when
we attended the Steering Committee Meeting of the Upper Torrens Landcare
Management Project (UTLMP). In the upper section of the Torrens, he observed, ‗There
are yabbies, these little crustaceans, they‘re good food, good to eat, they‘re in the
Torrens‘ (Adelaide: Interview, 26/10/07). The sighting of the yabbies was possible due
to the fact that Mitch had been helping ‗Ian‘, a secretary of the South Australia Native
Fish Association, in conducting in 2004 a fish inventory survey and conservation of
native fish in the Torrens River catchment. Excitedly, Mitch told me the team had also
discovered an unexpected small population of mountain galaxia115
, common galaxia116
,
and congoli117
in the Torrens upper reaches. These native fish were the remnants of the
extinct native fish population. He shared another great story of the return of the precious
native fish:
There is this amazing fish that looks like an eel, it‘s called the
lamprey118
and that breeds in the sea and then comes back up into the
115
Mountain galaxia (scientific name − galaxias olidus). 116
Common galaxia (scientific name − galaxias maculates). 117
Congoli (scientific name − pseudaphritis urvillii). 118
Lamprey (scientific name − mordacia mordax).
172
rivers. The things that stop it from being able to breathe are things like
weirs, you know, concrete walls, because it can‘t get up. So fish ladders
are things that are being introduced in the Torrens, down the bottom, so
where there‘s a wall of concrete, literally a water ladder is made so that
the fish can come up through these little pools. And then they can get
higher and higher and higher. And I think they do it on the River
Murray which has got big locks across it too. I‘m sure they‘ve got fish
ladders there as well (Adelaide: Interview, 26/10/07).
The above quote actually tells a success story of a native fish conservation effort in the
Torrens River catchment, an insight that emphasises my claim about the value of local
activity in protecting and restoring cherished water places. Three biologists, Ian, ‗Sean‘
and ‗Patrick‘, passionately shared similar stories about the comeback of several
‗diadromous‘ native fish. In fact they have collaborated in the conservation of native
fish. Ian was actually in the midst of completing his PhD research on the native fish of
the Mt Lofty Ranges. Dr. Sean and Patrick were biologists at the South Australia
Research and Development Institute (SARDI) and Adelaide and Mount Lofty Ranges
Natural Resources Management Board (AMLRNRMB) respectively. According to
Sean, many native fish were ‗diadromous‘ species, which meant they moved between
freshwater and saltwater during their life cycle, either for spawning or feeding.
Nonetheless, the construction of many dams and weirs within the catchment (as noted in
Chapter Four) has eventually restricted this natural process of migrations. These human-
made obstructions blocked the upstream-downstream movement of small-size native
fish, contributing to their decline. Patrick told me one of the main obstacles was the
Breakout Creek Weir installed at the mouth of the Torrens. In 2005, he put a fish ladder
or fishway in at the weir – a device installed around or over the blockage – to facilitate
fish movement from the sea or Torrens River (see Plate 31).
173
Plate 31 The Breakout Creek Weir and the fishway, a bluish ascending structure at the far
right.
Apart from lampreys as mentioned by Mitch, Sean told me a significant number of
mountain galaxia, common galaxia, and congoli have made a comeback in the Torrens
water with the installation of the fishway. Whilst the returns of these native fish were
celebrated, in what follows I present accounts of the opposite – the abundance of carp.
To quote Sinclair (2001: 169), ‗The disgust resonating through these accounts is an
appropriate guide to popular attitudes towards carp‘.
European Carp as matter out of river place
Another informant expressed distress that there were ‗so many introduced fish‘ in the
Torrens. Apart from carp, other introduced fish mentioned by informants included
brown trout119
, rainbow trout120
, redfin perch121
, mosquito or minnow fish122
, and
goldfish123
. Some informants used terms such as ‗territorial‘, ‗pest‘, ‗noxious‘,
‗predator‘, ‗invasive‘, and ‗feral‘ to indicate their negative sentiments towards
introduced fish. A few informants had indentified the two most common introduced fish
as mosquito fish and carp. But none received as much attention and elicited such disgust
as carp. Without conducting a proper fish survey, it can be safely concluded that the
Torrens was highly populated by carp. They were the most popular and most visible fish
119
Brown trout (scientific name – salmo trout). 120
Rinbow trout (scientific name – oncorhynchus mykiss). 121
Redfin perch (scientific names – perca fluviatilus). 122
Mosquito or minnow fish (scientific names – gambusia holbrooki). 123
Goldfish (scientific names – carassius auratus L.).
174
among the local people. Some of the expressions used to describe carp abundance were:
‗the main fish‘, ‗the dominant fish‘, ‗just carp [in the river] … thousands of carp.
Millions!‘, ‗too many of them‘, ‗a lot of carp around‘ and ‗a lot of people catching
carp‘.
As the name suggest, European carp, also known as common carp, originated
from Europe:
There‘s carp of course, carp is a European fish; it‘s not what you want
in your river, but hard to get rid of all over (Interview: Adelaide,
17/09/07).
It‘s a European species that was introduced here by European
immigrants into this country (Interview: Adelaide, 07/02/08).
Carp and other introduced fish crossed their native boundaries, with human
intervention, for particular reasons. According to Mitch, the English and Europeans
found small-bodied native fish were ‗pretty boring‘ for challenging and worthwhile
angling experiences. So the settlers introduced their very own brown and rainbow trout
into most of the rivers of the Mt Lofty Ranges because they were ‗great big fighting
fish‘. A few of the reasons offered to explain the introduction of carp included their
status as a food source, sport and ornamental fish. On the other hand, mosquito fish, a
very tiny fish up to only five centimetres in length, was introduced as a biological
control to eat mosquito larvae. Unfortunately, the locals thought ‗it has more of a
tendency to eat the eggs of the native fish‘.
My walking routines enabled me to meet a number of people fishing in the
Torrens, including ‗Cody‘, a boy about five years old, and Steve, who provided early
lessons about this good-looking fish. I walked on the right bank of the river when I met
Cody under a shady tree downstream of the Torrens Lake. He was busy unpacking his
fishing equipment. I greeted him and we introduced ourselves. He said he had a nice
fishing spot and normally fished for a couple of hours once a week (see Plates 32 and
33). Listening to the chirping birds, he commented, ‗The birds are nice. We have a lot of
native birds back now‘. I told him I noticed there were lots of different species of birds
along the river. Before I could explain I was conducting a study on pollution issues in
the Torrens, he himself brought up the subject matter first: ‗They need to clean up the
river, though. It‘s terrible‘. In response, I told him about my study. Signalling the
importance of fish in the conceptualisation of a clean river, he suggested:
That‘s what they [the state government] got to do … clean the river up,
take the carp out as much as they can and to put the native fish [such as]
the lamprey back in the water.
175
So, when I asked why the carp needed to be removed, he answered, ‗they dirty the
water‘ and ‗they are not native‘. Nonetheless, he was a bit pessimistic about the
complete removal of the carp because there were ‗too many of them‘. He told me that
once the carp were in the river system, ‗it was terrible and difficult to get them out.‘ As
a non-angler person with zero biology or environmental knowledge, it was the first time
I heard about carp, and their classification as non-native, and as a matter out of the river
place. Once carp were caught:
You killed them or leave them over the bank. You are not allowed to put
it back. You got to kill them, leave them on the side of the back, the rats
would eat them. Or you can put them in the rubbish bin (Fieldnotes:
Adelaide 22/08/07).
He then taught me how to toss a fishing line into the water once he had put two kernels
of canned sweet corn (see Plate 32) on a hook − his favourite bait for carp beside tiger
worms from his garden. I then eagerly waited for the sighting of my first carp. Despite
the answers provided by Cody so far, I kept thinking back then − where should these
poor fish belong to if not in the river? Why they have to be killed? So I probed further.
He explained, since the arrival of carp about six years ago, ‗they started to clean-up all
young native fish. There‘s a decline of the native fish. But now they make a bit of
comeback‘. Recently, he had only caught carp in the Torrens, usually six to seven carp
Plate 32 Cody showed how to gently put in sweet corn in a hook.
176
Plate 33 Cody patiently waiting for carp.
in a couple of hours. Years back, he got redfin and goldfish. Unfortunately, despite
almost an hour of waiting there was no carp eating his bait (see Plate 33).
I consider my first sighting of carp as one of the most salient episodes during my
fieldwork in Adelaide. It was a sunny and fine day for walking and water recreational
activities in late September 2007. I did my daily walking as usual along the Torrens
Lake. While I was walking towards the Popeye jetty, I saw a boy squatting and holding
a knife with three dead fish lying on the ground. A middle-aged man, probably the
boy‘s father, tossed his fishing line into the lake nearby. Hurriedly, I walked closer
approaching the boy as he stabbed one of the fish. Astonished by what I saw, I
eventually stood besides the boy. Trying to sound neutral124
, I asked him, ‗What are you
doing?‘ The boy answered shortly, ‗Killing the carp. They are pests‘ (Fieldnotes:
Adelaide, 23/09/07). It was the first time I saw carp of the Torrens. A bigger carp
compared to the other two had much blood sprinkled on its body (see Plate 34). I saw
Plate 34 Three bloody carp killed by a boy near the Torrens Lake.
124
I was actually upset and felt sorry for the fish to endure such brutality.
177
few horizontal and vertical straight lines crossing each other on the body of one of the
carp. It took me a while to make sense of those lines. To my surprise, it was actually the
Swastika symbol, resembling the Nazis emblem. Before I could ask any further, the
father called upon his son to leave the place125
. A few intriguing questions in my mind
were left unanswered: Why did you choose the Swastika? What did it mean?
Nevertheless, this episode greatly helped me to understand the depth of negative
feelings towards carp and the practice of their displacement.
As mentioned earlier, I met Steve when he was fishing near the Torrens Weir.
He went fishing a few times per month along the Torrens. When questioned what type
of fish he caught, he answered, ‗mainly carp‘, and a few days back he got catfish. Like
Cody, normally he caught six to seven carp within three hours. After 20 minutes
observing Steve waiting for his next catch, I heard a good splash and saw a glimpse of
carp on the water surface. He took a few minutes to bring his catch to the side of the
bank, and was beaming with pride as a big fat carp finally landed on the ground (see
Plate 35). It was my first time to watch a complete process of catching a fish. Gliding
the carp gently off a hook, he explained, ‗This is a pest. There‘s a law [saying] we can‘t
put it back in the water. It is illegal‘. As I was curious, I asked why there was such a
law. He replied:
I‘m not too sure…I think they dig [mud] a lot. It‘s not good. It‘s a
problem to the river. They muddied the river. They are very dirty […].
It‘s introduced, not native fish (Fieldnotes: Adelaide 24/10/07).
In contrast, whenever anglers caught catfish, ‗It is illegal to keep them. They have to put
the catfish126
back in the water‘. Sometimes he got trout (an introduced fish), and
freshwater bass127
and callop (a native fish)128
. But the three species were found in the
upper section because ‗they need clean water‘. They cannot survive in the Torrens Lake,
as the water is ‗dirty‘. Unlike carp, these three fish did not ‗cause any problem. They are
good‘. Worries about carp raised by Cody, Steve and the boy were shared by many
others whom I interviewed later, as reflected in the following.
125
Maybe the father was not happy upon seeing a stranger talking to his son. 126
Catfish (scientific name – tandanus tandanus). 127
Freshwater bass (scientific name – macquaria novemaculeata). 128
Callop (other common name – golden perch or yellowbelly, scientific name – macquaria ambigua).
178
Plate 35 Catching carp in the Torrens.
179
Many locals believed that carp were ‗more resistant than native fish‘ to various
threats, including polluted water. One informant told me if the water went ‗foul and
anaerobic‘ [without oxygen], other fish would die eventually, but carp would survive,
because they were ‗very, very resistant‘. In fact, other introduced fish such as trout and
redfin were less resistant; they would prefer to be in cleaner and cooler water. Aaron
concurred that carp were ‗resilient, as resilient as a lot of the public think they are; you
get ―Oh, only carp could live there‖, well yes‘. For example, they could survive in much
lower oxygen levels compared to the natives. However, he reminded me that the carp
would not be able to tolerate ‗chemical pollution‘, just like the natives. Interestingly, not
only did carp serve as an indicator of unclean water, but they were believed to cause
pollution as well. This dual scenario was best captured by Clara, ‗They dirty the water
and they survive in dirty water‘. How would carp dirty the water? Mike, in accord with
many others, provided an answer:
I saw a lot of introduced fish. They were really helping to pollute the
river, especially the carp because they stir up sediment‘ (Interview:
Adelaide, 12/02/08).
This actually refers to the tendency of carp to live on the bottom of the river, ‗sucking in
the mud and spitting it out‘ to graze food out of the mud. Due to their muddy digging
habit, they were also known as a ‗bottom feeder‘, ‗scavenger‘, ‗ground dweller‘, and
‗vacuum cleaner‘. Several informants advised me that carp were, nevertheless, an edible
fish, but generally Australians did not eat them because of their ‗terrible‘ muddy taste.
Interestingly, these informants had never eaten carp themselves. Back home, they were
considered more palatable fish. Clara told me the Polish actually have a festival where
they ate carp. She added, Australians did not eat carp because they were ‗noxious‘.
When I asked if there was any fish in the Torrens, and if any, whether he ate them, Jack
responded:
Just carp ... thousands of carp. Millions! You could eat carp but not out
from this river. You get sick. I think. But some people from other
countries do take the fish home but I don't know what they do with
them. But I couldn‘t imagine they eat them … polluted yeah. All of
these pollutants come from the street [into the river]… I mean [the
water] can‘t be good (Interview: Adelaide, 14/09/07).
Whilst some considered carp as distasteful or noxious, Jack‘s answer spoke directly to
this thesis – pollution – as the reason he refused to take carp as his diet.
180
Apart from stirring the water, the carp were also blamed by local people for
other ecological destruction, including causing bank erosion, inhibiting plant growth,
minimising light penetration mostly as a result of their bottom-feeding habits. But the
most common comment was the blaming of carp (and other introduced fish) for the
decline of the native fish population, as indicated by Cody earlier. In particular, the
displacement of native fish happened when carp ate ‗native fish larvae‘, and took ‗away
food stock from local fish‘ and ‗habitat away from the native fish‘. Nonetheless, an
overall analysis, particularly interviews with local scientists, highlighted the fact that an
ecological phenomenon was full of an intricate web of multiple interactions and
combined effects which need to be understood holistically rather than to be traced to a
single cause. One factor that needs to be considered in regards to the decline of native
fish is pollution itself. For example, ‗Adele‘, a manager of the group Our Patch
commented that carp were ‗very proficient fish‘; for example, they were ‗tolerant to
very low oxygen levels‘, ‗high salinity‘ and ‗silty water‘. They were hardy fish and
tolerant to polluted water. Native fish, on the other hand, would not able to withstand
such unfavourable conditions, as indicated by Aaron:
So I think a few disadvantages for the native fish, as the river has
changed…sometimes lower oxygen levels and putting in weirs and
things like that, interfere with their breeding (Interview: Adelaide,
08/02/08).
Aaron also echoed a point earlier about the anthropogenic nature of the Torrens and its
impact on native fish. The freshwater-saltwater movements were restricted due to the
blockage of weirs and dams. In this regards, carp were more tolerant to such a degraded
anthropogenic habitat compared with the native fish. Sean added weight to the argument
when he compared how the native fish would have a better chance to survive in the less
anthropogenically transformed Onkaparinga River, which restricted the colonisation by
introduced fish whereas, the modifications of the Torrens provided as an advantage for
the proliferation of the ‗very resistant‘ carp. Moreover, carp, goldfish and mosquito fish
all did have ‗good resistance to disease‘. On the other hand, the native fish were
susceptible to disease because the river got very hot and dry – favourable conditions for
the disease to build up in it. In the following section, I discuss rubbish as another type of
matter considered to be out of place in the Torrens River.
181
Rubbish and invisible forms of pollutants
I recalled images of several trash racks installed across the Klang River, as Mike recited
passionately a fragment of his poem129
(presented in the preface of this thesis) during the
interview. The poem subtly criticised people‘s habit of treating the Torrens River as
their ‗dumping‘ rubbish site. The river becomes one of the places that indirectly
documents human consumption patterns. As Mike put it, the things that ‗we value and
what we forgot‘ can be observed by looking at the kind of rubbish trapped in the trash
racks. Mike‘s concern about the presence of rubbish was representative of many. Aaron,
for example, even said he could write a ‗history of things that people throw in the
nearest river‘. Several people reflected the same concern. When asked to describe a
healthy river, they answered, ‗No rubbish‘. This section illuminates rubbish as another
indicator of pollution that disrupts people‘s river place experiences. I begin with general
stories of the constituents of rubbish as a pollutant before highlighting the practice of
removing rubbish out of the Torrens. Finally I conclude with stories of less visible
rubbish.
What constitutes rubbish?
The words trash, junk and litter were used interchangeably to describe rubbish in the
Torrens. People complained that these items created ‗unpleasant‘ and ‗unsightly‘ visual
impact when they walked along the river. Basically, there were two types of rubbish,
non-natural or man-made and ‗natural‘ items, which were considered as matter out of
place. Some of the man-made items cited by people were food items (e.g. lolly paper,
beer cans, tin cans, plastic bottles, plastic bags, milk cartons and chip packets),
household items (e.g. old refrigerators, broken TVs, lounge chairs) and others, such as
paper, balls, car tyres and old bicycles. Aaron indicated that there were also ‗strange
things‘ like shopping trolleys and an old garden shed people threw into the Torrens
from the swing bridge in Gilberton. Interestingly, the most common items cited were
water bottles and plastic bags, a similar finding with the Klang. The more natural item
considered as rubbish by the locals was ‗natural plant material‘ – such as leaves and
‗garden refuse‘. In fact, Jack noted, ‗the most amount of rubbish‘ was ‗from nature -
thick leaves and perishable matter‘. Aaron concurred, ‗The leaves are natural but there‘s
too many of them and in a natural system they would pond at various points all along
the water course‘. Based on my daily observation, there was much organic rubbish,
129
This poem was published in the Adelaide Review, Jan 18-31 2008: 10.
182
particularly leaves trapped at the trash racks compared to man-made rubbish. The final
section elaborates upon tree leaves as an indicator of pollution.
My first question to Jack asked him to recall how the Torrens looked in the old
days. He described it thus:
When I first started here, whenever it was raining the river would get
full of rubbish, where ducks could walk on the rubbish. I haven't been
seeing that amount of rubbish in the river for at least ten years. It was
very big … solid rubbish where ducks can walk across. Sometimes we
can't take the boat out. Yeah, sometimes rubbish was a foot thick from
here [the Torrens Lake] all the way to that bridge [pointing to a walking
bridge a bit further upstream]. And there's no way we can drive the
Popeye through and all around; the propeller and the water in-take get
blocked. Yeah, now it‘s good and it's gotten better and better. But
people are still never happy (Interview: Adelaide, 14/09/07).
Interestingly Jack recalled first his memories about the presence of rubbish, signifying
its importance in understanding pollution. Having cruising along the Torrens on a daily
basis, he had witnessed a lot of changes, particularly at the Torrens Lake. About 20
years ago he observed much more rubbish compared to the present day. He also brought
a fresh perspective upon rubbish pollution in contrast to others. Whilst the presence of
rubbish merely disturbed the pleasure of gazing into the water for many users of the
Torrens Lake, it affected Jack‘s income, since floating rubbish pollutants in the Torrens
blocked his Popeye boat trips. When I probed how he knew the river was getting
‗better‘, he responded:
Jack: Just the lack of rubbish
Azlin: Lack of rubbish …?
Jack: Yeah… mainly all I can see with my eyes. But the scientists are
different; they‘re always testing the water. Always checking,
that‘s a good sign that they‘re always testing the water […] Mine
was just from eyesight. But they'll [the scientists] have the
figures, the right figures. But just from eyesight it looks a lot
better than it has looked (Interview: Adelaide, 14/09/07).
An excerpt of our conversation above revealed plainly the importance of visual
evidence in determining the state of the health of the river. In particular, he noted
improvement of the Torrens by a decline of rubbish over the years. The most common
rubbish he observed was bottles, plastic bags and chip packets. Paradoxically, later, he
also complained that the water quality was deteriorating due to the presence of algal
bloom (as evidenced in the previous section). In this quote he was referring to the
scientists of the Adelaide City Council measuring the level of bacteria in the polluted
water due to the algal bloom in determining whether they should close or re-open the
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Torrens Lake. He later acknowledged efforts to remove the visible rubbish by noting
that ‗the council has put the rubbish racks in the creek system that is flowing into here
[the Torrens River] and they put the rubbish racks up there (pointing his finger upstream
of the Torrens Lake)‘. As a result, the users did not ‗see as much rubbish here anymore‘.
Walking certainly serves many good purposes for Mike. In the upper stretch of
the Torrens where accessibility to the river is difficult, public surveillance and scrutiny
were limited. In his walks, Ron managed to expose some malpractices of the local
people polluting this section of the river. He expressed his frustration at people‘s
irresponsible behaviour when they illegally dumped their waste in the gorge section:
I think people were coming and dumping their waste purposely in the
gorge section, and that was bad because they don‘t want to go and take
it to the dump. They don‘t want to pay a fee. They drive it up there and
throw it. I saw plastic bags full of garden refuse, old refrigerators, old
mattresses, and because it‘s got a steep bank, they just throw it down.
So, I really don‘t like those people. At that point up in the gorge, that
water is still our water supply. We‘re still drinking from that water. Past
the Gorge Weir130
, the water is not used for drinking. It‘s just used for
recreational purposes and to beautify the city, but up above Gorge Weir,
that water goes into the Gorge Weir and then goes through an
aqueduct131
to the Hope Valley Reservoir, and we still drink from this
river. So these people are actually throwing rubbish into our drinking
water. I think they are just probably ignorant that they are polluting our
own drinking water (Interview: Adelaide, 12/02/08).
The above quote highlights that the Torrens was broken into two main sections based on
its functions. First, the upper section before the Gorge Weir, the river water, was still
used for domestic water supply. Second, below the Gorge Weir passing through the
Torrens Lake, the water was used for recreational purposes. Others simply articulated
that the Murray water was the main source of Adelaide‘s water supply. Mike‘s walking
journey, on the other hand, has shown the complexity of the water reticulation system
and rightly reminded us that the Adelaidians still depended on the Torrens for their
daily domestic use. He was concerned such illegal rubbish-dumping practices could
subsequently introduce potential risk to public health if the water became polluted.
Kevin reiterated Mike‘s point that downstream of the Gorge Weir, the Torrens
served different functions. He noted different issues of pollution between the upper
130
A weir is a small dam commonly used to raise the water level of a river. As mentioned in Chapter
Four, Gorge Weir was part of Adelaide‘s piped-water network. It is located approximately 50 kilometres
from the source. 131
An aqueduct is a long narrow passage (such as any systems of pipes, ditches, or tunnels) constructed to
transmit water.
184
catchment and further down in the Torrens Lake. In the upper rural catchment, a
prevailing concern for him was the flow of water (as discussed in the previous section),
whereas, downstream in the urban environment, the challenge was ‗to be able to keep
the litter and the rubbish‘ from flowing into the Torrens, as it could degrade its water.
As far as he was concerned, there were ‗a lot of rubbish and stuff flows away from the
urban surround‘, so, ‗huge amounts of rubbish‘ trapped in trash racks could cause
conditions like algal blooms. Consequently:
Those types of things in and around the city river area […] obviously
are very unsightly for tourists and people from overseas, and even for
our own enjoyment, where the Torrens Lake has been closed. It creates
a very poor image of Adelaide because the Torrens does flow through,
you know, very close to the main urban environment of Adelaide
(Interview: Adelaide, 26/10/07).
The sighting of floating rubbish and algal bloom would threaten the Torrens Lake‘s
values as a prominent recreational place, and even Adelaide‘s image as developing city.
Apart from Mike and Jack, four other persons narrated extensively about rubbish
pollutants. This was because they lived near St. Peters Billabong, where the billabong
had been used as a rubbish dump several decades ago. ‗Jane‘, a dedicated volunteer of
Friends of St. Peters Billabong (FSPB) commented, ‗At that time people were using the
river as a rubbish dump. The billabong was a rubbish dump and sewers were running
into the river, and the river was very smelly in those days.‘ Aaron concurred: ‗a lot of
local people threw big lumps of rubbish into the river‘ even up to the 70s and 80s. It
was no surprise when Clara told me told me there were still remnants of the rubbish,
such as broken bottles, along the edges even in the present day. Clara added:
The river itself, here, used to be a rubbish dump. You can see there was
a lot of rubbish along here. One of the managers of the council told me
when a big rain was about to come, they [local people] used to go home
to get their rubbish and dumped it in the river, so it would take it
somewhere else. One of [the] very very old people who stayed here,
he‘s talking about [rubbish pollution] in the seventies. You could tell
when a flood was coming, you can hear the tin cans actually rolling …
it‘s very flat there because we are in the Adelaide … the tin cans
actually [are] rolling on the stones coming down (Interview: Adelaide,
18/02/08).
Echoing elements of the discussion in Chapter Four, Clara indirectly underlined the
special characteristic of flowing river water, especially during the rainy period in which
it efficiently transported the rubbish from a place further upstream in matter of seconds.
The local people took advantage of this particular characteristic to throw out their
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rubbish. Interestingly as well, ‗visible litter‘ was associated with an acoustic sense, as
the sound of roaring tin cans rolled on the riverbed.
Nevertheless, Aaron observed the change of attitudes over the decades. For him,
at present, ‗South Australians generally don‘t litter badly‘, as most of the time he did
not see much rubbish floating on the Torrens River. However, during ‗big floods‘ he
could ‗see a big stack of material came down then, and that was unsightly‘. He noted a
decrease in rubbish pollutants nowadays, and partly attributed it to Keep South
Australia Beautiful or KESAB132
, a non-profit organisation working on various
environmental solutions. He mentioned that the organisation had done ‗a good job‘
through its continual litter awareness and educational campaigns. Patrick agreed with
Aaron‘s view, ‗It‘s often said that as you drive out of South Australia into other states
you immediately start to see rubbish on the sides of the road, whereas in South Australia
you often don‘t see that‘.
According to Aaron, ‗one good sign‘ of an improvement and reduction of
rubbish was that fact that a few new houses along the river had recently been built
facing the river. It meant people were starting to appreciate the value of the river. For
him, that has been a noticeable difference of attitude. Back when he first arrived in
Gilberton, houses along the Torrens River faced away from it because ‗people threw
lots of garden rubbish and so on over their back fence‘, hence affecting the river‘s
scenic beauty.
On the one hand, rainwater during flood, as evident in Jack‘s, Clara‘s and
Aaron‘s comments above, proved to be an efficient mover of the rubbish into and within
the Torrens river system. A member of the focus group interview reiterated the point,
‗The [rain] water goes down the drains and picks up all the rubbish on the way. The first
rain picks up all the rubbish‘. According to Jody, some people probably did throw
things such as lolly paper and cigarette butts directly into the river when they walked
along the TLP. Others left rubbish near the banks where they had picnics, so eventually
the pollutants ended up in the Torrens during rain. On the other hand, the lack of water,
especially when the riverbed was completely dried, exposed some of the polluting
items. Jack observed:
I walked the dry bed last summer and I found a lot of rubbish on the
bed, broken bottles and pipes. People were just obviously throwing old
132
KESAB was established in 1966. It worked closely with the State government and across Australia in
a broad of environmental issues. The effectiveness of littering programs was not immediately observed.
Like many other behaviours, it was difficult to change people‘s habit of littering. KESAB‘s website, in
fact mentioned that litter has remained the main focus of the organisation up to the present.
186
shopping trolleys and kids‘ bikes that had just been thrown in as a dump
(Interview: Adelaide, 12/02/08).
Both conditions, either excessive amount or lack of water, enabled or facilitated the
sighting of rubbish pollutants by the local people. It was an ‗unpleasing‘ sight to observe
floating rubbish in the water. Therefore, a mechanism was established to reduce and
remove the unwanted matter, as discussed in the following.
The importance of trash racks
As with people of the Klang River, locals in Adelaide were aware of varied efforts made
to remove ‗matter out of place‘. Many commented on various trash racks installed in
different sections of the river. Trash racks or booms were similar to devices used in the
Klang River to trap rubbish. For most people it was such an important effort to remove
all the unwanted matter out of the river, hence worth the mention during the interview.
Jack commented, however, that although the Adelaide city council had put in trash
racks, the passengers continuously complained about the slightest sighting of rubbish
floating in the Torrens Lake. Regardless of the commendable effort, there would ‗still
be some, always be some‘. Similarly, Clara informed me that the local council have put
trash racks further downstream ‗to get rid of those trees‘ leaves‘. According to a
member of the focus group interview, one of the changes about the Torrens was the
local council‘s installation of ‗rubbish traps made of concrete with green nets‘. For him,
the traps were important to catch papers, bottles, plastics, hairspray cans, and ‗anything
that does not get put in the rubbish bin [but] ends in the river‘. Jody, in accord with a
few others, even suggested that the river needed some more of the trash racks ‗because
occasionally there is a build up of bits and pieces‘ of rubbish.
It is evident in the stories above that the trash racks were visible and became part
of the river stories. Mike provided the rationale regarding why the State and local
councils were willing to put in effort and allocate part of the budget for the installation
of the trash rack:
So yeah, it‘s what we value. We do value the river because we‘ve built a
trash rack to try and protect it. We also forget the rubbish that we put
into it. It‘s a kind of irony there (Interview: Adelaide, 13/12/07).
He highlighted the ability of human society to make what he described as ‗a comeback‘
to care for things that they have damaged, an aspect I discuss in the following chapters.
Whilst searching for his computer file which stored the poem, Mike added, ‗I find even
trash racks interesting. They‘re not pretty but they‘re serving a purpose‘. Based on my
187
own observation walking along the two rivers, indeed, it was a very unpleasant sight to
have trash racks full of varieties of rubbish installed across the rivers.
Unlike the Klang River experiences, I was unable to observe any cleaning
operations of removing rubbish out of the trash racks by any local council. Several
people told me that such exercises were irregular. Usually, the process of clearing the
trash racks occurred after a heavy rain. Marion‘s descriptions corresponded with this
fact. According to her there was a big green net to trap all the rubbish coming through
installed downstream of her residence. She saw ‗a lot of junk‘, such as ‗plastic bags,
water bottles, and cardboard‘ paper trapped inside the net. She told me, though she
knew people who were working in such cleaning operations, she herself had never
actually seen the local council empty those trash racks throughout her 20 years of living
there. There was once a heavy rain in November 2007. I walked along various sections
of the Torrens when the rain stopped and observed a lot of rubbish, mainly ‗vegetable
matter‘, trapped in the trash racks at the Torrens Weir. Unfortunately, when I rushed
back at approximately 8.00 o‘clock in the morning the following day, the rubbish had
already been removed. Instead, I managed to observe sanitary workers frequently
picked up rubbish on the ground, as well those pieces floating in the water which were
close to the riverbanks using a special long stick (see Plate 36).
I had spent considerable time working with ‗Tim‘, a person whose name was
given to me by an Our Patch manager when we met at the Urban River Symposium:
The Future of the River Torrens in November 2006 (as mentioned in Chapter Three).
He was a retired botanist and became an active volunteer with the FSPB. His stories
Plate 36 A sanitary worker was trying to pick-up a water bottle floating in the Torrens
River.
188
helped me to understand the operation of the trash racks or booms, as well as the kind of
matter trapped in them. He took me for a tour around the billabong while explaining
various water pollution issues of the Torrens. According to him, there were several
types of trash racks installed in the Torrens and its tributaries. The first type of trash
racks included the one installed across the river near the Torrens Weir that created the
Torrens Lake and another one in the St. Peters section (see Plate 4, Chapter Three).
They were floating in the water resembling those in KDK at the Klang River. He told
me when there were storms, a lot of ‗vegetable matter‘, particularly leaves from the
surrounding areas and the road system, flowed into the river and was trapped in the
racks. Even the weir itself was ‗actually the best trash rack of the lot‘ because ‗a lot of
this vegetable matter floating on the lake would accumulate at the weir‘. The city
council had a contract to clear the rubbish away as quickly as possible following major
floods. He told me, ‗Under the boom is a wire mesh and anything floating down the
river is directed over to the corner of the weir where they [the local council] bring in a
scoop and scoop it out into a truck‘. As we approached the Second Creek, he showed
me the second type of trash rack installed at the mouth of the creek before it entered the
Torrens River. There was a signage erected above the rack (see Plate 37). The last
sentence read, ‗Every year over 200 tonnes of gross pollutants are collected by this trash
rack‘ (Fieldnotes: Adelaide 23/11/07). The rack was the one mentioned by Marion and
members of the focus group interview – concrete with big green net. I have also
observed this type of trash rack of smaller size installed at the mouths of various
stormwater drains. He asked me to walk down a path into the concrete structure and
take a closer look at the trash racks (see Plate 38). Immediately, my skin tingled as I
entered a dirty place. While we were inside the trash racks, he explained how whenever
there was a major flood, a lot of pretty awful stuff coming down was trapped in the
green net, including leaves, plastics, and various balls (tennis balls, cricket balls,
footballs). During big floods, he said, there would be up to 30 or 40 balls trapped inside
the net (see Plate 39). Interestingly, he shared with me an experiment to measure the
efficiency of the trash racks:
What they did, they got tennis balls, marked them, put them down storm
water culverts, then after a big rain went through all the litter and got the
tennis balls out and quantified how many had got away and they came
up with 15 to 30 per cent efficient. So between 70 and 85 per cent of
litter tennis balls were going over the top of trash racks (Fieldnotes:
Adelaide 23/11/07).
189
Plate 37 A sign erected above
Second Creek contained brief
facts about the trash rack.
Plate 38 An aerial view of the trash
rack.
Plate 39 Tim showed a tennis
ball he found buried in leafy
rubbish.
Plate 40 Tim demonstrated how to
pull a rope out of the trash rack.
Even though the trash racks were inefficient, as about 70 per cent of the balls escaped from
the racks, they were still helping to reduce the amount. So Tim suggested the Torrens
needed a lot more trash racks to improve its efficiency. Those nets have a rope, so they can
be pulled inside out to push all the rubbish out. He demonstrated by pulling the rope;
consequently, a small amount of rubbish pushed out (see Plate 40). They were mainly
leaves. Tim listed the contents: leaves, a blue tennis ball, a tennis ball, a tennis ball, and
cans. He further explained how, after a major flood, the local council would bring a bobcat
down the trap, a front end loader, to scoop out all the rubbish into a truck: ‗they [the traps]
cost money to empty‘. Apart from ‗visible litter‘, a term coined by one Our Patch
supervisor, stories of less visible pollutants are also examined in the final sub-section
below.
190
Less invisible pollutants
This last section echoes the narratives of pollution in the Klang River. Specifically,
apart from visible rubbish pollutants, some informants shared their concerns about the
less visible or permeable pollutants – mostly non-solid or liquid pollutants. As
mentioned earlier, water has a solvent property that enables dilution of other elements,
rendering liquid or less solid pollutant less visible to people‘s naked eyes. Except for
several informants (mostly those who had a scientific background) stories of invisible
pollutants such as ‗detergents‘, ‗heavy metals‘, ‗garden chemicals‘, ‗farm fertilisers‘,
‗dog poo‘, ‗run-off from the horses and other animals‘, ‗run-off from the road‘, ‗ducks
droppings‘, ‗industrial stuff‘ and ‗oil from cars‘, were less intense and intricate,
reflecting their hidden nature.
Despite the hidden nature of non-solid rubbish, a few informants highlighted
how the impact of these types of pollutants was much more detrimental to water quality
compared to rubbish pollutants. Matt classified two types of pollutants; first, those ‗one
can‘t visibly detect‘, such as ‗chemical pollutants‘, and, second, rubbish, which he
termed as ‗physical debris‘. Though physical debris contributed to pollution, he doubted
it was the ‗biggest source of pollution‘. Rubbish was not the ‗most dangerous pollutant
to the life of the river‘, but it was significant to many people due to its visibility. He
identified one of the main sources of chemical pollutants was the stormwater run-off
which brought with it heavy metals and other pollutants from road surfaces that
eventually flowed into the Torrens. He eloquently commented further:
I‘d presume that the chemical pollutants are more dangerous to the life
of the river than somebody throwing a shopping trolley in there; I don‘t
think throwing a shopping trolley in the river is a good thing, but I don‘t
think that affects the water quality significantly. When there‘s storm
water running into the river, which comes at some point off the bitumen
road, and it carries with it oils and petrol that have come from cars and
other greases, I suppose, you know, that to me, I presume that‘s more
dangerous to the life of the river (Interview: Adelaide, 26/10/07).
Jane reiterated Matt‘s viewpoints that visual pollution should be ‗the least of our
problems‘. ‗Visual rubbish pollution‘ was ‗not a great problem‘ because it was merely
solid matter. The rubbish, for example, could at its worst create obstructions to fishing
lines or tea-bags could accidentally kill birds, but, typically, it would not affect the
water quality. It was a significant problem, however, ‗from the point of view of the
amenity‘ of the TLP. In contrast, less invisible pollutants, such as ‗toxic materials‘ and
191
‗septic tanks and sewage leakages‘, actually posed a greater threat, since it was a human
as well as a river health issue. She advised me to refer to Tim for additional information
about sewage pollution.
Those with scientific knowledge of water provided more detailed explanations
in regard to invisible pollutants. Sean pointed out, ‗The problem with pollution is it‘s
hard to see‘. He warned about how what seemingly looked like a ‗healthy river‘ that
was ‗yielding beautiful water‘ could actually be an ‗unhealthy river‘ due to the
cadmium discharges from a mine upstream. Heavy metal pollution was usually invisible
to the naked eye due to its colourless and transparent properties. These heavy metals
were normally found in river sediment. Aaron equally worried about invisible heavy
metals lodged in the river sediment. He claimed that one of the contributors was
industrial sites, as they illegally dumped such hazardous metals as effluent into drainage
systems that eventually ran into the Torrens.
Geologist Gale, as noted in Chapter Four, wrote and co-authored several articles
on sediment pollution issues of the Torrens River. His viewpoints reemphasised
concerns raised above that visible matter, such as tree trunks and plastic bags, ‗was not
important‘ in terms of the river as a whole. Nonetheless, he acknowledged floating litter
was ‗much more significant to the average person because they can see it‘. The
emphasis on visible pollution was evident when they published their journal articles and
when the local newspapers and television reported their findings. However, he was a bit
disappointed because:
They [the reporters] started moving off on a tangent and they started
showing photographs of rubbish floating in the lake, because you can
take a photo of it, but you can‘t take a photograph of polluted sediment,
and the outrage was misdirected to some extent. That perhaps still may
have had the effect of causing the establishment of the Torrens
Taskforce. It‘s very hard for most people to realise that there is
something in the water that you can‘t see unless there is some sort of
slime on it or foam or something like that. There‘s something in the
sediments, and indeed that‘s the same with the official organisations;
[they] have never looked at the sediments despite the fact that they have
been told to. There are reports going back decades that have said ―You
should look at the sediments‖ but they never have done [so] and there
are a variety of reasons for that, presumably (Interview: Adelaide,
22/02/08).
Gale‘s frustrations spoke volumes to one of the main arguments in this thesis, that
regarding the importance of the sense of sight to local people in their understanding of
pollution. Visible floating rubbish either directly experienced or captured in still
192
pictures successfully evoked negative feelings and sentiments as well awareness among
local people of the need to care for their river in comparison to less visible matter.
‗Hannah‘, Gale‘s co-author, shared similar frustrations. She felt there was ‗a bit of a
political silence‘ in regards to their recommendations on sediment pollution. She
figured it could be due to the high cost of detecting and solving the problem thoroughly.
Secondly, she believed the state government would like ‗to focus on the more
immediate and the more visible things, such as the Torrens Lake in particular‘. As
noted, the lake was a hot spot for major events and celebrations, as well for tourists
cruising on the Popeye, so, it was ‗a political focus [more] than anything else‘. For
example, the state government had supported the Adelaide City Council in combating
the algal bloom occurrences and reduced visible litter, as it threatened the ‗reasonably
attractive and scenic water‘ of the Torrens River. Taken together, ecological and
aesthetic concerns are both embedded in pollution narratives.
Another invisible matter of concern is animal and human waste. Specifically,
human and animal wastes were ‗full of e-coli‘133
, which could affect human health via
water or food contamination. As illustrated in Chapter Four, the Torrens River was a
major disposal point for raw sewage at least in the earlier period of the settlement.
Approximately a century later, Tim discovered that sewage still contributed to the
pollution in the Torrens, particularly in St. Peters Billabong, though it was in a slightly
different pattern which was due to leakages from the underground sewage network. Tim
was the only informant who discussed the traces of human feacal matter as a pollutant,
an issue I discuss in Chapter Eight.
Different animals were associated with specific sections of the catchment and
considered as matter out of place, as they contributed to pollution: cattle and sheep
reared in farmlands in the upper reaches, dogs in the TLP middle section and horses at
Breakout Creek in the lower reaches of the Torrens. Patrick addressed one of his
recommendations in the TTF report to improve the river water quality:
Up in the rural [upper] section they‘ve [local councils and state
government] been slowly trying to fence off the rivers from the farmers‘
animals, and they‘ve been providing money and equipment and labour
to help the farmers to do this, but there are some farmers who just reject
it. And I see it often… you go up there and within a kilometre or two of
the reservoirs you can see cows actually standing in the river, and this is
crazy. It would be hard to find this sort of action being allowed just near
a drinking water supply anywhere in the rest of this country, and I had a
very strong recommendation on this (Interview: Adelaide, 10/01/08).
133
Escherichia coli is a type of bacteria that normally lived in the intestine and could cause nausea,
vomiting and diarrhoea.
193
Mitch, as one of the farmland owners of UTLG, recalled the same problem:
[W]hen we were first here in the 70‘s what we used to see was that
every summers farmers would let their sheep and cattle feed on all of
the vegetation that was on the water‘s edge, and cattle would walk right
into the water, and cross the stream the next day. So farmers didn‘t
understand about keeping water clean, because the cattle and sheep
would compact the edges and also break the edges up; and push all of
the soil down into the water. [...] All of that soil would be taken away
because it was all broken up, no vegetation to hold it, because the cattle
and sheep had plugged it all up (Interview: Adelaide, 18/10/07).
It is obvious, of course, that sheep and cattle could contribute to ecological disturbances
by causing bank erosion and dropping their polluting faecal matter in the river. Mitch
later on worked closely with farmers in his areas in identifying individual problems and
suggesting solutions to restrict their animals from entering the water bodies (elaborated
in Chapter Eight).
Similar problems of the contamination of water due to animal feces were
observed in the middle catchment. Hannah noted that, apart from trash, there was also
‗faeces from dogs, and that‘s quite revolting, going into the river‘. Marion observed in
her walk along the TLP:
One of the problems with dogs and cats … dogs should be on the leash
when people walk with them. But sometimes you have the dogs running
wild. And people are supposed to pick up their…feaces. But they don‘t
always do that (Interview: Adelaide, 25/10/07).
Likewise, Clara urged people to be more responsible at the individual level through
their everyday actions. She emphasised that local people need to be responsible in
maintaining the water quality of the Torrens. For example, those people who walked
their dog along the TLP needed to stop ‗pollution from [their] dogs, they need to scoop
the poo‘. She pointed to me ‗a doggy litter bag‘ behind our back as we were sitting on
the lawn at the TLP. Regretfully, a lot of people did not use the bag, as she observed
there was ‗a lot of poo‘ around the TLP which would be seeping into the Torrens,
especially during rain.
194
Plate 41 Several horses in the far background at Breakout Creek. The banks have been
concreted from this point onward towards the sea. There was the last floating trash rack installed
across the Torrens River, and a redevelopment was taking place to upgrade the walking path of
the TLP.
Plate 42 A close-up view of the horses at the Breakout Creek − ‗Horse, your hooves do not
belong here and yet we love your form‘.
Strikingly, in the lower Torrens during my fieldwork I found several horses freely
grazing by the side of the river at Breakout Creek near the sea, though it was not a
farmland – an unusual sight at a public open place (see Plate 41). Only two informants
commented about the presence of horses and their potential as a source of pollutants in
this lower stretch of the river: one was Jody, as she lived near Breakout Creek, and
another was Mike, as he had walked from the headwater to the mouth of the Torrens.
According to Mike, the horses were ‗part of the cultural history of Adelaide‘. Their
history is quite long.They were brought into the estuary in 1860 to form a cavalry troop
because the local people thought the Russians might invade from the sea. So, the local
people, including Jody, had ‗ambivalent‘ feelings towards the horses. Jody was aware
195
that the horses ‗destroyed the environment‘ with their manure and ‗damaged the soil‘,
but as a walker she was ‗quite pleased to see them there, they look good‘. Several years
later, the horse owners made the effort to collect the manure and put them in bags. They
then left the bags near the banks for local gardeners, like Jody, to apply the manure as
natural fertiliser. Likewise, Mike shared the same mixed feelings, as reflected in his
poem, ‗Horse, your hooves do not belong here and yet we love your form‘ (see Plate
42). According to both Jody and Mike, currently, there was a ‗complicated‘ debate to
displace the horses out of Breakout Creek and turned the area into a wetland. In the final
section below, I discuss another complicated issue of the presence or absence of matter
outside the riverscape, namely trees, birdlife and concrete banks.
Matters surrounding the riverscape: Flora, fauna and concrete banks
As with the Klang, the Torrens River pollution stories include matters outside the
riverbeds. People were equally concerned with the land alongside the river. Specifically,
this section examines inter-related stories of trees, wildlife (particularly birds) and
concrete banks as significant matters integral to local people‘s experience of the river as
a place and their understanding of pollution. In general, a healthy river is associated
with the presence of trees and the absence of concrete columns and straightened banks.
Equally important is the presence of birds, which depend on the trees along the banks
for their shelter and food sources. Nonetheless, it is not simply any trees that symbolise
the cleanliness of the Torrens, but it is the native trees. They drew affective responses
from the local people and were considered to be of high value for restoration and
protection. On the other hand, various introduced plants shared the same journey with
European carp, as they have been transferred from their place of origin and introduced
into the catchment. Decades later, these introduced trees, such as willows, are identified
as one of the important sources of pollution. They have subsequently been considered as
matter out of the (river) place and despised by many. I begin this section with the nexus
between modification of the Torrens and native trees, followed by birdlife. Next I
examine the significance of native trees, before I conclude with introduced trees.
Unnatural concrete banks and native plants
Though the Torrens River was not concreted, except for a small stretch at the Breakout
Creek, some expressed fear of the possibility the river would be channelised and
straightened in the future, since some of its tributaries, as well as other rivers in the
196
state, have been extensively modified. To borrow Tim‘s expression, this ‗ugly concrete
structure‘ was considered as matter out of river place, eventually determining how
people define a clean or polluted river. For example, ‗Vincent‘, a 30-year-old Our Patch
volunteer, clearly addressed the relationship between concrete and vegetation when I
asked him to describe a clean river:
Well, its course or its path should be natural, and natural creek lines in
Australia do look messy! I‘m sure it‘s the same all over the world, but
they certainly don‘t go in straight lines and have concrete edges. There
should definitely be healthy vegetation all around on both sides, natural
native vegetation. There‘s such little remnant vegetation left in the
Adelaide Plains that I strongly believe that whatever open space there is
remaining, should be planted with native vegetation, and that the
vegetation should be protected and the river is an obvious choice. The
benefits in the conservation sense are pretty important. They provide
corridors for wildlife movement, but also I just think the city is such a
much more pleasant place to be when there‘s open space when there are
natural areas around so I think there‘s a lot of value in it. To me that‘s a
good reason why we should be trying to re-establish rivers and creeks to
their natural state (Interview: Adelaide, 06/11/07).
The above quote echoes and reinforces wide-spread local concerns. There are several
characteristics of a healthy river. A healthy river is the one that preserves its ‗natural
state‘. It should be devoid of concrete slabs and pillars that reflects human interference,
reducing its qualities of naturalness. The riverbanks should be lined with trees and
grasses in support of a variety of wildlife, including birds. But not just any tree will do.
As revealed in the following, the trees must be native to the region. Vincent also
highlighted an important point: the riverscape as an important open space for the
restoration of native plants in the region.
Marion commented that people would like to see the Torrens in ‗its so-called
natural state‘, expressing a high hope the river would be continued in such a condition
in the future. She appreciated that the Torrens was not an ‗artificial river‘, except at the
concreted and straightened Breakout Creek section. She noted how the Torrens was
reasonably natural, unlike in Germany, where some of the rivers have been ‗concreted
all the way through‘. Likewise, when asked to provide suggestions for a cleaner
Torrens, a male volunteer of the People‘s Environment Protection Alliance (PEPA)
expressed his negative sentiments upon a number of concreted tributaries, such as the
Second Creek, that fed into the main river. He wondered about the ‗richness of life
around those concrete drains‘ and believed ‗the biodiversity has greatly reduced‘. Sean
suggested to me to walk along the Torrens and its tributaries. He said it would be useful
for my fieldwork to identify the ‗artificial‘ sections, such as the First, Second and Third
197
Creeks (see Plate 43), which were ‗almost entirely concrete lines‘, and some run in
underground pipes. They bear ‗no resemblance to what it would have been 100 years
ago'. It ‗would not be an exaggeration to argue that it‘s the most modified river in the
country‘. Sean further argued that there were ‗varying degrees of aesthetic perception‘
of the river and its cleanliness. Some, they would be satisfied, since the Torrens had not
been modified into concrete drains, unlike the Sturt River and Brownhill Creek134
.
These two streams have been concreted all the way through. He commented that some
local people would look at the Torrens and think it was ‗natural‘ and ‗beautiful‘. I
remembered that was exactly my feeling, when I first looked at the Torrens during my
preliminary visit in 2006. In contrast, he himself could not ‗look at grassy banks and
willows and think ―Oh, isn‘t this lovely!‖‘. For him, this ‗look like an English river‘
was an indicator of an unhealthy condition, as there should be ‗native ground cover,
understory and aquatic plants‘ along and in the Torrens.
Plate 43 Third Creek has been transformed into a concrete drain
Many expressed their love and preferences for native plants. Jane identified as one of
the criteria of a healthy river that the banks should be in a ‗sufficiently natural state‘
without creating erosion problems which resulted in ‗the need to concrete them‘.
Alternatively, there should be a ‗sufficiently diverse range of nature‘s plants‘ to stabilise
the bank especially during floods. Like many others, her conceptualisation of natural
plants was actually equated with native species, as she clarified during the interview, as
well as during Our Patch on-the-ground activities. Similarly, Mike greatly appreciated
134
The two streams are within the Patawalonga catchment which is bounded by the Torrens River in the
north.
198
the presence of the river red gums135
in different stretches along the Torrens. He
compared the distribution of this native species in the Adelaide Hills in the upstream
section with the downstream Adelaide Plain:
There‘s a lot of beautiful big old river red gums along the Torrens that
are very magnificent trees, especially in the upper reaches. The quality
changes, of course, once you hit the Adelaide Plain. There are some big
river red gums left along the creek, but not as many because a lot of
them must have been logged in the early days of the colony, and once
you hit the west, the big trees aren‘t as common. You get much more
like acacia and mallee, they change. I think that‘s probably natural,
though, but up in the eastern reaches of the river, it has still got lovely
river red gums along the river (Interview: Adelaide, 12/02/08).
He welcomed restoration of the Torrens through revegetation of native trees:
I can say in my walk, I‘ve been very pleased, especially in the upper
section, to see how much has been done with bringing the river back to
a healthy, natural state […]. You can see replanting of major native
vegetation everywhere. Everywhere [in the upstream], I see signs of the
Upper Torrens Landcare Project and its plantings, reclaiming the banks
and the watercourses with corridors of native trees and grasses. This
gives me some hope, not only for the river, but for this project of mine. I
mean why, why write a rambling pastoral at the beginning of the 21st
century? Who cares about a modest journey along a local creek, when
the world eats itself with smog and waste and war? (Interview:
Adelaide, 12/02/08).
Mike associated an improvement of the Torrens to a ‗healthy, natural state‘ with the
presence of native trees and grasses. Apart from native tree restoration activities in the
upper sections, a similar project was evident in the lower section as well.
I met ‗John‘ with his team members while they were occupied with tree-planting
activities along the riverbanks downstream of the Torrens Weir. John, who worked as a
supervisor with the Biodiversity Unit of the Adelaide City Council, told me the planting
was part of a larger ‗River Torrens Restoration Project‘. He informed me that the
particular site on which they were working was known as Bonython Park 27 (see Plate
44). There was also a Kaurna name for the place − Tulya Wodli 136
. The project, which
has been running for three years, aimed for the conservation of native plants, as stated
on the signage erected near the site, ‗This area is being restored using plants that were
part of the original riverine environment‘ (see Plate 45). The area was originally
covered with the river red gum before it was cleared in the early period of settlement.
135
River red gums (scientific name − eucalyptus camaldulensis). 136
There were a total of 29 parks in this restoration project. Tulya Wodli literally means Police Barracks
because they used to be there previously.
199
When asked about the water quality of the Torrens, he quickly noted the polluted state
of the river through various water testing conducted by the council. The scientific
evidence was further supported by his personal experiences: ‗When you‘re working in it
you can feel it, like it goes all over your skin and it sort of tingles, it‘s not nice water‘.
John was the only informant who highlighted tactile experiences in sensing pollution.
His constant physical contact with polluted water as he planted the trees along the edge
could be the reason for his sensitivity.
Plate 44 Tulya Wodli native tree restoration projects. The new tubestock native trees were
planted along the riverbanks guarded by green plastic bags. Previously planted sedges and
rushes grew reasonably well at the water edges
I observed John and his team planting sedges and rushes at the water edges and tending
to other plants near the banks. He defined native plants in a restricted manner as those
which were ‗local and indigenous to the Adelaide Plains‘. He proudly mentioned they
did not plant trees native to Queensland or Victoria along the Torrens, but trees that
originally grew on the Adelaide Plains only. For him the native trees were ‗better for the
water ways‘ for several reasons. Using scientific names, he explained how typha and
phragmite australis137
, for example, could help to improve water quality. These grass-
like plants with green narrow leaves could filter pollutants by forcing ‗the water through
lines that are perpendicular to the vegetation‘. Ideally, the banks would be vegetated
with ‗different species of local indigenous
137
Typa and phragmite (common name − bulrush and common reed).
200
Plate 45 Signage erected near the Tulya Wodli site.
plants‘ because each would specialise in a particular pollutant. Some would filter heavy
metals and oil, others would just focus on phosphate and nitrate. Personally, he loved
typha, but he noted some people dislike them because of their tendencies to spread or
even colonise whole water bodies. Apart from sedges and rushes, he commented on
various native woody trees or bushes he observed along the Torrens, including river red
gum, blue red gum138
, sheoak139
, native pine140
, and Christmas bush141
and acacia142
.
Interestingly, not only did John highly value native plants in terms of ecological
benefits, but also their social merits:
Basically these plants give Adelaide its identity in the world; without
these plants Adelaide is just another city in the world, you know, it‘s got
buildings and roads. An area of natural vegetation gives the city its
identity. All these species just slip into extinction, then you‘re going to
have a city with pigeons, rats and sparrows, just like every other city
with no birds, no butterflies, because these plants support all the life
forms in Adelaide. So it starts with insect diversity, then birds and
mammals and so forth. So, basically we preserve the web of life in our
area, in Adelaide. And they [native plants] also are very sensitive to
water, they don‘t need much water. They like water, but they can do
without it because of their evolution (Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 17/09/07).
John demonstrated an intricate emotional tie to a place. He believed Adelaide‘s unique
identity was tied to its native vegetation. Later, echoing Vincent, John believed that the
riverscape was an ideal place for native tree restoration, indicating an intimate
138
He combined both scientific and common names in his usage. Blue red gum (scientific name −
euucalypts leucoxylon). 139
Sheoak (scientific name − casuarinas stricta.) 140
Native pine (scientific name − callitiris preissii). 141
Christmas bush (scientific name − bursaria spinos). 142
Acacia pycnantha (common name − golden wattle).
201
connection between a city, river and natural fauna. The fauna along the Torrens, in turn,
act as a balance to the built environment of Adelaide city, as elsewhere, full of buildings
and engineering structures. In the subsequent section I examine birdlife, as indicated by
John above, as one of the matters significant to river experiences.
Birdlife
As indicated above, the ‗natural state‘ of the Torrens is integral to people‘s
conceptualisation of pollution. The sighting of fauna such as birdlife enriched people‘s
experiences of the Torrens as a ‗natural‘ place. More importantly, the presence of
birdlife along the banks, to a certain degree, helps to portray the improved quality of the
river. Members of focus group interviews expressed their hopes and aspirations when
asked for suggestions to improve the quality of the Torrens:
Would like it to be beautiful, calm and serene ...beautiful trees, green
grasses, and birdlife.
More kookaburras. They were [also known as] laughing kingfisher.
They have colonised up and down the river.
I wanted to see lots of wildlife in the river and on the banks.
(Focus Group Interview: Adelaide, 09/02/08)
Likewise, another informant observed there were ‗a lot of bird species quite happily
living all along the river‘ (see Plate 46). As elaborated in the previous section, Mike was
surprised that the state of the Torrens was ‗surprisingly good‘, as he ‗saw a very rich
variety of birdlife‘. This indicates the importance of visual experience and the presence
of fauna as indicator of a healthy river. Mitch observed there were black swans
breeding, pelicans, and at least two species of ducks, including cormorants143
. Amber
insisted that the water quality of the section was increasingly ‗cleaner‘ due to restoration
efforts by the local councils and communities, as she saw ‗a lot more bird life‘ in St.
Peters. She noted an increased population of the sacred ibis and purple swamphen144
which were trotting around up the banks nearer to people – a scene she described as
143
Black swan, pelican and cormorant (scientific names – cygnus atratu, pelecanus conspicillatus and
phalacrocorax sulcirostris). Though these species did spend their time in water bodies, I categorise them
as matter outside the riverbeds because unlike fish, these species could also be found loafing along the
adjacent banks. 144
Sacred ibis and purple swamphen (scientific names - threskiomis molucca and porhyrio melanotnus).
202
Plate 46 Birds and wildlife in the Torrens River and along its banks. From above left to
right : pelicans and black swan, pacific black ducks, galahs, a sacred ibis, a purple swamphen,
and Australian magpies.
203
‗fantastic‘ and ‗so beautiful‘. For her the diversity of wildlife close to the riverbanks
was encouraging, and she hoped more research would be conducted to document and
understand their biology and habits. Kevin was more specific in the sense that he
wanted to see ‗the return of native birds‘ along with native fish to reside along and in
the river. Nevertheless, he did not provide examples of native birds along the Torrens.
This is reflective of the overall pattern that bird stories were less embedded along the
lines of nativeness or foreignness compared with fish and trees. The informants have
not identified birds as one of pollutants, hence less stories about them, including along
the foreign and native distinction.
Marion observed there was ‗a rich range of birdlife‘ along the Torrens in her
neighbourhood. She even listed the most prevalent birds species compared with other
informants during her walk. In fact during the interview, she spent the first half hour
talking about the birds and trees of the Torrens, as she herself noted, ‗So, what else to
talk about [in relation to a] clean river …I haven‘t talked about the water, only the
surrounding [so far]‘. Her statement ‗only the surrounding‘ is congruent with one of
arguments of this thesis: local people have a broad conceptualisation of pollution to
include matter outside the water bodies. She listed among others Australian magpies145
,
pacific black ducks146
, galahs147
, kookaburras148
, lorikeet149
, and Adelaide Rosellas150
.
As I was an outsider and non-birdwatcher, I was struggling to follow the birds‘ names
accordingly. I requested her to spell them out. She then described the main features of
the birds. For example, the lorikeet was a little green bird, whereas the Adelaide Rosella
was a colourful and quite big bird. She told me I would hear the kookaburra laughing as
I walked along the Torrens. Whilst I was not able to distinguish the sound of laughing
kookaburra, I certainly heard the sound of chirping birds all the time while I was
walking or conducting interviews along the river. Later, she proudly identified the
magpie, lorikeet, Adelaide Rosella, galah and kookaburra as Australian natives; in fact,
she was the only informant who did so. Apart from birdlife, she also observed an
echidna151
− another form of native wildlife along the Torrens with a lot of spikes on it.
She explained how the presence of wildlife such as the echidna indicated the riverscape
145
Australian magpies (scientific name – gymnorhina tibicen). 146
Pacific black ducks (scientific name – anas superciliosa). 147
Galah (scientific name – cacatua roseicapilla). 148
Kookaburra (scientific name – dacelo novaeguineae). 149
Lorikeet (scientific name – glossopsitta porphyocephala). 150
Adelaide Rosella (scientific name – platycercus elegans). 151
Echidna (scientific name – tachyglossus aculeatus).
204
was healthy enough for their survival, otherwise she would not be able to see them. In
contrast, the presence of introduced trees could jeopardise the quality of the Torrens, as
elucidated in the subsequent section.
Introduced plants as indicator and cause of pollution
As elsewhere in Australia, the Torrens River catchment is home to ‗introduced‘ or
‗foreign‘ plants. A long list of introduced plants cited by the local people includes
willow, elms, ash, olive, morning glory, gorse, blackberry, African daisies, caltrop,
couch grass, salvation jane, poplar, and bamboo. They were introduced to the region for
several reasons, either for their aesthetic beauty or utility values, such as providing
shade or stabilising the riverbanks against erosion (for example, as the willow does).
Like many other instances of co-existence, they eventually generate conflicts.
Generally, the presence of introduced plants was ‗demonised as highly ―alien‖‘(Trigger
et. Al 2008: 1273). Strong negative feelings toward these unwanted plants were
copiously evident by the labels and traits attached to them, for example, ‗weed‘, ‗very
bad‘, ‗pest‘, ‗incredibly noxious‘, ‗really not good‘, ‗feral‘ and ‗invasive‘. Moreover, as
in regard to carp, stories of introduced plants were often told by the local people in a
disgusted tone. They were considered both as an indicator and one of the causes of
pollution in the Torrens River.
When asked about how they would know the Torrens was polluted, one of the
members of the focus group interview commented on the presence of ‗weed infestation
and creepers‘. Likewise, Matt responded:
River pollution? […] I‘m conscious of, because I live near the River
Torrens, it‘s just the pests that grow around, particularly our river, you
know, things like bamboo and couch grass and those things pollute the
river as well (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
Apart from water attributes as discussed in an earlier section, Matt observed and
identified the introduced plants bamboo and couch grass152
along the Torrens in
Underdale as indicators of pollution. ‗Eric‘, a retired history teacher who later became
an Our Patch volunteer, was also concerned about the presence of introduced plants. He
noted the changes of the river over several decades:
152
Bamboo and couch grass (scientific name – bambuseae tribe and elymus repens).
205
Most of them are for the good; they are better changes. Because in the
1940-50s it was very, very polluted, willow trees everywhere, dead
carcasses of cattle, tanneries injecting their chemicals into it, food
companies injecting slop into it, and human effluent going straight into
it from toilets (Interview : Adelaide, 08/02/08).
Interestingly, Eric grouped together introduced willow153
trees (see Plate 47) with other
forms of matter that I would consider as more apparent pollutants, such as chemical
effluents, human effluent and dead cattle. For him, ‗a healthy river is what existed
before European settlement‘. This outlook drives his perceptions on introduced trees as
Plate 47 Weeping willow trees at St. Peters.
pollutants, as well as in his practice of removing introduced plants and replacing them
with native vegetation, discussed in Chapter Eight. For these three persons and many
others, a healthy river means an absence of introduced flora.
In a similar vein with regard to the fish population, Mike distinguished what
plants should belong and should not belong to the natural environment of the Torrens.
In his walk, he explored the hybrid riverscape of the Torrens along different stretches of
the river. However, Mike showed mixed emotions in acknowledging both the aesthetic
values and the inappropriateness of ash trees due to their ‗English nationality‘:
In the gorge section, there‘s a lot of ash trees and they look beautiful,
but they‘re probably the wrong tree to be there, if you know what I
mean. They were obviously introduced. They‘re an English tree, and so
I have mixed feelings about those. They are beautiful, but at the same
time they‘re not the right tree to be there, so whether you pull them out
and plant with new ones - plant with the native ones, yeah – that‘s an
interesting social question, isn‘t it? How do you perceive beauty
because they can look very beautiful, big ash trees? Well, it‘s
153
Weeping willow (scientific name − salix spp.)
206
interesting, isn‘t? I can see why they [local councils and NGOs activist]
were taking out a lot of willows and ash trees, and I can understand the
reasons for that (Interview: Adelaide, 12/02/08).
Likewise, he expressed similar feelings with regards to willow trees. Mike exclaimed,
‗There‘s a bit of cultural clash‘, as ‗the willows look beautiful‘. However, ‗the willow
does cause a lot of problems because it drops leaves that do deoxygenate the water‘. He
showed that the negative judgment towards introduced plans was not a straightforward
process, as he weighed the benefit of picturesque qualities against its ecological
damage.
Blame for causing pollution in the Torrens, especially the algal bloom outbreaks,
characterised the stories about introduced plants. Many echoed Mike‘s comment that the
production of rubbish leaves from these plants eventually polluted the water through its
process of decomposition. Clara made a more explicit connection between pollution and
the presence of introduced plants:
In [a] lot of cases native leaf doesn‘t produce like the European poplar
leaf, which is all right in northern Europe. Over there the water is very
cold; here, the water is warm. So, the leaves break down quickly. So, we
have a huge load of leaves that drop into the river, soft leaves that drop
into the river, and they cause pollution downstream. They rob the water
of oxygen, and we tend to get blue green algae. Most of Australian trees
have hardier leaves to survive the drought, and they tended to break
down all year round, so that it continues to be a nutrient rather than
[pollutant]. Introduced trees, they tend to drop leaves over a short period
in autumn, while the gum trees drop their leaves all year round. So it‘s
quite different cycle. When our trees drop the leaves, it tends to be all
year round. So we [are] revegetating these [native] trees, remove the
polluting trees, and put a better tree and better plant (Interview:
Adelaide, 18/02/08).
Clearly, Clara put the blame on introduced trees, as she identified them as ‗polluting
trees‘. She provided scientific justification in terms of how the introduced plants caused
harm to the ecology of the river. John, who held a Diploma in Natural Resources
Management, similarly identified introduced trees as ‗another main cause of pollution.
He observed ‗there were a lot of deciduous154
trees along the river, like weedy European
trees‘. But he offered an extreme view, ‗Australian vegetation is evergreen so none
[emphasis added] of our native plants drop leaves, only European plants drop leaves‘.
As evident in Clara‘s quote and several others, native plants did drop leaves as well.
The question was when and how much these plants dropped leaves.
154
It means falling of leaves at maturity seasonally.
207
Unlike Clara, who was a formally trained scientist, Eric is a self-taught ‗local
expert‘ who has read widely on various environmental issues and ecology155
. In
addition, he also attended various types of training with regards to water quality, as well
as courses on various flora and fauna found in Adelaide region. I was impressed with
his depth of knowledge as he shared his extensive knowledge both on native and
introduced plants eloquently. Echoing Mike, Eric presented the nexus of the benefits
and ecological damage caused by willow trees. He pointed out the benefit of willows
which were rarely discussed by others. He told me that willow was the source of
acetylsalicylic acid, in turn, used in the production of aspirin. Cricket bats were also
made from this ‗traditional English tree‘. Thus, he stressed that ‗there is a whole
cultural thing about bringing willow trees‘ into the region. He continued to explain the
impact of the willows and other introduced trees, particularly as one of the pollutants in
the Torrens. Willows, golden poplars156
, elms157
, ashes158
and olive159
were ‗European
trees, and they dropped their leaves‘. He claimed their leaves never eroded because the
bacteria required to destroy them did not exist naturally there, whereas the bacteria that
were required to destroy the eucalypt and acacia leaves did. The leaf load of natives was
far less because it was spread over the whole year. Another disadvantage was that
willows, elms and ashes have the abilities to propagate and colonise, reducing the
biodiversity of the riverscape.
‗Tyson‘, a paddle boat and bicycle rental operator, provided another dimension
of viewing pollution and its impact. He first introduced himself:
I am middle-aged, and live in Adelaide; I was actually born in Adelaide.
I‘ve been away; I‘ve lived away for 10 years or more, but the last 17
I‘ve been glued to this spot [Torrens Lake]. I‘ve seen the river‘s use
grow and people‘s perceptions of the river change at different times and
the apparent care that‘s going into it these years. It‘s very encouraging
because I think in years past people weren‘t really too worried about it,
and that‘s why the water quality declined in the first place. The feral
trees were all they had, and they‘ve pulled all those out, they‘ve planted
[common] reeds. There used to be willow trees all the way along, and
they are introduced trees that actually spoiled the ecology. So, that‘s me
(Interview: Adelaide, 24/10/07).
Fascinatingly, his introduction of himself inter-mingled with his negative feelings
towards introduced trees, signifying its importance to his perceptions and understanding
155
Mark suggested me to read Tim Flannery (1997), the author of ‗The Future Eaters‘, one of Australia‘s
leading scientists and best-selling authors. 156
Golden poplars (scientific name − populus x canadensis aurea). 157
Elms (scientific name − ulmus). 158
Ashes and olive (scientific names − fraxinus). 159
Olive (scientific name − olea europaea).
208
of pollution, as well as his self-identification with the natural landscape. He wished he
could see more of the river gums that were actually meant to be by the river and not
‗willow trees that came from England‘. He noted the river was a ‗little wilder‘ and
‗wasn‘t as manicured‘ ten years earlier. Like many others, he blamed introduced rubbish
leaves for polluting the Torrens. He had every reason to be upset about introduced trees.
He believed introduced trees were one of the sources of phosphates polluting the river
that eventually led to the occurrences of blue-green algae. He was disappointed, since
the last seven years or so, the Adelaide city council had ordered the shutdown of the lake
and the prohibition of water recreational activities, including the paddle boat:
I was sending out like 80 boats a day and suddenly they ring up and say
―Sorry you can‘t send any more boats out‖. It‘s like getting your legs
cut off (Interview: Adelaide, 24/10/07).
During summer 2008, approximately three months after an interview session with him, I
searched for Tyson again, as I heard from the local media about the closure of the lake. I
went to his spot at Elder Park and observed for few minutes his bicycle rental
transactions. Unlike those non-closing days where the users were happily paddling in
the lake, the boats were parked idly near the banks. I saw a nearly tumbled sign nearby,
‗Torrens Lake CLOSED. Polluted water. Avoid Contact‘ (Fieldnotes: Adelaide,
15/02/08), which was erected during the closed period only (see Plate 48). I approached
and asked him how long it had been closed. It was already more than a week, he
answered. While fixing the signage, he informed me that the bacteria‘s reading was still
high, so the lake would continue to be closed for at least another two weeks (see Plate
49), eventually affecting his income earning. He received updated information about the
water quality from a scientific officer in Adelaide City Council regularly. Shortly, a
small boat which had cruised around the lake for the last 10 minutes came nearer to our
spot. Tyson shouted to them jokingly ‗Can you fix it for me?‘ The two passengers just
simply laughed. Tyson told me they were Adelaide City Council scientists who
conducted water quality survey data on a daily basis. I saw one of them threw a
measuring instrument into the water, and after a while the other scientist recorded the
reading (see Plate 50). Though the observation and conversation with Tyson were brief
and quick on that particular day, it provided me the depth of his sense of river place and
his ambivalent feelings to introduced trees.
209
Plate 48 The closing of the Torrens during summer 2008. The lake was void of water
recreational activities. The paddle boats were not allowed to operate.
Plate 49 Despite his disappointment, Tyson helped to tighten the loosen screws of the sign.
Plate 50 Two scientists from the Adelaide City Council checked the level of various
pollution parameters to determine the water quality.
Chapter summary
Sharing resonance with the previous chapter, and mindful of the contrasts, I have
explored the taken-for-granted everyday sense of place in determining local people‘s
connections to water and conceptualisation of pollution as these refer to the context of
South Australia‘s Torrens River. Respondents unanimously revealed their concerns
about the poor quality of the water, basing a complex of responses on their own
210
interactions with it, as well as their memories and historical recollections. Several
persons indicated a certain hopefulness that river quality would gradually improve.
In conjunction with preceding chapters, I have endeavoured to develop an
understanding about people‘s views regarding the how, when and why of pollution. A
key finding was that many based observations on polluted matter via its colour, and I
have endeavoured to describe their responses in some detail. Other sensations, such as
sound and smell, appeared less often. In sum, the sighting of algal bloom and floating
rubbish signified that the river was polluted. The absence and/or presence of fish, trees
and birdlife enhanced people‘s sense of place and connection to the river. The
ethnographic data I have presented also show how the practice of walking, particularly
along the TLP, provided an important means to heighten people‘s sense of place and to
allow the sighting of polluted matters which, in turn, facilitated activities to restore
and/or protect their river, its banks, and local species.
This chapter continues to extend Douglas‘s notion that dirt (in my case,
pollution) is essentially disorder – it is ‗matter out of place‘ (1970: 53). Whilst the
presence of concrete banks is easily comprehensible as ‗wrong‘ (to borrow Mike‘s term)
matter for a river place, others demanded broader attention to a range of issues. This
chapter has described a very complex human classification system of flora and fauna. In
particular, the final section highlighted some of the conflicts between native and
introduced species. More importantly, the introduced species were considered both as an
indicator and source of pollution. The next chapter explores further local people‘s
engagement with their ‗natural‘ place in their attempt to revive and restore the Klang
River catchment.
211
CHAPTER SEVEN
KLANG RIVER STEWARDSHIP
While Chapters Five and Six concentrated primarily on the understanding and
experiences of pollution, this and subsequent chapters focus on practices aimed at
reviving and improving the health of the two rivers that constitute my ethnographic and
geographic research focus. I show how actions taken to save these rivers cannot be fully
understood without an appreciation of local people‘s sense of, and connections to, rivers
as meaningful places. In developing this argument I draw on Tuan‘s (1974) ideas on
places as ‗fields of care‘, as discussed in Chapter Two. I also address human agency as a
means to care for and improve river quality. By bringing to the forefront a series of
what I term ‗place-saving stories‘ I explore how negative experiences of pollution have
helped to identify and stimulate human action, and to inevitably transform the river into
a field of care.
Place-saving stories for the Klang are explored from different vantage points as
reflected in the three interrelated sections below. The first section explores people‘s
perceptions about the stewardship and responsibilities embedded in taking care of the
river. Local people identified themselves and various government agencies as care-
takers of rivers. The second section discusses government (specifically river
authorities‘) efforts and hands-on initiatives to improve the water quality of the Klang
River, in particular, and Malaysian river systems, in general. Though the bulk of this
thesis is devoted to local people‘s stories, government-related information is crucial to
the argument I am concerned to build regarding the significance of human agency as a
means to protect the natural environment, particularly rivers. In the final section, I focus
on stories of two residents – Hamid and Amin − who passionately extend relentless
effort through their everyday on-the-ground practical work to improve the health of and,
more generally, to revive the Klang River.
212
Sharing a field of care: An interplay of personal and river authorities’
responsibilities
This section discusses people‘s perceptions about river stewardship. The questions I
highlighted to participants were originally intended to elicit understandings of people‘s
connections to rivers in terms of their willingness to assume personal responsibilities,
for example, by reporting pollution incidents to authorities, as well as practising
environment-friendly behaviours, such as not littering. Though the Klang River was
often regarded as polluted and unappealing due to its teh tarik colour and the concreting
of its banks, none of the informants indicated they had given up hope that the river
could be revived. Instead, they indicated that greater effort should be put into improving
the quality and general maintenance of the Klang River. Almost all informants affirmed
their own personal responsibilities as members of local resident groups focused on
caring for the river. The cleanliness and order-maintenance of the river were also issues
discussed by government agencies and river authorities.
A key point to emerge from fieldwork was that local people clearly recognised
the important role they can and do play in preserving and protecting rivers. The value
of this activity is evident in the words of Lien:
I think actually the responsibility is on everyone. As an ordinary
citizen, we might think, ―Aiyaah, I‘m alone. I can‘t do anything to help
the environment. I have no potential or means to help the environment‖
− but we need to be positive. Even though we are alone, we as one
individual can make positive changes to the environment (Interview:
Kuala Lumpur, 15/02/2007).
Lien‘s statement that the responsibility of taking care of the river is on ‗everyone‘ is
also evident in the comments of other informants, as discussed below, but she gave
specific examples of how local people could adopt the environmentally friendly lifestyle
of ‗3R - Recycle, Reuse, and Reduce‘, which promotes smart consumption patterns that
can help to reduce environmental impacts. Lien also criticised Malaysians who did not
value or appreciate the environment, for instance, by bad littering habits. She reminded
the public, ‗Don‘t litter. Don‘t throw rubbish everywhere‘. Her critique parallels
identification of rubbish as one of major pollutants in the Klang River, as discussed in
Chapter Five. Lien also highlighted how the habit of throwing rubbish into the drains
has negative consequences, as the rubbish would be washed away into rivers through
the drainage network system. She continued:
So the same thing goes with Sungai Klang. We may not know those
culprits who pollute the river. The polluters could be our mother, sister,
213
or brother, whoever pollutes the environment. There‘s a need to change
our habits. So, we need to change our habit of polluting the river.
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 15/02/2007).
Lien stressed that, in her view, the most important steward was the government, which
should act as a ‗role model‘. People would eventually follow, if ‗the government does
something good to the environment‘. So for her, ‗If we want to clean the Klang River
and to protect our river from pollution, we need to see what the government is doing‘.
She noted there were many significant policies and laws in relation to river pollution
that were enacted, but not translated into action, and this could be very confusing for
locals. In response to further probing from me into river stewardship, Lien observed:
The government should increase environmental awareness in Malaysia
− because if we don‘t have an environmental awareness, we wouldn‘t
know the importance of rivers to human societies. Thus, it‘s very hard
to tell people not to pollute the river. We need to tackle the root cause
instead of solving the problem of pollution. Because I know that Sungai
Klang has been cleaned many times. But it gets dirty again. So we have
to tackle why it gets dirty again − maybe because companies pollute the
river. We have to see what the reasons are. That‘s what I feel
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 15/2/2007).
Here, again, Lien highlighted the responsibilities of the government. Nevertheless, she
acknowledged that the government had tried to clean the river over recent decades.
Similarly, Amin, whom I introduced in Chapter Five, reiterated the claim that the Klang
should be considered a field of care for both local people and river authorities.
However, unlike Lien and those who thought similarly, Amin emphasised the individual
resident‘s responsibilities:
In actual fact, the responsibilities to care for the river should rest on the
people who live in the place. Secondly, it should be the local authorities.
The local authorities should support the local people. Next, it should be
the Department of Irrigation [and Drainage]. It‘s part of their duties to
look after the river. So, the first [actor] should be the society. The
society must be aware of its responsibilities to take care of the river. For
example, they shouldn‘t throw dirty things into the river. That‘s what is
meant by being responsible − don‘t throw dirty things into the river
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/04/07).
Not only did Amin provide the framework for a partnership between the local people
and government, he also indicated a hierarchical structure concerning the stewardship of
the Klang. The first actor was the local people themselves, followed by local councils
such as Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur (DBKL) or Kuala Lumpur City Hall, and
214
finally federal river authorities such as Department of Irrigation and Drainage (DID).
Amin certainly ‗walked-his-talk‘ in regard to assuming personal responsibilities for
river stewardship, as will be shown in the following section.
For some informants, rivers are a ‗common‘ (Ostrom 1990, 2010) natural
resource so there is a need for the society to protect these resources collectively. Hanif,
for instance, explained:
Rivers belong to humanity. Everybody owns them. So everybody should
play their role. So there‘s a need to take care of the rivers. The society
needs to look after the river. For example, around here in Keramat, you
can see there are a lot of car workshops and there is also a wet market −
there are a lot of contributing factors that pollute the Klang River
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 14/04/07).
Here, Hanif expressed very real concerns about the polluting behaviour of residents,
such as the dumping of solid and wastewater from car workshops and the wet market in
his neighbourhood. In turn, naturally, the responsibility to care for the river should rest
on local people, especially if they themselves are polluters.
On the other hand, river stewardship issues emerged early in the interviews
among several informants before I had the opportunity to raise the topic. Following a
short biographical profile, I asked Liza to give me a general opinion about the Klang
River. To my surprise, she promptly answered, ‗In general, the river is not managed
properly‘. Moreover, Liza argued that the ‗management of the river is inefficient‘. Her
concern about the ‗inefficiency of the management‘ of the Klang River was related to
rubbish pollution. She commented that rubbish thrown into the river by locals after the
flood, especially at the confluence of the Klang and Gombak Rivers at Masjid Jamek,
caused many environmental problems. When I probed Liza to clarify who should be
responsible ‗to manage‘ the Klang River, she pointed uncertainly to the assigned
government authorities:
I think it‘s maybe the Department of Irrigation. I‘m not sure exactly.
But definitely government departments should be managing the welfare
of the river. I‘m not sure whether the Klang River passes by the
Keramat area. But I know in the Keramat area, there is a squatter
settlement near the river. We can see that the settlement is
unmanageable. It is understandable, since the settlement is a slum area
where the infrastructure is not being managed properly. Thus, the
effluent usually ends up in the river (Interview: Kuala Lumpur,
17/10/06).
The fact that the term ‗management‘ was the first thing that she said to me reflects a
concern for stewardship of the river and what I have come to analyse as a strong sense
of river place. Later in the interview, Liza pointed out that local people should also be
215
held responsible for improving river quality. Echoing Lien and Amin, Liza stressed that
the general public should act responsibly; at the very least they should know ‗not to
throw stuff inside the river‘. She was frustrated with some Malaysians‘ attitudes that
revealed people were not acting responsibly. She reiterated her concern ‗the dumping of
rubbish in the river‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/01/07). As mentioned in Chapter
Five, the fluidity of flowing water helps to move floating rubbish from one place to
another, from various part of the catchment into the main river. Accordingly, everyday
personal practices, as seemingly simple as avoiding littering, were identified in my
study as the most popular way people could show how much they cared for the Klang
River.
Following his heartfelt narration about the Klang River and its changing
landscape, Rahim stressed that river stories should transcend the concern of biophysical
aspects of the river. He spoke eloquently about the Klang River as flowing water, as if
the river was part of his own self. Like Liza, the issue of the upkeep of the river was
brought up by him ‗naturally‘ before I had the opportunity to probe first. When I met
him fishing at the Klang River, he asked me:
Can you see the river water? This water flows to the sea. We drink from
this river. But the water needs to be treated. It‘s polluted. There are a lot
of studies on rivers, but the findings are not disseminated widely. The
government has huge responsibilities. But the society should be
responsible too (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 16/08/09).
Rahim identified both government and local people as caretakers of the Klang to
improve its health and sustainability. Later on, apart from Kuala Lumpur City Hall and
Department of Irrigation and Drainage as listed by other informants, he added the
Department of Environment (DOE) was equally entrusted with the upkeep of the river.
According to him, these agencies have their own funds to manage the river, and these
must be used ‗to beautify rivers, to upgrade rivers, and to clean the murky water‘. He
continued to discuss the river stewardship issues when I interviewed him at home:
From the time I was in primary to secondary school and until I got a job,
river issues have remained unsolved. Whose fault is this? Is it DBKL?
They had been given the task to clean the river. River issues are messy.
Those people who were given the responsibilities to take care of the
river did not carry out their duties efficiently. There are many
departments involved − Town Planning Department, DBKL, DID.
There is a lack of monitoring of pollution incidents. River pollution
problems in the newspaper were only reported once in a while. Then it
fades away quickly. I feel sad. The river conditions are getting worse
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 20/08/09).
216
Such criticisms and expressions of disappointment over the monitoring of polluted
water and other river-related programs and policies were evident among other persons I
interviewed. The clear and unifying theme that emerged was that a sense of the river
clearly related to a need to protect and care for it in a variety of individual and collective
ways.
Reviving the river: ‘10-Year Klang River Clean-Up’ program and ‘Love Our
River Campaign’
In Malaysia, the government is primarily responsible for water supply, water/river
management as well as environmental control and preservation work including
pollution. As discussed in Chapter Four, the Klang has been consistently classified as a
‗polluted‘ river since the inception of the River Quality Monitoring program in 1978. In
order to rectify the poor state of Malaysian waterways, a program for cleaning the rivers
became an official national goal in the early 1990s. A proposal for this was first mooted
in 1988 through a working paper prepared by the Ministry of Science, Technology and
the Environment. A national Working Committee was set up composed of various
ministries and agencies from local, state and federal levels. The Department of
Irrigation and Drainage (DID)160
headed the Working Committee of the ‗10-Year Klang
River Clean-Up‘ program specifically targeted for the Klang and ‗Love Our River
Campaign‘ at the national level. The Clean-Up Klang River program was launched in
1992 with the implementation of a series of activities in that year, and for the next
decade. The total cost allocated for the program was approximately RM 162 million,
reflecting the government‘s serious effort to care for the Klang (Department of
Irrigation and Drainage et al. 1990).
The Klang River Clean-up pursued three main objectives. The first two were: (1)
‗to clean up the Klang River from rubbish and silt‘, and (2) ‗to beautify the riverine
areas with a view to provide and upgrade recreational facilities within the city‘ (Kuang
& Jusoh 1999: 378). The third objective, which was more specific in contrast to the
160
Historically, the establishment of the department in 1932 was to provide drainage and irrigation
facilities for paddy fields. This was part of the effort to increase the local production of rice in order to
reduce the country‘s dependence on food supplies. The DID's main functions have evolved over time to
cover river basin and coastal zone management, flood mitigation, eco-friendly drainage, and water
resources management and hydrology (Department of Irrigation and Drainage 2008). The DID moved
from the Ministry of Agriculture together with the DOE (which was previously under the Ministry of
Science Technology and Environment) to the newly established Ministry of Natural Resources and
Environment in 2004. The move reflects the growing concern with environmental issues and the need to
tackle them holistically.
217
other two, was ‗to improve the water quality of the Klang river and its major tributaries
to a standard minimum of class III standards (WQI=60)‘ (Kuang & Jusoh 2002: 378).
A total of eight sub-programs were established in order to achieve the above
three objectives. Structural-engineering approaches were favoured, as six out of the
sub-programs fall under such a category, including construction, maintenance and
desilting, beautification of the river, water quality monitoring, rehabilitation of aquatic
life, relocation of squatters, and treatment of pig-farm waste. The remaining two sub-
programs were in education and law enforcement. Construction, maintenance and
desilting have two main aims: firstly, to remove solid waste, particularly floating
rubbish, from the Klang River and its main tributaries and, secondly, to remove silt
from critical stretches of the river. As shown in Chapter Five, several informants had
commented on the workings of the removal of floating rubbish from these trash racks.
There were a total of 24 trash racks installed in the Klang River, as well in its main
tributary by 1998. The DID (2007) reported that an average of 50-60 tonnes was
collected daily from these trash racks. Huge volumes of rubbish up to 80 tonnes were
trapped after a rainy day. The cost to clean trash racks and the banks of the Klang and
its tributaries within the Kuala Lumpur section161
from rubbish was estimated as up to
RM 3 million a year (Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur 2005: 59).
Urbanisation is a process that has impacted upon all countries in the world, as
people have migrated to cities for better life opportunities, such as employment,
education and entertainment. A rapid process of urbanisation has brought along a host
of socio-economic problems, including urban poverty and proliferating squatters. As
discussed in Chapter Five, several informants made reference to squatters‘ settlements
along the Klang River as one of the main sources of pollution: ‗There were many
squatters along the river previously. They built their houses and bathrooms along the
riverbank‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 29/05/07); ‗The squatters contributed mostly to
the pollution in the Klang River‘ (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 14/04/07). It was estimated
that there were approximately 20,000-40,000 squatters staying within the river reserves
in Kuala Lumpur and Selangor (Kuang & Jusoh 2002). The presence of squatters within
river reserves was detrimental to the river in a number of ways, as these areas were not
provided with proper sewerage and rubbish disposal facilities. So, a relocation of
squatters became one of the concerns of the clean-up program, as they were considered
as the ‗people out of place‘.
161
As mentioned earlier, the Klang is a transboundary river that flows through the Federal Territory of
Kuala Lumpur before re-entering Selangor.
218
By 1998, 500,000 fish fry or baby fish had also been released in order to meet
the objective of the sub-programs for ‗restoring appropriate aquatic species for suitable
stretches of the river‘ (Kuang & Jusoh 2002: 380). Unfortunately, there was no record
of the types of fish being released, either native or introduced.
After seven years of implementation, the DID presented a report on the progress
of implementation of the program at the National Conference on Rivers in 1999. In the
report, the committee admitted that, as opposed to the first two main objectives, ‗the
stiffest challenge‘ was to revive the water quality of the Klang River to a standard
minimum of Class III. Indeed, the overall trend has indicated that since the onset of
implementation there has not been any improvement or decline in water quality; the
water quality has remained in Class IV. In conclusion, the committee reported that
despite the cleanup program there ‗has not been any significant change in water
quality‘. Nevertheless, its members maintained a positive outlook: ‗the water quality has
not deteriorated despite a population increase of about 50% and a significant proportion
of change in land use‘ (Kuang & Jusoh 2002: 383).
A year after the Clean-up Klang River program DID launched another program,
the Love Our Rivers Campaign (LORC) in its continuous effort to clean the country‘s
main river. More importantly, the polluted condition of the Klang became the catalyst
for the upkeep of other river systems nationwide, as DID expanded the LORC‘s
activities to include those catchments. The LORC focuses on educating the public on
the importance of rivers and the environment, while consequently highlighting the
critical state of pollution faced by the country‘s rivers. The three specific objectives of
the LORC are (1) ‗to create and promote awareness among the public to take care and
love the rivers and the environment; the importance of rivers in the individual‘s daily
life, (2) to increase the awareness among the public of the need to conserve the natural
environment and preserve rivers and (3) to increase the knowledge and techniques of
river management and the catchment area among agencies involved‘ (Department of
Irrigation and Drainage 2009).
219
Plate 51 A sample of a leaflet distributed in relation to the ‘Love Our River Campaign’.
A substantial amount of allocation was spent on rigorous media campaigns, both print
and electronic (see, for example, Plate 51), as well as promotional programs to increase
people‘s awareness, care and empathy for local rivers especially the polluted ones.
Each year a theme was selected (see Table 3). Within the analysis I am concerned to
pursue, I have interpreted this as an effort to re-instil people‘s sense of river place,
leading towards its care and upkeep in parallel to the LORC‘s first objective.
Table 3 Themes selected for LORC for each year.
Year Theme
1993 Sungai Bersih dan Indah Warisanku (A Clean and Beautiful River My
Heritage)
1994 Kebersihan Sungai Tanggungjawab Bersama (River Cleanliness a Shared
Responsibility)
1995 Sungai Sumber Rekreasi (River as a Recreational Source)
1996 and 1997 Pencegahan Asas Pemulihan (Prevention as the Foundation of Restoration)
1998 and 1999 Air Dihargai, Sungai Dicintai (Value the Water, Love the River)
2000 and 2001 Sungaiku, Hidupku (My River, My Life)
2002 Sungai dan Masyarakat (River and Society)
Source: (Department of Drainage and Irrigation 2009).
220
Themes in the years 1994 and 2002 reflected a concern about river stewardship which is
that the river belongs to the local people, as well as river authorities such as DOE and
DID that manage it. As elsewhere, the authorities were aware that the top-down,
structural approach needed to be supplemented by people‘s on-going participation in
ensuring the greater success of any water-related initiatives. In addition, the River
Adoption and River Watch programs were introduced to encourage ‗proactive
participation‘ of the local people. The River Adoption program, launched in 1993, was
aimed at instilling a sense of responsibility through an ‗ownership status‘ or river
adoption by schools and local residents. On the other hand, River Watch was an
environmental education program that targeted school children, who participated by
monitoring and analysing the river water quality and identifying the issues and causes of
water quality deterioration. The River Adoption and River Watch particularly
concentrated in Kedah, a northern state in Peninsular Malaysia, where most of the rivers
were still in their natural form, devoid of concretisation. By 1995, there was a total of
53 schools in the country that participated in a yearly symposium discussing and sharing
their river experiences and activities. Ironically, during the same time other states
introduced community participation River Adoption and River Watch programs, none
was introduced to the Klang River residents given its importance to the whole nation.
As Jaya pointed out, ‗The Klang River is a national index of water pollution‘. He added,
the cleaning of the Klang River would determine the abilities of the river authorities to
clean other rivers in the country.
Beginning from 2008 onwards DID collaborated with the Global Environment
Centre (GEC)162
, a local NGO, in delivering the River Watch program163
, which later
renamed as River Rangers. This collaboration was in line with one of the GEC‘s four
core issues, focusing on ‗river restoration and rehabilitation‘. GEC had actively
conducted training and water quality monitoring programs for school children and
residences in Kedah, Penang and Selangor states. River Rangers is a ‗community water
quality monitoring program‘ resembling Waterwatch, as discussed in Chapter Eight. In
fact, ‗Kumar‘, GEC‘s River Care Program Co-ordinator officer, told me the conceptual
framework of River Rangers was based on Waterwatch and the ‗Friends of the Earth‘ in
Australia. Earlier on GEC, had conducted its own River Care program at Penchala
162
The GEC was established in 1998 to address key environmental issues such as climate change and
water resources mainly through its four core programs namely, forest and biodiversity, peatland, river
care, and outreach and partnership. 163
The partnership was a response to a critique that DID‘s staff were mostly from physical sciences and
technical backgrounds, but inefficient in transforming their knowledge in ways easily understood by the
local people.
221
River, a tributary of the Klang as its first ‗river rehabilitation‘ project in 2002.
According to Kumar, selection of the Penchala was due to its small size (12 kilometres),
thus, rendering it more manageable. It was only in early 2011, GEC started to introduce
the River Rangers program in the Klang River catchment itself.
During the celebration of World Environmental Day in 2007, GEC organised a
water quality monitoring program at Forest Research Institute Malaysia (FRIM). Kumar
taught 30 participants, including myself, how to assess the water quality of the Keroh
River, a tributary of the Klang that flows through FRIM, based on its chemical and
biological indicators (see Plate 52, 53, 54 and 55). Both child and adult participants
were visibly excited the moment they were physically in contact with the crystal clear
Keroh River water. We were all equipped with a net, microscope, biological indicator
identification sheet, chemical testing kit and river report card. The most exciting part for
Plate 52 Kumar gave an overview of
chemical and biological assessment of river
water quality.
Plate 53 Participants eagerly searched for
aquatic species.
Plate 54 taught participants on how to
identify various aquatic species.
Plate 55 I managed to catch freshwater
shrimp, which was classified as ‘sensitive’
to pollution.
222
many participants was when we were instructed to catch aquatic species available in the
water, as these served as a good biological indicator of the health of the river and some,
such as the stonefly nymph, were ‗very sensitive‘ to pollution. Others, for example
worms, had higher levels of ‗tolerance‘ to polluted water. The presence of many ‗very
sensitive‘ species indicated that the river water quality was ‗excellent‘ (Fieldnotes:
Kuala Lumpur 17/06/07). Participants enthusiastically asked many questions relating to
river and natural resource quality, indicating their emotional, intellectual and social
connectedness to the river as ‗place‘. While I learned immensely from such physically
and intellectually stimulating activities, I wished a similar program could be conducted
in the Klang River. In the absence of such on-ground activities, the final section
highlights examples of individual river-cleaning efforts among local people in the Klang
River.
Stories of local care-takers
This section examines stories of two local residents who had enacted their sense of
place through individual efforts to improve the health of the Klang River and its general
ecological well-being. As with other people above, Hamid and Amin viewed the river
and its environs as a place to be protected and cared for. But they went a step further to
undertake practical actions on several aspects of the river to solve pollution issues in the
Klang. Though I have introduced them in Chapter Four, I will provide more information
about their personal backgrounds before describing activities they have undertaken to
save the river.
The Klang River at Klang Gate Dam Village (KGDV)
Before I recount the stories of Amin and Hamid, I further describe the ecological and
social context of the upper section of the Klang River where both men lived, as such
contextual information is integral to how I am conceptualising the centrality of place.
Amin and Hamid lived in KGDV approximately one kilometre downstream
from the main entrance of the Klang Gate Dam (KGD). As mentioned earlier in Chapter
Four, the green vegetation along the banks in this upstream section of the Klang was
preserved despite developments nearby. Unlike the concreted section in Kuala Lumpur
223
city centre, the river was left in its ‗natural‘, pristine and meandering form. Apart from
red tilapias swimming in the crystal clear river, I observed water-striders skating across
the water surface (see Plate 56). Another common aquatic creature I enjoyed watching
was dragonflies in bright colour, grasping onto rocks in the river (see Plate 57). Taken
together, such personal physical encounters evoke my own sense of river place, which
was helpful in understanding Hamid‘s and Amin‘s own senses, which in turn inspired
them to save the river. Immediately downstream from the gated KGD, a short stretch of
this section of the Klang River became a recreational spot for picnicking and swimming
for local people nearby.
Plate 56 A water strider skated across the clear water.
Plate 57 An orange-pink dragonfly gripped a rock in the river.
224
I coincidently found KGDV during my second visit to the area. In order to know
more about the river, I decided to walk from the entrance of the KGD to where the river
was accessible downstream. As noted in Chapter Four, the course was narrow and the
water level was low, I decided to stroll within the riverbed rather than along the
riverbanks. After ten minutes of strolling in the riverbed from the KGD I felt the
sensation of chilling water, and saw two house unit that were built overlooking the
immediate riverbank. These belonged to Hamid and Amin. A few other houses were
located approximately 500 metres away from the banks. The size of this small
settlement was around five acres. I roamed around the area and eventually met Hamzah,
a young man in his early twenties. I briefly explained my visit, and he suggested that I
talk to two residents whom he identified as penjaga (care-takers) of the river in KGDV.
In the context of everyday Malay language, the term penjaga is often referred to
biological, adopted parents or guardians of children or senior citizens. According to
Hamzah, both Amin and Hamid might be able to give more information about the Klang
River and river pollution issue in general (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur, 17/4/07).
Despite the serenity of KGDV, it was undoubtedly a politically and ecologically
‗contested area‘ of the Klang River catchment. This was for two reasons. Firstly, it was
located within the river reserve area under the National Land Code Act 1965; under the
National Land Code Act 1965, no buildings or settlement are allowed within 10 metres
or 33 feet from either side of a riverbank. This area was known as a river reserve and
usually left as a buffer in case of floods and to prevent people from littering the river.
Under ideal circumstances, the land would be vacant. However, in certain sections of
the Klang River, this principle was not always adhered to, as squatters built homes, and
land was reclaimed for putting up residential and commercial areas. Secondly, the
KGDV was located in the foothills of the Klang Gate Quartz Ridge (KGQR). As noted
earlier, the KGQR (see Plate 58) has been identified as an environmentally sensitive
area. The ridge, also known as Tabur Hill, and surrounding areas were a popular
recreational adventure track for climbers and trekkers especially during weekends.
225
Plate 58 Part of the Klang Gate Quartz Ridge near the source of the Klang River.
In 2005 this section of the river was declared as part of the Selangor Heritage Park164
(see Figure 7). Apart from its importance as a water catchment area, claims included
that the ridge was instrumental in the establishment of the state park. The park was
officially opened by the then Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak165
in
August 2005 in the foothills of the KGD, close to the area where Hamid and Amin live.
During the opening ceremony, the former Chief Minister of Selangor, Datuk Seri Dr
Khir Toyo, announced that the park was gazetted under the Selangor State Park
Corporation Enactment 2005 (Koong 2005). However, the official gazetting of the park
and KGQR was an uphill struggle due to its lengthy legal process and local politics.
Though the announcement was made in 2005, the ridge with the forests behind it was
gazetted in February 2012 as the state park166
. Given the ecological and political
context, the inhabitants of KGDV were often categorised as squatters. As I came to see,
such labelling did not deter Hamid and Amin from being good stewards of the Klang, a
point that makes plain the heightened sense that each person had about their
connectedness to the river.
164
Selangor Heritage Park covers 107,000-hectares of forest along the eastern side of the state, covering
three districts of Hulu Selangor, Gombak and Hulu Langat. 165
He is now the Prime Minister of Malaysia. 166
Despite the gazetting, there was a proposal to construct a highway across the Selangor State Park that
would threaten the fragile ridge and its flora and fauna. I have also signed the petition to protect the
KGQR and Selangor State Park from the proposed highway and all other threats. There was an occasional
discussion on the issue in the Malaysian Nature Society e-group in which I became a member.
226
Figure 7 Map of Selangor Heritage Park. The KGD and KGQR were located approximately
near Gombak. (Source: Koong 2005).
There are three intertwined ethnographic reasons why I focus on the stories of Hamid
and Amin. As explained above, Hamzah had suggested to me that I interview Hamid
and Amin. He believed that both Hamid and Amin were key neighbourhood Klang
River ‗care-takers‘. Hamzah, as a member of the local community, encouraged me to
approach both men. His advice also resonated with my concern as an anthropologist to
be guided by local knowledge. Secondly, both Hamid and Amin had built their homes
overlooking the Klang River (see Plate 59 and 62 in the followings sections), indicating
their desire to be close to the river, a key indicator to the conceptualisation of how
place-based connections are formed. Thirdly, it became evident during the interview
process that, methodologically, I should be ‗out there‘, near the Klang River, or ‗in
place‘, rather than conducting the interviews at their homes. Both enthusiastically took
me to their river ‗work sites‘ to show me ‗evidence‘ of their restoration efforts, again,
revealing their heightened sense of place. As a revealing contrast, most of the other
people I interviewed preferred interviews to take place entirely in their houses.
Collectively, they articulated vital elements that foster sense of care for a place.
Hamid: Rivers as God’s treasure
Hamid has lived with his family in KGDV for more than a decade. He obtained his
Masters degree in Organisational Development in the UK. After retirement in 1990, he
established his own company and described himself as a ‗pensioner‘, ‗businessman‘ and
227
an ‗outdoor person‘ with his ‗main interest in conservation and environment‘. Not only
was he a nature-lover, he also cultivated a strong sense of connection to, and concern
for, the natural environment among his children. For example, he told me he had
requested that his daughter study environmental science, specifically Marine Biology. I
was also told by one of his daughters167
that her father would prefer to take them to
forest and water environs for family holidays. On one occasion, he threw his young
children into the Kenyir Lake168
without a lifebuoy to teach them how to survive and to
encourage them not to be afraid of one of nature‘s finest qualities.
I arranged to meet Hamid several times, in contrast to other participants, during
my data collection in 2007-08 and upon my return to Malaysia in 2009 again because I
was inspired by his high level of awareness and motivation to care for the Klang River
around his area. When I visited him, he was always near the river picking up rubbish,
arranging stones to stop bank erosion, or looking after the trees that he had planted. I
also regarded Hamid as knowledgeable about the river ecosystem. He often related his
discussion to the teaching of Islam in reference to environmental preservation,
particularly river conservation, as recounted below. As a Muslim myself, I could easily
relate to his views on the relationship among humanity, nature and the Creator.
Hamid‘s intimate sense and understanding of water places was evident, as he
kept mentioning his frequent trips to various water bodies, especially Tasik Kenyir
(Kenyir Lake)169
. He sometimes made these visits alone, and sometimes with his family.
In fact, throughout the interview, he constantly compared the Klang with Kenyir Lake‘s
river systems. For him, being in the Kenyir provides a sense of tranquillity, peace, and
evidence of God‘s Creation. Hamid envisioned that the Klang particularly in KGDV
should be as nearly as ‗clean‘ as those rivers in Kenyir, since the section was already
polluted and in a terrible state when he decided to build his house there:
I travel a lot. I love rivers in remote areas. I have frequently visited
Kenyir for the past 7-8 years. I just love it, being outdoors, living
alone in the forest – total natural environment. There are some
beautiful sites in Kenyir − there are seven big rivers and waterfalls.
We don‘t realise how blessed we are. I love this river [the Klang,
167
Coincidently, I discovered during the first meeting that Hamid‘s daughter was a PhD candidate as well
as my friend at UWA. I then referred to his daughter for clarification or further elaboration of Hamid‘s
stories. 168
I discuss more about the Kenyir Lake in this section, as Hamid frequently talked about it. 169
Kenyir Lake is an artificial man-made lake located in Terengganu, a state in eastern Peninsular
Malaysia. It was formed as a reservoir basically by a multi-purpose dam, functioning as a hydro-electric
power source, a water supply and a tourist attraction. In contrast to the Klang Gate Dam, people
commonly referred to it as ‗Kenyir Lake‘ instead of ‗Kenyir Dam‘, most likely due to its function as a
recreational outlet. It is the biggest reservoir in Malaysia, holding approximately 23.6 million cubic
metres of water, and occupies 38,000 hectares, almost twice the size of Singapore.
228
original emphasis]. I want to bring the beauty of Kenyir here … [to
the Klang river]. But you can never mimic God (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 16/05/07).
Hamid‘s emotional connections to the Klang are perhaps best articulated in the above
quote as he declared his love for the river. Though Hamid repeatedly mentioned the
word ‗Kenyir‘, it was evident throughout the interview that he actually referred to the
experiences of multiple river systems that made-up the artificial Kenyir Lake itself. In
other words, his positive experiences with natural rivers in remote areas in Kenyir,
motivated him to care for the Klang by emulating such cleanliness and naturalness.
Nevertheless, he was highly aware no matter how much effort he put in to save the
Klang, for example by planting trees and stabilising the riverbanks, it was incomparable
to God‘s perfect creation.
Hamid clearly responded to what he saw as aesthetically pleasing experiences of
various water bodies in Kenyir and these, in part, explained his motivation to preserve
and act as steward of the Klang. He spent a significant amount of time reminiscing
about the day he discovered the section of the Klang in KGDV where he decided to
build his home. On that particular day he was on his way to climb Tabur Hill, when he
found an illegal rubbish dumping site that clogged the Klang River. His immediate
reaction was to save the river from its state of degradation. He passionately described
how and why he chose to build his house overlooking the Klang River:
Why did I choose to come here? Because of river pollution [emphasis
added]. You see, what I want to do is to help to preserve the
environment. I found out that the preservation of the ecosystem of a
river requires a lot of dedication, self- awareness, and not to mention
funds. I keep thinking [of] ways on how to make people aware. I keep
thinking [of] how to raise people‘s awareness in KL about the
cleanliness of the river. How do I go about it? So I choose a small
corner of KL. Previously, this corner of KL170
was a rubbish dump. You
can see a concrete slab, discarded fridges, all kind of rubbish was
thrown here, piles and piles of rubbish. People threw rubbish. It was
bad. That was 10-15 years ago. You can name all kinds of rubbish here.
This river was choked. So what I did was, I want to show examples to
the people − If you live by the river what can you do? You can‘t simply
talk without doing anything, people won‘t follow you. What I did was I
build my house right in the middle of the rubbish dump (Interview:
Kuala Lumpur, 16/05/07).
170
Technically KGDV is not a part of the city of Kuala Lumpur but very close to the city‘s border. It is
only 20- minute‘s drive away to the city centre.
229
Plate 59 Hamid’s house overlooking the Klang River.
I felt like I was dreaming when I heard his story because most people would choose to
stay far away from a dumping site. Instead, he decided to build his house in the middle
of such a filthy place. It was difficult for me to imagine the river was once a rubbish
dump because I had not found any rubbish during my visits to the area.
From my interview with Hamid and then via a short tour guided by him around
the area (see Plate 60), I realised how difficult it was for him to remove and clear up the
illegal dumping land:
I picked up the rubbish for ten years. I show you, you have to see it for
yourself. You should see the [remnants of the] concrete slab. I picked
[up] all the rubbish, piece by piece with my own hand (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 16/05/07).
For Hamid, using his own bare hands to clear the land was more meaningful than using
a tractor or a scavenger to excavate the rubbish, including the removal of heavy
concrete slabs. He wanted to send a message to his neighbours and the general public
that having a lot of money was not a prerequisite to improving river health,
simultaneously encouraging them to care for the river too. To my knowledge Hamid has
continued his daily routines of picking up the rubbish and maintaining the area up to
present day, even after he cleared the illegal rubbish dump and completed the
construction of his house. As Hamid put it, ‗Everyday I clean the river. [There is] not
even a single plastic wrap within my area‘. The rubbish normally came from visitors
who were in the area for picnicking or swimming upstream near the KGD.
230
Plate 60 Hamid showed part of the rubbish dumping site before he transformed it into his
‘field of care’. As evident, the area is well-maintained and clean.
The construction of Hamid‘s house took five years to complete, and he took
pride in how he has considered the river environs while clearing the waste land and
simultaneously building his house:
I built the house on my own with the help from my friends. The
construction of the house follows the [contour of] the land structure. It
fits the land structure. I didn‘t touch the environment. I didn‘t cut the
original trees like pokok manggis, pokok durian171
. I didn‘t touch
[them]. I trimmed the grass. The river is clean. Then the water keeps
flowing. Not many people want to clean the river, you see. I just do
what I can. I planted trees with strong roots. I planted the trees near the
riverbank and surrounding areas. I planted dokong, binjai, rambutan,
petai 172
trees – these are all big, strong trees. Before, there would be
erosion. I think the soil is very loose. Now the trees firmly hold the soil.
When the birds come, there‘s so much joy. All the pleasure is here, and
it is close to the city, you see. It‘s so peaceful here. I sleep at night in
this [house with an] open space. Everything is so peaceful here. The
house is very open; I built it like a chalet. It is very transparent.
Everything is wooden (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 16/05/07).
Indeed, based on my observation, apart from the four pillars which served as the
foundation, the house does not touch the land. The house perfectly fits, following the
contour of the steep hill, resembling a traditional wooden Malay house. It was
constructed from cengal173
wood and has two levels. As mentioned in the above
171
Pokok means tree. Manggis (mangosteen) and durian (durian) are both tropical fruits and native to
South-East Asia. 172
Dokong, binjai, rambutan and petai are also tropical fruit trees. 173
Cengal (scientific name − neobalanocarpus heimii) is a hard wood timber commonly found in South-
East Asia. It is highly durable, as it is very resistant to termite attack and fungal infestation.
231
excerpt, the architecture of the house174
adopts an open space concept, where Hamid
and his family members can enjoy the clear running water of the Klang River and fresh
air of the valley. As with fish, he similarly attached a higher appreciation to original or
native plants and wanted to maintain the order as he planted them so their roots could
help to strengthen the riverbanks.
Themes embedded in spiritual and religious texts, emphases and symbols can
help to explain people‘s connections to nature, according to Trigger and Mulcock
(2005), and this was the case for Hamid. Seeking pleasure from God was a prime
motivation for Hamid to engage in the cleaning and preserving the Klang voluntarily.
He repeatedly mentioned to me that rivers are gifts from God that need to be
safeguarded and protected, and that nothing should be expected in return. Pleasure from
God was the key concern. Occasionally, Hamid told me, he would brush and clean the
darkened rocks along the river. Looking at the river (see Plate 61), he further elaborated
that God created the rocks with their unique functions to serve as a natural filter for the
running polluted water:
How beautiful Sg Cacing [one of the rivers in Kenyir Lake] is. You‘ll
be mesmerised by it. You feel how you could not preserve God‘s
khazanah (heritage). Some people ask me, ‗Haji175
, why are you
spending hours and hours in and near the river? I told them ‗I‘m not
like others who try to please humans, I, on the other hand, try to please
Allah‘. Because when I visited Mecca176
, it was so difficult to get water.
The water is more expensive than petrol. Here, the water is made
available easily by Allah. And when I look at the natural filtration
system through sand, rocks and weed, I made up my mind I want to
protect God‘s creation. That‘s my motivation. It‘s not easy, you know.
The river here was so dirty before but because I did it [cleaning the
river] every time, bit by bit. My children understand. Other people will
not understand. This river needs protection Sometimes I dream if only
this river can flow up to KL city centre like this. Can you imagine how
beautiful it is? Can you just imagine? KL is not that far. So what‘s the
problem? It can be done. But it can‘t be done by force. It‘s a matter of
evolution through education. I teach my children, it takes generations.
They feel guilty to throw away rubbish in the river (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 16/05/07).
174
The first level is divided into three small sections, a praying space, and a lounge. The second level
consists of a small kitchen and two small bed-rooms with large open windows, reflecting the intention of
the owner to optimise limited spaces, thus minimising impact on the environment. 175
A term of respect to address a Muslim who has performed the pilgrimage to Mecca. 176
Mecca is a Holy place for the Muslims where they perform pilgrimage.
232
Plate 61 Interviewing Hamid at his open lounge space.
Whilst Hamid‘s dedication might vary among those concerned about the river, and
through that concern to remain connected to a vital river place, it is nonetheless the case
that sensory responses, particularly visual, play an important part in evoking feelings
that led to practical actions to clean the Klang River from pollutants. In relation,
Hamid‘s actions to save the Klang were partly motivated in creating an aesthetic sense
of beauty. The experience of and responses to place further intermeshed with his
religious understanding to care for the river. According to his daughter, some villagers
laughed at and called her father an orang gila (crazy person) for picking up rubbish for
hours near the river during the early years of their occupancy. Despite such mocking
Hamid was persistent in his effort to care for the Klang, signifying his determination to
his cause and connection to the river. Nonetheless, in recent years, the villagers have
started to appreciate how invaluable Hamid‘s on-ground actions have been to beautify
and improve the health of the river.
As noted earlier, Hamid has built his house in a river reserve area. He shared
with me his struggle to occupy the land legally over the years. He went to the Gombak
Land District Office several times to apply for the Temporary Ownership License,
commonly referred to as TOL. After years of applying, the TOL status was granted to
Hamid, as the officer-in-charge went to visit Hamid‘s restoration work. He attributed
the approval of his TOL application to the officer being convinced that he had a genuine
interest to protect the river and that there was little personal benefit to be gained.
Hamid was aware of the possibility that he could be evicted from the place, as the
ownership was granted temporarily. But he mentioned that he would not mind leaving
the place and his house even without compensation, as he had a niat ikhlas (genuine
233
intention) to help clean the river. Taking together, such concerns and actions reflect
human agency in saving the river.
When I revisited Hamid in January 2009, he had started to have a ‗formal
engagement‘ with the community around him. Hamid was entrusted by the residents in
KGVD to represent them in their appeal not to be displaced from the area. He pitied the
local residents, as there had been a few attempts by the local council to relocate them.
He wrote a letter to the Chief Minister of Selangor, addressing the need to acknowledge
the ancestral land of the residents and to develop the area collectively with the local
residents:
I would like to apply for the state government approval upon this land
which has been gazetted as the [Selangor] Heritage Park and water
catchment area surrounding it to be managed by me individually. This is
in line with the notion of community empowerment whereby the citizen
is given the right of the ownership of a project (the community entrusted
me to voice their plea to the Honourable Minister). I suggest the state
government to consider this unusual approach and regard this as an
experiment to save the environment. If I fail to achieve the stated
objective within ten years (the time during which the trees start to reach
maturity and hold the soil), the state government can take over the
approved project (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 16/05/07).
Rather than focusing on the politics of the contested place at KGDV, as evident in the
excerpt of Hamid‘s letter above, I draw attention to Hamid‘s tireless effort, time and
energy in various ways and capacities to help in improving the state of the Klang. For
him, the fear of eviction on the part of the local people should be capitalised upon and
steered towards the stewardship of the Klang. He talked personally at meetings and
organised talks to persuade the residents they should join him to clean the area and look
after the river on the basis that the local council and state government could be
convinced to grant them ownership status. Hamid told me about another resident who
had cared for the Klang. This man was Amin, and he had been helping him to persuade
other residents to join their noble efforts. This statement reaffirmed Hamzah‘s
suggestion that both of them were penjaga of the river. I then equally followed
Hamzah‘s advice and went to find Amin. I came to realise that Amin‘s stewardship
stories were equally as engaging and revealing as Hamid‘s had been.
Amin’s stories
Amin, a self-employed landscape designer, was as committed to protecting the Klang
River as Hamid. Due to poverty, he was unable to complete his high school education.
He had lived in the area for about twelve years with his wife and nine children and built
234
his own house overlooking the Klang (see Plate 62). It was located about 500 metres
from Hamid‘s house.
Plate 62 Amin’s house overlooking the Klang River.
Amin told me Hamid was the first resident of KGDV, and had occupied the area a few
years earlier than him. Hamid and Amin seem to have developed a friendship based on
their similar interest in protecting nature. During the interviews both acknowledged
each other‘s contribution in cleaning the area and preserving the Klang River. When I
asked about how many families live in KGDV, Amin provided a long response:
There are about 40 families [living here]. During 12 years of living
here, I observed that they just live here without doing anything. They
simply live here for their own personal sake. They didn‘t [take care
of the river] like I did… I can categorise people who live here. Right
over there [pointing his finger to the direction of Hamid‘s house] is
Hamid. He is just like me. He is the Director of his own company.
He did what I did, to clean the river. But he maintains the area
surrounding his house. He didn‘t go beyond that. As for me, I did
everything [cleaning the Klang River near his house and up to
KGD‘s main entrance]. We did it voluntarily. Nobody told us to do
the work … we just don‘t simply live here without doing anything.
He [Hamid] takes care of that section, and I take care of this section
(Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/04/07).
As evident here, the issue of river stewardship was important to Amin. In fact, like other
informants, he brought up the issue first before I could ask a question about it. On
reflection, however, Amin provided more extensive detail than others. For him, the
prime stewards of a place should be the residents. As at Hamid‘s location, I noted there
235
was no floating rubbish in the river and the surrounding environs near Amin‘s house.
His daily routine was to pick up rubbish in the area.
Amin recalled his earlier connection with the Klang River, which was partly
economically driven. He used to work as a factory operator and earned additional
income by rearing aquarium fish at the banks of the Klang River in KGDV. An article
published in The Sun, a local newspaper, provides a clue:
After a number of unsuccessful attempts to rear aquarium fish, an
angler embarked on a more challenging project turning a wasteland
[emphasis added] near the source of the Klang River into a money-
making pond… Amin177
then spent about three weeks digging the
120 metre square and 1 metre deep pond after work and on
weekends (Ghani 1998).
Amin gave me a copy of the article. He had kept it in a file containing pictures,
newspaper articles, and letters to the local councils about his activities as well as
development of the Klang River, particularly in KGDV. Interestingly, the reporter who
had visited the place to write the article described KGDV as a ‗wasteland‘. Such a term
confirmed both Hamid‘s, and later Amin‘s, descriptions of this section of the river as a
former rubbish dumping site. Amin kept tilapia, haruan, sebarau and various fresh
water fish which he caught from the Klang River itself in his pond. These fish were
usually in abundance when excess water from the KGD was released during floods. He
could earn RM300 a month, as local residents and aquarium shop operators bought the
fish he kept in the pond. Unfortunately, the money-making project was short-lived when
the local council seized his business and dismantled his ponds on the basis of occupying
the river reserve illegally. During the interview, I noted his insecurity and frustrations
about his land title and ownership, as the TOL status had not been issued to him despite
his multiple applications.
Though frustrated, Amin kept maintaining and looking after the surrounding area.
He continued to clean the river particularly to free it from visible rubbish pollution in
the section of the Klang River around his house up to the recreational area near the main
entrance of the KGD:
I‘m the only who cleans this place and picks up the rubbish. I didn‘t
get paid. When I think about it, why should I do this? Those who litter
this place are too many. I pick up the rubbish every day. People come
here and see the place is clean. I clean the place. It‘s come to the point
that those who came here for a picnic thought that I‘m a sanitary
worker taking care of this place. People note that the place is clean. I
did it voluntarily. I have no personal interest. I‘ll do my best. I work
177
I replaced Amin‘s original name with this pseudonym.
236
on the river … at times I even skipped my meals. Why I am doing
this? Because I love this place (Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 18/04/07).
Echoing Hamid, Amin‘s sense of place was translated into small practical actions by
picking up rubbish on a daily basis. He stressed several times during interviews that he
could not stand to see rubbish floating in the river. He would pick up the rubbish and
clean the area. Notably, and as illustrated in my study, Amin‘s love for the river had
transformed what used to be a dirty place into a field of care.
Amin‘s sense of Klang River protectiveness was also evident in the
disappointment he expressed regarding the lack of maintenance of the park and how the
local council irregularly attended the river landscape. It was observable when I visited
the place a few times that it was left unattended, with uncollected rubbish in evidence.
Revealingly, and according to Amin, the local council workers frequently maintained
some order during the early stage of the announcement of park, but gradually the
maintenance work became less frequent, and the river and surrounding area were
polluted with food containers, bottles, newspapers, plastic bags and wrappers. He was
upset by this and criticised the maintenance work of the local council along the river:
They [workers of local council] trimmed the grass along the
riverbank. For me, you cannot cut off the grass. By doing so, it will
destroy the bank. Do you know why? The grass protects the soil on
the riverbank from erosion. If you cut them off or sprinkled with
pesticide, all the trees will be dead. You cannot do that as it will lead
to erosion. You should let all the trees and grass along the river
grow. The trees provide support to the bank. If you clear the trees
and you kill the trees, there‘s nothing to hold the bank. We know
that there‘s an old Malay proverb saying „Bagai aur dengan
tebing‘178
. It means there is a close relationship between trees and
riverbanks. But why can‘t we understand this? (Interview: Kuala
Lumpur, 18/04/07)
Amin‘s daily river place experiences make plain what was important for the ecological
well-being of the river, including the surrounding vegetation. He seemed to have a
holistic sense of place that included thoughts, feelings and actions, some of which he
was able to relate to this old Malay proverb cited in the passage above that guided his
own on-ground work at these watery environments.
Amin also had his own way to protect the riverbanks. This became apparent
when Amin asked me to walk upstream to the source of the Klang, near the main
entrance of the KGD. A few minutes of quiet walk allowed me to immerse myself in the
178
Bagai aur dengan tebing is an old Malay proverb literally translated as ‗like bamboo roots and the
riverbank‘. It is commonly being used to signify an inseparable, close and interdependent relationship
between people or things.
237
riverscape and to reflect upon its beauty and significance. I also learned that close
physical interactions with the river helped both Hamid and Amin to be more alert to the
river‘s needs that made it a special place, which one could easily come to care about.
Amin told me a number of insightful river-place stories, one of which was how
he had built a retaining wall by arranging the available gravel and stones from the Klang
River to prevent soil erosion. At the time we were walking on his self-made walking
track. When we reached the river section where he had built the retaining wall, he
cleared the crawling vegetation which had already covered the wall (see Plate 63). I was
amazed to see extending about three metres long and one metre wide a line of piling
stones stacked upon each other without being cemented. He reflected, ‗People thought
I‘m crazy, lifting stones from the river for weeks. I took stones from the river and
surrounding area and arranged them [to build the wall]‘. When I asked him how he
arranged the stones, he said, ‗The pebbles [are] like human beings; there are male and
female, so you need to know what fits with what‘. Additionally, he pointed out the trees
that he had planted to beautify the area as well as to protect the riverbanks, ‗Do you
notice that trees in this area exactly the same as what I had in front of my house? It was
I who planted these trees‘ (Fieldnotes: Kuala Lumpur 18/04/07). I noted he had planted
pokok puding179
, a native ornamental tree typically planted for its leafy colourful
varieties and easy maintenance.
Plate 63 Amin cleared the crawling vegetation to show me the hidden stone wall that he
built to prevent bank erosion.
179
Puding (common name – garden croton, scientific name - codiaeum variegatum) is native to Malaysia
and South-East Asia.
238
Interestingly, his care for the Klang was not limited to protecting the river from physical
degradation, but included offering protection from ‗social pollution‘, a perspective
which was absent from the data I collected from other informants. Occasionally,
unhealthy activities occurred in the KGD recreational area, as it is secluded from the
public and sometimes attracted ‗unwanted visitors‘, such as school absentees and drug
addicts. Amin in his personal capacities patrolled the place and reported any unhealthy
activities to the police department nearby. He also showed me a letter he kept in the file
from the local police department in recognition of his being a concerned citizen in the
area180
. To Amin, social wrongdoings brought by visitors of the Klang River were
considered as pollutants, as such actions defy the commonly acceptable norms of
conduct within the vicinity of the river as a public recreational place, as well wider
cultural norms. Drug addicts who littered the area, leaving behind relics such as needles
of their activities were considered as matter out of place. In Malaysia, where religion is
a stronghold for its populations, shaping their actions as well as worldviews,
misconduct between an unmarried couple in either open or secluded spaces is judged
negatively. Such understandings triggered Amin to patrol the river vicinity, taking
actions against such misconduct. At times he told me he would find school absentees by
asking them to pick-up rubbish floating in the river and surrounding area. I believe that
his love for, and feelings of connectedness to, the Klang River, generated a protective
attitude that he put into action. Amin‘s actions extends the dimension of care and
protection from physical to include social pollution, in other words, it encompasses both
moral and ecological purity of the Klang. In this regards, Amin somewhat differed from
Hamid in the sense that Hamid had not commented on correcting social misconduct in
the vicinity.
Despite limited formal education, Amin‘s environmental knowledge was more
comprehensive than many other informants. For example, several interviewees blamed
industries as a major contributor to river pollution. Amin, however, was more sensitive
and mentioned that residents like him and the general public equally contributed to the
river pollution. This view accorded with official and scientific environmental reports on
the domestic causes of river pollution in Malaysia. Hamid cited simple everyday actions
like pouring cooking oil from the kitchen into the river, alongside other pollutants from
the bathroom, and the sewage from residential areas, matter that all contributed to river
pollution. He mentioned that in the 1980s mostly Indonesian squatters occupied the
180
His action reflects Douglas‘s (1970) analysis of how dirt and pollutants include not only food and
drink, but also unacceptable behaviour in a given culture.
239
section of the Klang River he was most concerned with; for instance, they polluted the
river by discharging their excreta and other waste directly into the river. He, instead,
dug a pit for disposal of the waste from his house rather than discharging it into the
river. He explained that in the late 1990s, eventually, the local council displaced all the
Indonesian squatters from that area. Such attitudes toward the squatters have both moral
and material dimensions, resonating with the views discussed in Chapter Five.
When I visited Amin for a second interview near KGD (see Plate 64), I
discovered that his motivation to care for the river was also rooted in religion, as he
mentioned a Hadīth181
of the Prophet Muhammad. The Hadīth provides an analogy that
those who perform five daily prayers would purify their souls and sins as if taking a
bath in a river that flows in front of one‘s house:
The Prophet once asked his companions: If there was a river at the
door of any one of you and he took a bath in it five times a day
would you notice any dirt on him? They said ―Not a trace of dirt
would be left.‖ The Prophet added, ―That is the example of the five
prayers with which Allah blots out [annuls] evil deeds.
Plate 64 Interview session at the Klang River at KGDV, upon Amin’s request.
Amin also told me that it was also part of the reason he was inspired to build his home
overlooking the Klang River at KGDV. In summary, Amin, like Hamid, appeared to
take in the Klang River with all his senses (particularly visual) and feelings,
experiencing a strong sense of place that guided their actions in term of its protection
181
Hadīth is an Arabic word which means a piece of information. Religiously, it refers to a saying, an act
or tacit approval of the Prophet Muhammad.
240
and care. Their connections to rivers, particularly the Klang, were also ingrained in
Islamic teachings and beliefs.
Chapter summary
In this chapter I have shown that pollution can be understood through an analytical lens
emphasising connections to place over time. I have also shown that despite the negative
connotations embedded in pollution, turned on their head references to pollution can be
treated as a blessing in disguise, especially in relation to river stewardship. In a sense,
one that connects us to place, observation of pollution regularly served as a catalyst to
signal the river‘s needs. Abstracting the idea of pollution in this way offers a means of
understanding a river as a place of care.
In particular, this chapter has focused on what I describe as ‗place-saving
stories‘ as a way of discussing human agency in improving the water quality of the
Klang, particularly via on-ground works. This involves river authorities‘ initiatives,
alongside ‗community participation‘ programs such as LORC, River Adoption and
River Rangers, as well as installation of trash racks. It shows the dynamics and the
implications of disorder and impurities which prompted creative and practical actions.
A sense of the Klang River as a valued place is especially evident though
Hamid‘s and Amin‘s stories. Both are dissimilar in term of personal background. Hamid
is rich and highly educated, and Amin is not. Nonetheless, both have a passion for water
places, and they have developed an intricate knowledge of the Klang that has inspired
them to engage in daily river clean-up activities voluntarily. Stimulated by their own
experiential, emotional and sensory engagement with the river, they see themselves as
an important steward of the Klang, translating their sense of stewardship into their
everyday practical actions, such as cleaning up rubbish. The ‗natural‘ and ‗pristine‘
environments at KGDV sustained their responsibility for and love of place, in turn,
reflecting the ability of the river to engage and inspire human agency. Their connections
to a river were also guided by religious beliefs and practices derived from Holy
scriptures, including the Hadīth. For Hamid and Amin, rivers and surrounding
environments are uniquely created by God, and they as stewards on earth shoulder
responsibility to care for the rivers. Though the similarities are clear, there is an
importance difference in term of the nature of their care and protection. Hamid‘s place-
saving actions are more rooted in a sensual aesthetic, while Amin‘s actions are more
about cultivating a place of moral-natural purity. Indeed, pollution issues are blessings
241
in disguise, as they motivate Hamid and Amin to engage in practical activities in saving
the Klang River. In the next chapter, I explore the same concern regarding what
constitutes river stewardship among the Torrens River residents.
242
CHAPTER EIGHT
TORRENS RIVER STEWARDSHIP
In Chapter Seven, I established how people conceptualise and enact their
responsibilities toward the Klang River‘s upkeep and maintenance. In this chapter,
following the same logic, I focus on how and to what extent locals interact with the
Torrens River in South Australia. I am especially concerned with river stewardship.
Similarly to Klang River data, the Torrens River participants felt that multiple actors,
including the general public and the government (federal, state and local council),
should share the responsibilities for protecting and sustaining their river systems.
However, unlike the situation in the Klang River catchment, my research
revealed that there are many individuals and environmental groups working directly or
indirectly toward protection and sustainability of the Torrens River. Some of these are
catchment groups whose main activities focus on the immediate riparian areas in the
Torrens River, whereas other non-catchment environmental groups broadly promote
eco-friendly practices, such as good land management and protection of native species,
particularly among farmers, as their land use has impacted on the water quality of the
Torrens. Several groups are state-initiated, as the federal and state governments have
increasingly recognised the need to create partnerships in environmental protection,
sustainability and conservation. Other groups are self-initiated autonomously by local
residents, or special interest groups, such as native fish interest groups. This chapter
does not trace the development of these movements; rather, it examines the members‘
perceptions and their practices to improve the health and general upkeep of riverine
environments. I therefore highlight place-saving stories in the Torrens. I argue that
environmental restoration activities, undertaken locally, strengthen people‘s connections
to the river alongside their strong sense of the river as a cherished place.
The chapter contains three main sections. I begin with people‘s perceptions of
river stewardship. As with the Klang, local people attributed the responsibilities to local
residents and the government (federal, state or local council) rather than the local
243
community or other sectors. Next, I examine the emergence of place-based
organisational frameworks that attempt to clean the Torrens River from pollution,
namely, the Torrens Catchment Water Management Board and Torrens Taskforce. The
last section focuses on stories of four members of the Torrens River catchment groups. I
discuss how persons I have named Mitch, Clara, Tim, and Amber, as well as others,
care deeply about the river and regularly work toward its revival. I refer to this process
as rendering or sharing a field of care.
Sharing a field of care
Here I examine how the Torrens River participants talked about the responsibilities they
undertook in taking care of the river. Generally, the participants expressed positive
responses and expressed their willingness to assume responsibilities in protecting the
Torrens River. Positive concerns about the stewardship of the Torrens were almost
exclusively expressed in terms of a joint responsibility between the public and the
various levels of government.
Many participants used terms such as ‗all of us‘, ‗everybody‘, ‗everyone‘,
‗individuals‘, and ‗every person‘ as a member of the ‗local community‘, signifying the
role of community members in protecting the river. Matt, for example, commented
regarding who should be responsible for the river:
Everybody who comes in contact with it; ultimately, though the
government needs to lead the way with some infrastructure spending,
probably some legislation to try and prevent pollution of the waterways.
But every person should just be careful not to litter and they don‘t. [...]
I‘ve always presumed ... I actually don‘t know ... I‘ve presumed that the
waterway is the responsibility of the state government. So the city
council in my area maintains the Linear Park, so they make sure that the
lawns are mowed and watered, but the actual waterway itself I
presumed is the responsibility of the state government (Interview:
Adelaide, 20/11/07).
The attribution of responsibility in the above excerpt was framed first with regard to the
members of the community, and then the state government. However, the word
‗ultimately‘ suggests that Robert attributed greater responsibility to the government to
lead the ways in protecting the Torrens. Amber expressed a similar sentiment in relation
to river stewardship:
Everybody has to really be aware of what gets washed into the river and
have an understanding of it. We don‘t really have enough
understanding, especially the councils need to legislate that industries
244
don‘t let stuff escape. I am sure that revegetation [work] and all of that
are helping a lot too; so the sponsoring of that [is important]. And more
involvement from everybody especially councils, and a lot more
government funding (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
Similarly, Amber opined that the state and local governments should provide legislation
to prevent cases of river pollution, as well as to provide financial support to fund
various restoration works. But, unlike Robert, she did not state that the government was
ultimately responsible.
Marion indicated that the river would benefit from ‗multiple‘ stewardship. In
contrast to other participants, she provided a kind of hierarchical order of stewardship
starting from the upper level of various level of governments and moving down to the
everyday ‗users‘. She described how the state government was at the ‗big picture level‘
of the ‗environmental management‘ of the Torrens River. Echoing Matt and Amber,
Marion pointed out that ‗the basic principles‘, such as laws regarding pollution, needed
to be established by the state government. The rules, regulation and programs then
‗would be translated‘ and enacted by the local government. According to her, the local
council should be in charge of actively maintaining the river, which included ‗mowing
the lawn‘ surrounding parts of the river, ‗maintaining the flow‘ and ‗monitoring the
river‘. Finally, she noted that the river upkeep should also rest on the ‗users who are
quite conscious of the precious resource they have access to‘. People like her, who came
and used the Torrens Linear Park (TLP), for example, pedestrians, cyclists, or those
who simply wanted to enjoy the open space and the fresh air, needed to keep the river
clean especially ‗by not throwing rubbish into the river‘.
When I asked about who should take responsibility for the Torrens River‘s
quality, a focus group interviewee answered ‗All of us‘, followed by unanimous
agreement by members of the group, as they nodded simultaneously. Mainly referring
to the TLP as the place where they had walked, he elaborated, ‗Our responsibility is to
tidy up and keep it in its present state‘. In addition, local people were believed to be
responsible ‗for cleaning their gutters and removing leaves from the front of their
houses‘. Another member added, there was a need for ‗a body to manage the system –
the [state] government, and … the councils‘. Another member highlighted the
government should have legislation to fine people heavily if they polluted the river and
should have a system of ‗public shaming‘ to deter those who pollute the river.
Interestingly, he suggested the use of a negative emotional strategy to deter polluters in
his reference to ‗public shaming‘ in this context.
245
Indeed, as the Torrens River is an important recreational spot with the
development of the TLP along part of its bank, several participants noted that a ‗little‘
or ‗simple‘ act could make a difference. Don, another regular walker along the park,
explained:
I do something very simple like taking my dog for a walk [along the
Torrens Linear Park]. So I keep track ─ where do I allow the dog to go?
Do I allow it to trample on vegetation? Do I keep the dog to the
footpath? Do I keep it on a leash? If you‘re taking the dogs for a walk
down the River Torrens, they could be disturbing the natural fauna so
it‘s important not to just let them run around off the leash ─ [need to]
keep them under control, need to scoop their poo (Interview: Adelaide,
11/09/07).
Likewise, Clara, an Our Patch volunteer, urged people to be more responsible at the
individual level through their everyday action. She pointed out to me ‗a doggy litter
bag‘ behind our back as we were sitting on the lawn at the TLP. She emphasised that
local people needed to be responsible to maintain the health of the Torrens, especially
those ‗people [who] walk their dog along here‘, as they needed to stop ‗pollution from
[their] dogs, they need to scoop the poo‘. She mentioned regretfully, ‗but a lot of people
don‘t do so, a lot of poo [around here]‘.
These narratives show how individuals can contribute to the better protection of
the Torrens in their day-to-day routines. The most common example was not throwing
rubbish directly in the river or within the catchment (for example, not to litter in one‘s
own gutters). Jack, the Popeye boat operator (as mentioned in Chapter Five), elaborated
on individual responsibilities to care for the Torrens:
I think it‘s everyone kept that in mind. And everyone did a little bit.
Like if you see a piece of rubbish in the water and you‘re in the paddle
boat, just pick [and put] the rubbish on the back of the paddleboat. And
put it in the bin… like when I‘m in the paddleboat and I see rubbish I‘ll
pick it [up] and put it in the bin. If everyone does a little bit, the place
would be spotless. So it's not just the council, it's also me and you
(Interview: Adelaide, 14/09/07).
For Jack, the presence of rubbish disrupted the order of the Torrens as a recreational
place. Recurring themes regarding prevention of littering are consistent with the
findings of Chapter Six in which understandings about river pollution are regularly
associated with the presence of rubbish and litter.
While the majority of participants recognised visible pollution through litter
abatement, Amber offered a more perceptive observation on the impact of invisible
246
pollution and showed an example of being responsible for individual actions, including
certain regrets about her limited prior knowledge:
We need to be aware about things like permapine182
and [the] toxic kind
of leeching which can harm the environment. … I mean we built this
permapine shed out there and trellis and we didn‘t know when we built
it that this could be a problem for the river, so we‘re not going to buy
anymore permapine, after finding out that that could be leeching
preservative into the soil which flows down into the river. I don‘t think
people know enough about it (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
She revealed her growing awareness of domestic consumption patterns that could
eventually impact on the health of the river. Her practical action, including the non-
purchase of potentially harmful products, reflected her concern to be a responsible
steward of nature in general, and the Torrens in particular.
Showing parallels with data collected from some of the Klang River
participants, several people talked about the responsibility for taking care of the river
before I even asked them. When asked to state her opinion about the health of the
Torrens at present, instead of replying directly to my question, Jody, a regular walker
along the TLP, exclaimed:
When I think about it ... I think it‘s about all of us taking some
responsibility for it, not just the council but the people who live closest
to it, and the people like me who use it. There are little things like there
are lots of bags to collect up your dog [poo].... Councils are trying really
hard to do that [sorting plastic poo bags]. I think because of where the
Torrens is, it‘s unrealistic to stop people being near it; people have their
dogs as well (Interview: Adelaide, 13/11/07).
Instead of indicating whether the Torrens was polluted or clean, Jody talked firstly
about the stewardship issue, reflecting how important and integral it is to experience of
place.
Likewise, I asked Mike (who had walked the 120-kilometre length of the river)
about the Torrens River water quality. He responded in the following way:
I think it‘s [the water quality] vital. It‘s up to individuals of course [to
take care of the river]. I mean Governments can do a certain amount.
There are clear signs of all that [government‘s efforts] because there are
landcare management projects, the [installation of] trash racks and the
silt traps; they‘ve created billabongs, St Peter‘s Billabong. They‘re
building a new wetland at Paradise, Apex Park wetland, and
182
Permapine is a pine wood treated with chemical preservatives, such as chromium copper, and arsenic,
to protect wood from rotting and being attacked by fungus, termites, or other insects. These treated
chemical timbers are commonly used for outdoor purposes such as building homes, schools and
children‘s playgrounds.
247
Breakout Creek wetland; all of this is very important (Interview:
Adelaide, 12/02/08).
Following this, he elaborated several ways one could be a responsible steward:
So, I think it‘s also just important for people, for individuals not to
throw their rubbish in the gutters, not to tip their paint down the gutters,
not to throw their water bottles into the street to wash down into the
river. It‘s up to individuals to take responsibility. If they love [emphasis
added] the river, then they‘ve got to change those behaviours, try not to
tip out plastic bags and things like that, to recycle; and all those kinds of
things actually will help the river because a lot of that run-off is going to
be urban run-off. We can‘t change that [physical development] because
we‘ve built up all along its tributaries and all along the watercourse, so
the best we can do is not pollute that catchment (Interview: Adelaide,
12/02/08).
In a human-human relationship, for example between parents and their children, a
feeling of love is often associated with care and being responsible, hence the expression
‗tender loving care‘. Loving parents are typically willing, amongst other
responsibilities, to provide adequate shelter and food, education, ensure health, and
protect their children from harm and injuries. Evidently in the above passage, Mike
made plain a connection between the positive emotion of love and being responsible to
a non-living entity – the Torrens River – as well, through adopting various everyday
practical actions preventing littering and promoting recycling.
To conclude here, positive awareness in regard to stewardship of the river is
evident among the locals of the Torrens River catchment area, as discerned from their
general views and some examples of self-reported place-saving stories and behaviours.
Almost all informants affirmed their own personal responsibilities as members of local
resident groups to save the river from polluted matter. In addition, the government is
also identified as a significant (official) care-taker, a matter to which I now turn.
Cleaning the Torrens: Government as River care-taker
As noted in Chapter Four, the Torrens Catchment Water Management Board (TCWMB)
in 1995 tried to improve the quality as well to revive the riverine environment. This
section further elaborates the role of TCWMB as a place-based organisation in its
attempt to save the Torrens. Celebrating a decade of its establishment, the Board in its
report claimed, ‗Ten years on from the Board‘s establishment the health and aesthetics
of the Torrens catchment are vastly improved‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management
248
Board 2005: 8). The Board has indeed implemented a range of strategies and actions,
inclusive of physical works and community educational programs, to address the issue
of the degradation of the Torrens River. On-ground physical works include the
installation of 70 gross pollutant traps (GPTs), locally known as trash racks, as well as
silt traps on a number of tributaries entering the Torrens River. The installed trash racks
and silt traps have prevented more than 6,000 tonnes of trash, organic matter and
sediment from polluting the Torrens River, Gulf of St Vincent and other water bodies in
the catchment. The estimated waste breakdown trapped in the trash racks was 5 per cent
man-made litter, 60 per cent organic (leaf litter), and 35 per cent silt (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 2005: 8).
Additionally, the TCWMB launched in 1998 a campaign known as WaterCare
with its tagline ‗It‘s in your hands‘ as part of its ‗community education programs‘. The
tagline directly signifies people‘s responsibilities in the upkeep of their local rivers. A
variety of media were employed, including print information (see Plate 65), advertising
campaigns in radio and television, signs, websites, telephone helplines, workshops to
widely disseminate the importance of protecting water resources to the local people, and
to inform them of what they can do in their daily life to assist water pollution
prevention. As I walked and discovered various sections of the catchment, I noted how
the Board had instructed that signs be erected that showed the ‗River Torrens – Torrens
Catchment‘. Torrens stream name signs were installed at various points along the
immediate areas on both sides of the riverbanks. Interestingly, the stream name signs
were also erected far away from the riverbanks, for example, along the main roads (see
Plate 66). I interpreted such practices as an effort to instil a sense of, and responsibility
toward, place among the local people, and as a reminder that they were living in a river
catchment. The signs erected, as the Board asserted, ‗provide a permanent, subtle and
repetitive reminder to anyone who travels through the catchment and the link between
what flows down stormwater drains and what ends up in the sea‘ (Torrens Catchment
Water Management Board 2006: 23). I noted more informative and lengthier signs were
erected near on-ground river restoration sites or pollution prevention devices, for
example at the Breakout Creek (see Plate 67), Vale Park, and St. Peters Billabong A
general template reminding people about their stewardship of the river was written for
each sign before detailing specific restoration work at a particular site: ‗WaterCare at
work: Every day there are simple things you can do to ensure that water is all that ends
up in our drains, creeks, rivers and oceans‘ (Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 09/12/07). Such
informative signs reflected the importance of combining human agency with other.
249
Plate 65 Various pamphlets of community involvement programs include (from left)
Waterwatch SA, Mid-Torrens Catchment group and Upper River Torrens Landcare
Group.
Plate 66 A sign erected adjacent to the main road.
Plate 67 A WaterCare sign erected near Breakout Creek a contained a brief facts about
the floating litter facility.
250
societal structures, such as government initiatives, in protecting natural resources,
including the river
After ten years of developing strategies, practices, financial investments and
composite programs, evaluation of the Torrens River reveals ‗improvements in water
quality primarily in terms of reduction in the concentration and load of suspended solids
and heavy metals‘ (Torrens Catchment Water Management Board 2006: 27). The claim
is based on the Board‘s on-going ten-year composite water quality monitoring from 15
sites in 1996, increased to 30 sites in 2005. Additionally, the Board conducted a
‗Catchment Areas Tracking Survey‘ for five years (in 1997, 1998, 1999, 2002 and
2004), and found there was an increase in awareness among the local people about
stormwater pollution, its impact on the environment and the changes they must adopt to
limit that impact. However, the Board acknowledged, ‗Despite these major changes in
the health of our waterways and improvement in the awareness and behaviour of
industry, business, governments and individuals, there is still a long way to go‘ (Torrens
Catchment Water Management Board 2006: 27). Indeed, the Torrens River continues to
be a conduit of pollutants, and its pollution has been exacerbated with the competing
use of its water, which led to the establishment of the Torrens Taskforce, as I discuss in
the following section.
The Threat of Blue-green Algal Blooms: The Establishment of the Torrens Taskforce
As the Torrens watery environment in particular, and Adelaide city in general, are
central to tourism during the all-year-round festivals183
, such as the Adelaide Festival184
and Santos Symphony Under the Stars185
(see Plate 68), any ecological threat to the
river is taken seriously by the State government, locals, tourist operators, and so on, as
discussed in Chapter Six. This was especially evident during the closure of the Torrens
183
The City of Adelaide is generally dubbed the ‗City of Festivals‘ in Australia. The Adelaide City
Council in partnership with various associations, club, and groups, organise many cultural festivals and
events such as visual arts exhibitions, music celebrations, fashions, comedy and sport events, throughout
the year, attracting an influx of local and international visitors. Some of these festivals are organised in
public open spaces, and start late in the evenings. Strategically located in the heart of Adelaide city
centre, on the south bank of the Torrens Lake, Elder Park offers spacious open spaces and water features,
making it a unique venue for such events. 184
The biennial Adelaide Festival was first held in 1960, and is considered as one of the largest arts
festivals in the world. 185
Santos, Australian‘s leading gas company, is a major sponsor of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra
concert held annually at the Elder Park. The concert orchestrated a selection of classical and
contemporary music. I attended the orchestral concert and observed that while waiting for live cultural
performances to begin, many visitors took opportunities to enjoy and connect with the Torrens River.
251
Lake in the midst of the Adelaide Festival in 2006, as the ABC News Online headline
put it, ‗Festival embarrassment as algal bloom forces Torrens closure‘. The Torrens
Lake water quality monitoring every three days revealed the results above
recommended health levels, forcing the closure of the lake, as it was deemed
‗poisonous‘. Rowing and paddle boating were restricted, as contact with polluted water
could cause health problems, such as skin irritation. The outbreaks and subsequent
closures of the Torrens Lake have also impacted on the immediate amenities visually,
by the presence of closure signs and algal scum, as well as odours from the algae. In the
preceding year, the Torrens Lake was closed for a 12-week period from February to
March – one of the longest recorded closures. In fact, the ‗city‘s green monster‘
(Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 20/08/08) has forced the Adelaide City Council to close the
Torrens Lake for a period each year since 1998, except in 2004.
Two months later, the TTF in partnership with the Adelaide City Council
organised ‗The Future of the Torrens: The Urban Rivers Symposium‟186
, aiming at
reducing the instances of blue-green algal blooms, at the Adelaide Convention Centre
overlooking the Torrens Lake. Both local and international experts‘ opinions were
sought to address the water quality issue in the river, particularly the algal bloom attacks
at the Torrens Lake.
Plate 68 The subdued crowd at the Santos Symphony Under the Stars held at the Elder
Park on 25 September 2007. Paddle boat rowers can be seen in the distance on the right.
186
As noted in Chapter Three, I participated in the conference, as it coincided with my preliminary
fieldwork in November 2006.
252
The TTF forwarded 33 recommendations, classified into short, medium and
longer range plans, to prevent blue-green algae bloom occurrences, as well as to reduce
visible rubbish and other pollutant loads. These included on-ground works, such as
installation of GPT or trash racks and silt traps, stormwater pollution prevention
programs, rural watercourse fencing, community education programs, and industry
audits. As noted, several of these pollution initiatives have already been implemented
under the TWCMB plans, and local groups have actively complied with the initiatives.
Despite the State government and the Adelaide City Council‘s effort in
implementing some of the TTF‘s recommendations, and some improvements that have
been made to water quality, the threat of the blue-green algal blooms continues to haunt
South Australians. The ‗unwanted visitor‘ struck again during towards the end of my
fieldwork in Adelaide. ‗Tom‘, Adelaide City Council Asset Manager of Water,
explained the occurrence of the outbreaks and the tension due to the closures of the
Torrens Lake over the summer of 2008:
It‘s a naturally occurring organism − in most inland water bodies you
get blue-green algae, but the dilemma with Adelaide is that it‘s a
focal area for events. We‘ve got the Adelaide Festival commencing
on 29 February, and the political decision is that we don‘t want the
lake closed during the festival, where we‘ve got thousands of
international visitors, performers, and artists coming along. It‘s not a
good thing for the city to have a lake with signs saying the lake is
closed (Interview: Adelaide, 07/02/08).
When I interviewed Tom, the lake had already been closed for three days, and reopened
in time for the initiation of the Adelaide Festival on 29 February 2008. In 2009, the
Torrens Lake was closed for four times throughout the year. As such, the media and
public claimed that the TTF and the government have failed to take steps necessary to
stop the pollution and clean the river. It is indeed an uphill and on-going battle for the
Torrens River itself and the TTF to sustain the river ecology, and to improve its quality
demands participation from all sectors including local residents, a matter discussed in
the following section.
Engaging People and Place: ‘Waterwatch’ and ‘Our Patch’ Catchment Programs
The TWCWB, which was amalgamated into the new Adelaide and Mount Lofty Ranges
Natural Resources and Management Board (AMLRNRMB) in 2005187
, recognises that
187
The amalgamation of 14 groups of boards, among others, Patawalonga, Barossa and Onkaparinga
Catchment Water Management Boards, regional Soil Boards, Animal and Plant Control Boards is an
effort to create a single integrated system for natural resource management in South Australia.
253
local people can contribute to protecting and managing waterways. In line with this,
Waterwatch and Our Patch are designed as action-oriented programs, which encourage
the local communities in protecting their local environments, particularly creeks and
rivers.
The local NGO called Keep South Australia Beautiful or KESAB188
coordinates
the Waterwatch project and is supported financially by the AMLRNRMB. Waterwatch
is a network of individuals, community and school groups who undertake a variety of
water quality monitoring tests, such as biological, habitat, physical and chemical
assessments, to build up a picture of the health of their waterways and catchment.
Waterwatch projects focus on a particular area of a waterway, usually a spot in which
members are interested, or which is easily accessible. Six days a year Waterwatch
participants collect water samples at their local waterways and these are tested against
specific parameters, namely salinity, pH, phosphate, nitrate and turbidity. Next, the
volunteers report the test results in a standard form and eventually submit the report to
KESAB. KESAB personnel gather the results from all Waterwatch catchment
volunteers, and a final report provides a ‗snapshot‘ of the state of the catchment. By
gathering and recording scientific data, these water-monitoring exercises allow the
volunteers to establish the status of their catchment, and over time determine if water
quality is improving or declining.
Similarly, Our Patch189
involves individuals, community groups, businesses or
schools who adopt and care for a ‗patch‘ of their local environment − usually a creek or
river. Their work complements the water monitoring activities of Waterwatch. Our
Patch is one of the South Australian government‘s action-oriented programs aimed at
protecting local environments. It encourages individuals or groups (communities,
businesses and schools) to adopt and care for a local patch of the environment, usually a
creek or river. Our Patch members are made up of people who volunteer their time,
energy, knowledge, expertise, skills, and labour geared towards improving the quality
and restoring biodiversity of the catchment. The main activities, among others include
landscaping, particularly along the riverbanks, removing exotic or introduced species,
replanting native species, and promoting and delivering environmental education
projects, as explained by Adele, the Our Patch manager:
Our Patch concentrates on what we would call ‗on-ground‘ work, so
groups are looking after a particular piece of land and they‘re looking
at the vegetation so they might do weeding, they might do planting,
188
As introduced in Chapter Six. 189
In other states and councils the same project is known as Catchment Care.
254
they‘ll do rubbish clean-ups. Some of them will do Waterwatch as
well in terms of the water monitoring (Interview: Adelaide, 10/09/07)
In some places, volunteers of Waterwatch and Our Patch have joined together to restore
the Torrens. Moreover, members of Waterwatch and Our Patch programs also work
closely with other residential or environmental associations, such as Friends of St.
Peters Billabong (FSPB) and the Upper River Torrens Landcare Group (URTLG).
There were also on-going half-day education programs called ‗Catchment
Crawl‘ organised by KESAB targeted for school children, ‗as it is essential today‘s
young citizens are able to take an active role in caring for their environment‘
(Waterwatch Adelaide and Catchment Care Programs: forward). Such programs create
awareness on catchment issues and motivate people to become a member of Our Patch
or Waterwatch. Four main issues normally covered were understanding catchment,
understanding ecosystems, human impacts and taking actions with the main overriding
message on the importance of improving the health of the river through pollution
prevention. As the name suggests, the program was specifically for a direct physical
experience being in place. Typically, program co-ordinators would bring the
participants to visit various sections of the river, starting from upstream to the estuary
while simultaneously explaining the four core issues at sites.
I participated in the Torrens Catchment Crawl organised for Prospect Primary
School in November 2011. In this program, following the spatial sequence, ‗Ted‘, a
KESAB officer, first brought us to the Kangaroo Reservoir Lookout Point in the upper
section, where we were able to see part of the structure of the dam (see Plate 69). A bit
further downstream we went to the Third Creek catchment, one of the Torrens River‘s
tributaries, in which we witnessed another form of human modification: the creek has
been transformed into a drain. Trash racks devices installed at the mouth of the creek
were another reason the creek was selected (see Plate 70). Next we went to Adelaide
city centre to see the Torrens Weir and a native revegetation site (see Plate 71). The
next stop was Apex Wetland, a man-made wetland, aimed to filter pollutants before the
Torrens water met the ocean. Here Ted taught us how to assess the water quality based
on the presence or absence of various aquatic species (see Plate 72 and 73). Finally, we
went to Henley Beach where the Torrens emptied at the Gulf of St Vincent (see Plate
74). In this regards, KESAB was aware of the importance of being in place to evoke
sense of place, which is in turn integral to create awareness on issues affecting the river
and a sense of care for the Torrens. KESAB and various to other groups in the
community including the adult population environmental organisations
255
.
Plate 69 Kangaroo Creek Reservoir observed
from the Lookout Point.
Plate 70 Ted explained the trash rack as a
device to trap rubbish in the dried-up Third
Creek/Drain.
Plate 71 A native revegetation site downstream
of the Torrens Weir. Newly-grown plants were
protected inside the green plastic bags.
Plate 72 Ted showed equipment for
identification of aquatic species’ activities.
Plate 73 Students excitedly tried to catch
aquatic species to test water quality.
Plate 74 Looking at the vast ocean at Henley
Beach − the last place of the Catchment Crawl.
256
were also active in promoting river-place-based activities. I met many enthusiast
volunteers who formed a connection with the Torrens via active involvement in a
diverse range of on-ground work in efforts to save the river. I now turn to place-saving
stories of selected members of these community catchment groups.
Stories of volunteers of catchment groups
This section examines stories of four local residents who have enacted their sense of
place through on-ground work as volunteers of catchment groups in attempts to improve
the health of the Torrens River and its general ecological well-being. 25 per cent of my
informants were highly motivated volunteers of catchment or other environmental
groups whom I met either while they were working near the Torrens or by following the
suggestions made by other informants. However, I choose to present Mitch, Clara, Tim
and Amber because they invited me to ‗feel‘ and explore the Torrens with them by
taking me to their ‗places of care‘ or work sites. Moreover, they have unique expertise
in regards to preservation works that reflect the title of the sub-sections. Such qualities
set them apart from other volunteers who participated in this study. I present some
additional, contextual background information, as well as their experiences and contact
with the Torrens and involvement in river clean-up activities. I present the stories
according to the spatial order of the river, starting with Mitch who lived in the
uppermost section of the river, followed by Clara, Tim and Amber who lived in the
middle catchment. I explain briefly the Torrens River sections where the four volunteers
lived before presenting their stories.
River clean-up works and other ecological rehabilitation activities not only
occurred in the public area along the TLP, but also extended to private spaces and
places. Extending to the downstream land along the TLP, which was an open public
place, the upper Torrens catchment was largely privately owned and constituted some of
the most productive agricultural land in South Australia. The upper Torrens catchment
provides an interesting field site in at least two ways. Firstly, the issue of river pollution
reflects the boundaries and continuities between public and private spaces in relation to
the care and protection of this common natural resource. The source of pollution in the
upstream region, for example pesticides and herbicides residuals and animal excreta,
can easily, effectively and quickly be transported into the downstream public places
through its flowing water. Secondly, river pollution reflects the inter-connectedness
between water and land issues, requiring a holistic approach to both natural resources,
257
as evident in Mitch‘s narratives. Finally, as Mitch claimed, this section was the oldest
part of the river, and it contained many native flora and fauna, resulting in the need for
it to be preserved. On the other hand, Vale Park and St. Peters were suburbs located
along the TLP (see Appendix V). According to Clara, Our Patch Vale Park was one of
the most active in cleaning and reviving the riparian area. Once I reached the site during
summer 2008 for an interview with Clara, I could immediately detect that the Vale Park
section area was among the most densely vegetated, especially along its water edges, by
contrast with most of the suburbs I had visited in the middle and downstream sections of
the river190
. Regardless of the Torrens River‘s dried riverbed and patches of stagnant
pools of water, I still felt captivated by the lush greenery of the surrounding riverscape
and hanging plants on the river edges.
As noted in Chapter Four, the billabong at St. Peters was initially part of the
Torrens River before it was cut off from its main tributaries. Historically, it is a special
place, as it used to be a rubbish dump, as indicated by a few informants, including Clara
and Tim. The billabong has undergone a few stages of development over the decades
with funding from the local council and state government, as well as the help from Our
Patch volunteers, transforming its rubbish dump image into an important ecological and
recreational site. St. Peters Billabong (SPB) became a model rehabilitation site, as
people frequently talked about it, and both Our Patch and Environment Protection
Authority (EPA) officers brought me to this special place.
Mitch: The Upper River Torrens Landcare group founder
David, a project officer with Upper Torrens Landcare Management Project (UTLMP),
suggested that I should talk to Mitch, as he had been an active URTLG member for
almost two decades. David had worked closely with Mitch in various community
participation projects. His expertise was also recognised at the state level, as he was
appointed a member of the TTF community reference group. Mitch owned a 40-hectare
farm at Birdwood, Mt. Pleasant, where the Torrens River originates. He identified
himself as a ‗lifestyle‘ farmer because of his farm‘s small size. It was not his primary
source of income; rather he purchased the property for its ‗rural environment‘.
According to him, these were common characteristics of lifestyle farmers. My analysis
of Mitch‘s interviews reveals three clusters of words that he repeatedly used during the
190
I am able to make such a comparison, as this was the last month of my fieldwork and I had visited
almost all sections of the river.
258
interview: revegetation/native/introduced trees, landcare group, and field trips/field
days, as I elaborate below.
Reflecting on his motivation for involvement in what he called ‗environmental
activities‘, his dedicated and active interest began when he took early retirement from
teaching in 1986. Retiring from work gave him ample time to have ‗a closer look at the
land management issue‘ in his property. Nevertheless, his deep concerns on ecological
issues were rooted much earlier. Mitch recounted his childhood experiences:
Much of my childhood had been taken up by living in a suburb about 10
miles from Adelaide itself. And when I was a child, there was still
creeks [Torrens‘s tributaries] running through the areas near me, where
you could catch little fish − native little fish. And you could catch
yabbies. And we have lizards in our backyard. And so perhaps in
coming to the hill to live, I just pursue something that was a childhood
interest for me. So I started to tackle and remove a lot of prickly woody
weeds from a section of the Torrens that goes through our property and I
thought gee ... this is a hard work. What [are] other plants that I‘m
going to put back in the place? Because this prickly bush provides some
protection for other little birds and lizards, you can‘t just take it away
and have nothing in its place (Interview: Adelaide, 18/10/07).
Such motivation is reflective of Milton‘s observation (2002: 62-63) that personal
experiences largely rooted from early childhood encounters in natural places
significantly influenced conservationists‘ commitment to environmental protection. For
instance, Mitch started to remove ‗exotic species‘ from ‗woody bush‘, consisting mainly
of gorse ‗prickly yellow flowering plant‘, willows, ash, poplars, and blackberries
along the water course, as their leaves contributed to pollution load in the river. He
laboriously invested his time and energy for a year to clear the ‗awful‘ exotic species. A
year after removing the exotic species, he noticed ‗there was nothing left just a clear
slope ... clear bank right to the edges of water‘. Erosions started to take place especially
during the rain. He thought the banks ‗really needed to be covered with revegetation‘.
Several months later, the barren banks were covered with several kinds of riparian
vegetation. He took the initiative to take the plants to the Botanical Garden for an expert
opinion and was told they were native and a member of the cyperaceae family191
.
Following his discoveries he started to put in ‗the right plants‘ to replace the removed
weeds. He adopted a ‗direct seeding‘ technique whereby he used a specialised machine
to sow a mixture of native seed straight into the ground. He also used ‗tubestock
planting‘ to supplement the direct seeding. His practical on-ground work to save the
191
Cyperaceae is a type of sedge usually found growing along riverbanks or near the water edges.
259
Torrens continued for decades. This was evident when he expressed during my visit to
his farm in autumn 2007 his frustrations in controlling the returning of the blackberry
that he had removed earlier. He explained that this was possible, as birds had carried the
blackberry seeds from his neighbours‘ properties into his. Mitch told me he was ‗very
annoyed‘ with himself and felt like a ‗failure‘ for not controlling the blackberry more
effectively, revealing his intimate sense of, and direct care of, the river as place.
Apart from being highly observant of nature, Mitch was also perceptive about
people‘s behaviour, especially how it could negatively or positively impact upon the
health of the Torrens. As noted in Chapter Six, he observed, in the 1970s, how farmers
allowed their sheep and cattle to feed on all of the vegetation that was on the water‘s
edge, and cattle would walk across the Torrens. In turn the animals generated bank
erosion and dropped their excreta, compromising the health of the river.
Mitch and the place-based learning of the „Walk and Talk‟ field days
After three year of working on his own farm, Mitch (and four other farmers) formed
URTLG, following the launching of Landcare Australia in 1989. Mitch was elected as
the chairman of the group in 1990, and remained in the position for more than a decade.
The group drafted its constitution and obtained small funding from Landcare Australia.
Mitch recalled he used his own money to print the group‘s newsletters and went from
one farm to another to talk and persuade the landowners to become members of
URTLG. He kept some of the bulletins nicely in a file and gave a few to me (see Plate
75). I noted the main articles, for example, an issue about native plants in Adelaide
region, were written by Mitch himself. Mitch proposed that the group should set up
‗demonstration sites‘ to conduct one of its most significant activities ─ the field trips.
They initially set-up five sites meant to tackle different ‗land and watercourse
management‘ issues. Mitch‘s site was used to show how to remove woody weeds and
replant native species. The other sites were meant for showing types of fencing to stop
animals entering the Torrens and its tributaries, and to address salinity and land
degradation issues.
260
Plate 75 A simple black-and-white URTLG newsletter, November issue 1995.
A field trip or field day continued to be the main activity of the landcare group at
present. A field trip, or what I interpret as a place-based learning experience, promotes
sustainable land and water-course use practices which eventually help to improve the
quality of the river. The issues addressed during the field trips include soil erosion,
salinity and acidity, fencing for dams and watercourses, revegetation of native trees, and
the maintenance of water courses and creeks. Three parties were usually involved in
each field trip, namely, potential new participants of the landcare group, the landowners
who had already undertaken the land and/or river improvement works, and
representative of the URLTG or UTLMP. Occasionally, a specialist such as a fencing
contractor or a farm consultant would also join the field trip, contributing her or his area
of expertise. In the early years, Mitch recounted, the field days were organised by the
URTLG exclusively. In the years after the formation of UTLMP192
, the UTLMP
organised most of the field trips with co-operation from the URTLG members including
Mitch; these were later known as ‗Walk and Talk‘ field trips.
In evocative style, Mitch recounted typical activities conducted at the
demonstration sites, for example, soil acid tests where a soil sample was taken, put on a
little plate, then combined with a certain liquid and powder to see what colour it
changed to. The colour code card would indicate the Ph of the soil, whether neutral or
very alkaline. He explained the connections between land use practices and the water
quality during the field trips:
192
Established in 1998, UTLMP with its tagline ‗promoting land management practices in the Upper
Torrens Catchment‘ was financially supported by federal, state government and local councils (The
Barossa and Adelaide Hills), as well as South Australia Water. UTMLP received a number of
recognitions, including the Landcare Award 2011 for South Australia, reflecting its commitment and
efficiency.
261
We talked a lot about water quality in the committee. What we did to
assist people to think about watercourse [protection] was, we said to
them, ―People complained of contaminated water. Let‘s make sure it‘s
not our fault. Let‘s make sure water that leaves our properties is good
quality water and the way to do that is to increase revegetation in the
water and at the sides - shading and whatever, and also to have no
animals in the water, and those things were almost enough‖ (Interview:
Adelaide, 18/10/07).
He also pointed out the potential health risk of contaminated water to his field trip
participants:
Mostly there were [common problems of] erosion and the collapse in
the bank, and animals in the water course. So we told the landowners,
―[A]s you know ... [the people of] Adelaide drink this water because
there are reservoir storages [downstream], and you can‘t have cattle and
sheep sitting in the river, especially calves because calves carry crypto-
coccidia, which is a bacterial contaminant disease‖ (Interview:
Adelaide, 18/10/07).
Synthesising Mitch‘s efforts, he was clearly trying to evoke a sense of responsibility by
making emotional appeals to the participants. He found great satisfaction when at the
end of field trips the participants expressed interest to participate in saving the river
when they asked more about electric fencing or native revegetation. He believed field
trips ‗do stir people up‘, as they were brought to the place and saw the ecological
problems and simultaneously were able to speak to landowners who had undertaken
such practical on-ground works. When asked whether I could participate in ‗Walk and
Talk‘ organised at his farm, Mitch explained it was rarely organised in his properties, as
they wanted to show case new demonstration sites with different issues, as well as to
encourage new members into the group. Nonetheless, I noted in my conversations with
David that Mitch became a key reference point for matters pertaining to the field trips
and other local issues.
Returning briefly to David, I participated in two field trips organised by him
during my fieldwork. These field trips provided me with an avenue to understand
especially how Mitch himself attempted to explore issues with farmers during the early
introduction of the program. David made the arrangements for participants (potential
landowners who were yet to become a member) to visit five different properties of
various sizes ranging from 20 to 110 hectares owned by either lifestyle or full-time
farmers, where we spent about an hour in each site. The land uses of these properties
included cattle and sheep grazing, horse breeding, and farm forestry. The landowners
who had already became members of URTLG had undergone the ‗land and watercourse
262
improvement‘ works, such as fencing the riparian areas of the Torrens (to avoid stock
animals drinking and trampling the riverbanks), bank stabilisation and revegetation.
They then explained the improvement works they had undertaken at their demonstration
sites. In one occasion, David showed us a section of the Torrens that was degraded due
to bank erosion. David also explained that the grazing animals could negatively affect
water quality, as they entered the Torrens and they dropped their urine and faeces,
which contained pathogens that could be harmful to humans. It is evident that the field
trips stimulated awareness among the participants, as they were physically in place and
simultaneously responded to stimuli that they received from the demonstration sites (see
Plate 76). Participants asked questions in regard to the cost of the fencing, types of
Plate 76 David (with a hat) explained potential harmful impacts of animal access to an
unfenced section of the Torrens during a field trip on October 1, 2007.
length of the fence, rotational grazing, and revegetation, reflecting their concern and
interest to be a steward of the Torrens (Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 1/10/07). Nevertheless,
some of the farmers were difficult to convince and had their own particular views and
traditional practices which were harmful to environment. At the end of the interview
Mitch revealed his own ill-feeling as he tried to convince farmers of the benefits of
‗land and watercourse management‘:
I‘m disappointed that the changes are taking so long. I think we could
probably do things quicker. But I would like to see the former
vegetation, the tea trees and the bottle-brushes especially, encouraged so
that the people of Adelaide would go for a drive through the Torrens
Valley to look at the native plants in flower, not to go through the
Torrens Valley to see the ash trees dropping their yellow leaves in
autumn, just as if it was Europe or America. That just seems ridiculous
263
to me. If I want to see autumn leaves, then I‘ll go to Canada or North
America. I don‘t need to see autumn, leaves here. So I don‘t want to see
exotic vegetation in the Torrens Valley. And the moment that happens,
then there‘s hope for the fish, and there‘s hope for the native birds,
which is kind of where it all started for me anyway, with birds and fish
and lizards (Interview: Adelaide, 26/10/07).
Also evident in Mitch‘s concluding remarks is repeated expression of his negative
feelings about introduced or exotic plants. He implicitly suggested a view of an identity
of place with local natural resources by associating autumn leaves with Canada and
North America. The vibrant colour of ash leaves turning yellow in autumn obviously
did not amuse him. Instead, implicitly he blamed the existence of introduced plants for
the absence of native animals that provided a strong motivation for his decades of
involvement in land and watercourse protection. I now turn to Clara who shares a
similar passion and enthusiasm for native plants.
Clara: The native trees planter
Amber suggested Clara, in her mid-forties, become one of my informants, as she was a
‗key person‘ in the revegetation work at Vale Park. Amber was right, as I discovered
that Clara was responsible for the establishment of the Vale Park Our Patch (VPOP)
group in 2000. Once I finished interviewing Clara, I wrote in my fieldnote book ‗a
dedicated Our Patch volunteer‘, ‗energetic‘ and ‗passionate with native plants‘. When I
called her to set the date for the appointment, she excitedly suggested that the interview
should be conducted at her revegetation site in Vale Park, as it was next to the Torrens,
and she would like to show me some ‗lovely Australian plants‘. After four years
laboriously working along the Torrens Linear Park at Vale Park, she was appointed as a
supervisor to the ‗Work for the Dole‘193
program while continuing to be a VPOP
volunteer.
Clara indicated that the two most significant on-ground works conducted by
both Work for the Dole and Our Patch members at the Vale Park were to revegetate
native plants and ‗to catch leaf litter polluting the river‘. As noted in Chapter Four,
Clara made an explicit connection between pollution and the presence of introduced
plants. She vocally claimed the leaves of introduced plants were considered undesirable
in the riverine environment, as they contributed significantly to the pollution problem of
193
Work for the Dole is a federal government funded program introduced in 1997 to prepare and improve
employment prospects for job seekers providing them with work experiences. Job seekers have a wide
range of options for their work placement such as restoring heritage/historical sites, the environment, and
maintaining community services and facilities.
264
the Torrens. Clara and the VOP members expended substantial energy picking up leaf
litter as part of their efforts to improve the river‘s quality, an activity supported by the
Walkerville Council in its lengthy list of recognised contributions made by Clara in
order to nominate her for a prestigious United Nations of Australia World Environment
Day Award (individual category)194
. The work of Clara and her group members in the
removal of approximately 30,000 litres of weeds and rubbish from the river signifies her
responsibilities as a steward of the Torrens.
Correspondingly, Clara valued native plants for their biodiversity and aesthetic
qualities. This is reflected in her enthusiastic knowledge sharing about her revegetation
work:
I‘m trying to make a grassy land here [adjacent to the TLP]. I‘m going to
call it wildflower fields. I‘m trying to plant [them] here. We got lots of
lovely things. In spring it looks gorgeous. We have native grasses, lilies,
and orchids. I want to improve the biodiversity, so ... more little plants
− all the tiny little plants underneath the big trees. They attract a lot of
biodiversity − all the butterflies and insects − more plants more, more
food. And you get the whole change going − more plants provide more
shelter for the birds (Interview: Adelaide, 18-02-08).
Furthermore, Clara told me there were 35 bird species along the Vale Park area, most of
which were indigenous to the area. She proudly listed ‗quite a range of birds‘, including
kookaburras, Australian magpies and Adelaide Rosellas. Big native trees, such as gum
trees, provided ‗little heavens‘ for the birds, as they nested in the hollows of tree
branches or trunks. According to the Walkerville nomination list, she had supervised the
planting of more than 12,000 native plants along the river and had also helped plant a
further 1,200 locally native plants in special educational gardens (outdoor classrooms)
around Vale Park Primary School. She has also voluntarily taught numerous classes at
schools and has been a guest speaker in many talks and courses, especially in relation to
native plants. She has researched and designed extensive biodiversity resources (such as
a DVD and Plant and Wildlife Manual Sheets) for the use of schools, Our Patch groups
and local councils, and shared her expertise on revegetation projects with the other Our
Patch groups along the river at Gilberton, Walkerville, Windsor Gardens and St. Peters
(The Corporation of the Town of Walkerville 2006: 9).
A key indicator about Clara‘s care for the river as place is that she wanted to
encourage students and also local people ‗to come to the creeks‘, as they would then
learn to appreciate and protect the river systems. Indicating the significance of aesthetic
194
She was eventually selected as one of three finalists nationwide, but did not win the award.
265
values in her revegetation work in the Linear Park as a recreational spot, Clara outlined
her strategies to attract the school children:
We are trying to bring back the edges of the river to a more natural
revegetation. We are trying to replant similar to what would be before
the white people came to Australia. There‘s a lot of benefits ─ the
benefit as far as we are trying to make it look nice for people who come
to the park because we are in the Linear Park, which is used a lot by the
communities. It looks nice. The school children came down here as
well, so there‘s a lot of community groups. That‘s another reason for
planting good plants. Interesting local native plants make it interesting
to people (Interview: Adelaide, 18/0/08).
Evident in the above quotation is that Clara‘s conceptualisation of natural vegetation
and native plants was based on plants that existed prior to European settlement period.
She further explained her plans to transform the open spaces adjacent to the Linear Park
so that school children and the local people would be encouraged to visit the Torrens
River, subsequently participating in the effort to improve its quality. In doing so, Clara
recognised the importance of positive emotions and sensory experiences, as she told me
that she was inspired to create ‗a lot of feelings‘ along the river, for example, by
planting ‗beautiful‘ and ‗very nice smell[ing]‘ chocolate also known as vanilla lilies. In
addition, she planned to ‗integrate a diagonal path‘ with bright colours of red and blue
near the riverbank. This suggests that Clara wanted to find a balance between natural
and built environment to evoke deep emotions among the users of the Linear Park.
Extensive time and energy in improving and saving the Torrens River
heightened Clara‘s knowledge of her locality and native plants. More importantly, she
willingly shared her knowledge with her community. Shortly after an hour of the
interview had elapsed, she invited me to walk along with her around the dried riverbed
of the Torrens River at Vale Park. Like a park tour guide, she gave explanations of the
various native grasses and trees they have planted along the edges, as well as in the
dried riverbed (see Plate 77). I noted informative colourful labels, including notes on
known Aboriginal uses, were attached to some of the native plants that grew along the
river. Clara initiated a public art work of wooden poles erected near the riverbank
inspired by Aboriginal arts and symbols displaying the water and wildlife environment
(see Plate 78).
266
Plate 77 Clara pointed to patches of
native aquatic plants on the dried
riverbed she had planted previously.
Plate 78 Clara showed one of the
Aboriginal inspired ooden poles.
Apart from engaging in revegetation works, Clara was actively involved in water
quality monitoring and surveillance as a Waterwatch volunteer and was highly aware of
the extent of water quality along Vale Park and the Torrens in general. Her extensive
involvement in water monitoring activities allowed her to claim with great confidence
that the Vale Park section was ‗basically the healthiest bit of the river‘. She admitted,
however, that there was an amount of nitrate in the section, ‗but still better than others‘.
She supported this claim by proudly revealing:
We have a lovely section ... we have a healthy section of the river compared to
other sections of the river. It has a very good water quality. We have
macroinvertebrate or water bug testing, we have [found] 30 species here,
including stonefly which is one of the major indicators of very clean water. So
it‘s not as bad as it looks (Interview: Adelaide, 18/02/08).
Clara also elaborated that a ‗natural ecosystem‘ contributed to a cleaner section at Vale
Park:
It actually has reeds ... it has rocks ... it has [a] sandy bottom. It has
ripples where water goes over rocks and things. And we have
overhanging plants over the water. We do have algae at times, but the
ecosystem in the water is great. So we have about 30 different species [of
waterbugs] ... it‘s not actually as polluted in this section. Unlike [St.
Peters] Billabong, basically [it] is having much more pollution problems
because the water is not flowing. Unlike here, the river is flowing most
of the time. [...] Even a further one suburb downstream is not as clean as
here (Interview: Adelaide, 18-02-08).
Hoping that more ‗community group will‘ and a ‗community education‘ process would
take place, Clara concluded the interview in the following way:
267
The River Torrens is an icon. Honestly, by international standard it is a
creek [instead of river], but the river means so much to us. [...]
Adelaide survives. Adelaide survives because of the creek (Interview:
Adelaide, 18/02/08).
Here, Clara makes plain that the Torrens was (and is) integral to Adelaide‘s
development as a city, a view that goes some way to explaining her motivation to
actively protect the river, as well as tell stories of care about it.
Tim: The ‘Waterwatch’ local expert
Regarded by several Our Patch volunteers and officers as the ‗local expert‘ on the
ecology of SPB, Tim was known to be knowledgeable about sources of pollution and
native plants at the SPB and Torrens catchment in general. I first met him when I
conducted my preliminary fieldwork in November 2006. A key informant, Adele,
introduced us when we attended the Urban River Symposium: The Future of the River
Torrens. She referred to Tim as the ‗Waterwatch man‘, and suggested I interview him.
Amber, likewise, claimed they were lucky that there were some extraordinarily
dedicated and knowledgeable scientists such as Tim living in this area.
Indeed, having a degree in Botany and Zoology was an advantage for Tim, as he
engaged in various community environmental education and practical on-ground works
at the Torrens and SPB. Tim, now a retired scientist, has lived with his wife in St. Peters
for more than thirty years. Echoing the concerns relayed by Hamid about the Klang
River, Tim identified himself as ‗a volunteer at this site [SPB] and my interests are in
understanding how it works, as well getting it back to its natural situation‘. His
understanding and knowledge of the Billabong, coupled with his high spirit of
volunteerism, have benefited the environmental organisations and projects he worked
with, such as KESAB and Friends of St. Peters Billabong (FSPB). His eyes sparkled
with interest and passion as he talked about the Torrens, traversing a range of topics,
including the river‘s history, physical and ecological changes in it, sources of pollution,
and the importance of native plants, fish and wildlife at the river.
Tim‘s connection to the Torrens and Billabong was manifested in his dedication
and commitment in many ecological revival works, a process I came to understand by
learning through river care stories and observing people‘s activities as a sense of place.
His involvement included carrying out protection works in community environmental
education, river rehabilitation work such as tree planting and weeding, and water quality
monitoring. During the interview, he talked extensively about native and introduced
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plants, as it reflects his training in Botany. In fact throughout our several tours around
SPB, he constantly stopped and showed me various native as well as introduced plants,
including kneeling down to hand-remove introduced weeds whenever he noticed them.
Tim became a reference point for other volunteers for identification of various native
and introduced plants. Among his volunteer colleagues and KESAB and Our Patch
officers, he was best known for his water quality monitoring work signified by his
active participation in the KESAB Waterwatch project. As I noted in the preceding
section, KESAB Waterwatch is a community water quality monitoring project in which
a network of volunteers adopt a creek in their neighbourhood. The volunteers would
monitor and take water samples on six occasions within a limited time frame annually.
For the past ten years, Tim religiously took water samples from the Torrens and SBP
sites and submitted the results to the KESAB‘s office. In recognition of his long-
standing dedication and contribution, Tim was honoured as one of the recipients of
Waterwatch Awards195
in 2003.
Not only has Tim engaged with KESAB water quality monitoring, his
attachment to the Torrens is further reflected in conducting water quality research of his
own. He carried out separate water quality monitoring, as well as analysis based on the
samples taken from the Billabong and other Torrens River sections. I was amazed at
Tim‘s dedication as I accompanied him several times while he was taking water sample
from various sites. In contrast to the KESAB project, he conducted water monitoring
every morning for a period of three to four consecutive months in the space of a year.
This is far more extensive and laborious, as the time-frame is longer. Tim took water
samples at three different points from the Torrens and SPB each morning (see Plate 79)
and put them in glass containers that had been labelled accordingly. The water samples
were then tested based on measures such as acidic level to determine the water quality.
Next, he entered the data into Microsoft Excel to obtain a chart reflecting the trend of
pollution at the Torrens and the billabong. He compiled a report and produced it for
relevant authorities such as KESAB itself or city councils. The processes from
collecting water samples, plotting the graphs and producing a report were time
consuming, as he explained:
I did it this morning about half an hour before I saw you…normally at
this moment every day. At times, once every 2-3 days depending on
195
This award is presented to the group that can best demonstrate how their regular water quality
monitoring, whether physical/chemical, biological or habitat, has led to improvements in the health of
their local environment.
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what the results show because it‘s a lot of effort for just one point on a
graph … and 2-3 days you can actually get a reasonable plot, but I am
doing it every day to try and see if I can get a sharper resolution. Then
I‘ll do it probably for a few months, then I won‘t do it, I‘ll take a long
break. It‘s a lot of effort. The amount of time you spend monitoring
and processing the data it‘s almost a full-time job. Maybe I should do a
PhD on it? (Adelaide: Interview 5/12/07).
It took a great effort for him to continue conducting his daily water monitoring for
nearly a decade. Thus, I asked about his motivation:
What motivates me? Because it‘s here! When I was a young boy I came
down here, that was a rubbish dump, people put rubbish in there, it‘s
now an oval, under the oval there are mountains of rubbish and I feel
like putting something back in. I got a lot from it, so I want to put
something back into it (Interview: Adelaide, 5/12/07).
Plate 79 Tim took a water sample from the billabong to test for its quality.
Like Mitch, Tim‘s motivation to protect the Torrens was rooted in childhood, as he had
observed rubbish pollution of the Torrens at the rubbish dumpsite. The Torrens at
Gilberton (a suburb opposite St. Peters, see Appendix V) was his childhood playground
where he used to jump from the swing bridge196
(see Plate 80). Like other study
participants, Tim revealed happy memories of the river as he enjoyed swimming in its
water until it was officially closed for the public. Gilberton Swimming Pool was
actually a natural swimming pool that was a part of the Torrens River itself. Several
informants told me that the pool was popular for swimming competitions in Adelaide
196
The bridge connects Gilberton and St. Peters.
270
back then (see Plate 81). Unfortunately, increasing pollution followed by man-made
swimming pools led to the closure of the pool. A sign erected near the TLP at
Walkerville (see Appendix V for location of Walkerville) specifically mentioned the
year: ‗The pool was closed in 1964, the water having become too polluted for safety‘
(Fieldnotes: Adelaide, 18/02/08).
Plate 80 Swing Bridge constructed across what used to be Gilberton Swimming Pool.
Plate 81 A swimming competition in the Torrens River held at the Gilberton Swimming Pool
pulled a crowd of hundreds in the 1920’s (Courtesy of the State Library of South Australia).
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dedication and commitment to collect water samples persisted, and his ecological
knowledge about the billabong accumulated, a finding evident for many of the people
among whom I worked. He consistently detected and promulgated information about a
high level of nitrate as a significant indicator of the extent of pollution at the billabong
apart from other pollutants, such as lead, zinc and mercury, which were residuals of
historical mining activities. His main worry was nitrate pollution based on his water
monitoring activities:
My area of interest is largely in the water and the very high nitrate
levels that occur in these areas. As I said before, spring waters feed the
whole system. In 2003 estimates of spring water discharge into the
billabong were ½ million litres per day: quite a bit. Currently, because
of the ongoing drought that is depressed; we don‘t have a firm figure but
what it appears to be is around 200,000 to 250,000 litres, so it‘s about
half. The nitrates are high − and this is conjecture on my part and you
will certainly get into arguments with other bodies − derived from
sewerage (Interview: Adelaide, 23/11/07).
Indeed, based on his continuous monitoring of water samples and analysis, Tim
believed there were underground sewage leakages that had a ‗very high nitrate level‘ at
the Billabong that eventually flowed into the Torrens. Things became worse during the
drought of 2006, as the water quantity needed to dilute the pollutants was severely
reduced. He reported the finding to the local councils. Initially, Tim recalled, they were
sceptical and questioned the findings of a high level of nitrate due to his inadequate
sampling and water analysis. But they finally agreed once they had conducted their own
study and came to the same findings. However, there were ‗conflicting points of view‘
in regards to the source of nitrate pollution. Tim maintained the source came from the
old underground broken sewage pipes, whilst the local council and AMLNRMB
suggested it was from decomposition of rotten leaves, such as accacia and casuarinas.
Tim believed the rotten leaves were one of the contributors, but not a major one. Based
on his estimation, the nitrate level was between 5 and 10 milligram per litre, that is,
between 2 and 5 kilogram of nitrates per day in the Billabong. Over a year, nitrate
inputs to the Billabong would be about one tonne. He exclaimed, ‗There is no way that
the Casuarinas in the Mt Lofty Ranges will produce that order of nitrates freely
available to be leached out‘. He went on to offer his sewage theory:
I think that the political aspect needs to be stressed, that there are
politics involved and governments do not like people pointing the finger
at the problem […]. The unseen problem that‘s going to involve
possibly hundreds of millions to fix, to actually fix that whole sewer
system, and there‘s one running down every street, they would have to
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do a survey of all the sewers, see what the problem is, which ones are
leaking. How you do that I don‘t know, but it would be a major problem
(Interview: Adelaide 23/11/07).
Tim‘s concerns signify the complexity of local environmental politics. During my
subsequent visit to SPB, I met both Tim and Patrick, a senior biologist with
AMLRNRMB. According to Tim, Patrick wanted to take water samples for further
analysis, particularly to consider (actually debunk) Tim‘s theory of sewage pollution.
Tim was aware of the sceptics in regards to his analysis, as he mentioned, ‗The
professionals who think that because we are acting in a voluntary capacity that our stuff
is ―Mickey Mouse‖, you know, ―Mickey Mouse‖, low reliability, but we‘re certainly
looking to improve our image with regards to the Council and other professionals‘. In a
separate interview with Patrick (Tim was not aware about this), he did discredit Tim‘s
sewage theory on the basis that the tests conducted were scientifically inaccurate. The
sceptics did not demoralise Tim; in fact, he continued his place-saving activities without
a sign of slowing down. I now turn to Amber who worked closely with Tim in reviving
the SPB and the Torrens.
Amber: The local artist
Amber had a degree in Fine Arts and used to teach Art in secondary school. She bought
her house in St. Peters mainly due to its proximity to the Torrens and Billabong. Having
a house close to the Torrens increases Amber‘s opportunity to have a personal, physical
connection with the Torrens River. She has walked along the Torrens for the past
twenty years and enjoyed its ‗cool breeze water‘. She even used to canoe in the river.
However, she reminisced, canoeing ‗gradually got phased out‘ in the section of the
Torrens at St. Peters because of the level of pollution. She and other river users were no
longer able to engage in recreational activities which exposed them to a direct physical
contact with the polluted water.
When I continued to probe about pollution at the Torrens, Amber talked about
the need for people to be ‗aware of what gets washed into the river and have an
understanding of it.‘ She listed several items of pollutants such as ‗the oil from cars‘,
‗sort of industrial stuff‘, and ‗detergents‘ that washed into the Torrens. For Amber, the
main pollutant was introduced leaves. Like many others, she valued indigenous trees
more highly than introduced species. She called for more planting of native trees,
especially eucalyptus trees to line the streets, in the immediate area of the river banks,
as well as the whole catchment area. This could possibly be due to the fact that she has
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seen a significant number of introduced trees in her area. Based on a report entitled
Exotic and Native Vegetation Impacts on the Torrens River Catchment Water Quality,
there were approximately 9,020 introduced trees out of 22,000 street trees in City of
Norwood Payneham and St. Peters local council (Adelaide and Mount Lofty Ranges
Natural Resources Management Board 2007: A2).
Amber has ‗walked her talk‘. Not only did she propose the idea of the need to
plant ‗appropriate native trees‘, she has also actively been involved with the Billabong
rehabilitation project since the establishment of SPB Our Patch in 2005. Her father, who
was one of the founding members of the Conservation Foundation, inspired Amber.
Indeed, she has volunteered herself tirelessly in efforts to restore the Billabong. I met
her the first time when she was busy weeding alone in the Billabong area. During my
fieldwork, she never failed to turn up during the working bee days. I worked together
with Amber, mainly doing weeding, as it was a summer season. She patiently guided
me on how to distinguish introduced and native plants, while she herself pulled the
noxious weeds. She shared her passion:
It‘s just a natural thing for me to actually get down there [the Billabong
area] and help out; it‘s just so beautiful too to see the vegetation, just the
beauty of seeing the whole process of it all being revegetated; it‘s so
wonderful to help out (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
Amber extended her on-ground work at the Billabong to her home garden. She wanted
to grow more local species in her garden, especially grasses. She realised how
‗beautiful‘ and self-seeding they were. She also told me butterflies and birds would
return, as she put effort into revegetation of native plants.
Nonetheless, Amber‘s distinct contribution to the preservation of native flora
and fauna cleaning up the Torrens was her community environmental artwork at the
Billabong. After the interview, we walked to the Billabong, as Amber excitedly wanted
to show her community artwork to me. When we reached a barren area near the
Billabong, I saw Amber‘s artwork − a colourful snake mosaic approximately five
metres in length that was surrounded by two semi-circular carved brick paths (see Plate
82). Her own river clean-up work on the Billabong inspired her to embark on this
artwork project. While doing planting and weeding activities around the slopes of the
Billabong, she frequently found colourful tile pieces, ridges of plates and varieties of
tableware pieces. Since the Billabong was formerly a rubbish dump, the fragments
found were not unusual. Amber also observed that the area near the Billabong was very
barren. Though the Our Patch group had gradually planted many native trees around
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there, she still thought ‗that wide area is still very barren, so it‘s the perfect spot to start
with some artwork and then bring the plants around it‘ (Interview: Adelaide, 20/11/07).
She explained the evolution of ideas of her artwork design through a series of
drawings and thinking about ‗how to use these recycled materials‘ found in the
billabong. Thinking simultaneously about colours and shapes of the recycled materials,
the curves of the land, and the meandering line of the river – taken together, she
reflected, they resembled the movement of a snake. When asked for clarification, she
mentioned, ‗The snake represents the life-giving force of the river‘. Her response
signifies her concern and respect for Aboriginal groups, particularly the Kaurna, as
noted briefly in Chapter Four. A common spiritual belief among Australian Aboriginal
groups centres upon the Rainbow Serpent − a snake-like ancestor that created, guarded
and replenished water resources including rivers.197
The paths were another highlight of the artwork. More significantly, the reddish
brown bricks that make up the curved paths re-emphasise Amber‘s concern for the
protection of native flora and fauna. Most of the bricks were engraved with the motif of
a native plant or animal found in the Torrens River catchment. Year-four students of
East Adelaide Primary School nearby carved them, signifying collective effort to care
for the river. I was touched when I read one of the carved bricks, which said on the top
of the brick ‗Declam‘ (the name of the student who carved the brick), then engraved
below − ‗Long neck turtle‘, and finally a carved turtle motif (see Plate 83). It was a very
long process putting all the plans and actions together, which involved various parties in
the township to materialise the community artwork. This included: excavating and
collecting of colourful waste fragments from the Billabong and the adjacent Torrens
Linear Park by the year-four students and teachers of the East Adelaide School (as well
as Amber and Jane themselves); preparing and submitting the artwork proposal for
funding; contacting and discussing the execution of the artwork with contractors;
carving the bricks; and finally putting the snake mosaic and path bricks adjacent to the
Billabong.
One of the engraved bricks mentioned that the project was funded by the City of
Norwood, Payneham and St Peter and supervised by Amber. It was a rewarding and
truly a community project. I could verify this as I observed the proud faces of Amber,
Jane and Tim (as FSPB members), the mayor and environmental officers of the local
council, the students, parents and teachers of the East Adelaide School, as well Our
197
See for example Head (2000), Toussaint, Sullivan and Yu (2005) for discussions on Australian
Aboriginal groups, the Rainbow Serpent and water resources.
275
Plate 82 The colourful snake mosaic and carved native flora and fauna on reddish bricks.
Plate 83 The motif of a native animal carved by the students of the East Adelaide Primary
School.
Plate 84 Amber and school children pointing to the snake for a photographer during the
launching of the Snake Mosaic Community Art.
276
Patch and AMLRNRMB officers during the launching of the Billabong‘s snake mosaic
(see Plate 84). The snake mosaic is more than a community art project. It is a gentle
reminder of one‘s responsibility as stewards to care for the Torrens and its riverine
environment and biodiversity. Implicitly, I argue, it aimed to evoke a sense of place
among its residents, evidently reflected in one of the engraved bricks, ‗This artwork is
dedicated to the volunteers of Our Patch whose tireless work is transforming this special
place‘. Undeniably, Amber has fully used her talents and expertise for the benefit of her
community and ecology based on her emotional and creative engagement with the river.
Chapter summary
The stories and observations presented in this chapter emphasise the role of human
agency in establishing the Torrens River as a field of care. Local people embodied and
enacted positive responses to the river as place. These showed how they seriously took
up responsibilities as active stewards to improve the health and ecological well-being of
the Torrens. I have discussed the emergence of place-based organisations that
systematically and professionally endeavoured to design and implement plans and
policies, technical responses as well as educational and community involvement
programs.
I have also shared stories of a variety of informants, concentrating in particular
on those recorded from Mitch, Clara, Tim, and Amber. These represent other Torrens
catchment volunteers who equally sacrifice time and energy for the love of a cherished
river place, and concerns about possible pollution and its implications. Deep emotional
and physical connections with the Torrens and its riverscape motivated them to
undertake on-ground works in reviving and saving the river. Not only is their sense of
place is embedded in fond spatial memories and past histories, but it is also both
experiential and practical, as evidenced in their on-ground works. Implicitly, the stories
show the power of the Torrens as what I have termed a ‗unifying place‘. Through
practical on-ground works, the Torrens brings people of diverse educational and
occupational backgrounds and with different levels of ecological knowledge together at
a site, eventually enhancing an overall emphasis or what Hummon (1992) calls
‗community attachment‘ based on ‗local sentiment and sense of place‘. Implicit in the
accounts of the four dedicated volunteers, as well as environmental education activities,
is the significance of the visual sense to their overall place-based experiences.
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Following the encounters with the Klang and the Torrens in the previous five
chapters, the final chapter will consolidate overall findings among others by
highlighting similarities and differences in regards to the intersections of place,
pollution and people.
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CHAPTER NINE
ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION
The condition of our rivers, more than any other natural
resources, reflects our attitudes toward the world
around us, and ultimately our attitudes towards
ourselves. The society that does not protect its rivers
destroys its own lifelines.
(Wohl 2004:2)
In this thesis I have pursued the power of place as an analytical lens in understanding
perceptions and practices among the local residents of the Klang, Malaysia, and the
Torrens, South Australia. My particular focus has been on pollution, an issue of great
importance, as rivers worldwide continue to be threatened with rapid urbanisation,
industrialisation and population growth, as well as global climate change. Such
tremendous challenges put pressure on rivers to provide ‗safe water for the world‘, as
well as affecting overall ecological well-being. Combining Mary Douglas‘s famous
analysis of dirt, contagion, or defilement as ‗matter out of place‘ with
phenomenological analysis of a ‗sense of place‘, I have presented people‘s conceptions
of pollution and their concomitant strategies of attracting people to place-saving
practices as a means to revitalise rivers from polluted to healthier states. Despite river
dirtiness, people in Malaysia and South Australia shared with me their emotionally rich
nostalgic memories, meanings, and hopes, as well as social-historical and ecological
concerns about the rivers that run through the cities Kuala Lumpur and Adelaide.
As reflected in Chapter Four, there are some physical and ecological differences
between the two rivers. The Klang River is blessed with an abundance of rain water,
whereas, the Torrens River is located in the driest state in the driest continent, with
average annual rainfalls of 2,300 and 550 millimetres respectively. There are also
variations in land use patterns. Evidently, the most distinguished feature of the Torrens
is its functional role as a recreational area, particularly with the construction of the
Torrens Linear Park (TLP). The Torrens had become a place of leisure that allows
physical activities, including walking, cycling, boating or recreational fishing. Such a
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feature is integral to people‘s conceptualisation of, and distress about, pollution, as it
provides some ways of motivating people to engage physically and meaningfully with
the Torrens. In contrast, apart from its function as water catchment in the upper
reaches, the remaining sections of the Klang serve as a mere conduit of urban
wastewater. No one walked along the concreted riverbanks except the city council
sanitary workers and I. The two countries were also different in terms of their political
systems and economic growth patterns, as well as social and religious practices.
Despite these differences, my analyses suggest certain parallels in the ways people
conceptualise and respond to the pressing issues of river pollution. This claim supports
Strang‘s assertion in regards to the ‗cross-cultural flows‘ between two disparate groups
in far north Queensland and the River Stour catchment in England (discussed in Chapter
Two).
Echoing Philiip Mar‘s (2002: 57) argument – ‗To speak about places is
intrinsically comparative. Talk about a place implies a relation with other places‘ – this
final chapter highlights essentially commonalities, and to a lesser extent local
particularities, based on findings from the two disparate ethnographic contexts
(discussed in Chapters Five to Eight). Structurally, the chapter is divided into two
sections. The first section reviews the comparative findings of previous chapters based
on the following four key themes – the attributes of water, matter embedded in and
outside the river‘s water, river bed and riparian banks, and river as a field of care. The
four inter-related themes that arose from the ethnographic data are discussed in the
context of relevant literature and analytical approaches, simultaneously answering the
research questions identified in Chapter One. In the second section, I conclude the thesis
with my own reflections and stories based on experiences of being in both river places.
The importance of water attributes
The attractiveness and uniqueness of a river as place is attributed to its flowing water.
Correspondingly, a focus on water attributes provides a great insight into people‘s
conceptualisation of pollution. Regardless of hydrological patterns and socio-cultural
differences in the Klang and Torrens contexts, both local groups fundamentally ascribed
specific attributes to the rivers‘ water in their assessment of river quality. My analyses
show that, borrowing from Strang (2006a), the meanings of pollution ‗are encoded in
water‘. Moreover, I argue it is one of the strongest indicators of river health, as most
people talked about water attributes first, as reflected in placement of this topic as the
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first sub-section in Chapters Five and Six. Given that water is the most readily visible
part and an intrinsic property of rivers, such emphasis is justifiable.
Colour and translucency were the most common water attributes identified by
both groups, forming the basis of a large part of their everyday pollution experiences in
the Torrens and the Klang Rivers. Broadly speaking, colourless transparent water
indicated cleanliness, whereas colour and non-transparent water signified a polluted
river. For example, Amin claimed, ‗In our section here, the water is beautiful … we
have clear water. It is clean, indeed very, very clean‘. The water I observed in this
uppermost section of the Klang where Amin lived was similar to tap water delivered at
home, colourless and clear: water in its most neutral form. Likewise, two of the Torrens
focus group interviewees responded simultaneously that the river was ‗crystal clear‘.
Any deviation from this neutrality was identified as polluted water. But what colour is
considered as polluted water? Here, the specificity is evident. In the Klang catchment,
the most famous colour attributed to pollution, was the milky yellow of teh tarik,
Malaysians‘ favourite drink. Whereas olive green, commonly associated with the blue-
green algal outbreak, served a similar function as a symbolic colour of pollution in the
Torrens. Most of the time I observed a high degree of opacity in both rivers: coloured
water, deprived of clarity, consequently reducing the visibility of riverbeds or even any
objects beneath the surface water. The murky colours were considered ‗unappealing‘ in
the eyes of local people. Given the possibility that informants from along the Klang
River might one day visit the Torrens, I strongly predict they will describe the river as
polluted due to its being ‗green cloudy coloured‘. Conversely, if visiting Kuala Lumpur,
the Torrens residents would not be happy with the Klang‘s teh tarik non-transparent
colour and would categorise it as an unhealthy river. Such reactions would reveal
‗powerful cross-cultural themes‘ (Strang 2006a: 69) embedded in perception of water
attributes. Apart from teh tarik, there was a range of colours for river water described
by the Klang informants, include kopi susu (milky coffee), chocolate-ish, black,
yellowish, and greyish. Whilst the Torrens‘ colours were less varied, the range of
expression to describe blue-green algal was illuminating, including ‗sickly-cordial
green‘,‘ a bright green colour like lime cordial‘, ‗greeen‘ and ‗green-green algae‘.
A deep sense of the river as place, and interconnections with it, largely depends
on the availability of moving water. As I suggested earlier, what makes a river is its
water. When such an important matter is not in its place, I argue, it will disrupt the order
of classification. The Torrens ethnography reveals how pollution stories often depend
upon assessments of the lack or absence of water. Many associated the quality of the
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river with the amount of water it contained. ‗Stagnant‘, ‗sluggish‘, ‗no water
movement‘, ‗not flowing‘ were some common words used to describe the lack of water
in the Torrens, particularly during summer, subsequently subjected to its classification
as a ‗dirty‘ river. Conversely, flowing water signified the river was in a good condition.
Drought experiences become part of pollution stories for the Torrens, as it is
located in the driest state of the driest continent. As noted in Chapter Six, a focus group
member described the river‘s flow as ‗another indicator of pollution, especially in
summer‘. And one person recalled a ‗severe drought‘ in 2006 turned the Torrens into a
stagnant body of ‗very unsightly‘ water, signifying pollution was equated with visible
aesthetic qualities. In contrast, comments about the lack of water flow were less evident
in the case of the Klang. Only two informants, Kwong and Amin, identified the water
flow as an indicator of pollution. Hydrological conditions of these two catchments could
explain the differences. Higher levels of precipitation efficiently contributed to the
Klang‘s constant-flowing water, resulting in local people rarely seeing sluggish,
stagnant or slow-moving water, perhaps indicating its dearth as an indicator of
pollution.
To a lesser extent, the Klang and Torrens informants also talked about the
texture of surface water. People used terms such as ‗bubbles‘, ‗sudsy‘, ‗foam‘, ‗greasy‘,
as visible on the surface water. They used such attributes as an indication of impurities
of the rivers, and identified the sources of pollution that included chemical spillage,
washing laundry, or oil from vehicles on the road. However, there is an additional water
attribute unique to the Torrens River. Due to the presence of blue-green algal outbreaks,
which are non-existent in the Klang, only the Adelaidians mentioned the ‗slimy‘ green
texture formed at the surface and up to several inches thick below the water, as
described, for example, by Amber.
Within the place-inspired literature one of the main arguments is that human-
place engagements are characterised by multisensory, embodied and emotional
experiences. Likewise, the literature on the anthropology of water emphasises human
multisensory engagement with water. For example, the Dorset study suggests that many
people find the ‗visual and aural characteristics of water literally mesmerising‘ (Strang
2004: 50). Some informants reported the tactile qualities of being immersed in water,
such as, ‗You can float in water, and it‘s cool…‘ (Strang 2004: 55). Informants also
talked positively of their pleasurable physical interactions with water in regards to the
other three senses, taste, smell and hearing. Instead of relying solely on vision, Pink also
proposes a combination of sensory modalities in her studies of laundry and its
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relationship with the construction of identity. She points out how ‗visual stains, the
tactile sense of pressed clothes and the smell of dirty clothes‘ figure in the evaluation of
cleanliness or dirtiness of a laundry item (Pink 2009: 125).
I agree with Strang‘s analysis of the relationship between human sensory
experiences and construction of meaning. But the concern is to what extent it is
multisensory? I suggest that there is an exception to the above collection of assertions.
My research reveals that human sensory experiences with polluted rivers are restricted,
partly due to limited physical contact with water. The conditions of water places in
Dorset were relatively clean and safe enough for water contact, allowing for a wider
range of sensory engagements. In contrast, the Klang and Torrens were widely
acknowledged as polluted by popular media, scholarly literature, and local people, as
discussed in the preceding ethnographic chapters. Accordingly, there was minimal
physical contact with polluted water. In fact there were several clear signs of prohibition
of swimming and related water activities erected at various spots along the Torrens.
Such conditions limit people‘s sensory engagement with the rivers. Instead, I have
argued for the prominence of visual evidence in people‘s conceptualisation of pollution
(Chapters Five and Six), and as salient in the above comparative analyses. Out of more
than 40 informants each in the Klang and Torrens, only two persons in each setting
indicated the non-visual aspects of pollution stories, signifying the universality of
human experiences with water places. Pollution experiences were reduced to the
perception of naked eyes rather than other indicators (e.g. scientific testing, dependent
species harm or decline) in assessing river quality.
I am not suggesting, however, the total exclusion of non-visual senses. Though
sight dominates, persons who had physical contact with the Klang and Torrens
described other ways that the current polluted river engaged their senses. Herman, a
sanitary worker who collected rubbish trapped at the trash racks in the Klang River
reported he felt itchy as his skin touched the dirty water. Likewise, Jack, who had
physical contact with the Torrens as he planted native trees along the edge, described a
tingling sensation all over his skin when he did so. Based on a story told by an elder to
her, Amber reported auditory experiences of hearing the sound of tin cans rolling in the
riverbed as people threw rubbish in the Torrens. For others, those who have no or
limited contact, their pollution stories were regularly based on visual evidence.
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Matter inside the river water: The placing of fish and rubbish
Apart from water as the most basic element, the existence of aquatic life also heightens
people‘s sense of river as a place. Nostalgic memories, present plans and concerns, as
well as future hopes discussed in the river literature are incomplete without mentioning
the presence or absence of fish, crustaceans and other aquatic life forms. Lucas (2004)
exemplifies this point in his comparative study of contending perceptions in regard to
the harnessing of the Clarence and Balonne Rivers in eastern Australia. He points out
the fear of and the mourning over the decline of the fish population due to poor water
quality, a direct impact of ‗massive modification‘ of the catchments. Sinclair (2001)
allocates four specific chapters on the importance of fish in his evocative book about
Australia‘s Murray River. Even more so, the titles of two of the chapters are attributed
to specific fish – ‗The Meaning of Murray Cod‘ and ‗The European Carp Invasion‘.
Likewise, cherished memories, stories and future expectations about and action towards
aquatic species are integral to the locals‘ experiences of the Klang and Torrens as water
places. More importantly, the abundance or scarcity of aquatic species serves as an
important indicator of pollution in both ethnographic contexts, restating my argument
on the universalism of human experiences in nature.
Fish and fishing, as I have made plain, provided a focus for people‘s physical
and emotional connections to the Klang and Torrens Rivers. Both local groups cited a
long list of past and current aquatic species. According to the locals, udang galah,
sebarau, haruan, ikan putih, ikan keli, jelawat, toman, kelah, kepah, lampam, ikan
bandaraya, and red tilapia have marked their presence in the Klang. These species were
not found in the Torrens water. For such a small river, better known locally as a creek,
people listed a considerable range of aquatic species. These included European carp,
redfin perch, gambusia, purple spotted gudgeon, platypus, yabbies, mountain galaxia,
common galaxia, congoli, lamprey, brown trout, rainbow trout, goldfish, catfish,
freshwater bass, and callop. As Hamid reminded me, in order to know a place, I need to
know the inhabitants of the rivers because ‗they are all interconnected‘ (Chapter Five).
Indeed, in both ethnographic settings, I met locals who shared with me their feelings
(either positive or negative) and ecological knowledge about various inhabitants of the
rivers.
In general, both groups shared the view that a healthy river determines the
survival of its interdependent aquatic inhabitants. In the Klang River, the locals had
memories of the abundance of udang galah, a species I interpret as a symbol of a
cleaner Klang in the past. Chan, who used to swim and fish particularly at the Masjid
284
Jamek junction, not only reminisced about the past and a much cleaner Klang, but who
also showed me the groping techniques to catch the bluish udang galah.. Amin, Hamid
and Rahim extended the list of ‗cleaner‘ fish which required good water quality for
survival, among others, lampam, sebarau, jelawat, toman, and kelah. Rahim lovingly
recalled the Klang as his childhood playground and told stories about catching buckets
full of blue kepah. Unfortunately, the catch and sightings of these species became
increasingly rare as the Klang became increasingly polluted. Many expressed their
concern about the extinction of udang galah and other freshwater species in the Klang
and its tributary, the Gombak, as the rivers were becoming tercemar or polluted.
People learned from being in place and interpreting environmental signs they
observed in their everyday interactions with the Klang. For instance, many people
among whom I worked noted how the deteriorating river quality had impacted upon the
declining presence of udang galah. They mourned the loss of udang galah and other
‗cleaner‘ aquatic species, and interpreted it as a clear sign the river quality has been
compromised. They also observed that the demise of udang galah had coincided with
the emergence of much ‗hardier‘ fish, particularly ikan bandaraya and tilapia, which
later colonised the Klang. In turn, the locals identified these new breeds as ‗matter out
of place‘, as they ate ‗all the dirt‘ and survived in ‗very dirty‘ water. In sum, these
became among the main indicators of the decline of the Klang, and how polluted it has
become.
In the Klang case, I illustrated how Hamid‘s classification of fish was based on
place of origin and how this knowledge set him apart from other informants. For him
the colonisation by new foreign fish was destructive to endemic species due to their
predatory nature, echoing fish-river stories in the Torrens. Indeed, one of the
distinctions between the Klang and the Torrens in regards to fish-river experiences was
the usage of the terms foreign and native or indigenous.
The presence or absence of aquatic species was also central to the locals‘
understanding and views about pollution in the Torrens, reemphasising cross-cultural
themes in relation to people-water places interactions. Nonetheless, the majority of
informants shared their experiences, memories and knowledge of species listed above
along the line of ‗nativeness‘ or ‗foreignness‘ contributing to a complex analysis
compared with the Klang narratives. Such orderly classification based on place of origin
is typical in Adelaide (and elsewhere in Australia), whereas, in Kuala Lumpur, Hamid
was the only informant having such understanding. Native Australian species were
highly valued and considered as the ‗symbol of a clean river‘. Despite the concern about
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and a high value placed on native fish, the overall focus of the stories of fish in the
Torrens was on introduced species, particularly European carp and mosquito fish.
Stories about them appear with emotionally loaded terms, such as ‗territorial‘, ‗pest‘,
‗noxious‘, ‗predator‘, ‗invasive‘, and ‗feral‘. Such military (invasive, territorial), health
(noxious), and competitive (predator) metaphors were non-existent in the Klang
narratives.
The main predator in the Torrens, as shown in Chapter Six, is European carp.
Ironically, the transgression of carp into a ‗wrong‘ place was due to the earliest
European settlers, who systematically introduced a wide assortment of flora and fauna
from their homelands, including carp as a food source and game fish, making carp as
much victims of human agency and exploitation as the riparian context into which the
carp were introduced. On the other hand, the Adelaidians have also indirectly
complained for decades about how damming and modification, agriculture and
industrial pollutants have led to the degradation of the Torrens and its ecology. In
addition, several told me about the hardiness of carps to withstand physical and water
flow changes in the river as compared to native fish. Taken as a whole, it should be the
case that there are multiple and cumulative causes for the decline of the Torrens River‘s
health and that of its native fish. As a non-physical scientist, it is not my prerogative to
deny the claims that carp along with other introduced species contribute to ecological
decline of the Torrens. However, I do wish to argue that some of the irrational and
extreme views and actions towards carp go beyond the spirit of conservation and
preservation, having been mediated through socio-historical and cultural analyses (see
Head, Trigger & Mulcock 2005; Trigger et al. 2008; Trigger & Mulcock 2005).
There is a broad literature in both physical and social science that contributed
insightfully to human-animal relationships (see Ellen and Fukui 1996; Knight 2000;
Morris 1998; Woodroffe, Thirgood and Rabinowitz 2005; Franklin 2002). Studies that
have focussed on the nativeness-foreignness distinction with regard to geographical and
species variation include those on ruddy ducks in the United Kingdom (Milton 2000),
possums in New Zealand (Potts 2009), pigs in Queensland (Muerk 2011), cane toads in
Australia (Trigger et. al 2008; Trigger, Toussaint & Mulcock 2010), Tasmanian Atlantic
Salmon in Tasmania (Lien 2005), brown trout in Tasmania (Franklin 2011), ponies in
South Australia (Peace 2009), and dingos in Queensland (Peace 2001, 2002). These
studies, some of which analytically invoke Douglas (1970) as well, are useful to make
sense of a host of negative socio-environmental characteristics assigned to introduced
faunal species, specifically carp, and its relation to pollution.
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Douglas‘s interpretation of pollution as an ordering framework that allocates
legitimate places for matter is most strongly indicated in relation to flora and fauna in
the Torrens. What constitutes pure and unpolluted matter in the river equates to what
Trigger, Toussaint and Mulcock (2010: 8) called the ‗―natural‖ native‘ species. The
natural native is what belongs to the place before pre-European settlement.
Correspondingly, the ‗unnatural introduced‘ species, particularly carp, is considered as
impure and dirty. Unlike the case of the dingo, which is regarded ambiguously as both
native and a pest that needs to be controlled and culled (Trigger et al. 2008), there was
no disagreement among the locals as well as in the literature in regard to the status of
carp as a pest. As matter out of place in their view, carp should be removed, as they
contaminated the purity of the Torrens water. ‗An overriding theme of restoration as
removal‟ (original emphasis) in relation to carp was not only articulated among my
informants, but also found in the policy and ecological management literature. There is
a growing literature researching and promoting effective mechanisms and management,
such as ‗daughterless carp technology‘198
, to be used in removing and controlling carp
(see, for example, Gillian & Faulks 2005; Thresher & Bax 2003) out of its wrong place.
Such ‗exclusionary practices‘ (Sibley 1995: 87) to purify place are deemed necessary to
protect and maintain the Torrens exclusively for the ―natural‘ natives‘ (Trigger 2008 et
al.:1277). I suggest the indoctrination of carp as a pest among the Torrens residents was
quite successful, considering the dissemination of such a message to the younger
generation, as reflected in the encounter with the young boy carving a Swastika symbol
upon dead carp by the river.
I interpret views and practices in purifying the river as an expression of the
creation of an identity for the Torrens. In this context, the presence of natural natives
would uniquely differentiate the Torrens from other rivers. In turn, the removing of
European carp and other aliens helps to protect and reinforce the socio-cultural and
ecological order in establishing the Torrens as a water place.
Matters out of riverbed: Concrete drain versus trees
There has been considerable scholarly discussion of the manner natural rivers in urban
areas have been physically transformed into built environment, thus turning rivers into
198
It is a genetic technology to produce carp that have only male offspring, eventually reducing the carp
population with fewer females for spawning (South Australia Research and Development Institute 2005).
287
hybrid places and offering a fertile ground for nature-culture debates. Leslie Millers
(1914: 254) observes:
The river has as much right to come into the city as the people have, but
like them it should leave its rustic way behind; no more meanderings,
and no more mud banks. Urbanity in rivers, as in men, means tidiness
and cultures, and culture means restraint and adaptation to environment.
Likewise, geographer Stuart Olivers (2000: 227) argues that the Thames embankments
‗acted as a fixed, ordered boundary between the cultured nature of the drained,
commodified land, and the regulated liveliness of the river‘. In the Klang and Torrens,
the nature-culture tension perhaps is best reflected in the concern for the land alongside
the river as well. Both sets of local residents showed apprehension concerning the
present or future physical transformation and modifications surrounding riverine
environments from ‗natural‘ to ‗unnatural‘ − from the banks lined with green trees to
gloomy concrete drains that consequently affected their visual experiences and overall
sense of place. Specifically, almost all informants deeply shared their negative feelings
and stories about the modification of the Klang River into a longkang besar or big
drain. As the Torrens River was minimally concreted and straightened, fewer residents
expressed similar concern. Nevertheless, they expressed fear and worries of the
possibilities that the Torrens would be turned into concrete canal, as had already taken
place near its estuary and in some sub-tributaries. Matters outside the river water not
only heightened people‘s connection to river place, but they are also integral to their
views of pollution.
Throughout this thesis and in the analysis, I have shown that people connect
aesthetically and visually to each river, apart from appreciating its functional, social-
cultural and ecological values. For example, crystal clear water has been described as
lovely or beautiful, and the presence of floating rubbish and trash racks was described
as an ‗eyesore‘. I suggest local knowledge and conceptualisation of pollution is
intricately intertwined with aesthetic quality, a view that is rare in scientific
measurement of a healthy river. Concerns about anthropogenic qualities of the two
rivers re-emphasise the relationship between aesthetics and conceptualisation of
pollution. Equally remarkable, both groups tend to organise environmental ‗phenomena
not only into segments but to arrange them in opposite pairs‘ (Tuan 1974: 16), as
reflected in Table 4 below.
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Table 4: Dichotomies of natural and unnatural rivers.
‘Natural’ river ‘Unnatural’, ‘engineered’, ‘artificial’ river
Presence of trees Concrete structures in place of trees
Meandering banks
Straightened banks
Lovely, beautiful Ugly, eyesore
Healthy river Polluted river
Tuan‘s understanding of the aesthetic dimension is useful in the context of my argument
on the commonalities in experiences of the two disparate local groups:
[A]esthetic experiences and impulses are not confined to any
specialized temperament, occupation or culture; they are a human
universal. The aesthetic impulse informs and directs – to varying
degree – almost every feeling, thought and action (1989: 239).
Generally, the Klang and Torrens River stories suggest a healthy river is equated with
‗naturalness‘ and pleasant scenery with (green) trees lining its banks. On the contrary,
‗unnatural‘ or ‗engineered rivers‘ with their ‗ugly concrete structures‘ are considered as
matter out of place, thus rendering their classification as polluted.
In particular, this classification applied to the embankment or concretisation of
the Klang River, mainly in the middle section, beginning at Kampung Dato Keramat
(KDK) and stretching approximately 30 kilometres further downstream. Concrete
columns and straightened banks deprived people of visual delight and reduced the
riverscape to a bland and lifeless environment. Many reminisced about the old Klang
with its lush green vegetation – as Tan put it, ‗very very green‘ – revealing their
nostalgic connection with the river. For them, the river was bersih (clean) and cantik
(beautiful) in the past. Though people acknowledged the significance of the
embankment for flood mitigation purposes, the mourning for the loss of a natural river
was over-powering, as reflected in their longkang (drain), longkang besar (big drain), or
‗monsoon drain‘ tales. People complained that today‘s Klang was ‗ugly‘ and an
‗eyesore‘, except for Hamid and Amin. Both of them lived near the headwater that was
still adorned with green riverine vegetation along its banks, instead of the downstream
concrete structures, resulting in their contrasting aesthetic evaluation of the Klang.
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In April 2007, the former Natural Resources and Environment Minister, Datuk
Seri Azmi Khalid, bravely199
announced that after 14 years, the Love Our River
Campaign (LORC) was a failure, since 17 out of 186 of river systems including the
Klang ‗were so badly polluted‘. Another indicator of the campaign‘s failure was that
public awareness on the need to keep rivers clean remained low. The minister observed,
‗what people love are the river banks as are well done up with flowers planted and the
like, but not the rivers [water] themselves‘ (The Sun 2007: 1). Another local newspaper,
The Star, reported that people were concern about landscaping and beautifying the river.
The minister‘s comments implicitly suggest the failure to acknowledge that people‘s
overall sense of river as a place includes matter outside the river water. It remains
apparent in this study that there is a dynamic interaction between a river place and its
aesthetic qualities, a finding that resonates with much of the place literature. Aesthetic
perception in turn guides people‘s understanding and construction of local ecological
knowledge, including regarding pollution. People like Rahim and Chan, who had both
intimate physical and emotional connections with the Klang, had well-defined criteria
for the place they love; they viewed ecological and aesthetic issues as inseparable.
There was a clear need for striking a balance maintaining the aesthetic beauty of the
river, as well as the importance of having clean water quality.
As noted earlier, though the Torrens River was not concreted, people imagined
the future of their loved place and worried about the possibility of the concretisation of
the river. It was equally clear there that an ‗ugly concrete structure‘ – as described by
Tim – would not be welcome and would be considered as matter out of place in
Adelaide. Marion, for example, felt relief that the present Torrens was not an ‗artificial
river‘. People-river connections are deepened by the presence of riverine flora and
fauna. In turn, they determined people‘s perceptions about the Torrens River‘s health.
Adelaidians appreciated trees and grasses along the banks that supported a variety of
wildlife, particularly birds. Hence, they pleasurably cited the numerous varieties of
water birds. In Kuala Lumpur, Rahim was the only resident whomentioned the presence
of bird species along the Klang in the past, reflecting upon their present absence. This is
not unusual considering there were no rows of trees lining the banks to serve as shelters
and sources of food for birds. One has to be in or near the river frequently to be able to
spot them. Occasionally I observed several birds searching for food at trash racks at
KDK.
199
In the Malaysian context, rarely would a Minister (or Ministry) admit the failure of the government‘s
programs or policies.
290
A main contrast with the Klang findings in relation to vegetation is that
Adelaidians expressed their wonder and preferences for native plants, especially the
river red gum or Karrawirra parri. People imagined and revered the abundance of
native plants that existed prior to European settlement, signifying the appreciation for
Aboriginal relationship with nature. Native vegetation was highly valued for ecological
reasons, such as consuming less water, providing support for wildlife and improving
biodiversity in a place. Several talked about the uses of various native plants among the
Aborigines. In contrast, introduced trees were identified both as indicator and source of
pollution in the Torrens. There was a long list of introduced trees or weeds provided by
the locals that included willow, elms, ash, olive, morning glory, gorse, blackberry,
African daisies, caltrop, couch grass, salvation jane, poplar, and bamboo. These are
mostly woody trees or shrubs.
Views and feelings about weeds – in itself a ‗derogatory‘ word (Seddon 2005:
224) – are ‗reflected in the language that different groups have used to legitimise their
perspectives‘ (Seddon 2005: 231). As with fish species, the dichotomy between
conflicting groups prevails, with symbolic meanings attached to each − natives were
good, and introduced plants were bad species. Negative labels attached to introduced
species were so numerous that one can even form a complete sentence: ‗Weed‘ is ‗very
bad‘, and ‗incredibly noxious‘. The local people often told stories of introduced plants
in a disgusted tone. They were considered both as an indicator and one of the causes of
pollution in the Torrens River. As demonstrated in Chapter Eight, there were numerous
consistent efforts geared to the removal of these ‗polluting trees‘ as matter out of place.
There was a consensus among the Adelaidians that leaves of introduced trees
were significant sources of phosphates polluting the river that eventually led to algal
bloom outbreaks at the Torrens Lake. For example, Clara, Mike, John and Tyson all
mentioned that the production load of rubbish leaves from introduced ‗deciduous‘ trees
was larger than ‗evergreen‘ native plants and eventually polluted the water through the
process of decomposition. As evident, these assumptions were frequently explained
within the scientific rationale. Amusingly (and nonsensically), John200
even embraced
an extreme view that none of the Australian trees drop leaves to reemphasise that the
ultimate polluter to be blamed was the introduced plants.
On the other hand, the Torrens Task Force (TTF) reported findings of a stark
contrast with the Adelaidians‘ perceptions of vegetation. The study investigated the
200
As noted in Chapter Six, John worked with the Biodiversity Unit of the Adelaide City Council and
held a Diploma in Natural Resources Management.
291
amount of deciduous and evergreen leaf rubbish produced by street trees, since all
councils have good records about the numbers and species of street trees in the
catchment201
. The TTF report highlights (2007: 34), ‗The argument against [non-native]
deciduous trees202
based on leaf litter is flawed as all species create leaf litter‘.
Surprisingly, it was the evergreen tress that dropped a greater amount of leaf mass
(1,940 tonnes) compared to deciduous trees (470 tonnes) during summer, producing a
greater amount of phosphorous. The TTF committee noted the benefits of native
vegetation; nonetheless, it reminded people that ‗water quality will not be improved
solely by removing exotic vegetation from the catchments‘.
Another ecological issue of concern is ‗weed infestation‘. Willows, for example,
which were initially brought from their original place to Australia for ornamental and
bank stabilisation purposes, shared a demonised status with the colonising carp. Fear
about weeds is not unique to Adelaide, though. In 1999, the Commonwealth
government announced the inaugural list of what is known as ‗Weeds of National
Significance‘. To my knowledge, there is no such policy in Malaysia, indicating
dissimilarity in the larger context of the two ethnographic settings. In Kamus Inggeris-
Melayu Dewan (English-Malay Dictionary of the Board of Malaysian Language and
Literature)203
, weed is translated as rumpai, which is defined as ‗unwanted plant, wild
plant‘ (2002: 1885). On the other hand, the monolingual Kamus Dewan (Malay
dictionary), defines rumpai more precisely as ‗unwanted grass and other small plants
found in cultivated lands‘ (2007: 1352).204
However, in everyday language, the word
rumput (grass) is commonly used rather than rumpai to describe unwanted plants. So
for Malaysians, weeds are restricted to small plants rather than woody big trees like
willows. Again, unwanted plants can be any rumput or grass, whether introduced or
native. Within this context, Seddon clarifies that, initially, in Australia (2005: 224), the
word ‗weed‘ was applied to ‗herbaceous‘ plants, but has been extended to shrubs and
trees (such as willows and ash) more recently. This suggests the subjective nature of
classifications of various vegetation species in Australia reflects the changing values in
the society across time.
201
There were approximately 100,000 street trees of which 47 per cent were deciduous and 53 per cent
were evergreen. Nevertheless, the street trees constituted only 10 per cent of total trees in the catchment
as the remaining were planted in private gardens and land. 202
Earlier the report used the term non-native deciduous trees. 203
The dictionary was published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka − a government agency responsible for
co-ordinating the use of Malay language and literature in Malaysia. 204
This is my translation of the Malay language definition.
292
Indeed, despite Adelaidians‘ apprehension towards introduced species, I noted
an exception to the rule in regard to Sean‘s comment concerning the ‗varying degrees of
aesthetic perception‘ of the river. The nicely trimmed English green lawn along the
Torrens inear Park (TLP), which he regarded as a relic of English heritage, failed to
amuse him. Though the TLP appear to be natural to lay persons like me, as illustrated in
Chapter Four, it is an artefact of human negotiation, design, and construction. He called
for a ‗native ground cover‘ apart from shrubs and woody trees, an emphasis that was
rare among other residents. Many other locals did not classify English grass as an
introduced species that needed to be removed in order to retain the purity of the Torrens
riverscape, as in the case of willow or blackberry. Gale identifies the contradictions of
the locals‘ attitudes towards introduced species:
Native Australian grasses grow in clumps and they have soil between
them, whereas European grasses are beautiful, they cover the entire soil
surface, there is no dirt, no erosion. And if you were to go back to a
native environment, one of the very simple things you would change is
that you would expose all the soil − dirt as people would call it − and
people wouldn‘t like it, they would want a complete cover, not
necessarily green but they just want the cover and you wouldn‘t have
that. I think the reality is that although people would say, ―yes, we want
this returned to a natural condition‖, in reality they probably wouldn‘t
(Interview: Adelaide 22/02/08).
This suggests not all introduced plants are destructive; some served their functional and
aesthetic purposes when they were first brought to the land. European grass breaks the
rigid classification of the dichotomy between the bad and the good plants and reveals
the negotiations of aesthetic preferences and boundary maintenance. It is in the face of
such conflicting priorities that the assertion of transgression takes a back seat and, thus,
European grass is saved from the common weed-removal practices. The subsequent
section addresses the final comparison between the two ethnographic findings in
relation to practices in saving river places.
Rivers as a place of care
In a world of declining sense of place as reflected in the experience of ‗placelessness‘
(Relph 1976) and an increasing number of ‗non-places‘ (Augé 1995), it is comforting to
learn that despite the state of pollution, people still embed meaning in, and care for,
rivers particularly those in whose vicinity they live. Both Kuala Lumpurians and
Adelaidians expressed deep concern in regard to river stewardship and efforts to
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improve the health of the Klang and Torrens Rivers, respectively. In principle, they
were ready to assume responsibilities by engaging in small everyday practices, such as
keeping their streets and/or rivers free from litter, practising recycling and buying
environmental friendly products that would reduce impacts on the river‘s health.
Both local groups felt that multiple actors, including community at large, and the
government (federal, state and local councils), should share the responsibilities for
protecting and sustaining their river systems. Basso (1996) emphasises that people‘s
connection to place can be expressed through place-based knowledge and daily practice.
I found similar links between the KL residents and the Klang River. People were aware
of government efforts to reduce pollution, including the installation of trash racks, and
they expressed concern and a certain scepticism about the efficiency of such efforts.
They were also informed about non-technical measures, for instance, the establishment
of various river agencies, public awareness campaigns and community participation
programs.
At the macro level, both federal and local governments initiated various
educational and awareness programs. The Love Our River Campaign and River Watch
in Kuala Lumpur, as well as Our Patch and Waterwatch in Adelaide, are prime
examples. In the case of Kuala Lumpur, the government assigned specific agencies,
such as the Department of Irrigation and Drainage and Department of Environment, to
improve the health and management of rivers, including the Klang. In the Torrens, the
state government established river-place-based organisations, such as the Torrens Water
Catchment Management Board and Torrens Task Force, specifically to address the river
water quality issues. I argue that, taken together, the concerns embedded in river stories
and the practical efforts of local people show clearly their on-going connection to rivers
as place.
Great care has been taken both by the government and local residents to save the
rivers. However a notable difference is that the top-down approach is more prevalent in
the case of the Klang River. In contrast, the bottom-up approach was more evident in
the Torrens case, where it was obvious that local residents came together and organised
activities. Various catchments were organised in a way that transformed the Torrens
River into a ‗field of care‘. At the same time, local community spirit was strengthened.
Milton (2002) argues that emotions motivate action in ecological conservation work.
This is evident in the case of the Klang and the Torrens. Present physical engagements,
memories of cleaner rivers in the past, and deep concern for the health of the rivers were
put into practice through on-ground restoration work. The accounts of Hamid, Amin,
294
Mitch, Clara, Tim and Amber‘s demonstrate physical and emotional connections to
rivers as prime motivations to undertake practical action. I suggest that evidence of
pollution in the forms I have described, especially as ‗matter out of place‘, regularly led
people to actively work to improve river quality. Practices such as collecting rubbish,
removing weeds, collecting water quality samples, and so on, heightened people‘s sense
of place.
Feld and Basso conclude the introductory chapter to their landmark collection
Senses of Place (1996:11) with this question: ‗What could be truer of placed
experience—secure or fragile, pleasurable or repugnant, comforting or unsettling—than
the taken-for-granted quality of intense particularity?‘ I found that local heroes such as
Amin, Hamid, Tim, Clara and others whose voices permeate this thesis epitomise this
‗intense particularity‘. For example, Amin took note of different features and shapes of
river pebbles, including that of male and female, and arranged them accordingly to
construct natural embankment walls to offset erosion. Likewise, Tim noted the presence
of small yellow flowers with spiny fruits called caltrop or tribulus terrestris – an
introduced plant – that caused damage. He instantly removed the invader whenever I
walked with him. People with whom I worked acted proactively based on their
everyday local knowledge of place (rather than a strictly scientific rationale) to care for
the well-being of the rivers. Such acts of place-saving signify a river as an active actor
as well in evoking human agency, in accordance with Pellow‘s observation, ‗There is no
question that phenomenologically, certain places evoke a special feeling of attachment
and/or protectiveness for the user‘ (1995:189).
A range of motivations brought people to participate and care for rivers. In the
Klang, Hamid and Amin were motivated based on their religious understanding of the
environment, as mentioned in Islamic teachings to act as a steward for the natural
environment created by God. This resonates with the idea that Islam is very central,
dominant and important in Malay culture and provides a framework which greatly
influences Malays‘ daily lives, customs and institutions (Leete, 1996). Long-term
residency is also associated with the tendency for people to engage in act of caring for
the environments, as in the case of Mitch and Tim, who kept alive their childhood
memories along the Torrens and its tributaries. A key point for them, and for others,
was the sight and impact of pollution, which regularly served as ‗a blessing‘ or cue that
activities needed to occur to protect the river and all interrelated species. Pollution and
environmental degradation, as I have argued throughout, often initiated people‘s desire
and need to show how much and why they cared for the river as place.
295
Concluding remarks
People‘s attachment to water places, physically, intellectually, emotionally, and in a
way that touches all the senses, is at the heart of this thesis. I have demonstrated that
how people come to identify pollution, polluted places, and the act of polluters, is
significantly embedded in place. I have shown that river places yielded a considerable
array of feelings from elation to despair and despondency, and fear and anger,
especially with regard to the declining health of river systems, as well as anthropogenic
qualities of urban river systems, and that these regularly led to active river protection.
Simultaneously, narratives of pollution evoked happier, nostalgic memories of the river
they once drank from, swam in or strolled along. I have also suggested that the positive
outcomes of such degraded ecological conditions spurred creative engagement in
reclaiming people‘s connections to urban rivers through on-ground practical work along
the Torrens and in the upper section of the Klang.
I conclude this thesis with a reflective note about my evolution as an
ethnographer, and as a person. Fifteen months of river research also led to a ‗prolonged
fieldwork‘ (Coffey 1999: 26) effect. It is noticeable that I am now more sensitive to the
mix of environmental messages that surround me, particularly in relation to river places.
For instance, I was overwhelmed to the extent of openly crying when I watched two
documentaries, Blowpipes and Bulldozers: The Story of the Penan Tribe and Bruno
Manser (1988) and Drowned Out (2002), focused on resistance to the Sardar Sarovar
Dam on the Narmada River in western India. I now have an increasing empathy toward
‗imagined places‘ – places to which I have not been or which I do not yet know – where
people reveal remarkable connections to river-places that are most meaningful in their
lives.
296
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APPENDICES
Appendix I Map of water resources systems in Mt Lofty Ranges including the Torrens
River catchment. The Torrens systems comprise three reservoirs and the Mannum-
Adelaide Pipeline. Source: Bureau of Meteorology: n.d.
315
Appendix II Map of Kampung Dato Keramat, Kampung Baru, Tiong Nam and SMART
Tunnel. Courtesy of Department of Drainage and Irrigation.
316
Appendix III Map of Copper towns – Moonta, Kadina and Wallaroo. Source: Australian
Mining History Association: n.d.
317
Appendix IV Map of Torrens Linear Park showing the walking trail along the river.
Source: Government of South Australia: n.d.
318
Appendix V Map of Walkersville, St. Peters, Vale Park and Gilberton. Source: Whereis
Map: n.d.
