An Urban Ethnography of the Klang River in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and the Torrens River in Adelaide, South Australia

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

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

i 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.

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

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

Rivers as a place of care ...... 292 Concluding remarks ...... 295

References ...... 296 Appendices ...... 314

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

vii 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)

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.

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

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 62 showing how the Torrens divides the city into two sections.

Figure 4 Map of The Klang River, the area around Kuala Lumpur and 79 part of Selangor in 19th century showing tin mines location in shaded areas.

Figure 5 Klang River and Kuala Lumpur city centre in 1895. 81 Figure 6 Different species of fish as indicator of pollution across time 108 based on Tahir‘s stories.

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 42 River on the left at Masjid Jamek where Kuala Lumpur begins.

Plate 2 Adelaide Festival Theatre with its white roof at Elder Park, 42 with the ‗Popeye‘ boat cruising along the Torrens River. 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 44 rain.

Plate 5 Severe bank erosion on the Torrens in the heart of Adelaide 69 city in 1860.

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 96 kopi susu colour of the Gombak River at Masjid Jamek confluence.

Plate 8 Crystal clear water near Hamzah and Amin‘s house at the 99 upper section of the Klang River, less than a kilometre from KGD.

Plate 9 The bluish udang galah. 111 Plate 10 Rahim was about to cast his fishing line into the concrete 114 Klang River.

Plate 11 Tilapia caught by Rahim. 114 Plate 12 Rahim caught a bandaraya fish, a black-stripe fish, which 114 later he released back into the river. Plate 13 Two red tilapias near Hamid‘s place swimming in the crystal 117 clear water at upper section of the Klang River.

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 125 water.

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 125 the side of the bank while their supervisor monitored their work.

Plate 19 Masjid Jamek LRT Station built across and on top of the 134 Klang River.

Plate 20 Masjid Jamek (left) and the ‗mild‘ embankment walls (right) 135 in 1938.

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 135 prominent in the 2000‘s, as the grassy banks have been concreted too.

Plate 23 An aerial view from Tan‘s high rise office building of the 136 Klang River.

Plate 24 The construction of Ampang elevated highway and LRT 139 tracks transforming the Klang River in KDK as a longkang besar.

Plate 25 Natural rocks were put at the embankments of the Gombak 140 River near PWTC.

Plate 26 The invisible Klang River at Kampung Baru. The river is 145 under the road and embankment walls of the highway.

Plate 27 A sign was erected downstream of the Torrens Weir 152 prohibiting people from swimming in the polluted olive green water.

Plate 28 Walking with Marion along the TLP (the river was obscured 156 by the lining trees) at Athelstone.

Plate 29 Jack and I in his Popeye boat during preliminary fieldwork in 163 November 2006.

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 173 structure at the far right.

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

Plate 36 A sanitary worker was trying to pick-up a water bottle floating 187 in the Torrens River.

Plate 37 A sign erected above Second Creek contained brief facts 189 about the trash rack.

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, 194 your hooves do not belong here and yet we love your form‘.

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 209 loosen screws of the sign.

Plate 50 Two scientists from the Adelaide City Council checked the 209 level of various pollution parameters to determine the water quality.

Plate 51 A sample of a leaflet distributed in relation to the ‗Love Our 219 River Campaign‘.

Plate 52 Kumar gave an overview of chemical and biological 221 assessment of river water quality.

Plate 53 Participants eagerly searched for aquatic species. 221

Plate 54 Kumar taught participants on how to identify various aquatic 221 species.

Plate 55 I managed to catch freshwater shrimp which was classified as 221 ‗sensitive‘ to pollution.

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 225 Klang River.

Plate 59 Hamid‘s house overlooking the Klang River. 229

Plate 60 Hamid showed part of the rubbish dumping site before he 230 transformed it into his ‗field of care‘.

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 237 stone wall that he built to prevent bank erosion.

Plate 64 Interview session at the Klang River at KGDV, upon Amin‘s 239 request.

Plate 65 Various pamphlets of community involvement programs 249 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. 249

Plate 67 A Watercare sign erected near Breakout Creek a contained a 249 brief facts about the floating litter facility.

Plate 68 The subdued crowd at the Santos Symphony Under the Stars 251 held at the Elder Park on 25 September 2007.

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 255 dried Third Creek/Drain.

Plate 71 A native revegetation site downstream of the Torrens Weir. 255 Newly-grown plants were protected inside the green plastic bags.

Plate 72 Ted showed equipment for identification of aquatic species‘ 255 activities.

Plate 73 Students excitedly tried to catch aquatic species to test water 255 quality.

Plate 74 Looking at the vast ocean at Henley Beach − the last place of 255 Catchment Crawl.

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Plate 75 A simple black-and-white URTLG newsletter, November 260 issue 1995.

Plate 76 David (with a hat) explained potential harmful impacts of 262 animal access to an unfenced section of the Torrens during a field trip on October 1, 2007.

Plate 77 Clara pointed to patches of native aquatic plants on the dried 266 riverbed she had planted previously.

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 269 quality.

Plate 80 Swing Bridge constructed across what used to be Gilberton 270 Swimming Pool.

Plate 81 A swimming competition in the Torrens River held at the 270 Gilberton Swimming Pool pulled a crowd of hundreds in the 1920‘s.

Plate 82 The colourful snake mosaic and carved native flora and fauna 275 on reddish bricks.

Plate 83 The motif of a native animal carved by the students of the 275 East Adelaide Primary School.

Plate 84 Amber and school children pointing to the snake for a 275 photographer during the launching of the Snake Mosaic Community Art.

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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 90 by DOE.

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 314 the Torrens River catchment. The Torrens Systems comprises of three reservoirs and the Mannum-Adelaide Pipeline. Appendix II Map of Kampung Dato Keramat, Kampung Baru, Tiong Nam 315 and SMART Tunnel. 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 317 river. Appendix V Map of Walkerville, St. Peters, Vale Park and Gilberton. 318

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

xxi 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

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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. xxiii

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

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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

1 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.

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.

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. 4 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. 5 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. 6

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‘ ecosystem, 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.

Figure 1 The Klang River catchment. Courtesy of National Hydraulic Research Institute of Malaysia (NAHRIM).

Figure 2 The Torrens River catchment. Courtesy of Environment Protection Authority (EPA), South Australia.

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.

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):

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

12 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).

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 14 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.

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.

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. 17 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. 18

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. 19 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.

20 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

‗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: 22

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

23 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 24 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 25 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 intertwined 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). 26

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).

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

28 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.

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).

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. 31

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. 32 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.

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.

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-

13The 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. 35 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. 16This 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). 36

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

17Some of them have been helpful in suggesting potential local people as participants in my study. 37 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.

38 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‘).

19Transcriptions 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. 39

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). 40

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

20Masjid 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. 41

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. 42

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,

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. 44 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. 45

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

46 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

24I was first sent to a boarding school in Kuala Lumpur when I was thirteen years old.

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.

25I simply asked my friend to teach and show me the way to get to the Torrens River.

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.

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 50 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

51 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

52 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 53 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. 54

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 55 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,

56 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.

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 58 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). 59

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 60 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.

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)

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 63

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 64

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 65 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). 66 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. 67 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.

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).

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

70 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). 71

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. 72

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. 73 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.

‘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).

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. 76

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. 77 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. 78

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. 79 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. 80

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).

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 82 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

83 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.

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. 85 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. 86

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. 87 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 88

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). 89

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. 90

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. 91

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.

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

52Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 07/06/07. 53 A northern state of Peninsular Malaysia. 93 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.

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, 95

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. 96

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. 97

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. 98

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

99 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: 100

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

101

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: 102

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. 103

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).

104 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

105 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.

106

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:

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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

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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. 109

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. 110

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. 111 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.

112 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. 113

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.

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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) 115

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). 116

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). 117

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

118 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. 119

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.

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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, wastewater 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 121 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.

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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 123 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).

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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.

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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:

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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. 127

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:

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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. 129

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

130 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

131 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, 132 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].

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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

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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=26 135

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

136 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.

137 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

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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. 139 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. 140

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 141 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. 142 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‘). 143 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.

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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

145 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.

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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

95Interview: Kuala Lumpur, 12/02/08. 147 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

148 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.

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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 150 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. 151

‗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‘

152 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.

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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. 154

[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.

155 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. 156

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.

157 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:

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[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.

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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

160 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, 161

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

162 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:

107He 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. 163

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

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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). 165

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. 166 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

167 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.

168 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.

169 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). 170

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). 171

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).

172

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). 123Goldfish (scientific names – carassius auratus L.). 173 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. 174

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.

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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. 176

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). 177

Plate 35 Catching carp in the Torrens.

178

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.

179

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.

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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. 181 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. 131An aqueduct is a long narrow passage (such as any systems of pipes, ditches, or tunnels) constructed to transmit water.

183 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

184 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.

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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 186 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.

187 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).

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Plate 37 A sign erected above Plate 38 An aerial view of the trash Second Creek contained brief rack. facts about the trash rack.

Plate 39 Tim showed a tennis Plate 40 Tim demonstrated how to ball he found buried in leafy pull a rope out of the trash rack. rubbish.

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.

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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 190

‗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

191 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. 192

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.

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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 194 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 195 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 196

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. 197 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.

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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). 199

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). 200 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). 201

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.

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‗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).

203 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). 204

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.) 205

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. 206

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). 207 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.

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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

209 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.

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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.

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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, 212

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

213 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 214 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).

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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.

216 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. 217

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).

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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).

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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. 220

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 Plate 53 Participants eagerly searched for chemical and biological assessment of river aquatic species. water quality.

Plate 54 taught participants on how to Plate 55 I managed to catch freshwater identify various aquatic species. shrimp, which was classified as ‘sensitive’ to pollution.

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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

222 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.

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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.

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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. 225

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

226 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. 227

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. 228

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. 229

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. 230 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.

231

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 232 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 233 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

234 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. 235

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. 236 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. 237

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. 238 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. 239 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

240 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.

241

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 242 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 243

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.

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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

245 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

182Permapine 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.

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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

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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. 248

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.

249 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.

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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. 251

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. 252 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. 253

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 254

Plate 69 Kangaroo Creek Reservoir observed Plate 70 Ted explained the trash rack as a from the Lookout Point. device to trap rubbish in the dried-up Third Creek/Drain.

Plate 71 A native revegetation site downstream Plate 72 Ted showed equipment for of the Torrens Weir. Newly-grown plants were identification of aquatic species’ activities. protected inside the green plastic bags.

Plate 73 Students excitedly tried to catch Plate 74 Looking at the vast ocean at Henley aquatic species to test water quality. Beach − the last place of the Catchment Crawl.

255 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,

256 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. 257 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

191Cyperaceae is a type of sedge usually found growing along riverbanks or near the water edges. 258

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.

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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:

192Established 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. 260

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

261 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 262

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

193Work 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. 263 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

194She was eventually selected as one of three finalists nationwide, but did not win the award. 264 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).

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Plate 77 Clara pointed to patches of Plate 78 Clara showed one of the native aquatic plants on the dried Aboriginal inspired ooden poles. riverbed she had planted previously.

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:

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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

267 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

195This 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. 269 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).

270 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 271

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 272 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

273 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. 274

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.

275

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 278 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

279 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 280 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 281 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 283

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 284 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. 285

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).

286 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.

288

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. 289

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. 290 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. 291

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

292 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, 293

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. 294

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.

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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.

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Appendix II Map of Kampung Dato Keramat, Kampung Baru, Tiong Nam and SMART Tunnel. Courtesy of Department of Drainage and Irrigation.

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Appendix III Map of Copper towns – Moonta, Kadina and Wallaroo. Source: Australian Mining History Association: n.d.

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Appendix IV Map of Torrens Linear Park showing the walking trail along the river. Source: Government of South Australia: n.d.

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Appendix V Map of Walkersville, St. Peters, Vale Park and Gilberton. Source: Whereis Map: n.d.

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