By Mtandazo Dube
My relationship with Lake Kariba began in 2008, at the very start of my journalism journey.
It was during a Zimbabwe Tourism Authority (ZTA) familiarisation tour that I first encountered the vastness and mystery of this man-made inland sea — an experience that left an imprint that has never faded.
Since then, I have returned to Kariba more than 10 times, drawn back by its beauty, its history and the stories that seem to rise from its waters. Along the way, I have collected several Nyami Nyami sceptres — some of which I have gifted to others — symbolic reminders of a place where history, culture and belief exist side by side.
Over time, I have come to see Lake Kariba as a place that sits at the intersection of two worlds — a triumph of modern engineering and a landscape deeply embedded in Tonga spiritual traditions.
The scientific explanations behind tragedies such as the August 11 disaster, which has so far claimed 72 lives — including factors such as weather conditions, vessel condition, navigation errors, overcrowding and possible human failures — must remain the primary focus.
But Lake Kariba is more than just a body of water.
To understand why some communities interpret its tragedies through the lens of Nyami Nyami, the legendary river spirit believed by the Tonga people to dwell beneath its waters, one must first understand the history of how the lake was created, the sacrifices that accompanied its birth, and the cultural wounds that have never fully healed.
Humans vs Nature
Long before Lake Kariba became one of the world’s largest man-made reservoirs, the Zambezi River was not merely a body of water to the Tonga people who lived along its banks, it was a living force — a source of food, identity, ancestry and spirituality.
At the centre of their beliefs was Nyami Nyami, the serpent-like river spirit believed to control the waters of the Zambezi. To many Tonga communities, Nyami Nyami was not simply a mythical creature, he represented the power, mystery and unpredictability of the river itself.
When engineers arrived in the 1950s to tame the Zambezi by constructing the Kariba Dam, they were not only altering a river system — they were transforming a spiritual landscape that had existed for generations.
The construction of the dam was part of the ambitious Kariba Hydroelectric Project, designed to provide electricity for the then Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. It was an engineering marvel of its time, but to many local communities, it represented an unnatural interruption of the relationship between the river and its guardian, Nyami Nyami.
According to Tonga oral traditions, Nyami Nyami lived with his female counterpart in the Zambezi. The construction of the dam wall was believed to have separated the two spirits, causing anger and imbalance.
Nyami Nyami Strikes Back
Construction began in the mid-1950s and involved thousands of workers and some of the most ambitious engineering techniques of the era, but the Zambezi — or, in the eyes of believers, Nyami Nyami — proved a formidable challenge.
In 1957 and 1958, before the dam wall was completed, severe floods struck the construction site. The first coffer dam — a temporary structure built to divert the river and allow construction to continue — was destroyed.
The disaster became one of the defining moments in Kariba’s history.
The floodwaters swept through the construction area, destroying equipment, washing away structures and killing workers. At least 11 workers died in the 1958 flood, with some bodies never recovered. Across the entire construction period, at least 86 workers lost their lives.
To engineers, it was a devastating but understandable consequence of attempting to control one of Africa’s most powerful rivers.
To many Tonga elders, however, the message was different – the river had resisted being imprisoned.
The destruction of the coffer dam was interpreted as Nyami Nyami’s anger at the disturbance of his domain.
Rituals
Following the disaster, traditional leaders were consulted, and ceremonies were conducted before construction resumed.
The rituals were intended to restore harmony between humans and the spiritual world. Traditional leaders performed ceremonies involving prayers, offerings and animal sacrifices, seeking protection and permission from Nyami Nyami and ancestral spirits.
Accounts from the period describe cattle and other animals being sacrificed as part of appeasement rituals.
For believers, these ceremonies were not an attempt to “bribe” a spirit, but rather an acknowledgement that humans had entered a powerful spiritual space and that respect and balance were required.
After these ceremonies, construction resumed, and the dam wall was eventually completed in 1959.
Yet the spiritual and human cost of Kariba continued.
Moved For The Dam
The construction of Kariba transformed the lives of the Tonga people forever.
More than 57,000 Tonga people were relocated from the Zambezi Valley as the rising waters created the new lake. Villages disappeared beneath the floodwaters. Sacred sites and ancestral burial grounds were submerged.
Many communities were moved to areas where farming was more difficult, creating decades of social and economic challenges.
For many Tonga people, Kariba therefore represented two contrasting realities – electricity and development for nations, but displacement and loss for a people.
Why Nyami Nyami Still Appears After Every Disaster
Because of this history, every major tragedy on Lake Kariba carries emotional and spiritual meaning for some communities.
When people hear of boats sinking, unusual waves, disappearances or deaths in the lake, some immediately return to an old explanation – Nyami Nyami has not been respected.
The belief has survived through generations of oral tradition and collective memory.
Therefore, when a chief says traditional leaders have failed for two years to conduct rituals around Lake Kariba, some people will naturally connect that absence with recent tragedy.
It does not replace scientific investigation – a ferry disaster still requires answers about safety standards, vessel maintenance, passenger limits, weather conditions, navigation and emergency response.
But myths endure because they are tied to the experiences of communities, they carry memories of displacement, suffering and a relationship with nature that predates modern engineering.
For communities around Kariba, the lake is not just water, it is a place where history, grief, identity and spirituality meet.
The latest tragedy — with 72 bodies recovered from the lake — has reopened an old question that has followed Kariba since its creation:
Did humans simply build a dam on a river, or did they enter into a negotiation with a force they could never truly control?
