The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the rivers the kindness you would give any brother. . . . Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
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Swatuk et al. (1999) studied this question.