I kept tripping over the water hoses on the hill that leads down to the village center where I spend many months of every winter in a small, rural “pueblo” in Mexico. The hoses snake all over the hill and lead to our assorted water tanks. Without them we wouldn’t have any running water. If you haven’t spent time in a developing country, you probably haven’t given the source of your water too much thought.
In this village, if you aren’t on the main water line then you are responsible for providing your own water lines. There is no water company and no one pays for water either which adds to the chaos and mounting problems, especially among neighbors. The source of the water comes from two different rivers that originate from waterfalls above the town. The water lines are simple garden hoses, visible near the rivers in assorted configurations.
These hoses are then connected to black plastic tanks placed above the houses in a very make-shift manner.
While I’m there during the winter, the water is plentiful but when spring comes and the water levels in the river nearly dry up, we start rationing the murky water, eagerly awaiting the summer rains.
Though the day-to-day life in this village, along with its water supply, is more difficult than just turning on the faucet with a reliable and constant stream of hot and cold water than I experience in NYC, living so closely connected to nature in this village reminds me how dependent we are on the bounty and whims of Mother Nature; a connection that I respect, cherish and miss terribly when I am living in the fast lane.