New Mexico waterways bring life to communities
By KATE PERDONI
SPECIAL TO CAMINOS
OJO SARCO, N.M. — For more than 400 years, Spanish colonists in what is now northcentral New Mexico were encouraged to homestead on the outer frontiers of “New Spain.” Recognizing that agua es vida, or “water is life,” the settlers created a communal system of irrigation ditches that tapped an ancient legacy of waterways in North Africa, the Iberian Peninsula, and the Middle East. New Mexico’s first acequias — channels that divert mountain water into ditches used to irrigate local fields — thus were born. This community-based system of bringing water to crops is still used in some 800 communities in New Mexico and Colorado.
“Acequias are an ancient legacy that we are so blessed to have here in Northern New Mexico and Southern Colorado,” said Paula Garcia, executive director of the New Mexico Acequia Association and president of the Mora Land Grant. “Anywhere where water has been scarce and has to be shared, the acequia has been there in one form or another.” Garcia said acequias represent a synthesis of cultural values. “The manner in which water is shared and distributed and the process of water governance is something we refer to as the repartimiento, or reparto,” said Garcia. “When water is scarce, the ability to share water is really the hallmark of these communities.” Garcia said villages share water even during very dry times.
The right to use water is tied to a community context, said Garcia. Water rights holders have to fulfill certain obligations to their community in order to keep their water right in good standing. “It’s your obligation and responsibility to contribute to the acequia,” said Garcia. “It’s part of the culture. It’s been going on for hundreds of years, and, in its basic essence, it hasn’t changed a great deal.”
The cleaning and maintenance of the acequias is done by manual labor. Each parciante, or water-right holder, must delegate a representative of the water right to clean and maintain the acequia. The ditches must be cleaned thoroughly at least once a year, with all rocks, silt, clay, and debris removed from the water’s path. The water is also closely monitored by the mayordomo, or head of the local ditch, to ensure that irrigators will get the maximum amount of water when it is their turn to irrigate. The mayordomo watches for leaks and pools of water in the acequia, collects dues from parciantes before they can irrigate, and walks water through the fields to irrigate, dodging gopher holes and making sure every part of the field is soaked. Mayordomos supervise work and maintenance on the acequia and are in charge of scheduling the water distribution and rotation. They organize crews to clean the parts of acequias that are on common lands or on private property where nobody irrigates. The mayordomo visits measuring stations and adjusts downstream gates.
Along the Trampas River within the Las Trampas Land Grant of Northern New Mexico, Mayordomo Filimon Sanchez of Ojo Sarco supervises the water flow of the Rito de San Leonardo.
Two miles from the top of the west forks of the Truchas Peaks, a basic diversion has been created in the Trampas River to shift water downstream that has been adjudicated to the village of Ojo Sarco. At El Diamante, water is diverted to the Acequia de Ojo Sarco. The rest of the water heads downstream to other acequias, and evetually ends up in the Rio Grande.
On a cool morning in early May, Sanchez travels the rugged mountain terrain to check the flow of the water. During a warm spring, Sanchez said, the snow pack will melt quickly. “We just keep our fingers crossed and try to have the acequia ready for people to irrigate when the water comes,” he said. Sanchez must check the measurement boxes about once a week. “At this point, 51⁄2 inches are falling from Rito de San Leonardo into the Trampas River,” Sanchez said. “Just today, we turned on 51⁄2 inches into our acequia.”
The water has been turned off for four days because of heavy winds that blew down trees, causing the acequia bank to break. Deposits of silt and rocks accumulated, and Sanchez and a team of workers spent two days repairing the ditch.
“It’s hard to get help because of the low acequia wage,” said Sanchez. “$6 an hour is what we pay the average worker."
Sanchez got his start in the acequias when he was just 10, carrying the lunches, tools, and jackets of peones, or acequia day workers. He says he often has a hard time finding enough help these days, and says the peones need an increase in pay. There is an anticipated raise in wages for the upcoming year, but for now, workers must brave jagged, washedout forest roads for over an hour in their personal vehicles without compensation for gas or vehicle maintenance in order to work long, grueling hours in the ditches. “But once we’ve got the acequia going, it’s great,” said Sanchez. “Sometimes we have four or five fields irrigating at a time.”
At the Community Center in Ojo Sarco two weeks prior, a meeting of the local acequia commission was held. Parciantes from each water right on the acequia were present to give input and make decisions about acequia work and repairs. The room was full, standing room only, and council discussions often veered off into the audience. Memory, history and family legacy assisted in ironing out any points of contention.
The parciantes are busily chatting, mainly in Spanish, trying to figure out who cleans what portion of the ditch. It is each property owner’s right to clean the portion of the acequia on their land. If the acequia flows on land with no water right, Sanchez will organize a crew to clean the area. In some cases, families have adopted portions of the ditch with no water right.
During the meeting, one man clarifies that his family has cleaned a portion of the ditch not belonging to them for about 35 years. “It’s been 40 years!” shouts an elder parciante. “You’re not 35 years old!” One member shouts to the first man. “Well I am!” calls the elder, standing to his feet.
The parciantes roar with laughter.
http://caminos.us/CaminosJune-July07.pdf
