Mexico, Central America and Cuba Correspondent
After the thirtieth consecutive month with out rain, the townsfolk of San Francisco de Conchos within the northern Mexican state of Chihuahua collect to plead for divine intervention.
On the shores of Lake Toronto, the reservoir behind the state’s most vital dam – known as La Boquilla, a priest leads native farmers on horseback and their households in prayer, the stony floor beneath their toes as soon as a part of the lakebed earlier than the waters receded to as we speak’s critically low ranges.
Among these with their heads bowed is Rafael Betance, who has voluntarily monitored La Boquilla for the state water authority for 35 years.
“This should all be underwater,” he says, motioning in direction of the parched expanse of uncovered white rocks.
“The last time the dam was full and caused a tiny overflow was 2017,” Mr Betance remembers. “Since then, it’s decreased year on year.
“We’re at present at 26.52 metres beneath the high-water mark, lower than 14% of its capability.”
Little wonder the local community is beseeching the heavens for rain. Still, few expect any let up from the crippling drought and sweltering 42C (107.6F) heat.
Now, a long-running dispute with Texas over the scarce resource is threatening to turn ugly.
Under the terms of a 1944 water-sharing agreement, Mexico must send 430 million cubic metres of water per year from the Rio Grande to the US.
The water is sent via a system of tributary channels into shared dams owned and operated by the International Boundary and Water Commission (IBWC), which oversees and regulates water-sharing between the two neighbours.
In return, the US sends its own much larger allocation (nearly 1.85 billion cubic metres a year) from the Colorado River to supply the Mexican border cities of Tijuana and Mexicali.
Mexico is in arrears and has failed to keep up with its water deliveries for much of the 21st Century.
Following pressure from Republican lawmakers in Texas, the Trump administration warned Mexico that water could be withheld from the Colorado River unless it fulfils its obligations under the 81-year-old treaty.
In April, on his Truth Social account, US President Donald Trump accused Mexico of “stealing” the water and threatened to keep escalating to “TARIFFS, and perhaps even SANCTIONS” until Mexico sends Texas what it owes. Still, he gave no firm deadline by when such retaliation might happen.
For her part, the Mexican President, Claudia Sheinbaum, acknowledged Mexico’s shortfall but struck a more conciliatory tone.
Since then, Mexico has transferred an initial 75 million cubic metres of water to the US via their shared dam, Amistad, located along the border, but that is just a fraction of the roughly 1.5 billion cubic metres of Mexico’s outstanding debt.
Feelings on cross-border water sharing can run dangerously high: in September 2020, two Mexican people were killed in clashes with the National Guard at La Boquilla’s sluice gates as farmers tried to stop the water from being redirected.
Amid the acute drought, the prevailing view in Chihuahua is that “you’ll be able to’t take from what is not there”, says local expert Rafael Betance.
But that doesn’t help Brian Jones to water his crops.
A fourth-generation farmer in the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, for the past three years he has only been able to plant half of his farm because he doesn’t have enough irrigation water.
“We’ve been battling Mexico as they’ve not been dwelling as much as their a part of the deal,” he says. “All we’re asking for is what’s rightfully ours beneath the treaty, nothing further.”
Mr Jones also disputes the extent of the problem in Chihuahua. He believes that in October 2022 the state received more than enough water to share, but released “precisely zero” to the US, accusing his neighbours of “hoarding water and utilizing it to develop crops to compete with us”.
Farmers on the Mexican side read the agreement differently. They say it only binds them to send water north when Mexico can satisfy its own needs, and argue that Chihuahua’s ongoing drought means there’s no excess available.
Beyond the water scarcity, there are also arguments over agricultural efficiency.
Walnut trees and alfalfa are two of the main crops in Chihuahua’s Rio Conchos Valley, both of which require a lot of watering – walnut trees need on average 250 litres a day.
Traditionally, Mexican farmers have simply flooded their fields with water from the irrigation channel. Driving around the valley one quickly sees walnut trees sitting in shallow pools, the water flowing in from an open pipe.
The complaint from Texas is obvious: the practice is wasteful and easily avoided with more responsible and sustainable farming methods.
As Jaime Ramirez walks through his walnut groves, the former mayor of San Francisco de Conchos shows me how his modern sprinkler system ensures his walnut trees are properly watered all year round without wasting the precious resource.
“With the sprinklers, we use round 60% lower than flooding the fields,” he says. The system also means they can water the trees less frequently, which is particularly useful when the Rio Conchos is too low to allow local irrigation.
Mr Ramirez readily admits, though, that some of his neighbours aren’t so conscientious. As a former local mayor, he urges understanding.
Some haven’t adopted the sprinkler method because of the costs in setting it up, he says. He’s tried to show other farmers that it works out cheaper in the long run, saving on energy and water costs.
But farmers in Texas must also understand that their counterparts in Chihuahua are facing an existential threat, Mr Ramirez insists.
“This is a desert area and the rains have not come. If the rain would not come once more this 12 months, then subsequent 12 months there merely will not be any agriculture left. All the obtainable water must be conserved as ingesting water for human beings,” he warns.
Many in northern Mexico believe the 1944 water-sharing treaty is no longer fit for purpose. Mr Ramirez thinks it may have been adequate for conditions eight decades ago, but it has failed to adapt with the times or properly account for population growth or the ravages of climate change.
Back across the border, Texan farmer Brian Jones says the agreement has stood the test of time and should still be honoured.
“This treaty was signed when my grandfather was farming. It’s been by my grandfather, my father and now me,” he says.
“Now we’re seeing Mexico not comply. It’s very angering to have a farm the place I’m solely in a position to plant half the bottom as a result of I haven’t got irrigation water.”
Trump’s tougher stance has given the local farmers “a pep in our step”, he adds.
Meanwhile, the drought hasn’t just harmed farming in Chihuahua.
With Lake Toronto’s levels so low, Mr Betance says the remaining water in the reservoir is heating up with uncommon speed and creating a potential disaster for the marine life which sustains a once-thriving tourism industry.
The valley’s outlook hasn’t been this dire, Mr Betance says, in the entire time he’s spent carefully recording the lake’s ups and downs. “Praying for rain is all we’ve got left,” he displays.
ADDITIONAL REPORTING by Angelica Casas.
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