LIMPIA DAYS
The annual communal cleaning of irrigation ditches
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| Painting by Donna Claire |
In February and March, most acequias, the ancient ditches that bring irrigation water to the fertile fields of the arid New Mexico landscape, shut off their flow to undertake la Limpia. If you have never participated in the communal cleaning of an acequias, this is a great opportunity to dive in a 400-year-old New Mexico tradition.
Because many young people headed to urban centers or neighboring states seeking employment, local participation has seriously dwindled in some areas, resulting in acequias being inadequately maintained.
Vegetation around the acequias is lush. Willow, cottonwood, mesquite, locust, osage orange, elm (of course), and many other vigorous and sometimes thorny bushes thrive along the banks. Broken branches, fallen trees and rocks create obstacles for water flow.
In Dilia, our area, where the ditch is 6 to12-feet wide, tree branches need to be removed to prevent breaking windows of the machinery the county sends to assist with the cleanup. Last year, as a commissioner of my acequia, I inspected the ditch for weeks prior to our official March cleanup days, and noted all the repairs and debris removal that was needed. For several days, I walked the ditch ahead of the machinery, dragging debris and cutting branches with my chainsaw. I had lunch with the workers, rode in their trucks and heard stories from prior generations. I also hear stories weekly when I chat with the elders after church.
Over the past two years, through a drought and a wet season, 200-year-old traditions have been slowly woven into my life. Our acequia was dug by hand and by horse plow in the 1820s. It is a marvel of beauty and engineering. When flowing, it is a 12-mile-long serpent, gliding along a wide and fertile valley, dispensing precious water to fields that used to provide most of the food the population needed. They say that 80 percent of the land was cultivated.
In the old days, everyone had to pitch in to clean the ditch. Family members who had moved away would return to join the effort. Cousins met every spring, and working together, they renewed bonds. Children were raised to understand how to maintain the ditches and work the fields so they would have water and food for their own children when they came of age.
La Limpia has been a communal, intergenerational ritual since the Spaniards settled in New Mexico. For boys it was a rite of passage, a coming-of-age when they were allowed to join the men working the ditch.
A few years ago, while running Gaia Gardens, an urban farm in Santa Fe, I regularly attended meetings of the Santa Fe Food Policy Council, an organization devoted to creating a resilient regional food system. At one of these meetings, a local Hispanic gentleman in his 50s recounted how, every spring, his family came back to New Mexico from Arizona to help with the ditch cleaning. The boys were allowed to join in when they were as tall as the ceremonial shovel. He remembered the year that he had grown tall enough. Sobbing, he explained that his cousins had just bought a backhoe to clean the ditch, and so his labor was no longer needed. That story illustrates how the depopulation of farmland has not only hurt our rural economy, but has also eroded traditions that kept communities together. And it has jeopardized the upkeep of irrigation ditches, thus undermining our regional food security.
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| Victor Villapando planting in Espanola -Photo of mural taken by Donatella Danvanzo |
Having lived and traveled in many agricultural parts of the world, I understand that what we still experience here with acequias is an aspect of a lifestyle of self-sustenance and regenerative land stewardship that is a tenet of an indigenous existence. Most people live in a world disconnected from their food source, pushed into cities by the collapse of small rural economies, due to the advent of large mechanized agriculture and the consolidation of fertile land by multinational corporations.
Our fragile food system is now threatened by a climate that—from all observations, measures and events—is going to be more and more out of wack, making it increasingly difficult to grow the food we are accustomed to year-round. It’s clear that in New Mexico, the vast tapestry of ancient breadbaskets, along all our watersheds, must be maintained to ensure our regional food security.
My suggestion and invitation is for you to take the opportunity to lend your support to la Limpia in one of the 600 registered acequias in New Mexico. Even if you show up with lemonade and cookies, your presence will be a boost to the spirit of those often elderly parcientes (water rights holders) whose humble yet noble existence depends on the proper functioning of their ditch.
Hopefully, like me, you will fall in love with a people, land and tradition that we must preserve at all cost. Maybe locals will start calling you primo or prima (cousin) and take you into their heart and families in appreciation for helping them preserve a beautiful way of life.
The Vado de Juan Paiz limpia days, where Mil Abrazos is located:
Saturday March 14
Saturday March 21
9:00am-1:00pm
If you wish to visit and walk the ditch on other dates for inspection and cleanup, feel free to call 505-557-7962
Mil Abrazos Community Land Trust is a 501(c)3
Donations of cash, stocks, vehicles or material goods are tax-deductible
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