Dear Friends and supporters,

We are writing to share about our latest work in the Wixárika Mountains of Northern Jalisco. This project is in a very exciting moment, with many things happening and many more to come. Before delving into our most recent adventures, a bit of context is in order.

The Wixárika are an indigenous people living deep in the western Sierra Madre. They are well known for being one of the few tribes never to be evangelized or truly integrated into the more western Mestizo Mexico. This, in combination with the great geographic isolation of the area, has allowed for a very distinct culture and way of life to evolve. The region also has amongst the lowest levels of basic services coverage in the country, with water and sanitation infrastructure being almost nonexistent.

Isla Urbana began working here in 2010, founding Ha Ta Tukari -Water Our Life- to bring rainwater harvesters to the communities of the region. It was our first program developed in a remote indigenous area, and one of our important learning grounds. Wixárika culture is very different from that of the broader Mexico we knew, with a language and worldview as foreign as if it were an entirely different country. In response, we developed a strategy, and eventually a whole methodology, based around the intentional use of empathy and affective communication in order to reach across the cultural and linguistic divide.

Some of the installations of the Rainwater Harvesting Systems in the region. Photos by Mariana Balderas.

In 2021, the Wixárika region was engulfed in a wave of intense violence as rival Cartels began warring for control over a remote mountain road that runs through the area. The conditions made it temporarily impossible for us to travel there, and so we embarked on an initiative to transfer as much of the implementation duties as possible to an entirely local, autonomous team. The group of young men and women we recruited, trained, and hired has become the center of Isla Urbana’s work in the Sierra. Known as the Wixárika Intercultural Team, they have spent the past 4 years traveling through the mesas and canyons, building cisterns and teaching their people to harvest, store, and administer the rainwater they collect from their roofs.

Eventually, we would gain access to escorts from the national guard that would allow us to return to the region. Still, the focus remained on training and supporting the Intercultural Team, and on developing more and more skills and capacities with our young Wixárika colleagues. This year, we have moved beyond water access and have started working on the implementation of sanitation infrastructure for the first time. The trip into the Sierra we have just returned from involved the launch of our first full program which will provide universal sanitation coverage in the Village of La Cebolleta, our home base in the Wixárika Mountains, where our work began over 15 years ago.

We left Mexico City on a cool Monday morning. We were apprehensive. About a year ago, following a series of incursions by the cartels, the Mexican Army sent a garrison of soldiers to the Sierra, quartered in a little community center we built several years ago, directly across the road from our field base. We were grateful to have them there, but also nervous about how our long-beloved little Village would feel full of guns and soldiers. Many people in our team grew up distrustful of the military in Mexico, but we decided to apply the same principals of empathic communication that we have long used with the community, seeking to connect on a human and affective level first and foremost, and take things from there. Little did we anticipate the friendship we would develop with these young soldiers over the following weeks.

We arrived Tuesday afternoon and spent the first few days cleaning and organizing our base. The reception was touching. Since the security situation broke down in 2021, most of the NGO’s, individuals, and even government agencies, that used to frequent the area largely withdrew. The fact that we didn’t stop working earned us a lot of appreciation, and we could feel it. Every morning, people would come by with fresh tortillas, stopping to talk, gifting us bracelets, embracing us.

Photos by Patricio Orden.

The purpose of this trip was to start building composting toilets for every family in La Cebolleta, where open-air defecation is still practiced almost universally, with no ordered waste management system whatsoever. This contributes greatly to the very precarious health conditions in the area. Still, changing this type of ancestral practice is complex and difficult. We had spent years talking and thinking about how to do it. Now we were finally showing up with an entire program to make it happen.

The first two weeks of the trip we worked daily with the Intercultural Team, preparing them to be able to train the rest of the population in the use and management of their future toilets, and to build a real understanding of the logic behind them, in their own language and cosmovision. We had to create a whole new vocabulary together, since there were no words established in Wixárika to describe sanitation.

We presented the program at the monthly community meeting, and when we opened registration, 30 families signed up on the first day. The first workshop we held was beautiful. The intercultural team was trained and ready, and we were able to watch them take charge, guiding the participants through exercises and round tables, analyzing their current situation, learning different kinds of sanitation models, debating their pros and cons, and reaching consensus on the type of system to be implemented. The people were happy, participative, and enthusiastic. We left with the conviction that we were about to carry out the first truly successful sanitation program in the entire San Andrés Cohamiata region, and all done 100% in the Wixárika language, and led by these beautiful young people.

Photos by Patricio Orden.

It may sound excessive to express so much enthusiasm over building toilets, but in this difficult context, where peoples’ hopes and opportunities have been so damaged by violence and poverty, seeing these young people radiating self-confidence, standing tall in front of their community, carrying out the work with so much professionalism, and seeing that it was landing so well with the people, was very special.

While all this was happening, we were able to observe more closely the situation that is being experienced in the Sierra. I mentioned that we were living next to the army. At first our relationship with them was merely cordial, but we began bringing the soldiers coffee and cookies in the cold and foggy mornings, and we slowly began building up more of a relationship. Little by little, they opened up, and started telling us about their lives and deployments throughout the deepest corners of Mexico. Most of them were young people from very humble backgrounds. Many were very idealistic, enlisted from a desire to ​​contribute something to their country, others were simply escaping poverty. In any case, we were moved by their stories.

One day, just as we were conducting a sanitation workshop, the soldiers left the community to replenish their food and supplies. They returned only a few hours later, without the food, uniforms dirty, faces grim and bruised, the windshield on their Humvee was shattered. These professional soldiers said nothing of what happened. Protocol forbids them speaking of any incidents that occur. But the silence and the holes in their vehicles said it all.

It was a powerful moment which brought home the full reality of the situation we are living through. It gave us a deep respect and appreciation for these young men. We saw how much we needed them to be there in order for us to be able to do our job, and they also expressed their gratefulness in having us there, because it gave meaning to their work seeing people use the security cover they provided in order to build something good and lasting.

The juxtaposition of seeing soldiers fighting to secure the area while young Wixárika villagers organized with their community to build toilets felt very meaningful. Something as simple as working with water and sanitation became like an act of resistance, an affirmation of life and hope, of persisting, despite the difficulty of the situation, in the work of creating conditions for a dignified life. By the time we were ready to return home, we felt the project had entered a new phase, one with a greater sense of urgency and meaning than ever. The community in the Sierra has become almost like family, and all the preconceptions we might have had about the soldiers we see throughout Mexico have been profoundly challenged. What remains is a sense of greater understanding and respect, of knowing that there are all kinds of people fighting for this country that we love, each in our own ways with the tools and ideas we each have.

Photos by Patricio Orden.

We left the Sierra with renewed motivation and desire to continue the work. And just then, shortly after our return, we received news that a massive program we had long been working on had been approved for international funding. Thisprogram will allow us to greatly expand the water access infrastructure we have been building, grow the Intercultural team, and for the first time, will allow us to add a large-scale forest regeneration program to all our other work in the Sierra. We look forward to the future of the project and can’t wait to continue sharing with you. 

Thank you as always for your amazing support. We couldn’t do this without you!

The post Ha Ta Tukari: A New Chapter in the Wixárika Sierra appeared first on Isla Urbana USA.

I have spent most of my life submerged in water. As a competitive swimmer, water was where I first felt comfortable. It was where I found my life’s pacing, my control, and my freedom. The swimming pool was where I first learned to push my body and mind’s limits. Every breath, stroke, and lap was a product of meticulous, rigorous, and sometimes painful, practice. Nonetheless, I loved it.

However, throughout the 15 years of swimming in chlorinated pools, I never once questioned the complexity behind keeping a facility of this kind afloat and functional. Not once did I think about my swimming as an immense privilege or as a product of unjust water distribution.

In the past, water had always been tied to pleasurable movement. Swimming, running, hiking, walking; all activities of exertion, or of release. I have always made time for them to ease any nerves stemming from daily life, move my body after hours of sitting at a desk, and chase endorphins. In my, some may say, ignorant mind, “going for a run” or “going for a stroll” was equivalent to self care, to connection with nature, to tranquility. These movements were elective, or even indulgent. But, for many, these actions, running, walking, and hiking, are not leisure, but instead, an act of tremendous labor. Thus, we live in an unfortunate world of contrasts, and distinct, life-influencing connotations.

In modern wellness and outdoors culture, movement is marketed as freedom. We wear absurdly expensive tops and leggings, become members at top-tier gyms, and hike to remote waterfalls and post a photo on social media, sometimes under the guise of “disconnecting” from reality. Running, hiking, and walking are seen as some of the few ways to reconnect with our natural environment and our body; as if access to safe spaces and time to practice “wellness” in them were universally obtainable. These interpretations of outdoor movement reflect a particular kind of privilege, one of choice.

This privileged notion disregards that for many women across the world movement is not a chosen action, it is an act of subsistence or survival. One of these women is Rosalina Martinez Zamora, a woman from Teocuatlán, San José Tenango, in Oaxaca, Mexico. Rosalina is part of the Mazateca collective, Naxo Tjondi, and she received a rainwater harvesting system from Isla Urbana in 2024. Her story, like many others, invites us to define movement differently.

For years, Rosalina walked and climbed in the dark in order to retrieve water for her family. In an interview, Rosalina shared, “Before, when I did not have a cistern, I used to get up at 1 in the morning to go and fetch water. Because that was when there was water, it was necessary. I had to get up and carry a 20 liter jug. Even though it was unpleasant and unsafe where I would go to get water, I had to do it.”

In my life, I always ran towards something visceral, whether that be a better mood, a clearer mind, or a different vantage point. But, for Rosalina, running was a movement away from scarcity and towards survival.

The journey was long. The route to reach the water was complicated, dangerous, and rough. The emotional and physical cost was immense. Rosalina continued to share, “I would arrive back at home at 5 in the morning. Yes, at 5 in the morning, arriving again. The sun was rising when I left the place where there was water. I carried 20 liters of water. My son carried a 35 liter container. And that was the water for the day, 55 liters. It used to be 55 liters of water for 7 people. But, now that my mother has passed away, there are 6 of us.” Even after the daily battle to retrieve water, the 55 liters was only enough for cooking; it was not enough for bathing or washing dishes and clothes. Contrast this with the image of a sunrise runner, moving their body with a full bottle of water. It is the same motion, but for completely different reasons. She was not hiking to a mirador, she was hiking back exhausted, just in time to start the day’s tasks.

The differences between how people interpret walking, running, or hiking highlights the systemic inequality in our globe very clearly. Every person on this planet has varying ingrained behaviors, habits, and perceptions spending on their specific life context. Our analysis of movement is shaped by the aforementioned life context; where we live, our socioeconomic background, and our schedules, to name a few.

As someone who grew up with steady access to clean, reliable water, and immersed in sports, movement was always a choice. But for Rosalina, and many others, her movement was many times a result of scarcity. Her walking, hiking, and climbing was a requirement, not a choice. This is the overlooked reality behind the way many talk about reconnecting and moving our bodies. Unlike outdoors and wellness culture’s definition of self care, the act of walking is not always recharging, it is completely depleting. Their definition excludes the millions of women who exert their bodies to its maximum for hours on end. Sure, this does not happen in fancy climbing gyms, pilates studios, or on hiking trails, but, instead, is in search of necessary natural resources, including water.

Every early morning wakeup to begin the journey to collect water is lost time. Lost time from schooling, working, resting, and, importantly, enjoying. Rosalina is familiar with this reality. But, after the installation of her rainwater harvesting system, also has felt what it means to be free of it.

A year ago, Isla Urbana collaborated with Naxo Tjondi to install a rainwater harvesting system in Rosalina’s home, permanently changing her relationship with movement and water, physically and emotionally. Rosalina voiced, with immense emotions, “It has helped me a lot. I no longer have to go and fetch water. I feel so much more relaxed now.”

The abundance, or mere presence, of water also turned into increased time to rest, create, and fulfill everything Rosalina previously could not. As a skilled artisan, she always enjoyed embroidering and knitting, alongside many other women from Naxo Tjondi. Before her cistern was installed, she barely had the energy to focus on what brought her so much joy and tranquility: creating. Rosalina turned to me and said, “Now my hours of going to find water at one in the morning are over, and I can rest a little. At dawn, I start my embroidery and knitting work. Those hours I used to spend looking for water, I can now do other things. When I used to arrive at home, I was already tired. I did not feel like doing anything.” Now, with the cistern, Rosalina wakes up and has more of a choice over how to start her day. Rather than hauling a 20 liter hug, she can embroider and knit.

Alongside embroidery and knitting, Rosalina has also had the time to sell atole, a traditional corn-based creamy drink, and tamales in her community. She commented that with products like atole and tamales, she is able to trade with fellow community members. Her new time capacity to be able to enjoy new habits has expanded Rosalina’s individual freedom. She perfectly described it by saying, “Whatever comes to mind, I make it every day. I like my job, and thanks to having water, I have grown to love it.” Moreover, the cistern supplied Rosalina and her family with both the biological necessity of water, and newfound joys and practices.

Rosalina’s story is deeply human and should provoke an emotive reaction in readers. It is a manifestation of how quickly the definition of movement can change, especially once basic biological needs are met. Rosalina, who once fought to carry 20 liters of water every morning, now has more autonomy over her daily routine and creative processes. When I met Rosalina, she was chatting with her friends from Naxo Tjondi, painting a mural, and walking. Now, rather than walking for water and survival, she walks for her community and for herself.

So, as a society, what if we reimagined running, walking, and hiking? What if they became social indicators, rather than mere physical behaviors? What if the liberty to move our bodies in a joyful manner, rather than out of survival, became a way our society measures equity?

Now, when I swim, run, or even walk, I think of Rosalina. I think of the many who walk miles everyday just to grab enough water to survive. I think of the transformative power of one cistern.

When Rosalina was asked about how to support the communities across Mexico that faced similar struggles to hers, she was direct in her response. She said, “Keep helping us. Thank you very much. I mean, keep helping them. Because, as I said, I already have experience with water scarcity. There are many people who now need it more. There are many people who need that help.”

So, if you have ever felt the joy of movement, whether that be the wind on your face during a run or the comforting coldness during a swim, consider what it might mean to move for survival, not for recreation. Consider what it means to view the joy of movement as a right that could be given to all.

To support women like Rosalina, visit Isla Urbana. Your support can help transform steps of survival into steps of pleasure.

The post Running for Water or Running for Joy? How Movement and Meaning Shift Depending on Access appeared first on Isla Urbana USA.

From the summer of 2024 to the summer of 2025, Mexico City swung dramatically between two extremes. The city experienced the looming threat of an extremely dry rainy season in June of 2024, and, a year later, the heaviest rains seen in decades. Although this was previously considered a climate anomaly, the alternating rhythm of drought and deluge is becoming increasingly normal and the new hydrological identity of Mexico City and its surroundings. Due to this sinusoidal behavior, the city’s relationship with water has been evolving over countless centuries. But, now, a new challenge has arrived: managing an abundance of rain within a very short window of time.

A year prior to one of the rainiest Junes in Mexico City’s history, Mexico City was preparing for “day zero”, the date when the municipal water system could no longer provide large portions of water to the city’s residents. The reservoirs that provided Mexico City with almost 25 percent of its potable water reached exceptionally low levels after repeated insufficient rainfalls and over-extraction. Due to below-average precipitation and La Niña patterns, such as cooler than average sea surface temperatures in the Pacific Ocean, much of Mexico’s central region was facing extreme drought. More specifically, high pressure zones in the atmosphere 1) blocked clouds from developing and, 2) did not allow warm air to rise; two processes needed for the production of rain. To make matters worse, infrastructurally speaking, Mexico City’s poorly planned and exhaustive water systems caused the ground to sink at alarming rates; making it significantly harder for rainwater to seep into the drained aquifer.

However, in 2025, the inverse occurred. By June, the start of the rainy season in Mexico, the skies did not stop opening to release rain. Over the span of 25 days, more than 220 million cubic meters of rainwater fell over Mexico City. The city’s Ministry of Water and Sustainable Management reported that this was the largest volume recorded since 1968; an unprecedented event in recent history. The rain did not stop there. In July, a staggering 298 million cubic meters of rain fell. This figure is enough to fill Mexico City’s massive “Estadio Azteca”, which seats over 83,264 people, 196 times over. Considering the extent of the rainfall in June and July, the city faced a compounded struggle to adapt to the unexpected rainfall.

This shift in meteorological activities is driven by the complicated transition from La Niña to El Niño patterns over the Pacific Ocean. Previously, La Niña suppressed storm activity in the region. But, El Niño flipped the script and brought amplified rainfalls over central and southern Mexico. This transition, in turn, exacerbated atmospheric evaporation, increasing the amount of water vapor in the air and condensing to cause intense rainfalls.

To further intensify the rains caused by El Niño, the 2025 rainy season was characterized by an uptick in local tropical cyclones and wave activity in the Pacific and Atlantic basins. Although these storms did not hit Mexico City directly, they moved huge amounts of moisture to central regions of Mexico, triggering long-lasting storm clouds and potent rains over Mexico City. The already-increased atmospheric instability worsened as warm, moist air from the ocean mixed with cooler air in the upper atmosphere. Fast winds, tropical moisture, warm sea temperatures, and high altitude levels in Mexico City combined to create the perfect, but destructive, setup for a strong storm.

While the intense rains did some much needed replenishment of water sources, it also revealed Mexico City’s deep vulnerability to rainfall, and improper infrastructure to withstand it. Without adequate urban planning, rain can become a hazard, rather than a natural resource. All over the capital, streets became rivers, train stations flooded, and parks resembled lakes. Entire quadrants of neighborhoods were covered in a mix of stormwater and sewage. However, the problem is not inherently rain. It is equally a result of a city that has been designed to shed water, rather than absorb it back into the aquifer. The hydrology of Mexico City has increasingly become misaligned with its pre-colonial and post-colonial infrastructure. As the city continues to flood, this becomes more apparent each year.

To understand how the city reached this point, it is essential to understand the geographic and historical foundation of the region. For a brief summary, the area that is now called Mexico City, but was previously the Mexica capital, Tenochtitlan, was built upon several lakes and thrived on an intricate network of natural and artificial canals, floating gardens (chinampas), and wetlands prior to colonization. Water was considered an integral and necessary part of daily life, rather than an enemy. Although floods were still prominent centuries ago, they were accommodated by buffer designs meant to alleviate the impact of heavy rains, unlike in present day Mexico City. However, everything changed when the Spanish arrived in the early 16th century. In pursuit of permanence, Spanish settlers began a centuries-long effort to drain lakes, fill wetlands, and change the natural landscape of the city. Rivers were rerouted, covered, and channelled to expel water from what had once been a basin of water abundance.

This Spanish-imposed rejection of water continues to haunt the city. Paved streets with impermeable infrastructure now cover most of urban and peri-urban Mexico City, drastically decreasing the capacity with which soils and aquifers can absorb rainfall. Since groundwater extraction far outpaced the natural recharge of aquifers, the city also began to sink several centimeters each year. Therefore, yes, flooding is certainly directly correlated with intense rains, but it is also caused by the rain having no designated place to go. Modern Mexico City floods because it was designed to displace water, not to manage and coexist with it.

In response to these historical and systemic failures, organizations like Isla Urbana have emerged as pioneers of a new approach to water management in urban and peri-urban environments. Isla Urbana treats rain as an asset to be harnessed rather than a problem to be disposed of. Since 2009, Isla Urbana has worked to install rainwater harvesting systems throughout Mexico, particularly in underserved communities where municipal water supply is inconsistent and unreliable. Rainfall is captured from rooftops, passed through a series of filters to remove contaminants, stored in covered cisterns, and made available for human contact. Through this work, many Isla Urbana workers, including myself, have learned to appreciate rainfall as a source of hope and water access, rather than something to be feared and hated. Step by step, Isla Urbana is gradually guiding Mexico City toward a renewed respect for water; one that echoes the values held in pre-colonial times.

What makes rainwater harvesting particularly effective is that it addresses multiple dimensions of the water crisis. 1) It reduces dependence on overly-used centralized supply networks. 2) It captures and stores rainwater that would otherwise contribute to flooding dangers. 3) It helps recharge local groundwater systems by slowing rainwater runoff and allowing more of it to percolate into underground aquifers. 4) It provides clean, reliable water to families, with many public health benefits. In other words, rainwater harvesting systems have the potential to restore hydrological balance in an environmentally unjust city that has lost its capacity to naturally absorb rainwater.

More globally, rainwater harvesting aligns with broader goals of climate adaptation and resilient urban planning. As weather patterns, such as the El Niño and La Niña phenomena, cities must learn to manage water in a way that prioritizes supply, timing, storage, and flow rate. Similar to the buffers created prior to Spanish conquest in Mexico, harvesting rainwater provides on-site buffers that alleviate the negative impacts of rainy seasons. During the rainy season, rainwater can be collected to mitigate flooding, and, during dry periods, stored water can be used to reduce demand on centralized water systems. Hence, it is crucial to integrate these systems into public buildings, parks, and industrial hubs!

The potential is enormous. Mexico City receives more rainfall annually than London, a city known for its ubiquitous rainfall. So, the problem in Mexico City, as established previously, is not the lack of rain; it is the inability to properly use it. It is crucial for our society to rethink how we manage urban water cycles in a way that celebrates rain, rather than disregards it. Parks should be designed to double as water basins. Newly created streets should be permeable, rather than sealed. Green infrastructure, such as wetlands and rain gardens, should be considered necessary functional components to a city’s system. Rainwater harvesting should become more and more common in urban infrastructure.

Rain in Mexico City is no longer an occasional event. It has become a norm during the summer months. It is an increasingly intense phenomenon that requires a novel system built on flexibility, absorption, and just redistribution of water resources. Therefore, the water crises of 2024 and 2025 are not necessarily extremes; they are parallel images of a deeper structural failure and vulnerability. Both events arose from a disconnect between Mexico City’s built environment and its natural hydrological tendencies. Through all of this, rainwater harvesting offers a trajectory towards a newfound urban water resilience. But, it must be accompanied by innovation, imagination, and investment.

A new sustainable water system requires the understanding from centuries of ecological wisdom all over Mexico. By learning from the past and planning for an uncertain future, Mexico City can become a global model for how to thrive in extreme temperatures and climates. Our globe’s goal should be to live with rain sustainably, ethically, and equitably.

The post Mexico City: A City of Extremes Drought to Deluge, Water Scarcity to Stormwater Abundance appeared first on Isla Urbana USA.

If you walk down the streets of any corner of the world, you will typically find a dog and their human companion, moving together in harmony. In Parque México, Mexico City, a spotted beagle treads alongside their friend. In Central Park, New York City, a goldendoodle leaps into the air while playing fetch. In Freedom Park, Lagos, a determined pug struggles to run to their owner. These scenes are replicated in city after city across the globe. 

Some dogs are pampered, while others roam the streets, attempting to survive. For instance, in Mexico City, a metropolis famous for its woven-in dog-walking culture, over 70 percent of residents own pets, and 80% of those own dogs; helping position Mexico as the second highest country in the world for household pet ownership. Despite this deep cultural affinity for animals, the city is also home to an estimated 1.2 million stray dogs. Some of these strays are neighborhood-fed, others were born in the streets, and others are former pets, lost or abandoned. The abundance of stray dogs is not inherently a shortcoming or the culpability of the individual, rather it is a symptom of larger structural failure. It is an example of how socioeconomic inequality erodes human, and, through association, animal, life’s everyday fabric.

Elena’s words demonstrate the enduring relationship between dogs and humans. Their presence and support, although anecdotal in this case, is foundational to human development. As a consequence, regardless of the setting, dogs, both household and stray, have found a way to mirror their companion’s, or lack thereof, condition. Dogs serve as reflections and indicators of societal health, well-being and equality. These four-legged friends are almost human-adjacent and are part of the daily routines, emotions, and environments around them. The inextricable bond between a dog and their owner is a complex symbol of our world’s successes and frequent failures.

Just like Elena said, this interspecies bond is material and visceral, as well as emotional. Dogs, just like humans, are molded by their environmental, and water-related, conditions. At first glance, the words “dog” and “water” might seem disparate. However, upon further examination, these problems are far more intimately connected than anticipated. In a world in which 1 in 3 people do not have access to safe drinking water, dogs are often left experiencing the same conditions as their human-friends. Lack of clean, accessible water does not solely impact human health and security, it impacts every aspect of daily life.

When asked about the importance of water in Quiltepec, Elena did not hesitate to say, “Water is extremely vital. Both for dogs and for humans. Water is something we cannot live without. Water is life; because without water, we simply could not exist. No one could survive; not plants, not animals, not humans. No one. We can live without electricity, without gas, but we simply cannot live without water.”

She paused for a moment before adding with profound insight and understanding:

“Without water, we could not have them. We could not have dogs.”

Rainwater harvesting, therefore, offers not only a sustainable and equitable avenue towards human flourishing, but also a support for the many companions so often consigned to oblivion. Although these systems are, and should continue to be, implemented with community and human necessities in mind, rainwater harvesting’s impacts extend far beyond an anthropocentric lens.

When clean, reliable water becomes available to communities, interpersonal and broader social structures improve. Emotional and physical health stabilizes. Productivity outcomes thrive. And, importantly, animals also gain access to the foundation of life. Moreover, harvested water transitions from not merely a biological tool but also a sustainable and bonding tool for a broader ecosystem. Access to water allows for the integration of shared, all-encompassing dignity; showing the interdependence and interrelational dynamics between humans and their four-legged shadows.

No individual, no community, no ecosystem, can survive in a state of solitude. With this understanding, rainwater harvesting becomes an environmental AND social intervention. It strengthens the belief that no life, whether two-legged or four-legged, genuinely exists in isolation. Every drop of water collected from Isla Urbana’s rainwater harvesting systems has the potential to sustain human life, alongside the broader ecosystems, and socioemotional relationships that are evident in the human-dog bond.

Sources

https://www.who.int/news/item/18-06-2019-1-in-3-people-globally-do-not-have-access-to-safe-drinking-water-unicef-who

https://www.midlifemusings.ca/post/a-dog-s-tale-in-mexico-city

The post Rainwater Harvesting Supports More Than Just Humans… It Supports Their Four-Legged Shadows Too! appeared first on Isla Urbana USA.

Oaxaca is a southern Mexican state known for its rich Indigenous heritage, cultural diversity, and mountainous geography. It is home to 16 officially recognized Indigenous groups, including the Zapotec, Mixtec, and Mazatec peoples, many of whom maintain distinct languages, traditions, and governance systems. Approximately 48 percent of the population in Oaxaca has indigenous lineage, second most among Mexican states to Yucatán. Despite its cultural wealth, Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s most economically marginalized states, with limited access to infrastructure in many rural areas. The region’s rugged terrain and historical neglect have contributed to challenges in education, healthcare, and especially water access for Indigenous communities.

Rural Indigenous communities in Mexico face some of the most acute water access challenges in the country. Many indigenous settlements are located in remote or mountainous regions where public water infrastructure is limited or nonexistent. This lack of infrastructure, compounded by deep-rooted poverty and social marginalization, severely impacts the health, education, and economic future of these indigenous communities. As a result, families often rely on unsafe or distant water sources, with women and children bearing the brunt of water collection. These conditions contribute to health risks, lost educational opportunities, and broader social inequities. Structural neglect, geographic isolation, and climate variability further deepen the crisis, making community-led solutions, like rainwater harvesting, essential for achieving water security and preserving Indigenous autonomy.

Water supply has been an issue for the Mazatec people in the Oaxacan region for many years, resulting in lost opportunities and hindered academic development for school-aged children. According to Maribel Gallardo Escobedo, climate change has already started to impact her community in San José Tenango, Oaxaca, further complicating the water issue.

Maribel Gallardo, Regional Coordinator of Nandá Jtsí, San José Tenango. Photo by Camaroni Producciones.

“In our municipality, we do not have potable water – especially in the eastern communities, as there is no potable water supply. Every year we suffer from four months of drought – February, March, April, and May. However, now with global warming and climate change, it has been varying; sometimes it starts from January to June, and at times the droughts are very severe. The way we get water is mainly through rainfall; we try to retain as much as we can in bottles, containers, buckets, and water tanks, which is how most families do it.”

Those who can afford it (and live in accessible areas) may opt to purchase water from delivery trucks. It would take many members of the Mazatec community several days to earn the money required for one delivery truck, though, and storage is limited, meaning those who do rely on delivery trucks are required to pay for multiple deliveries throughout the year. These fees add up and represent an additional stressor for families who are already economically vulnerable.

To confront these pressing issues, Isla Urbana, in conjunction with the Mazatec, launched the Nandá Jtsí in 2019, a transformative program focused on the installation of sustainable rainwater harvesting systems on the rooftops of the homes and schools of the Mazatec. The program has offered a lifeline to the region during a time of increasing uncertainty. Its name, which means “rainwater” in Mazatec, reflects the core mission of the program – bringing sustainable water access to communities where an astonishing 89.6% of households lack access to clean water. Isla Urbana also offers comprehensive training in the installation, maintenance, and repair of rainwater systems to community members, empowering them to take ownership of their water supply.  This initiative provides immediate access to water and invests in the long-term capacity of the community to manage and sustain their systems. Isla Urbana works with the local cooperative, Naxo Tojndi, to foster technical expertise and community autonomy. Through collaboration among certified technicians, cooperative members, residents, and Isla Urbana’s regional team, the program ensures that solutions to water scarcity are both sustainable and locally led. Its impact extends well beyond infrastructure, advancing a broader vision of resilience, dignity, and self-sufficiency for the Mazatec communities it serves.

Though the Nandá Jtsí program began in 2019, the relationship between Isla Urbana and the Mazatec began in 2014. “We found Isla Urbana when the communities were looking for allies. To achieve the vision that the community had of having water and making that water available at home, and having a good way to store it.” The partnership is already having a transformational impact on members of the Mazatec community.

In just about six years, the Nandá Jtsí program has made a great deal of progress in changing the outlook on water for the Mazatec. According to Gallardo Escobedo, the program has installed 108 rainwater harvesting systems on private homes and 12 systems on public schools since being launched. “The plans to continue are to keep following up on these installations and systems, as well as to cover more communities that need one or two pilots in each community, according to the organizational structure of each community.”

When asked about the impact the Nandá Jtsí program has had on the Mazatec community in San José Tenango, Gallardo Escobedo reflected on the program thoughtfully. “The impact has been very great. Both economically, for our families, since when there is no water during periods of drought, it is not just about losing one day or two days of it, but we lose months dedicated to searching for water, and that is a significant impact for our families. We can have water available at home with certainty, allowing us to engage in other activities to generate income in the context of the cooperative.”

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From the outside, you might not even know it is a school. It doesn’t necessarily stand out among any of the other streetside buildings in urban Toluca. However, shortly after stepping inside the front gate, it becomes readily apparent that Escuela Primaria Cinco de Mayo is a uniquely special place. Director Escolar Samarey Ramírez Ríos has intentionally fostered an environment where school children are not only students: they are changemakers as well. Water was once a serious issue facing the school and now, thanks to the rainwater harvesting equipment and expertise provided by Isla Urbana, it is a tool for empowerment, education, and change.

Isla Urbana launched their Escuelas de Lluvia program in 2018, beginning with just 9 schools in the Mexico City area. These schools were selected out of necessity, characterized as being located in “particularly water impoverished areas” by Escuelas de Lluvia director Ana Paula Mejorada. The program has since expanded to include over 1,000 schools in 28 different states throughout Mexico. Escuelas de Lluvia is also currently working with pilot programs in Panama, Chile, and the Dominican Republic. Mejorada describes Escuelas de Lluvia as “a beautiful program with a lot of soul.” Their primary focus is on increasing water access by implementing rainwater harvesting systems in public schools around the country. The program also places a large emphasis on educating school faculty, staff, and students on maintaining and caring for the systems, once they are put in place. The program aims to help improve the lives of schoolchildren and to aid in their education. According to Mejorada, roughly 6 out of 10 schools in Mexico don’t have access to water. These schools have no choice but to shut down periodically during drier seasons, which causes adverse impacts on the lives of both the students and their parents. Escuelas de Lluvia sees this as too big of a problem to ignore. “The idea is using the rain to empower communities. The educational program is a huge part of this, we are turning adolescent children into changemakers – some schools even have community gardens, turning entire communities agents of change.”

Mejorada estimates that Isla Urbana is averaging around 500-700 new school installations per year. According to the August 2018 edition of the Latin-American Journal of Educational Studies, the average attendance of a primary school in Mexico is 195 students and 246 students for secondary schools. From these statistics alone, one can begin to get an idea of the wide reach and transformational impact of the Escuelas de Lluvia program. Based on those statistics, Isla Urbana is currently expanding their reach to between roughly 97,500 and 172,200 new students per year. Escuela Primaria Cinco de Mayo became one of those schools in April of 2022.

“Prior to the installation of our rainwater harvesting system, we were not connected to the municipal water network” Ramírez Ríos recalled, “We got water every two weeks, provided via hoses from the surrounding mountains. The water was regulated by a local water committee, that existed as an entity independent from the local government.” Isla Urbana’s rainwater harvesting system was put into place 3 years ago and its impacts were felt almost immediately. Prior to its installation, the school had to find creative ways to obtain clean water for the children. With the help of some of the school’s parents, they were able to install a small, DIY rainwater harvesting system that could capture and store approximately 250 liters of water at a time, a quantity of water that Ramírez Ríos claims would last the school only 2-3 days. The pre-existing system has been repurposed and incorporated into the system installed by Isla Urbana, as an auxiliary storage tank for non-potable water, mostly used for cleaning.

At times, the school had to rely on costly delivery trucks to fill their underground water storage tank, a service which, at the time, cost approximately 650 pesos. That service has increased to 900 pesos in cost in recent years, owing to inflation. At the frequency at which a school like this one requires supplemental water deliveries, it’s easy to see how those costs can add up. Furthermore, the Mexican government is only capable of providing so much financial assistance to these schools, so the burden of subsidizing these schools’ water supply often falls on the parents of the schoolchildren, an additional financial burden many families are ill-suited to take on. In times of extreme water shortages, the school was left with no other choice but to close its doors. For the developing minds of young students, missed classroom time can have cascading impacts, impacts which can eventually permeate into Tolucan society at large.

Not unlike the issue in residential homes, public schools in cities and throughout the Mexican countryside also lack reliable and consistent access to clean water. In communities with access to their municipal water supply, water flows inconsistently. In one in three schools in Mexico, students consume contaminated water, exposing children to waterborne diseases such as diarrhea, typhoid, and cholera. These illnesses can cause malnutrition and hinder cognitive development, resulting in decreased academic performance and increased absenteeism (worldysnews). When water is especially scarce, schools often must resort to canceling classes. Moreover, when classes are in session, inconsistent water availability often leaves schools with unsanitary washrooms. Resulting waterborne illnesses lead to increased absenteeism. This, again, impacts young girls disproportionately, who are often forced to stay home during menstruation. Issues stemming from inconsistent access to clean water have led to a 4.2% decrease in students’ grade levels, with older children potentially losing an entire academic year (Dhongde, S., & Spyrou, I. M.).

In rural areas, numerous schools operate without running water, making it difficult to maintain hygiene standards. For instance, in the Soconusco region, over 200 schools have reported water shortages, forcing closures and disrupting the learning process (Blue Community). Natural disasters exacerbated by climate change, like Hurricane Otis in 2023, damaged over 1,000 schools and left approximately 185,000 children out of school in Guerrero (MirageNews). Vulnerable communities in rural areas are disproportionately impacted by water shortages; In 2014, 14.8% of multi-grade indigenous schools reported no daily water availability—a situation that remains largely unchanged (Sánchez, M.)

Ramírez Ríos wants his schoolchildren to develop an understanding and ownership over the water issue at the school and, as such, has given the children some level of responsibility over the water harvested from their rooftops. Walking through the courtyards that lie between the red and white brick walls of the classroom structures, one will quickly notice the series of small to medium-sized garden beds decorating the property, where everything from small decorative flowering plants to full-sized fruiting peach and plum trees, grow happily in the Tolucan sun. Ramírez Ríos has used these gardens as a vehicle for instilling a deeper understanding of the importance of sustainable water usage and the imparting of important life skills, like intentional plant cultivation, into the minds of his young students. The school is planting seeds in more places than their garden beds; Ramírez Ríos hopes that if this generation of children grow up with sustainability-adjacent ideas in mind, they will be better-suited to navigate the climate-related challenges the next century is likely to bring. He believes the Tolucan community has already begun to harvest the fruits of that labor.

Ramírez Ríos supervises as schoolchildren fill watering buckets from a Tlaloque.

The schoolchildren are actively taught to care for and maintain the rainwater system. Now, students who previously had to miss classes due to insufficient water supply are coming home from school with stories of using water flushed from the schools’ Tlaloques, for example, to help water the schools’ gardens. “Because of the school’s example, houses around the community have implemented their own rainwater harvesting systems.”

As he showed me around the school grounds, Ramírez Ríos would periodically poke his head into classrooms to announce it was time to water the gardens. He would then ask for volunteers to help out in the process, and every time, a mass of small hands would extend into the air to offer assistance to the collective cause. The lucky students who were selected to help would then enthusiastically grab plastic buckets stored in each of the classrooms to fill with water from the numerous Tlaloques located around the property. Seeing the young faces of students light up and beam with excitement at the opportunity to be a part of the day’s garden maintenance left me with a profound feeling of hope for this young generation. Watching the daily watering routine, I was left with the impression that these students were not helping out because it was expected or required; they were helping the process because they wanted to be a part of it. Young schoolchildren will typically resist such chores as being tedious and/or boring, but not here in Toluca. The pride these children felt for the gardens adorning their schoolyard was something palpable.

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In the heart of Mexico City—one of the largest and most densely populated urban areas in the world—millions wake each morning uncertain if water will flow from their taps. Despite seasonal deluges and torrential summer rains, the city and much of the country are facing an escalating water crisis. Decades of over-extraction, inadequate infrastructure, and a growing climate emergency have left reservoirs depleted and aquifers shrinking. In some neighborhoods, especially in the city’s sprawling outskirts, residents go days or even weeks without running water, relying instead on costly and unreliable truck deliveries. In Mexico at large, 12 million people lack access to potable water and only 14% of households receive water 24 hours a day. In rural areas, 8 out of 10 people live without access to basic water services. Nationwide, water scarcity impacts millions of people every day. According to the United Nations, access to clean water is a human right.

In many parts of the world, when water is scarce, it is women and young girls who carry the heaviest load—literally. In households lacking piped water, women and girls are responsible for collecting it in roughly 7 out of 10 cases, with girls almost twice as likely as boys to take on this role. Per UNICEF, this daily task consumes up to 200 million hours, collectively, around the world—time that could otherwise be spent in school, earning income, or participating more fully in community life. Collecting water becomes time-consuming work that takes away from school, jobs, and other opportunities, reinforcing long-standing gender inequalities.

But amid the scarcity, a quiet revolution is taking shape—on rooftops, in schools, and across rural and urban communities alike. Rainwater harvesting, a simple yet powerful solution, is transforming communities. According to UNICEF, 1 out of every 100 liters of rainwater is harvested for use globally – and according to Isla Urbana, therein lies the solution for the water issue in Mexico. The Mexico City based nonprofit organization has spent over a decade demonstrating how simple rainwater harvesting systems can make a big difference. Since 2009, the group has installed more than 40,000 systems across Mexico—mostly in areas where water service is unreliable or nonexistent. The systems collect, filter, and store rainwater from rooftops, giving families a steady, local source of clean water without depending on expensive and inconsistent truck deliveries. A well-designed rainwater harvesting system has the capacity to meet a household’s water needs—including drinking water—for anywhere from five to twelve months each year, depending on rainfall and system size. By capturing and storing rain during the wet season, these systems help reduce reliance on overexploited aquifers, allowing them time to naturally recharge. In addition to easing environmental stress, rainwater harvesting also lowers the financial and ecological costs associated with water transportation, offering both economic and sustainability benefits to communities. Isla Urbana estimates that their rainwater harvesting systems harvest 6.6 billion liters of rainwater annually.

Isla Urbana’s approach is unique in its recognition of the human dimension of the water crisis. By providing families with direct access to water, these systems alleviate daily burdens and create new opportunities—particularly for women and children. With less time spent on water collection and fewer physical demands, individuals can focus on education, employment, and other pursuits that strengthen the entire community. From families who now cook and bathe with confidence to schools where children no longer miss class due to water shortages, communities are reclaiming agency over a resource long taken for granted. What began as a grassroots response to government inaction is now a model of resilience and environmental justice. It’s a simple idea with far-reaching impact—and one that could work in other parts of the world facing similar challenges, if given the right support.

Isla Urbana’s rainwater harvesting systems are designed to be both effective and easy to maintain. Rainwater is collected from a clean, well-maintained roof and funneled into a system of gutters. From there, it passes through a first-flush diverter—known as a Tlaloque—which discards the initial flow of rain, removing roughly 75% of surface contaminants. Water then passes through a secondary filter, which captures larger debris like leaves and branches.

The filtered water then enters a storage tank through a calmed inlet, which helps slow the flow of water to allow for additional sedimentation to settle at the tank’s bottom. A pump with a floating intake draws water from just below the surface, where it is cleanest. Depending on the system’s configuration and the level of water quality required, additional filtration can be added to remove finer particles.

With proper design and regular maintenance, these systems can provide high-quality water for nearly all household uses. When equipped with a final purification stage—such as a gravity-fed filter—the water becomes safe for drinking and cooking as well.

Isla Urbana prioritizes initiatives that promote social and environmental justice. Their webpage outlines their community-centered programs and highlights how their work impacts specifically women, schools, and indigenous communities. In the following passages, I will seek to explore and share some of the real-world impacts this organization is having with respect to those groups, and to tell some of their stories.

In November, I had the opportunity to travel with a cohort of graduate students and faculty from Virginia Tech’s Executive Master of Natural Resources (XMNR) program to Paraje Quiltepec, an informal settlement in Mexico City. We were joined by Delfín Montañana, Director of Socio-Environmental Education at Isla Urbana, who guided us through the community and shared how the organization is working directly with families to address water insecurity. Seeing Isla Urbana’s impact firsthand inspired me to maintain a relationship with the organization and to do what I can to help them in accomplishing their mission.

According to the University of Pennsylvania, 22 percent of Mexico City and between 60 and 70 percent of the Mexican countryside consists of informal settlements (Gutierrez). These communities were not designed with zoning and building codes that ensure access to any municipal water supply. Accordingly, families in informal settlements are often left to find their own solutions to collect water and the responsibility falls overwhelmingly on women and girls. Prior to Isla Urbana’s involvement in the community, Paraje Quiltepec was one of those communities.

Elena Cruz. Photo by Sarah Tesla.

“Before there were public roads, the water truck could not arrive” explained Elena Cruz outside of her home in Paraje Quiltepec. Accessing water was a daily challenge for Elena long before Isla Urbana’s rainwater harvesting system was installed. For years, her only source came through a hose extended from the home of a generous neighbor, running through several adjoining properties.

If the hose became blocked—by debris or a kink in the line—she had to trace it back on foot. When the obstruction was located on someone else’s property and they weren’t home, there was little she could do but wait. “They would use hoses from the nearest road to deliver the water to us. If the neighbors were not home that day or the hose was obstructed for any reason, we would simply go without water.” Elena explained that water trucks, which only became an option after the community came together to build their own roads, were an expensive and inconsistent option that added their own complications. Her family had to request water at the municipal level or through private water providers each time their storage tanks need refilling. Private deliveries by truck can be costly, costing an average of $75 per household per month. Comparatively, a rainwater harvesting system like hers costs an average of $3 per month. Additionally, each truck delivery requires scheduling in advance. Residents are told their water delivery will arrive at their residence sometime between one and fifteen days. This requires someone to remain at home at all times during that window or risk missing the precious opportunity to resupply. Women are frequently the ones who are tasked with waiting for the trucks to arrive.

In communities like Elena’s, Isla Urbana works with residents to install rooftop rainwater harvesting systems that expand access to clean water while easing financial burdens. With a reliable water source, families are able to reallocate time and resources toward critical needs such as education and healthcare. Elena credits the stability provided by the system with helping her children pursue university degrees and build successful professional lives. Consistent water access also contributes to improved hygiene, reduces strain on sewage infrastructure, and lowers the risk of waterborne illnesses—strengthening both individual and public health outcomes.

Isla Urbana’s systems have, quite literally, changed Elena’s life. Water security has opened doors to new opportunities for herself and her children. Harvesting rainwater has allowed her to increase the yield of the fruit trees in her yard consistently, trees whose yields have helped feed her family, as well as offering an additional stream of income. Her children were able to stay in school and pursue lucrative and rewarding careers. Improved water security has totally changed what might be possible for her family’s future. Elena explained, “Not only do we have clean drinking water, but I also use the grey water to grow fruit trees. The fruits we gather produce jams that we sell, among other produce, which has financed my children’s education. They studied computer engineering.” The impact of Isla Urbana’s work extends beyond reducing the time women and girls spend collecting water. Many women in the community are trained as system installers and advocates, challenging traditional gender roles and becoming agents of change. Elena Cruz is one such example. She was the first in her community to invest in a rainwater harvesting system. Her example encouraged her neighbors to put faith in Isla Urbana, when trust in municipal systems was all but lost due to long delays in delivery and a persistent failure by authorities to follow through.

The story of Paraje Quiltepec and Isla Urbana highlights the powerful connection between water security and gender equity—reminding us that, in some cases, solutions really can fall from the sky. The organization’s work demonstrates that meaningful community engagement is essential; when residents are directly involved in the design and implementation of solutions, those efforts are more effective, more sustainable, and more widely embraced.

By improving access to water, Isla Urbana is not only helping women and girls reclaim their time and pursue opportunities—they’re also fostering leadership. When women are empowered to lead on issues of water access, the benefits extend far beyond the individual, creating ripple effects that strengthen entire communities.

In Mexico City, water represents more than survival. For many women, it means freedom, opportunity, and agency. Isla Urbana’s work is a testament to what becomes possible when water is seen not just as a basic need, but as a pathway to justice. Through innovation, community partnerships, and a commitment to gender equity, the organization is setting an example with global relevance—one rooftop at a time. For Elena Cruz and thousands like her, rainwater harvesting is more than a technical solution—it’s a symbol of dignity, resilience, and possibility. In a city where water too often equals struggle, Isla Urbana is proving that equity can fall from the sky—if we’re willing to catch it.

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Isla Urbana USA’s student groups are a diverse network of young leaders from across the U.S., united by a common goal: bringing sustainable water solutions to communities in need. Since 2018, our chapters have steadily grown as more high school and university students join each year.

These dynamic teams support Isla Urbana’s mission by fundraising, organizing events, raising awareness, and participating in hands-on initiatives. As “Student Rainmakers,” they champion water autonomy and amplify our impact by inspiring their peers to take action against water scarcity, fostering a sense of ownership and responsibility among more young people. With each new group, our network grows and the movement for clean, reliable water access in Mexico gains even more momentum.

Why Students are Vital to Our Mission

We look forward to continuing to educate, inspire, and empower the next generation of environmental leaders. We are excited to see how the experiences gained in Mexico will influence these students’ futures, whether it be their academic paths, career choices, or continued commitment to sustainability. As they return to their communities, the impact of their work in Mexico will ripple outward, cultivating a brighter future for both the U.S. and Mexico through the power of education, collaboration, and community-driven action.

Student Summer Program

Building on the success of our student groups, the Isla Urbana USA Student Summer Program offers a transformative week-long adventure in Mexico City. Here, students immerse themselves in a vibrant culture, explore the complexities of water scarcity in Mexico, and actively contribute to the solution by installing rainwater harvesting systems. Evelyn Blanco, a 2024 Student Summer Program attendee, expresses the importance of the experience, stating:

By working alongside Isla Urbana team members and connecting with local communities, students gain a firsthand understanding of the true impact of their fundraising efforts. Installing systems they’ve helped fund for a community they can visit truly brings the cause to life. Meeting locals and hearing their stories adds depth to the experience, granting students the ability to connect with the faces and personal narratives behind the cause.

Samira Mehta participated in our Student Summer Program throughout high school and college before moving to Mexico to work as an intern with the organization. Reflecting on her experience, Samira shared:

“My journey with Isla Urbana has been the most rewarding and perspective-changing of my life. I’m constantly growing, whether it’s by learning to live within another culture, mastering a second language, or challenging my own views on how to empower communities.”

Traveling, experiencing a new culture, and meeting people with perspectives different from your own enriches these students’ worldviews, shaping them into more compassionate, thoughtful, and understanding leaders. Another 2024 Student Summer Program attendee, Anusri Chinni, recalls:

Last year, our largest cohort yet—25 students and 5 chaperones—installed four residential rainwater harvesting systems, benefiting four families and improving the lives of 24 people. During the week, students also participated in rainwater harvesting workshops, planted 100 Ahuejote trees, painted a vibrant mural, observed Chalchiuhtlicue Primary School’s Rain School Program, and sponsored the installation of a new Rural Rain School at Primaria Rural Tata Vasco in Tlalpujahua, Michoacán. This year, we’re planning to explore iconic landmarks like the pyramids of Teotihuacán and the colorful canals of Xochimilco!

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Water covers 71% of Earth’s surface, yet much of it is polluted or inaccessible. Earth Day is the perfect opportunity to recognize and uplift sustainable solutions that protect and conserve our natural resources—like Rainwater Harvesting (RWH).

As the world faces a looming water deficit—projected by the United Nations to reach 40% by 2030—RWH offers a powerful solution for managing water shortages in the face of climate change. By capturing and utilizing rainwater, these systems reduce reliance on traditional water supplies, minimize environmental impacts, and empower communities with limited or unreliable clean water access.

Climate Change Resilience

RWH provides significant resilience against climate change. According to the World Bank, 41% of Mexico’s territory is exposed to a range of natural disasters, many of which have detrimental effects. As climate change intensifies extreme weather events, in both frequency and severity, rainwater capture has become particularly valuable in regions with uneven rainfall distribution. 

By having water captured and stored, systems build a buffer against scarcity shocks and ensure a steady supply during dry periods. RWH can also mitigate the risk of urban flooding and erosion as it redirects rainwater that would otherwise overwhelm drainage systems, offering further protection to vulnerable areas from climate-related impacts.

Reducing Reliance on Traditional Water Supplies

In Mexico, where approximately 62% of Mexico’s water consumption comes from underground sources, over-extraction has severely depleted many aquifers, exacerbating long-term water scarcity. With RWH systems, communities alleviate pressure on groundwater and reduce dependence on municipal supplies. Residential systems can provide clean water for up to 12 months in rural areas, and up to 8 months in urban areas. This sustainable, local, and renewable source allows communities to preserve resources for themselves and future generations.

Beyond water security, RWH systems help reduce carbon emissions associated with traditional water supply methods—like water trucks. By harvesting water on-site, these systems reduce the need to pump water over long distances, transport it by vehicle, or rely on energy-intensive purification processes. This lowers carbon footprints because less energy means less emissions. 

How Isla Urbana Breaks Down Barriers

One of the main challenges associated with RWH systems is the initial cost of installation and maintenance. For many low-income communities, the upfront investment and technical knowledge required for upkeep can be significant barriers. Like any infrastructure, RWH systems require regular maintenance to ensure long-term functionality.

That’s why Isla Urbana goes beyond just installation—we place community empowerment at the heart of our work, focusing on local capacity building to ensure these sustainable systems deliver lasting community benefits. Through education, hands-on training, and ongoing support, we equip community members with the tools and confidence to maintain and manage their own water systems. 

Our goal is to foster self-sufficient, resilient communities that can independently address their water needs and challenges, reducing reliance on external support while strengthening long-term water security.

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Each year on March 22nd, World Water Day serves as a crucial reminder of our collective responsibility to protect and conserve freshwater. This global holiday celebrates water and raises awareness of global water issues, specifically water scarcity, a core focus of Sustainable Development Goal 6: water and sanitation for all by 2030.

First proposed at the 1992 UN Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, the first World Water Day was declared on March 22nd, 1993. Since then, this holiday has influenced international policies, encouraged water conservation efforts, and inspired grassroots movements worldwide.

Each year, the UN assigns a theme for World Water Day to highlight specific water-related challenges. In 2023, it was Accelerating Change, in 2024 it was Leveraging Water for Peace, and this year, the theme is Glacier Preservation.

The Importance of Glacier Preservation

As we celebrate this amazing day, it is important to recognize that nearly 2 billion people worldwide rely on water from glaciers, snowmelt, and mountain run-off. Glaciers are critical to life—their meltwater is essential for drinking water, agriculture, industry, clean energy production and healthy ecosystems.

As global temperatures rise, natural glaciers are melting at an alarming rate. In Switzerland, the Swiss Academy of Sciences reported that the nation’s glaciers have lost 10% of their volume in just two years of extreme heat. This loss has devastating effects, particularly for communities in arid, high-altitude regions, like Ladakh, a dry, high-altitude mountain desert on the edge of the Himalayas.

In the Ladakh region, 80% of farmers rely on glaciers for irrigation, making them an essential resource, as agriculture is the region’s primary livelihood. As glaciers shrink and move higher up the mountains, their meltwater arrives later in the year, starting in mid-June. However, farmers need water earlier, in April and May, for planting. Since winters are long, much of the unused meltwater simply flows into rivers. But, there is a solution: Artificial Glaciers.

Artificial Glaciers: A Climate Adaptation Strategy

Artificial glaciers are human-made ice structures designed to store water for communities reliant on glacial meltwater. They are created by capturing excess water from melting glaciers or snow and allowing it to freeze into large blocks of ice. These structures store fresh water during the winter and release it gradually during warmer months, mimicking the function of natural glaciers.

Ice stupas, a more advanced version of artificial glaciers, improve upon this by providing security in areas susceptible to flash floods, landslides, erosion and sedimentation. Ice stupas divert water from streams or rivers through gravity-fed pipes into shaded areas where it freezes on contact, forming towering ice structures that preserve water longer due to reduced sun exposure.

These structures counter water shortages by providing a steady water supply for communities, preventing farmers from facing declining crop production during dry periods.

Isla Urbana’s Contribution to World Water Day

Much like artificial glaciers, rainwater harvesting is an innovative and effective solution for water conservation. By capturing and storing rainwater, our systems ensure a sustainable, clean, and reliable water supply—addressing critical needs and enhancing resilience in vulnerable communities facing water insecurity. 

At Isla Urbana, we are proud to contribute to World Water Day by providing rainwater harvesting systems that transform each rainfall into a vital resource. Each drop of rain brings a new opportunity to harness nature’s most reliable resource. Too often, rainwater goes untapped, and our systems provide a vital supply to those who need it most.  

Water is a fundamental human right, and by providing these life-changing systems, Isla Urbana is committed to building a future where clean water is accessible to all.

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