A remarkable poplar tree graces the courtyard of Maribel Ek, its presence highlighted by a sign proclaiming, “Florece desde adentro” (“It blooms from within”).
Below the surface, the extensive roots of the tree are in search of the vital water that characterizes this unique land—a sinkhole lake known as a cenote.
Cenotes are essential to the community of Homun, located in the Yucatan state of Mexico, serving not only as a critical water source but also supporting local livelihoods as residents guide international tourists into the underground caverns to swim in their crystal-clear waters.
For the Indigenous Mayans, including Ek, these cenotes hold a sacred significance.
As she ventures into the cavern, she illuminates a stone adorned with flowers, pots, and candles—the remnants of a tribute she offered in gratitude for what the cenote has provided her.
She affectionately refers to this sacred site as her “neighbor,” deserving of protection.
This deep-seated belief has led to a legal battle aimed at granting personhood status to the Ring of Cenotes, which consists of hundreds of underwater lakes encompassing the northwestern Yucatan Peninsula, and which serves as the primary freshwater source for the area.
The lawsuit, initiated by the Indigenous Mayan group Kana’an Ts’onot, known as the Guardians of the Cenotes, seeks to shield the region from the pollution brought by industries attracted by its abundant waters.
As designated guardians, the group would have the standing to advocate for the rights of the cenotes in court, a move that could pave the way for the first ecosystem in Mexico to receive such rights, inspired by precedents like the Whanganui River in New Zealand and the Komi Memem River in Brazil.
Ek, a member of the Guardians, compares the cenote and its waters to a person, articulating the motivations behind their struggle.
“You have to be her voice, the hands she lacks,” she expresses.
The challenges facing cenotes have escalated in recent years.
Contributing factors include rapid urbanization, insufficient drainage systems, and an influx of breweries and large soybean plantations, as well as the construction of the Maya Train, which has solidified thousands of steel pillars into this underground wonderland.
Of greatest concern to the Guardians of the Cenotes is the proliferation of pig farms in the vicinity.
Reports from Mexico’s Ministry of Environment indicate that there are 507 pig farms operating near the Ring of Cenotes, with 90% lacking environmental impact assessments and over 60% without permits for wastewater discharge, severely compromising the management of the vast amounts of water contaminated with pig waste generated by these facilities.
Often, this polluted water migrates into the aquifer, posing substantial risks due to the area’s karstic soil, which consists of permeable limestone filled with conduits that allow pollutants to seep underground.
Yameli Aguilar, a biologist and environmental engineer from the Autonomous University of Yucatan, explains how this unique geology elevates the risk of contamination.
A comprehensive study conducted by the Ministry analyzed the water quality of 20 cenotes adjacent to pig farms, revealing that all showed fecal coliform (E. coli) levels exceeding safety thresholds set by Mexican authorities.
Additionally, in 26 of the 51 Yucatan municipalities housing pig farms, conditions were noted as “critical” for aquifer sustainability due to elevated nitrogen levels stemming from pig waste.
Despite the land being designated as a natural protected area and recognized by the Ramsar Convention as a wetland of international significance, the government has failed to avert the serious contamination affecting the cenotes, according to lawyer Lourdes Medina, who represents the Guardians in this case.
In 2017, Ek and others in Homun formed the Guardians of the Cenotes to combat the establishment of a 49,000-pig farm on their outskirts.
They organized protests, public consultations, and legal efforts, which yielded little effect until a lawsuit from six local children seeking clean water resulted in a judge ordering the farm’s closure.
Although it remains shuttered, the legal contest is ongoing.
In 2022, they initiated the personhood lawsuit intended to not only defend Homun but also the other 52 communities within the Ring of Cenotes.
Recently, progress has been made: a Yucatan state judge instructed authorities not to issue permits for any projects that could affect the area until the case is resolved, a decision that could come at the start of next year.
Without legal protections, there is a palpable fear among the group that the sacred cenotes could face pollution and lose their pristine waters.
Industries, including pig farms, are drawn to this region due to its water resources.
Each farm employs substantial amounts of water—approximately 20 liters are used for each kilogram of meat produced—to keep animals cool and manage waste.
Industry representatives, however, assert they are not responsible for the contamination.
Carlos Ramayo Navarrete, the director of the Pig Farmers Association in Merida, contends that the real culprits are unregulated small-scale operations, not the well-regulated larger farms he oversees.
He claims that nearly half of the water used in their operations is recycled and that all farms have treatment facilities designed to reduce the pollutants in their wastewater, which is then utilized as fertilizer for crop irrigation.
“An industry that does everything possible and beyond shouldn’t be vilified,” he said.
Nevertheless, both the Ministry of the Environment and Aguilar assert that the industry’s current measures are insufficient to prevent aquifer pollution.
Aguilar continued, “Given the significant volume of water utilized, no existing treatment plant can adequately diminish the pollution load from all that wastewater.”
As the legal proceedings unfold, the friction between mega-farms and the local residents intensifies.
In 2023, inhabitants of Sitilpech, located about 50 kilometers from Homun, protested against a nearby 48,000-pig farm in their community.
The protests were met with police repression, leading to arrests of several villagers.
When journalists approached the Kekén-operated farm this year, they encountered a guard brandishing a machete at the entrance.
The house closest to the farm is modestly sized, painted green, with a porch bearing a banner demanding the pig farm’s closure.
In her backyard, Marcela Chi Eb reflects on the impacts of the farm on her daily life, expressing concern about her family’s future access to safe water.
In Homun, Maribel Ek emerges from the cenote’s depths, diving into its turquoise waters.
Having spent her childhood collecting water from this source due to inadequate public supply, she recognizes this cenote as more than just an underground cavity; it’s a nurturing companion.
“That’s why we fight for rights for our cenotes,” she declares.
