Johnny Ortiz

¬ Each year as the days start getting warmer but the mornings are still cold we participate in the centuries old tradition of cleaning and squaring off our acequia.
 
Acequias are channels of water diverted from the river up hill to then flood pastures, gardens and orchards in turn to each parciante for an allotted amount of time based on the size of land they have. Acequias are said to be the oldest systems of water management in the United States, and while true in the fact that they are the oldest ‘documented’ form, I can’t imagine that is actually true. Water had been managed pre contact in many different forms, however the acequia system as we know it now has shaped the landscape of Northern New Mexico and continues to live on.
 
The acequia system is so special because it has been practiced in almost the exact way as when they were initially set up, with minor differences between communities and with modern approaches as time has gone on. In the northern mountain village we inhabit the acequia is said to have been started in the seventeen hundreds. Some sections of our acequia are over ten feet tall with cedar trees so thick and old you can hardly wrap your arms around them. 
 
Acequia in arabic means ‘water carrier’ and were brought to the ‘new world’ by the Spanish ( half of my lineage ) but taken or learned from Northern African. The Spanish had a book called law of the indies which was essentially a guide book to colonizing a new land. That book has negative connotations, but I can’t help but admire the way it has shaped the land I am from and continue to inhabit. Part of this guide book explained how to settle a new land, and essentially it said to build the acequia first, and then the church. To simplify the method of digging a new acequia, you would find a new land and walk up the river as far up as you could until it closes up and then go back on the highest point. This would be where you would dig the ditch and everything below that would be delegated to pastures and the growing of food, everything above would be the dry land where the home would be built and where the animals would be kept. It’s hard to stand in the ditch and to not think about all those that have dug and cleaned it up to that point. I can’t help but admire how hard it must have been to dig a ditch along rocky mountain sides moving water up hill.
 
I grew up with an acequia running through my grandfathers property on Taos Pueblo where my siblings and I grew up. It hadn’t been used since my grandfather had used it, which was around when I was born, but being a communal system the water still ran. We got to play in the cold waters of fresh snowmelt that flowed though the property and spring/summer and hide in the willow groves that surrounded it. Because the acequia was and still is all dirt the water seeps through and nurtures the wildlife around it. At my grandfathers there was more fruit than we could ever or ever did eat. ( plums, chokecherries, apples, apricots, sour cherries ).
 
As I’ve gotten older I have grown a deeper appreciation for the bounties the acequias bring and all the sweat that has and will go into them. The grass grown on our pastures are all watered by the flooding via the acequia and are cut, dried, baled, and stored to feed our cattle and sheep through the rest of the year. Besides that inherent value of hay produced, the acequia system is rewarding in the way that is largely a community operated system. To be honest I am a pretty independent person and like my autonomy, but I also like to be part of the community that is where I live. This communal system ties everyone together in a way that nothing else does or can. All winter we will spend weeks without talking to anyone in the village, but once the acequias open its rare to go a day out without speaking with at least one neighbor.
 
Where we live almost every person on the acequia uses the water from it and this means that if anyone neglects their portion they are spoiling the bounty for everyone else or making others take responsibility for their neglect. The parciantes, those participating in the system, keep each other in line. If someone steals the water, they are stealing from everyone else, so most parciantes respect each other by sharing the water as each person is allotted.
 
Now beginning of April, as I post this, the community gathers in the morning and heads up to ‘la presa’ ( head-gate ) where the water is diverted from the river and participates in cleaning out the acequia from the beginning to the end. Before this ritual, each parciante is responsible for cleaning their own portion, so when this time comes the mayordomo can let loose a small portion of water as each parciante with their tool of choice, usually a pitch fork, can help each other in removing any debris or rocks that may impair water flow. This stage, the ‘sacar la acequia’, is about strength in numbers, but also makes each parciantes hard work transparent to all the others parciantes. To me this portion is the part that keeps each member from neglecting their section as everyone can see if they are neglecting their portion during the walk.
 
Acequias are many things, but for me at this moment, they are a reminder that culture is preserved and perpetuated through participation and not in externalization. We can romance the acequias and write or share about them, but what keeps them alive is our participation in them.
 
This task is one we look forward to all winter, and one that when it finally comes we are excited for it to be finished.
 
You can watch a process video of the preliminary cleaning of our section below:
 
PROCESS VIDEO 
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<a href="https://shed-project.com/Recuerdos-videos">‘SACAR LA ACEQUIA’</a>
Video work: <a href="http://maidagoods.com/">MAIDA BRANCH</a>

Sacar la acequia

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