Andrés Emiliano Sierra Martínez
PhD Researcher
University of Sheffield
I am a sociologist whose work explores urban environmental justice and everyday life, with a particular emphasis on neighbourhood organisations and the social consequences of water scarcity. My doctoral research at the University of Sheffield examined how grassroots organisations in Mexico City respond to water scarcity and its sociopolitical consequences, particularly those arising from an intermittent and unequal supply, and how residents generate and sustain forms of belonging, participation, and care under conditions of uncertainty. I am especially interested in exploring the social consequences of water scarcity in everyday life, and its connections to inequality, privilege, and place attachment.
Hey neighbour, do you have water?
Keywords:
water scarcity, neighbour-based organisations, environmental justice
Every morning is the same for Julia. She wakes up around four and opens the water tap. Then comes a wave of anxiety through her body: she never knows if water will come out. Many other women in her neighbourhood wonder, each morning, if they will have water in their homes.
Julia lives in Santo Domingo, in the municipality of Coyoacán, in south Mexico City. The city faces a water crisis driven by population growth, changes in land use and urban density, and drought. Santo Domingo has been particularly affected. Water only arrives during certain hours or days, in a system known as tandeo. However, residents are uncertain about when this will happen.
If water does come, Julia does as much as she can with it before it disappears again, usually around seven. If it doesn’t, she checks the amount of water left in her underground cistern. Then she decides if she can go ahead with her day and cook, wash, shower, clean, or use the toilet.
Many people call for government-owned water trucks to solve their daily needs. They are placed on a waiting list by the municipality authorities, and a long wait begins. A full day of work may be lost just staying home waiting for the water truck, which may take days to arrive. People like Julia say it’s no secret that some local officials use water trucks to gain political support, offering them in exchange for loyalty or votes.
In Santo Domingo, it is women who suffer this issue the most. Water scarcity adds to the burdens of care and domestic work, unequally distributed, and always unpaid. It has also enabled a network of water political clienteles using water trucks.
But these women are not standing still in the face of suffering. One day, Julia stepped outside and knocked on a neighbour’s door to ask her "hey, do you have any water?" She gathered with others and realised they all were facing the same problems.
Julia and her neighbours joined many others in early 2020 to form the Water Defence Committee of Santo Domingo, an organisation demanding a well that would inject water directly into the pipes, seeking to improve access. After years of protest, the well became operational in 2022, informally baptised by the WDC as “the well of the people.”
Julia shared her story with me during a research interview, as part of a project on neighbour-based organisations and their responses to environmental injustice. She also kept a diary where she recorded daily routines around water.
Now, each morning, Julia opens the tap, but the fear is not as intense. Even after the well, the problem may continue and water may be scarce, but she can alert others, see who else is affected, and gather with them to protest or have a meeting. In the street or in online groups, neighbours in Santo Domingo still ask each other: Hey, do you have water? The WDC shows what can come after that question.