Saturday, January 24, 2009

Part 2: Why is there Poop in My Margarita? my subterranean mexican blues.

My vicarious experience with Montezuma’s Revenge over the Christmas holiday raised some questions. Where, I wondered, does Mexico get its freshwater supply? And how does fecal matter make its way into this water? And what does Mexico do to filter or process its water to make it fit for human consumption?

The answer to the first question lies in the area’s geology. The Yucatan peninsula is made out of a thick layer (hundreds of meters) of limestone. Limestone is fairly ubiquitous in tropical environments because it forms in warm shallow seas from the compacted shells of sea creatures. Later, during a period of uplift, the bottom of the sea is pushed up and becomes the ground beneath our feet, or bedrock. When limestone gets broken down into sand during the process of weathering, the result are those white sandy beaches that we are used to associating with warm island vacation spots. (The characteristic turquoise blue of the water is also due to the limestone sand).

In addition to gorgeous beaches, you’re also likely to find caves wherever you find limestone. This is because the rock is composed mostly of the mineral calcium carbonate, which dissolves easily in acidic water. Thanks to the combination of high rainfall and high atmospheric carbon dioxide, much of the Yucatan’s limestone bedrock has dissolved, resulting in an extensive network of underground caves, cracks, and fissures, and a landscape dominated by classic karst topography*.

Rainwater infiltrates quickly through the highly permeable limestone until it reaches the water table—the level below which all of the empty spaces within the rock are filled with water (a large body of rock with water in all of its empty space is referred to as an aquifer). The entire population of the Yucatan peninsula gets its fresh water from natural springs or wells that tap this supply of groundwater.

In much of the Yucatan peninsula—and especially near the ocean—the water table happens to be fairly close to the ground surface. On the one hand, this makes it easy to dig a well. On the other hand, the high water table means that pollutants from the surface seep quickly and easily into the groundwater supply—these pollutants include toxic industrial, medical, human, and agricultural waste. In addition to the pollutants’ “natural” flow into the aquifers, many communities on the Yucatan actively pump liquid waste underground as a method of disposal. Solid wastes are frequently burned and then added to unlined landfills, where contaminants are leached by rainwater and carried underground.

Furthermore, because the network of cracks and caves is so extensive throughout the Yucatan, once underground pollutants can spread far from their source, contaminating vast sections of the groundwater supply.

Considering these facts, it isn’t surprising that there’s poop in the water.

In the more industrial parts of the Yucatan, such as Merida—the peninsula’s largest city—there are chemicals whose toxicity far exceed that of a few pesky strains of e. coli. One recent study of the groundwater in Merida found high levels of cadmium, arsenic, lead, iron, and chromium, none of which are beneficial to human health.

The Riviera Maya—the area south of Cancun including Playa del Carmen, Tulum, and a string of resorts—has undergone rapid development over the past ten years, bringing both huge numbers of tourists and a large industry-support population to the area. It seems wildly irresponsible to engage in rapid development of an area such as this based on its natural beauty without taking into account the environmental and—ultimately—economic impact of that development. I believe this is a matter of putting the cart before the horse, of leaping before we look, and I believe we should know better than that in this twenty-first century of ours.

We find ourselves always moving forward into an uncertain future. Often, the nature of progress requires us to rush forward in some new direction before we have the capacity to understand the consequences of our actions. The problem, as I see it, arises when we do have the capability to explore the impact of some human venture or activity, but we choose not to. Certainly, this is the case with the state of freshwater in the Yucatan peninsula, as well as many other places in the developing and developed world.

It is well within the means of science to explore the current hydrogeological state of the Yucatan peninsula. Our findings could tell us how much water is there, and to what extent it is contaminated. More importantly, we could apply this knowledge to the sustainable development of the area. How much will it cost? Can we afford not to do it?


*A karst landscape is made out of limestone and has a characteristic dry, lumpy look to it. The lack of moisture is due not to a lack of rainfall, but to the high permeability of limestone rock—when it rains, the water infiltrates quickly downward until it reaches the water table. Underground cave networks give way and fall in on themselves, giving rise to an uneven, “lumpy” ground surface. Check out Ireland’s burren for some good-looking karst landscape.

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4 comments:

Ryan Fitz Gibbon said...

i may never feel the same about margaritas...

Emily said...

nothing a little happy hour at pequena can't fix, i hope.

Anika said...

I want a margarita with you! And more science blogs, how will I pass my days without them?

Unknown said...

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