Greeting swells and Depleting Wells

The lush Kinbi¹, among the earliest to greet settlers of Maldivian forests, remember the distant memories of families they sheltered. They echo the memories of children running after chicks — and the kids’ tittering when the mother hen aggressively flew towards them. Parents toiling away in the scorching heat, tirelessly farming and reaping crops in the plantation fields. The trees remember the groundwater wells that resided in these fields that nursed their annual harvest. These bustling routines and rustling leaves chorus a melody in the echoing forests of the islands.

I remember collecting discarded tuna and tomato paste cans that washed ashore from the seas. We played the local game Pitu² with these makeshift stacks of tuna cans. After a hot day in the sun, the losing team of Pitu³ becomes the target of valhah lun: the losing members are carried and lowered down into the shallow groundwater wells where they must climb back on their own. The winning team would soak themselves with well water using a dhaani⁴. This is just one among many vivid memories I reminisce from time to time.

I also remember showering to my heart’s content, free from the worries of its economic value. The water from the wells was as fresh as my memories of going to moodhu⁵ to grapple kattafulhi⁶. They would flitter in the hem of my dress as I ran barefoot in high spirits all the way home to introduce them into our wells. Sometimes, an unfortunate fish occasionally got ensnared in the dhaani while water was poured out.

I treasure the parts of my childhood spent traveling to islands during school break to visit family and friends. I remember swinging in the joali⁷ and conversing with my friends to plan the next moodhu session, which was almost always a must after study time. The seawater bathing always ended with showers from the groundwater wells near the beach so we could freshen up and clean our sandy feet before heading home.

From my joali talks with the neighbors and elderly locals, when asked about groundwater conservation in their days, they claimed they did not have to do much thanks to the surrounding vegetation that aided groundwater recharge. Even with nature draping the islands with its green tapestry, island communities cleaned their wells before monsoons hit, and cleaned their septic tanks to avoid contamination.

In recent times, shock chlorination in the wells in addition to the utilization of oxygen pumps and reverse osmosis plants before use are often observed in island communities. Some island houses also have roof gutters and pipe systems connected to wells along with integrated rainwater harvesting systems due to inadequate recharging surfaces.

Today, many residents believe the main cause of groundwater contamination to be the establishment of septic tanks over the years due to the growing population and poor land-use plans in the islands. With increasing urbanization and diminishing vegetation, many islands need proper stormwater and aquifer management due to frequent flooding events and depletion of groundwater.

When I get the opportunity to island-hop — whether for work or leisure — I like sitting down with neighbors and chatting about their daily lives. In one such conversation, Sumayya dhaitha⁸ living on an island in the south shared her concerns regarding the changes in groundwater textures and smell in her farm area. I hesitantly asked if she used pesticides for farming. She replied that it was a familiar and mutual practice among the farmers. She was unaware that years of using chemical pesticides in her farms likely caused contamination in groundwater.

In such islands, groundwater extraction can also be higher where farmers and fishermen in the islands greatly rely on groundwater for produce and haul. This causes increased saline conditions compared to islands using it only for their household needs like gardening, cooking, washing, and toilet use. With rainwater-harvesting stores running out in dry seasons, dependence on plant water has increased in recent years. Like Sumayya dhaitha’s island, many still lack sanitation and water plant systems. 

The 2004 Tsunami marked a turning point in many aspects of Maldivian life. The wounds of this nationwide catastrophe are still fresh both in our minds and the surrounding environment years later. Like many locals, Badhuru — who lives in one of the bandharu mathee⁹ houses — shared his experience with color and odor changes in his well after the tsunami. With saltwater intrusion into aquifers disrupting the freshwater lens, many locals like him stopped using groundwater for drinking and cooking.

Other natural events such as swells and tidal waves have also caused frequent floods and damage to the freshwater lens. I, too, often find myself near the beach, anticipating when the waves might swell and crash, even if it’s not the usual season for it. As each Hulhangu Moosun¹⁰ approaches, the nearshore area experiences its annual tidal swells. Often, if I see a seabird along the shoreline, I feel somewhat relieved that the waves are simply greeting us and not poised to wash us away. At the end of the day, from the horizon’s view, both the seabird and I coexist by the ocean, seeking nourishment from its depths.

Over the years, many local news agencies and councils have also reported damages to households and coastal areas due to flooding. During the Southwest Monsoon of 2021, islands in the south reported flooding due to heavy rain, affecting 1500 people. The lack of systematic records of these events has inhibited our readiness for such events. While groundwater conservation and flood mitigation efforts are interlinked in many ways, blending developmental plans with sustainable aquifer management is important.

In similar small island developing countries curbing the issue, experts expressed caution against a myopic approach, without addressing the root causes of groundwater depletion. The call for comprehensive aquifer management systems in development plans remains a crucial debate when tharaggee¹¹ earns votes for our seasoned politicians in election cycles, owing to the rising demand for superfluous projects like land reclamation, airport construction, and road paving in islands even if it isn’t socially, economically, or environmentally feasible. Just like how communities demonstrate their shared labor through the construction of concrete wells, they should also commit to building a resilient foundation through accountability. 

In the past and recent years, Maldivian wells symbolize our collective determination, and our communities drew strength from these wells during challenging times. This was even more evident in 2014 when the water crisis in Male’ suspended desalinated water supplies.

From childhood pastimes to the current dilemmas of developmental challenges, Maldivians have formed an intricate relationship with groundwater use. As the saying goes: “valhu kattafulhi dhaanyakah nusiheyne,” i.e., “the kattafulhi in the well are not startled by the pole bucket.”¹²

Our generation can also embrace the spirit of the kattafulhi with local conservation practices anchored by our unique ecology to withstand the threats posed by metropolitan urbanization and the climate crisis. A balance between today’s sustainable urban drainage systems and the echoes of our ancestors’ practices should guide us and remind us that the conservation of groundwater is not only necessary for today, but for our future as well.

Footnotes:

¹  Sea poison trees
² A variation of the traditional Indian game called Pithu
³ “Valhah lun” literally means “to place in a well,” although it is also used to mean “to bury.”
⁴ A pole bucket
⁵ The beach
⁶ Barred flagtail
⁷ Locally woven swings with coir rope. Often found outside Maldivian homes.
⁸ Dhaitha is an endearing word that means aunty. People also use “dhahtha” in the same way.
⁹ Harbor area
¹⁰ South-west monsoon
¹¹ The Maldivian variation of “economic growth” or “development”
¹² This idiom tries to capture the spirit of resilience and resistance in the face of adversity.