Water is the constant theme that flows through sacred and secular Bali. The island’s iconic rice fields are nourished by water flowing through ancient irrigation systems. Springs emerging from volcanic rock provide the holy water for ceremonies, fill temple pools and supply water for community bathing places. From the first sprinkle of holy water three days after birth to the consignment of ashes to the rivers after cremation, a Balinese life is woven in water. Now Bali’s relationship with water is entering a new stage. Plentiful water is quickly becoming a thing of the past.
The water levels in three out of Bali’s four crater lakes have dropped dramatically. It’s hard to obtain reliable data. The level of water in Lake Batur, which supplies water to four regencies, is variously reported to have dropped between one and four meters over the past five years. Whichever number is the more accurate is perhaps not as important as the fact that this large lake on which so many people rely has lost an enormous volume of water. What remains is increasingly polluted with agricultural chemicals. Lakes Beratan and Buyan are also losing volume. The loss of water volume is attributed to erosion due to deforestation. (Again, the statistics are all over the place, but Bali’s jungle cover is between half and two thirds of the recommended level.) Constantly increasing pressure on water sources by uncontrolled development also plays a strong role.
It’s deeply disturbing to learn that of Bali’s 400 rivers, 260 have dried up and the remainder are carrying much less water than previously. One village in Tabanan reports that the spring it relied on to irrigate the rice fields no longer produces enough water and the farmers are now growing corn. I’ve heard many stories of springs drying up or producing less water; these are symptoms of declining water tables.
In the south of Bali where most of the population lives, saline intrusion into the water tables is threatening well water. Before the south became so built up, rainwater penetrated the ground and recharged the freshwater table. Now that so much land is covered in concrete, the rain is channeled into ditches and rivers and runs off into the sea instead. And, of course, more hotels, villas and industries are tapping into this resource every day. A recent tenfold hike of water rates for these larger consumers will perhaps help them to focus on the issue.
Governor Pastika notes, “In the city, people can obtain water for Rp 50 a cubic meter. But in the more remote regions like Kubu or Seraya, the cost of a cubic meter of water can cost Rp 50,000. This is not just and must be remedied.” Mangku Pastika really understands the social and environmental issues and calls for urgent remedial action. But even a massive multidisciplinary initiative in water catchment, reforestation and education would take a long time to turn this situation around.
Meanwhile, more of Bali’s precious rice land is drying up all the time. The subak system of rice cultivation is integral to Balinese culture. This complex social and geographical system ensures a water supply to all the farmers of the subak group, and before the Green Revolution fixed rice planting schedules that shared the water and controlled pests. The ancient subak system taught organizational skills, environmental preservation and democratic process. The earliest writings in the Balinese language in the eighth century refer to rice harvests and the builders of irrigation tunnels. The rice that you casually spoon into your plate may well have been grown on a terrace that’s been under cultivation for over a thousand years. Some experts believe that the subak is the only remaining communally-owned traditional water management system still operating in the world today. A Bali cultural preservation expert is asking UNESCO to consider adding Bali’s traditional subak to its World Heritage Site list. Hopefully the subaks will still have enough water to operate by the time that happens.
Some villages in Bali have never had a convenient water supply. Recently I visited a farming village on the slopes of Kintamani which has traditional rights to use three springs –- but the water sources are between two and four kilometers distant from the village. I was researching a potential project for my Rotary Club (I used to think Rotary Clubs were stuffy but now that I belong to one, I find they are pretty cool.) After a long drive, I accompanied the villagers and a group of young Balinese from Ubud down steep ravines to examine the springs. The largest seemed pathetically small to supply 544 families but I was assured it would be adequate –- if a way could be found to pump it up to the top of the ravine, pipe it the four kilometres to the village and create a large storage tank for it. While this was under discussion, a woman arrived with a bucket of clothing to be washed. She’d brought her motorbike to the edge of the ravine and hiked down with the laundry. When it was washed she’d hike up the steep trail again with the heavy load. She was lucky in having transportation. Until a few years ago, women of the village had to walk to the spring.
Each household has a large concrete tank for rainwater but in the dry season it is soon gone. Most families in the village now pay up to Rp 700,000 a year for water delivered in water trucks, a huge sum for farmers. This water is used for drinking and cooking; bathing and laundry are done in the river or at the springs. And the poorest families that can’t afford to buy water must travel to these steep and distant springs even for drinking water. Hopefully the water table here will remain stable.
This village will soon get its water piped from the spring, thanks to generous Rotary Clubs in the United States. But there must be many more communities in rural Bali that are in similar circumstances. If you know of one, please contact me at bali_cat7@yahoo.com and we will try to find a solution.
Speaking of solutions brings me to the subject of rain. Lying in bed at night I listen to the rain hammering on the roof, running off the gutters, flowing down to the river where it will rush out to sea. The great irony of Bali’s increasing water crisis is that the island receives plentiful rainfall in most areas, but there are no man-made dams or reservoirs to capture and store it. Clearly, a sustainable option in managing the water shortage is to harvest rainwater at the household level. I have two big tanks that fill in minutes during a heavy rain and have never run out even when my street’s been without piped water for days.
Water is so easy to take for granted when there’s plenty of it. In the rich tapestry of Bali’s geography and culture, water is both the warp and weft. Cherish it, and catch the rain.
’Dragons in the Bath’, a collection of Ibu Kat’s stories, is now available in paperback from
* Kuta : Dijon
* Seminyak : Ganesha at Biku
* Ubud : Ganesha Books, KAFE,
Ubud Music, Threads of Life,
Eve Body Treatment Centres
