The initiative is not without its critics, however. Carlos Crespo, a sociologist from Cochabamba, believes the new law gives irrigators too much power. It assumes the strength of their unions’ democratic structures and leanes too heavily on communities’ usos y costumbres. “This will only create a new aristocracy of organized irrigators within the broader peasant community,” he says. He doesn’t think the usos y costumbres can reign this tendency in, and suggests that Oso has romanticized their power.

A national irrigation board is nevertheless up and running, and eight of the nine provinces have set up or are in the process of setting up regional institutes. At both levels, the largest block of directors will come from irrigators’ associations. When I left Bolivia at the end of June, the Cochabamba province—the birthplace of the irrigation law, at the time being governed by Reyes Villa—was the only remaining holdout.

Since then, political events have taken dizzying turns. In August, recall referendums were held for the presidency and the country’s nine governors. Reyes Villa lost support, scoring beneath 40 percent and resigning his post. Morales, meanwhile, won 67 percent, a substantial increase over his historic 53 percent three years prior. Despite this, Bolivia’s elites are largely fed up with him, and last week, government opponents killed at least thirty indigenous people in one of the resource-rich eastern provinces where the opposition is based. Today, Bolivia is on the brink of civil war.

If Morales’s government survives, more change will be on the way. Oso’s Agua Sustentable, with IDRC’s continuing support, is using the irrigation law as a springboard to try to change all water laws. Bolivia’s water ministry is currently adapting the irrigation framework to drinking water. Agua Sustenatable has also helped legislators draft a new constitution (to be voted on in a future referendum) that contains a sophisticated concept of water rights: the right of agua para la vida, water for life, a concept that recognizes not just the rights of humans, but of all living beings and the environment itself.

A lengthy thirst

As I pace around central Combuyo, a small village in the outskirts of Vinto in the valley of Cochabamba province, I hear the soft purr of irrigation water rushing through a slender canal of potted cement. Here, I meet Félix Cáceres, an energetic and articulate campesino in worn wool pants and a grey, V-neck sweater. Deep squint lines radiate from his dark brown eyes, cutting across his temples and the bridge of his nose.

Combuyo’s farmers grow lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, onions, peas, potatoes, and gladiolus flowers in small, square plots, but the dispute of the day here over drinking water—or rather, a basin that a wealthy local aristocrat has tried to fence off for his own use. According to Don Félix, he has even hired soldiers to fend off peasants. But the villagers have managed to maintain access, and without outside help built a water tank. “We’ve had the usos y costumbres from time immemorial,” he tells me.

We take up a pickup truck up a rocky path, then hike through a river of boulders to visit the spring that supplies the drinking water, through hundreds of meters of thick rubber tubes. Our ascent takes up past one of countless groves of Australian eucalyptus planted throughout the valley decades ago. The trees are fragrant and beautiful but suck vast quantities of water out of the already dry earth—one of many misguided foreign aid projects that still haunt Bolivia.

Combuyo is about to get Bolivia’s first official drinking-water registro, granting them legal title to their drinking water source in perpetuity. Cáceres is bursting with enthusiasm as he tells me how excited his fellow villagers are to finally have a title to their water to match their title to the land—with the difference that the water cannot be sold or otherwise brought to market.

He expands to more general topics. “Before, the guys with the cash were the presidents. Now, thanks to the unions, to the social movements, we’re in power and we’re in charge. Sure, our side is making mistakes,” he concedes with a smile, “But we gave the others two centuries!” Five, in fact: before Bolivia became a country, it was ruled for nearly 300 years by the Spaniards. Local control over life’s most basic material has been a long time coming.