Tag Archives: tenochtitlan

The Snake on the Mexican Flag

By Jane Bauer

The Mexican flag is a symbol of pride that’s steeped in history and meaning. Its design is bold and unforgettable: three vertical bands of green, white, and red, with the Mexican coat of arms front and center. While the colors have their own stories, it’s the coat of arms that really draws you in—a golden eagle perched on a prickly pear cactus, clutching a snake in its talons and beak. This powerful image tells a story that’s deeply tied to Mexican identity, blending mythology, history, and nature.

The snake on the flag isn’t there by chance; it’s an essential part of the founding myth of Tenochtitlán, the ancient capital of the Mexica people. According to legend, the god Huitzilopochtli told the Mexica to build their city where they saw an eagle eating a snake while perched on a nopal cactus. This vision supposedly appeared in the middle of a lake, a divine sign for them to settle there. In 1325, they established Tenochtitlán on an island in Lake Texcoco, which eventually became the heart of the Aztec Empire. Today, the site of that legendary city is Mexico City, one of the most vibrant and sprawling cities in the world.

The eagle and snake image is loaded with symbolism. The eagle, a predator of the skies, stands for strength, power, and the heavens. It’s often seen as a symbol of the sun, which was central to Mesoamerican beliefs. The snake, on the other hand, is more complex. In many cultures, snakes symbolize fertility, rebirth, and transformation because they shed their skin. In Mesoamerican traditions, the snake is also tied to the earth and the underworld, representing wisdom and duality. When you put the eagle and snake together, they embody the balance of opposing forces: heaven and earth, life and death, the divine and the human.

So, why is the snake being eaten? Some say it represents good triumphing over evil or chaos being brought under control. Others think it reflects the Mexica’s ability to survive and thrive in a tough, competitive world. Whatever the interpretation, the image speaks to Mexico’s history of struggle and resilience, from the rise of the Mexica to the challenges the country faces today.

The inclusion of this imagery on the flag ties Mexicans not just to their indigenous roots but also to the natural world. The nopal cactus, with its bright green paddles and red fruits, is native to Mexico and a key part of the country’s environment and cuisine. By placing the eagle and snake on the cactus, the story becomes firmly rooted in the land itself, blending a heavenly vision with earthly reality. It’s a reminder of the deep connection between the people and the place they call home.

Over the years, the flag’s design has changed to reflect Mexico’s shifting political and social landscape. But the core image of the eagle, snake, and cactus has stayed the same, showing just how enduring and powerful it is. During the fight for independence in the early 1800s, the flag’s colors took on new meanings: green for independence and hope, white for unity and faith, and red for the blood of those who fought for freedom. Combined with the coat of arms, the flag became a unifying symbol for a diverse nation carving out its identity.

Today, the Mexican flag is more than just a national emblem; it’s a source of pride for Mexicans everywhere. The story of the eagle and snake is a reminder of the importance of resilience, adaptability, and staying connected to our roots. It’s a visual story that captures the complexity and beauty of Mexico—a country shaped by myth, history, and the strength of its people. Flag Day in Mexico is celebrated on February 24th.

Mexico City’s Water Crisis

By Julie Etra

Mexico City is facing a severe water crisis, a situation rooted in centuries of mismanagement dating back to the Spanish conquest of Tenochtitlan, now modern-day Mexico City. After the conquest, Tenochtitlan expanded into the five lakes that formed the closed basin of Mexico. These lakes, which had no natural outlet, varied in elevation and water quality. The Mexica (also known as the Aztecs) had successfully engineered the lakes by building a series of dikes and causeways starting in the 1420s, separating the brackish from fresh water.

Before 1466, fresh water was sourced from the springs at Chapultepec, accessed via canoes or trajineras (shallow-bottomed boats). During this time, the poet-engineer Nezahualcóyotl built the first aqueduct. However, the Spanish, inheriting a system they didn’t fully understand, began a series of drainage projects to dry what they considered a swamp. These efforts, combined with land-use changes such as grazing, cultivation, and deforestation, led to erosion and siltation. These projects, along with seasonal rains, couldn’t prevent periodic floods, which struck in 1555, 1580, 1607, 1615, and 1623. Despite persistent flooding, the Spanish refused to relocate to the mainland, convinced that the lake system could eventually be drained.

The first major engineering project came in 1607-1608, under the direction of Enrique Martinez. A tunnel was excavated to a low point in Nochistongo, called the Desagüe, but the plan failed. In the great flood of 1629, the only dry spot left was around the Zócalo (then known as the ‘island of the dogs’) where people sought refuge. The Catholic Church leaders, undeterred, even held mass on the rooftops. The floods lasted for five years, and the death toll reached over 30,000, largely due to disease in the unsanitary, muddy conditions. Despite these horrors, the Church and the government (which were essentially one and the same) justified staying on the island, minimizing the destruction in their reports to the King of Spain, instead of moving to the mainland.

The paradox continued into the 20th century with ever-larger engineering projects. In 1857, Francisco Garay was awarded a contract by the federal government to design a new system. His project included a 50 km tunnel from San Lázaro, east of the city, which channeled rivers and incorporated over 200 minor canals. The goal was not just to drain the basin, but also to provide irrigation for fields and create a waterway transportation system—a lofty vision that was never fully realized.

Under the regime of dictator Porfirio Díaz, the “Great Canal” was constructed at the end of the 19th century, abandoning Garay’s multi-purpose plan in favor of a more direct, single-minded effort to “conquer nature.” Between 1886 and 1900, the canal, 47 km long, with a 10 km tunnel, dams, and bridges, was built. Despite the scale of the project, the government could not overcome the topography, and flooding returned in the 1920s and again in 1945. By then, the canal’s flow had become nearly flat, and it filled with fine sediment. This required the construction of 11 pumping stations, a costly and inefficient solution.

Another attempt came in 1975, when an elaborate system of underground tunnels and pumps was installed at depths ranging from 88.5 ft. to 712 ft. (22 to 217 meters). The most recent infrastructure, built in 2019, included a massive 38-mile tunnel system meant to drain water away from the city.

Ironically, the water crisis in Mexico City today is one of scarcity rather than excess. The city, historically plagued by floods, now struggles with dwindling water supplies. About 30% of the city’s water needs are met by the Cutzamala system, an archaic network of dams, reservoirs, canals, and pumps. This system, one of the largest of its kind in the world, includes seven reservoirs, six pumping plants, 322 km of canals and tunnels, and a large water treatment plant. The main reservoirs—Villa Victoria, Valle de Bravo, and El Bosque—are located in the states of México and Michoacán, some 85 miles from the city, requiring an extensive network of pipes to deliver water to the capital. Currently, these reservoirs are at a historical low of just 30%. El Bosque, suffering from deforestation and urbanization, no longer contributes as it once did.

The rest of the city’s water comes from groundwater within the Mexico City Basin, which is being pumped out at twice the rate it is replenished. This groundwater is often contaminated and has caused ground subsidence in certain areas. Some buildings around the Zócalo, in particular, have started leaning due to this subsidence, according to a recent New York Times article. The pump system operates 24/7, posing a significant maintenance challenge. None of the water from the taps is potable, and the city relies on bottled water for drinking.

The situation has been worsened by prolonged droughts and the effects of climate change, although last summer’s rains provided some relief. Claudia Sheinbaum’s federal government has promised to address the issue with a national water initiative. As former mayor of Mexico City, Sheinbaum is familiar with the city’s aging infrastructure and its pressing water needs. She has stated that solving the water crisis is near the top of her agenda.

¡Muy complicado! ¡Suerte! (Very complicated, good luck!)
For more reading, check out this link: ‘Grist article on Claudia Sheinbaum and Mexico Citys water crisis