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Majority Latino city endures years of toxic water in health ‘crisis’

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Thursday, April 18, 2024

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.A history of water worriesSunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

After repeated violations, the state has stepped in -- but the problems are a reminder that safe water is not available to all Americans

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.

“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”

State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.

Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.

The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.

Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”

Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.

It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.

Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.

Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.

The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.

“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”

Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.

EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.

In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.

“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”

Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.

“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”

Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.

Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.

The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.

The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.

While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.

“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”

Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.

Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.

A history of water worries

Sunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.

A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.

In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.

Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.

The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.

Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.

“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”

It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.

At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.

Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.

“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.

Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.

Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.

As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.

CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.

In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”

State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.

CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.

The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.

Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.

But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.

“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”

Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.

“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.

Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.

Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.

Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.

At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.

Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.

In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.

“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”

With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.

In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.

About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.

Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.

Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.

After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.

“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

Read the full story here.
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Asheville restores drinking water 53 days after Hurricane Helene - but not all are ready to sip

Residents concerned as North Carolina city lifts boil advisory and scientists detect lead in water at area schoolsWhen the western North Carolina town Swannanoa was battered by Hurricane Helene in September, two large trees crushed Stephen Knight’s home. His family of six was launched into a complicated web of survival: finding a temporary home, applying for disaster relief, filing insurance claims.The new logistics of living included the daily search for food and water. Until earlier this week, most residents of this town east of Asheville had no drinkable tap water for 52 days. After the storm damaged infrastructure around the region, water had been partly restored in mid-October. It was good for flushing toilets but not safe for consumption. In some places, sediment left the water inky like black tea. Continue reading...

When the western North Carolina town Swannanoa was battered by Hurricane Helene in September, two large trees crushed Stephen Knight’s home. His family of six was launched into a complicated web of survival: finding a temporary home, applying for disaster relief, filing insurance claims.The new logistics of living included the daily search for food and water. Until earlier this week, most residents of this town east of Asheville had no drinkable tap water for 52 days. After the storm damaged infrastructure around the region, water had been partly restored in mid-October. It was good for flushing toilets but not safe for consumption. In some places, sediment left the water inky like black tea.Local government advised residents not to consume the water without boiling. People with illnesses or open wounds were also advised to skip showers. Parents were cautioned that children should keep their mouths closed while bathing to avoid accidental ingestion.Drinking the water, even after boiling, was the last-resort option, and bottled water became a precious commodity. In the first days after the hurricane, many hauled creek water in buckets to flush their toilets. People bathed and did laundry at public “comfort stations”. Tankers with clean water occupied vacant lots around western North Carolina. Churches, schools and fire stations became water distribution centers. Households changed their routines: Meals that required boiling in water – pasta or rice – fell off home menus. Families stockpiled clean water to mix baby formula, and washing dishes was often a matter of dipping dishes in a solution of bleach and water.As of 18 November, the city of Asheville lifted its boil advisory. That provided some relief to Knight, who works as a nonprofit communications director. Like many residents impacted by the hurricane, he “had to learn what terms like potable and turbidity meant” as they waited for repairs to the badly damaged water North Fork plant that serves much of the region. (Turbidity measures cloudiness caused by tiny particles in water and is a key indicator of water quality.) Residents constantly listened for reports about how long it would take to be able to drink, bathe and use water in their homes or workplaces again. Initial estimates suggested water restoration could have taken as long as December, and many feared their lack of water access could stretch into next year.The remnants of a waterline pile up downstream from North Fork reservoir, a main source of water for the city on 2 October 2024, after the line was destroyed during Hurricane Helene. Photograph: Jeff Roberson/APStill, some residents and institutions are not yet tapping into the newly restored city water supply, concerned that the water may still not be entirely safe. Lead was detected in water at seven area schools, a relatively common problem in American schools due to older pipes. For 19 days, the city of Asheville treated water with high amounts of chlorine in case harmful materials had seeped into the badly damaged system. But while chlorine is a decontaminant, it can also corrode pipes. Right now, no lead has been discovered in the water system’s source, but many North Carolinans are wondering: am I in harm’s way from toxic lead, which can cause serious and fatal illness, or other materials?Knight is skeptical of using city water for preparing food or washing dishes. He remarked that while the cloudiness in the North Fork reservoir’s water has dropped, it still isn’t back to pre-storm numbers. “I’m thinking, I need to order [wipes used for camping or outdoor use] because I still can’t use the water here.”According to the ABC affiliate WLOS, Mission Hospital, one of the region’s largest health systems, is currently using water from recently drilled wells and storage tanks at almost all its facilities, with the exception of a freestanding emergency room.Clear and effective communication and widespread testing will ensure there is not a second crisis in AshevilleSally A Wasileski SchmeltzerIn the immediate aftermath of the storm, Stephanie Allen, a mother of three, hung curtains outside and constructed a makeshift toilet with a five-gallon bucket. Recently, when her son had a high fever, she filled the bathtub with water to cool him down. But she recoiled at the water’s appearance and opted to give him a sponge bath instead.When asked if she would resume drinking Asheville city water in the near future, Allen was hesitant. “I’m not quite ready to drink from the faucet,” she shared. “I need more scientific studies and anecdotal evidence of its safety. More time”.In a open letter to public officials, the University of North Carolina Asheville professor Sally A Wasileski Schmeltzer urged further investigation and communication educating the general public about the risk of lead poisoning. Schmeltzer chairs the school’s chemistry department and specializes in environmental research.Among her recommendations: widespread testing for lead and copper for buildings built before 1988, when lead was commonly used. She also advocated for blood tests for people who consumed the water – even after boiling – and especially for infants, other children, and pregnant or nursing people. Free testing is available, but she noted that homeowners need to understand when and how to test their water and themselves.“ [P]otential damage to private plumbing could be much more widespread than just to those schools that were tested,” Schmeltzer wrote. “I understand that it is very important not to cause a panic. Yet clear and effective communication and widespread testing will ensure there is not a second crisis in Asheville and Buncombe county.”skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionSome residents were surprised when the Asheville water resources department spokesperson Clay Chandler said in a press briefing that water customers with pre-1988 plumbing should flush their cold water taps for 30 seconds to two minutes before consuming it “like before Helene”. Asheville is dotted with old homes and buildings; the city is known around the nation for its well-preserved, early 20th century Art Deco buildings. But many area homeowners weren’t aware of the need to flush their pipes before the storm struck. That public education will be a long-term project.Businesses will need more time, too, to recoup losses from property damage, closure and the costs of bringing in water to stay open, if they chose to do so.Meg Moore has worked for about two years at Cecilia’s, an Asheville staple selling an eclectic mix of empanadas, crepes and tamales.“To get a plumber in here and turn off piping to city water and redirect it to the water tote and make sure it gets continually filled with potable water, there is a price tag on that,” Moore said. Before water restoration, many businesses asked: “Is it worth the thousands of dollars to do all that, not knowing how long it would take for water to be restored?” Cecilia’s used bottled gallons of water as well as compostable plates and silverware, careful to conserve what little water they procured. The owners were able to keep serving customers through Cecilia’s food truck business, which requires less staff and significantly less water to operate. Now that the restaurant’s reopened, staff are eager to see people walk through the doors.“This is the first day we’ve been open since potable water,” Moore said. “I think maybe some people are hesitant to dine out.”Pennycup Coffee Co, offers its own locally roasted beans, brews and baked goods. Its locations reopened in late October, using potable water totes to fuel operations. Water “totes” are large, industrial-grade bulk containers that can hold up to 330 gallons of liquid.Alex Massey, a barista at Pennycup’s north Asheville cafe, detailed the steps taken to open the cafes’ doors: using 275-gallon water totes for coffee-making, boiling water in the coffeemaker for dishwashing and an early closing time to accommodate the extra work.Massey feels area officials could’ve done a better job communicating about the water crisis. But he feels confident in the city’s newly potable water based on information from other sources. After the boil water notice was lifted, Pennycup joined other area restaurants in making the switch back to city water. Most customers haven’t minded, but a few walked out once Massey shared the news.

Despite back-to-back deals on water from Mexico, relief for South Texas farmers is far from certain

Texas agreed to take 120,000 acre-feet of water from Mexico this month, only after the U.S. and Mexico agreed to an updated treaty.

Sign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news. McALLEN –– South Texas farmers remain concerned about their access to water despite back-to-back announcements this month that signaled better days ahead. First, the U.S. and Mexico signed an amendment to an international water treaty that dictates how water is shared between the two countries. Then earlier this week, Texas agreed to accept a relatively small offer of water that would go toward paying off Mexico's current water debt while also bringing relief to farmers and ranchers whose land has gone dry in the face of the current water shortage. However, relief is still a ways off as the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality, the state agency that decides how to allocate the water, has yet to give the green light for that water to be used. The water in question is 120,000 acre-feet from Mexico's San Juan River. Mexico had offered the water in October, but the irrigation districts that provide water to farmers and ranchers were hesitant to accept it. They worried that accepting water now would cut into their critical supply needed for farming next season. The change in the water treaty essentially forced the state's hand. Earlier this month, the U.S. and Mexico signed an amendment to the 1944 international water treaty that had been in the works for more than a year. The amendment gives Mexico more ways to deliver water it owes the U.S., including allowing them to meet their obligations by delivering water it doesn’t need from the San Juan and Alamo rivers, which are not managed by the treaty. Under the treaty, Mexico must deliver 1,750,000 acre-feet of water to the U.S. from six tributaries every five years. Four years into the current five-year cycle, Mexico has delivered just 427,914 acre-feet with a balance of more than 1.3 million acre-feet of water that is due by October 2025. Through the new amendment, the U.S. will credit Mexico for water it provides from the San Juan River even though it is not one of the six tributaries, a position that Gov. Greg Abbott sharply criticized when he ordered the state to accept the water earlier this week. "Texas stands firm in its position — consistent with the text of the Treaty — that those commitments may be satisfied only with water from the six named tributaries," Abbott said. The most important Texas news,sent weekday mornings. Because that water will go toward satisfying Mexico's water obligations, TCEQ Commissioner Bobby Janecka confirmed Thursday that farmers and irrigation districts will be charged for it. “I’m not aware of a path yet, that there’s any opportunity to do it fully no-charge,” Janecka said during a symposium on the state of the Rio Grande hosted by the Texas Water Foundation. Janecka said not charging those who receive from the 120,000 acre-feet of water would risk leaving users in other areas of the state without water in the future. But there's a possible solution in the new amendment. It will also allow Mexico to transfer water it has stored at the Falcon and Amistad international reservoirs to meet its obligations. The hope is that Mexico will transfer enough water to make up for any water that farmers will be charged for accepting the San Juan River water. "I am very optimistic but I expect the worst," said Michael Kent, general manager for Donna Irrigation District. Janecka said his staff is reviewing options for allocating the accepted water. Sonny Hinojosa, a water advocate for Hidalgo County Irrigation District No. 2, criticized the ongoing delays in accepting the water. “We're just wondering why are they throwing up so many roadblocks in accepting this water,” Hinojosa said. “With the governor's directive, they have to accept it, but there's still some issues that nobody really understands what they are.” Kent said he was grateful that Abbott’s order essentially set a clock for TCEQ to take action on the water but emphasized that time was of the essence. He lamented the toll the water shortage had already taken on the Rio Grande Valley’s agriculture industry which lost its sugar mill, the last one in the state, in February due to lack of water. Farmers fear citrus will be next. Because the water shortage has resulted in less citrus production, Kent said citrus growers in his district have avoided using packing sheds to process their fruit as a way to save money. “The margins would be too slim since the yield was low because of the lack of water,” Kent said. “So it's a matter of time and it's very difficult to plan for the future.” Reporting in the Rio Grande Valley is supported in part by the Methodist Healthcare Ministries of South Texas, Inc. Disclosure: Texas Water Foundation has been a financial supporter of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here.

‘Lead and Copper’ Shows How Water Poisoning Runs Downhill

A new documentary about the Flint water crisis draws out the complexities of the problem.

“There’s a definite sense of people being expendable in this country,” says University of Florida professor Riché Barnes in director William Hart’s new film, Lead and Copper. “And it usually runs across racial lines. When it gets outside of racial lines, it runs on economic lines.” Barnes’s observation underscores the moral clarity that Hart brings to his investigation of the Flint water crisis, which exposed an entire community to high levels of lead through contaminated drinking water. That clarity helps cut through the morass of finger-pointing and misinformation that various politicians and bureaucrats use to abdicate responsibility. Lead and Copper reminds viewers that these decisions threaten people’s lives. Although just forty miles from Lake Huron, Flint, a post-industrial city whose population has dwindled to a nearly 100-year low, has been getting its water via a pipeline through Detroit since 1967. To lower its water costs, the city contracted the construction of its own pipeline in 2013. The pipeline would not finish construction until 2018, so in 2014, the city started taking from the nearby, heavily polluted Flint River instead of continuing to draw from Detroit. Very soon, mothers such as Janae Young started noticing the strange color of their water and the sores and rashes that appeared on the bodies of their children. The film follows Young through the process of caring for her children, even after their burns subside. She spreads lotion on their bodies, takes them to numerous check-ups, and boils water before using it—at least until yet another functionary informs her that boiling is ineffective against contamination. Young and other residents report the problems to their local government, which is overseen by various state and federal agencies.  The course of action should be simple, right? Instead of using clean, if expensive, water from Detroit, the city started getting cheaper, poisoned water from the Flint River. Surely, then, one of the multiple oversight agencies in place would just order Flint to keep getting its water from Detroit until its own pipeline project is completed. But as Lead and Copper reveals, no one in power pursued a simple solution. Instead, governors, city managers, and regulators alike evaded responsibility and let the citizens suffer. Hart identifies a number of key culprits, including an unelected city manager appointed by Michigan’s plutocrat governor, an intentionally unrepresentative water sampling process by the state’s Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and a lack of diligence from the federal EPA. The city only begins providing bottled water and testing kits to citizens after mother LeeAnne Walters marshals help from Federal EPA manager Miguel Del Toral and Virginia Tech professor Marc Edwards to draw attention to the problem. Together, Walters and Del Toral demanded that city officials stop using the polluted water and provide emergency provisions for Flint Residents. Hart employs several on-screen graphics to help clarify the crisis, including a sleek line-art map of the United States and animation illustrating the passage of time. As the camera pans across the map, the narrative turns its attention away from Flint to similarly affected neighborhoods in Newark, New Jersey, and Washington, D.C., in which the full scope of the problem is revealed. These visual elements don’t just provide clarification; they also underscore the complicated nature of the problem. One of the film’s most effective moments shows then governor of Michigan Rick Snyder at a Congressional hearing about the crisis in Flint, in which the late Representative Elijah Cummings, Democrat of Maryland, questions Snyder about the extent of his knowledge about the crisis in Flint. As the film features Snyder’s testimony, a simultaneous graphic element reveals that someone close to the governor raised concerns much earlier. With every spin of the dial, and with every expansion on the map, viewers see in clear, unmistakable terms what various government officials and politicians have tried to obscure: that the water poisoning started after the city manager, the mayor, or someone in government made a cost-saving decision, and the adverse effects flowed down to the most vulnerable. While Lead and Copper’s complex representation of the crisis often works to underscore the movie’s point that the least powerful suffer the most, the narrative sometimes gets unnecessarily muddy. The film’s talking heads include Newark Mayor Ras Baraka and former Flint Mayor Dayne Walling, two figures with far more influence than the mothers of afflicted children. The film allows both of these leaders to speak for themselves, rarely provides overt fact checks to their explanations, and therefore seems to endorse their claims that they, too, were duped by bureaucrats above them and helpless to change things. Lead and Copper also gets muddled when Edwards begins diagnosing the problems. Like a good professor, he shows the viewers physical evidence of the water poisoning, such as the thick lead pipes used in the houses of most Flint residents. He explains in simple terms that lead from the pipes seeps into the water unless certain chemicals are used, and that Flint neglected to use these chemicals. Edwards’s explanation makes sense, but he’s introducing a problem independent of the decision to get water from the Flint River. The use of lead pipes helps connect the problems of Flint to those of Newark, Washington, D.C., and several other locations listed in the movie’s final title cards. But without distinguishing between water poisoned because of pollution in the Flint River and water poisoned because of lead pipes that have been in place for decades, these revelations introduce issues beyond the city’s water source, unnecessarily complicating Lead and Copper’s central line of argument. In fact, all of the connections between Flint, Newark, and Washington, D.C. feel more like appendices than they do expansions of the film’s central theme. With so many people actively trying to obfuscate the facts, these instances can sometimes create more confusion than clarity. Despite these occasional problems, Lead and Copper is ultimately about the affected community members. The film reminds viewers that we are not helpless against structures that allow the powerful to carelessly poison Black and low-income families. The film might end in a terrifying set of statistics about counties across the country with high levels of lead in their water systems, but we first see footage of Janae Young educating an elementary class about recycling and LeeAnne Walters vowing to continue the fight. There’s much work to be done, but Lead and Copper can bring others along. Given the many held unaccountable and the work yet to be done in Flint, it’s not accurate to say that Lead and Copper has a happy ending. But when we see people working to save lives and deliver justice, viewers cannot help but believe that they can turn the flow of even a poisoned river. Lead and Copper is available to rent on streaming services everywhere starting Tuesday, November 19. Joe George is a pop culture writer whose work has appeared in Polygon, Slate, Den of Geek, and elsewhere. You can follow him on Twitter at @jageorgeii and read more at joewriteswords.com. Read more by Joe George November 21, 2024 2:13 PM

Scientists identify previously unknown compound in drinking water

An international team of scientists have discovered a previously unknown compound that is prevalent in U.S. drinking water, sparking concern about potential public health risks. The mystery compound is called "chloronitramide anion," which forms from the decomposition of inorganic chloramines — disinfectants used to safeguard people from diseases like typhoid and cholera, the researchers found...

An international team of scientists have discovered a previously unknown compound that is prevalent in U.S. drinking water, sparking concern about potential public health risks. The mystery compound is called "chloronitramide anion," which forms from the decomposition of inorganic chloramines — disinfectants used to safeguard people from diseases like typhoid and cholera, the researchers found in a study, published on Thursday in Science. In the United States alone, more than 113 million people, or about a third of the country's population, drink chloraminated water, or water that contains these disinfectants, according to the study authors. While the toxicity of chloronitramide anion is still unknown, the researchers expressed alarm about both its prevalence and its similarities to other problematic substances. "Its presence is expected, quite honestly, in all chlorinated drinking waters to some extent, because of the chemistry," senior author David Wahman, an environmental engineer at the Environmental Protection Agency, said during a press call prior to the article's publication. "It has similarity to other toxic molecules," Wahman added. The authors therefore emphasized an urgent need for further research to evaluate whether the chemical poses a public health risk, stressing that merely identifying the compound was a challenge. "Because this compound's so small, we couldn't really break it apart," co-author Juliana Laszakovits, a postdoctoral researcher at ETH Zurich, said in the press call. "The fragments that formed weren't able to be detected by the mass spectrometer." But by combining classic synthesis methods with advanced analytical techniques, including both high-resolution mass spectrometry and nuclear magnetic resonance spectrometry, the scientists were ultimately able to isolate and identify chloronitramide anion. They measured the compound's concentration content in a range of chloraminated U.S. water systems, detecting levels as high as about 100 micrograms per liter — surpassing most regulatory limits for other disinfection by-products, which hover between 60 and 80 micrograms per liter. The researchers also noticed that the compound was absent from water systems that use disinfectants other than chloramines. Lead author Julian Fairey, an associate professor of civil engineering at the University of Arkansas, stressed in a statement that even if the new compound is not toxic, there is much knowledge to gain from their study and future related research. “Finding it can help us understand the pathways for how other compounds are formed, including toxins," Fairey added. "If we know how something is formed, we can potentially control it.”

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