Yaxcabá, Mexico: A plume of silver smoke rises from a ceramic cup filled with sacred copal incense as Eliezer Mendez Díaz, 65, listens to chants and incantations to Cháak, the Maya thunder god. His wizened, wrinkled face tells of worries past and present, peering out from under the wedge of a blue hat. He still wears the same shorts, T-shirt, and sandals from last night’s deer hunt in the jungle, his rifle resting nearby. Surrounded by five village elders, he cups his hand around two glowing candles representing forest spirits, his imposing eyes fixed on a sacred altar bearing deer meat, maize, and other offerings.

A J-meen (Maya medicine man) hosts the once-common pre-Hispanic ceremony on the outskirts of Díaz’s village, Yaxcabá in Yucatán, Mexico, praying for rain to nourish their withering crops, plagued by extreme drought.

The soil beneath his feet has been cracked and parched by punishing 40° Celsius heat, no more hospitable to the delicate seeds than a scorched rock. Less than two millimetres of water fell in Yucatán in May during last year’s rainy season.

Díaz says the heat wave had turned their farms into wastelands, prompting them to seek help from ancestral spirits to provide water for their crops. He tells me local authorities ignored his appeal for support during these challenging times.

‘Us milperos – farmers – are the ones who suffer most during drought, yet the government prefers to invest in big agricultural businesses,’ he laments, adding the only available option for his village is to return to the old ways.

Rural communities in peril

Díaz is concerned the prolonged dry season will drastically affect local harvests, leaving him with little to no income and potentially forcing him to relocate to the city to find work as a carpenter or street vendor to support his family. Having spent his entire life as a farmer, he says finding a job in the city will not be easy.

‘We are yet to recover from last year’s drought, and now we are struck by one that is even worse,’ says Díaz. The knock-on effect of drought has already raised the cost of living due to a substantial increase in crop prices. Díaz tells me that some villagers have abandoned their farms in search of new water sources from other villages with deeper wells that are yet to run dry.

Climate experts say the 2024 heat wave brought the worst agricultural conditions to southeast Mexico in over 50 years. In Yucatán alone, 18 people died from heatstroke—more than triple the previous year’s toll. For context, just five such deaths were recorded between 2012 and 2022.

Nationally, the extreme temperatures caused at least 125 deaths, over 2,300 heatstroke cases, widespread blackouts, wildfires, and mass die-offs of endangered monkeys. A record 43.7°C was registered on May 9, 2024, by Mexico’s meteorological service.

According to leading climate scientists from World Weather Attribution, the deadly heat that hit North and Central America last year was made 35 times more likely due to human-induced climate change.

The first rains of the year in Yucatán tend to coincide with El Día de la Santa Cruz – a religious ceremony that marks the time to sow seeds on farmland – on 3 May, yet sustained temperatures above 37.7°C (100°F) struck the peninsula for the entire month in 2024. A mere 1.3 millimetres of rain fell from May 1 to June 7. As a result, farmers in remote areas faced significant challenges in planting their crops.

‘Changing weather patterns are disrupting traditional farming cycles,’ says agronomist Bernardo Caamal Itza, 56. ‘Crops like maize and squash rely on precise timing for growth.’

Pollution in the cenotes

Drought is not the only danger posed to these communities, says Itza. The rising use of fertilisers and pesticides in the pork and agricultural industries - not to mention the resulting industrial waste - are directly threatening the environment on the Yucatán Peninsula.

‘Mass tourism and industrial farming are displacing Maya communities and polluting sacred ecosystems,’ says Itza.

One of the more concerning situations involves the contamination of cenotes by waste from the growing number of pig farms set up in the jungle. Untreated waste, he says, seeps below ground and into the subterranean water systems beneath the peninsula.

A study, conducted by the Centre for Research and Advanced Studies of the National Polytechnic Institute (Cinvestav) in October 2024, says there is an increasing risk of salinisation, contamination, and scarcity of water. This contamination stems partly from soil erosion and the loss of vegetation at rates of up to 74,000 acres per year caused by deforestation for industrial pig farms, agricultural expansion and pollution from pig waste. The study also suggested the area surrounding the Ring of Cenotes – a tourist region with over 3,000 cenotes – should be considered a ‘yellow alert’.

‘We have detected human and animal waste — including harmful compounds like coprostanol — as far as the Gulf’s coral reefs, contributing to disease and Red Tide algal blooms,’ says Cinvestav biologist Dr Jorge Alfredo Herrera Silveira.

He adds that as Yucatán is the largest producer and exporter of pork in Mexico, the situation is complicated because the government hesitates to reprimand such an important industry. In response to pollution, the Indigenous Group Kana’an Ts’onot filed a lawsuit seeking legal personhood for the cenotes, similar to protections granted to rivers in New Zealand and Brazil.

‘The milpa has a symbiotic relationship with the jungle’

Ancient rituals like the Ch’a Cháak are central to preserving Maya agricultural knowledge. Elders stress that milpa and jungle must coexist — one cannot thrive without the other. Milpa refers to a traditional Mesoamerican farming system based on polycultures like maize, beans, and squash, often grown together in small family plots.

'The milpa has a symbiotic relationship with the jungle, and village elders emphasise the latter must be healthy for the former to flourish,' says Idelfonso Yah Alcocer, 51, a J-meen from Chacsinkín, Yucatán.

Alcocer highlights the widespread deforestation and environmental degradation of the Yucatán Peninsula in recent years, which he says have significant environmental consequences. According to data from an assessment in 2024 by the Mexican Civil Council for Sustainable Forestry (CCMSS), between 2019 and 2023, the region lost approximately 285,580 hectares of forest, averaging about 71,000 hectares per year. This translates to a daily loss of around 196 hectares, resulting in an annual deforestation rate of 0.4%, notably higher than Mexico's national average of 0.1%.

The CCMSS reports that the main contributors to deforestation include industrial agriculture, large-scale livestock farming, rapid tourism and real estate development.

‘As trees in the jungle hold large sums of moisture, its destruction means the surrounding area will also dry out,’ he says with fury in his eyes.

Reviving rituals

Pre-Hispanic rituals are intrinsic to Maya cultural heritage, Alcocer says, and must be protected because they reflect and encourage ‘respect for the relationship between man and nature’. He believes the importance of myth and ritual has declined over time in favour of agricultural modernisation.

‘Ch’a Cháak ceremonies, once hubs for sharing ancestral ecological knowledge, are becoming less frequent and more symbolic.’

Just a few decades ago, the Ch’a Cháak was performed at the four cardinal points of the village, a practice taken very seriously by milperos, who played a greater role in sustaining communities.

Today, interest in the ceremony has waned, with neighbouring villages requesting only one or two rituals a year. This decline reflects the shift in society’s values and priorities.

It is heartbreaking to witness the slow disappearance of Maya traditions, once a cornerstone of our society,” says Alcocer.

In the face of such loss, he for one, plans to continue to perform the ceremonies that have long connected people to the jungle. ‘Shamans believe that by returning to ancestral methods, the jungle can heal — and with it, our communities.’