When I was young, my mom told me stories of well witchers. Of people who seemed to come out of a fable but truly wandered the prairies where I grew up only 30 or 40 years before I was born. These people who could feel the pull of water below their feet, sometimes deep within the earth. Farmers pinned their hopes on these people because water was they key to a successful season and would ultimately make or break them. So that’s where I started.
Then I moved far away and learned that groundwater wasn’t caverns filled with the thunder of raging rivers flowing under my feet but a creature of a much different kind. It moved slowly, more like a sleeping giant and only humans were in a rush to take it from one place and use it in another. I also learned that no one asked where it came from, they just kept asking for more.
Groundwater is old and it’s had years or often eras to come to terms with the changes of the world. I am young. I am young and I am angry. I don’t have millennia to accept and forgive injustices wrought on a resource that is invisible to most and overlooked by many. As the Lorax speaks for the trees, we need to start speaking for the water we walk on.
That’s why I’m here.
- Kristina Disney