I Putu Partayasa pushes his fingers into the soil as he squats at the edge of a rice terrace. They come up dry. His field has water; his neighbour’s does not. “We have a big problem in the dry season,” he says. “Fifteen years ago, we have water every day. But today it’s getting less.”
The 52-year-old, who goes by the name Parta, is lucky because his plot sits high enough in the irrigation system so that he still gets his share of water. He fears he knows where the rest is going. “Companies take our water,” he says, “and bring it to the tourism places.” He gestures at the terraces below, a patchwork of green and brown that was once all green. “The forest is getting smaller. The springs are drying.”
