The contrast between Tulum’s booming tourism and the daily realities of its Maya communities remains stark. While new resorts rise along the Riviera Maya, towns such as Yaxché, San Silverio, Hondzonot, and Chanchen Primero continue to struggle with intermittent water supply, failing streetlights, and roads left to erosion. According to data from the National Institute of Statistics and Geography (INEGI), more than a third of households in Tulum’s rural zones lack consistent access to piped drinking water, and nearly 30 percent have no proper sanitation.
Government optimism meets rural skepticism
During his first government report, municipal president Diego Castañón Trejo declared that “the Maya zone is no longer alone,” citing public investment and social programs aimed at historically marginalized communities. The administration highlights projects for road repair, solar lighting, and potable water expansion as signs of inclusion. Yet on the ground, many residents say progress feels distant.
In Yaxché, roughly six of every ten streetlights remain broken, leaving long stretches in darkness and increasing the perception of insecurity. In San Silverio and Hondzonot, waste collection has become sporadic, with garbage accumulating for weeks. Residents describe the smell and the mosquitoes as “the real daily problem,” a public health issue often overshadowed by tourism priorities.
“The speeches sound good, but we still fetch water with buckets,” said a community representative during a recent assembly. It’s a frustration shared by many who feel that Tulum’s wealth has not reached the rural heart of the municipality.
Numbers tell a widening story of inequality
While Tulum’s urban area now enjoys over 90 percent coverage in basic services, the rural zones remain decades behind. Figures from the Ministry of Agrarian, Territorial and Urban Development (Sedatu) indicate that rural investment in Quintana Roo has grown by 18 percent since 2021, but most projects focus on coastal infrastructure and tourism corridors. Conagua’s regional office confirms that new water networks planned for eastern Tulum have faced delays linked to procurement and land tenure disputes.
These numbers reflect a larger paradox: as Tulum’s GDP per capita rises, inequality also deepens. In some Maya communities, water arrives only every few days through tanker trucks; when the pumps fail, weeks can pass without supply. For families living far from the tourist corridor, daily life becomes a negotiation between scarcity and resilience.
The promise of inclusion and the weight of distance
The municipal government insists that inclusion is a central policy. Programs such as “Tulum para Todos” seek to connect isolated settlements through rural road improvements and small infrastructure grants. Officials argue that the process is gradual, constrained by budget limits and the geographic spread of the municipality, which covers over 2,000 square kilometers.
Yet residents point to unfulfilled promises. In Chanchen Primero, a rehabilitation plan announced in August to restore 200 streetlights and improve access roads has reached only 15 percent completion by late October, according to citizen monitoring groups. “We see workers come for a few days, then nothing happens for weeks,” said one local teacher. “People start to believe that we are invisible.”
Between tourism revenue and rural neglect
Tulum’s municipal budget has expanded significantly thanks to record tourism. More than two million visitors arrived in 2024, generating substantial tax income. But civil organizations like the Consejo Maya de Tulum argue that most of this revenue remains concentrated in the urban core and hotel zones, rather than the rural communities that preserve much of the region’s cultural heritage.
A Sedatu analyst explained that the imbalance is not unique to Tulum. “Throughout the Riviera Maya, we see a pattern where tourism revenue supports coastal infrastructure but leaves internal communities underfunded. The challenge is aligning local development plans with equity principles.”
The issue is not only economic. It also reflects a structural bias: policies tend to prioritize visibility, airports, roads, and coastal promenades, over the less photogenic but essential services like drainage and waste management.
Community voices call for shared responsibility
In recent months, community leaders have organized meetings with local authorities to demand transparency on budgets and timelines. Some acknowledge that repairs have begun, but progress remains slow. “They visit for photos, not for solutions,” said a spokesperson from the Consejo Maya. Others propose citizen committees to oversee project execution, ensuring that funds reach their intended goals.
For many, the central demand is dignity. Reliable lighting and clean water are seen not just as utilities, but as rights tied to security, health, and respect. “People shouldn’t have to choose between staying in darkness or moving to the city,” one elder resident remarked, capturing the sentiment that resonates across the region.
Searching for accountability amid progress
The administration counters that rural infrastructure is improving, albeit gradually. Municipal reports highlight new drainage systems in Akumal and the delivery of water pipes in northern communities. Sedatu also lists several joint projects with state and federal support, including road rehabilitation and community centers in Chanchen and Hondzonot.
Still, data from the Quintana Roo State Auditor’s Office show that less than half of Tulum’s infrastructure projects in rural zones were completed on schedule last year. Analysts say the gaps often stem from limited oversight and changing priorities during election cycles.
A development expert from the University of Quintana Roo noted, “Without consistent long-term planning, even well-intentioned programs risk becoming symbolic gestures. Rural poverty reduction requires sustained coordination beyond municipal terms.”
The silent cost of uneven development
The environmental implications of neglect are growing. Uncollected waste near streams and cenotes increases contamination risks, while poor drainage can exacerbate flooding during tropical storms. The communities most affected are also those least equipped to respond to climate-related damage.
In this sense, the debate over public services in Tulum is not only about fairness, but sustainability. A balanced distribution of infrastructure could reduce health risks, prevent rural depopulation, and preserve the cultural fabric that distinguishes the region.
As one local journalist summarized during a panel hosted by The Tulum Times, “Tourism makes Tulum famous, but its future depends on how it treats the people who live beyond the resorts.”
What remains at stake
The gap between urban development and rural neglect remains one of the municipality’s deepest challenges. While Tulum’s government insists that change is underway, the lived experience of its Maya communities suggests otherwise. Infrastructure takes time, but trust takes longer to rebuild.
The question now is whether upcoming budgets will reflect a genuine shift toward equity or continue to prioritize image over inclusion. The residents of Yaxché, San Silverio, Hondzonot, and Chanchen Primero are still waiting for the day when basic services are not a privilege, but a promise fulfilled.
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