With the rains back and streets already ponding, Aguakan says it is rebooting a simple idea: teaching people how the city’s two drainage systems work and how to keep them separate. The Cancun drainage campaign promises talks for businesses and neighborhoods, plant visits, and practical advice to prevent fats, wipes, and trash from clogging pipes and polluting beaches with dirty water. It’s not flashy, but it’s the kind of maintenance culture that can cut floods, repair bills, and headaches during hurricane season.
Cancun drainage campaign
Aguakan relaunched its Cancun drainage campaign on September 30, stating that the goal is fundamental and urgent: to keep stormwater and sewage on their separate paths and prevent trash from entering both. Company staff plan outreach talks with neighborhood groups and businesses. They will open their treatment plants for guided visits, allowing people to see where wastewater actually goes and why clogs are expensive for everyone. The utility’s social responsibility team frames it as community maintenance. Fewer blockages mean fewer ruptured lines, fewer repairs, and cleaner beaches.
At the news conference in Cancún, Aguakan stated that the effort will explain, in plain language, the differences between the two systems. The sanitary sewer carries wastewater to treatment plants. The storm system is supposed to bring only rain, so streets don’t flood. When residents toss grease, wipes, or trash into drains, the problems tend to surface during downpours, when pressure builds, lids lift, and dirty water takes the lowest route—often toward tourist corridors and the coast. Local officials also argue that understanding who is in charge matters for accountability.
The company says it will take the campaign into hotels and restaurants, where grease and solids can overwhelm lines if staff treat sinks like dumpsters. They also talk about the beach connection: litter dropped downtown doesn’t vanish in a storm; it travels. Clean streets and clear inlets are essential for maintaining clean beaches. The message is simple, but it lands harder after a wet September and early fall, when images of flooded avenues can dominate local feeds.
What residents and businesses can do
The public’s question is not complicated. Don’t pour oils into sinks. Don’t flush wipes. Keep trash out of storm grates. If a manhole looks open, report it—don’t lift it to drain a puddle. For businesses, train staff and maintain clean and well-documented grease traps. The utility’s plant tours and talks are meant to make the “why” visible. Once you see the treatment process, the cost of bad habits is more straightforward to grasp.
There’s a governance point here, too. In Benito Juárez, the sanitary sewer is operated by the concessionaire, while storm drainage falls under the jurisdiction of municipal authorities. The campaign repeats that line because confusion often leads to blame-shifting after every setback. During hurricane season, the city’s storm-response teams clear inlets and sumps; the utility works to keep wastewater moving and treated. Both sides need the public to stop feeding the system with the very materials that choke it.
The relaunch extends beyond Cancún to neighboring tourist cities in northern Quintana Roo, where the same physics apply and the same images of knee-deep intersections recur. That’s why the campaign leans on repetition and face-to-face sessions. It’s not a ribbon-cutting. It’s a plea for routine, the kind people remember when the first fat drops hit the windshield and the nearest storm grate looks like a good place to dump the takeout bag. Culture shifts slowly, but every storm tests it. If this season ends with fewer lifted lids and fewer brown puddles, residents will feel the difference first.
