Turquoise lagoons, warm weather and more time outdoors: Mauritius has plenty to tempt anyone dreaming of a life abroad. Days without running water rarely feature in that dream. As the island faces a serious water crisis, expats describe the scramble to keep tanks filled, the daily routines disrupted by cuts and the unexpected costs of getting by. Their experiences reveal a side of island life that varies sharply from one neighborhood to another.
When you're preparing to move to Mauritius, the to-do list is long. Finding housing, getting your residence permit, landing a job, enrolling the kids in school: these priorities take up most of your headspace. "Going several days without water" rarely makes the list. Yet the day your tank runs dry and the tap stays dry with it, the question becomes very real, very fast.
Julien, who has lived in Mauritius for around twenty years, experienced this firsthand not long ago: "We went two weeks without water in August. It was pretty rough," he told us. An Australian expat living in Grand Gaube, in the north of the island, also went through several full days without a single drop over the past month, sometimes two days in a row. In the center of the island, Karine says she gets just two hours of water supply per day. Not nearly enough to properly refill her tank.
Behind these personal accounts are figures that speak for themselves. As of September 29, the island's reservoirs were only 59.7% full, compared to 90.3% a year earlier, according to the Water Resources Commission. And on October 6, the authorities announced that Mare-aux-Vacoas had dropped to just 35.9% of its capacity.
For the Australian expat, the contrast with the country she grew up in is striking. Even during Queensland's worst droughts, her tap never ran dry. "We were asked to cut back: shorter showers, using a broom instead of a hose to clean the patio. But the water still ran. In Mauritius, sometimes you have to plan an entire day around not having any." And it's the most mundane things that bring it home: washing up before you go out, cooking a meal, running a load of laundry, flushing the toilet. When there's no water, all of that either gets planned around the clock or simply waits.
Karine's daily life has become a grind, even with a tank. She simply doesn't have enough water for her basic needs, and the summer ahead worries her. She believes that the authorities should have seen this coming much sooner.
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One island, very different realities
Not all expats face the same situation, not by a long shot. In Le Bouchon, where he settled in March 2024, Yves has never experienced a single outage. In Port-Louis, Béatrice considers herself relatively lucky: in six years, she's had only a handful of interruptions, a few hours at most. "That's one advantage of living in the capital, for once," she laughs. Her precautions are straightforward: ahead of any cyclone, she stockpiles drinking water and fills basins for washing up and flushing the toilet. For now, that's enough.
Motard noticed the difference when he changed address. In Albion, where he lived until March, outages were a regular part of the year, though they never lasted more than two days. Since moving to Flic-en-Flac? Just one in six months. His theory: his house may be connected to the same network as Cascavelle hospital.
The lesson is simple: what's true in one neighborhood isn't necessarily true a few kilometers away. If you're looking for accommodation, add one more question to your list: "How's the water situation around here?"
Tanks are your best ally, but not a magic solution
For Julien, the first move is clear: get one or two tanks at home, "when you can afford to." They buy you time during outages without leaving you immediately high and dry.
Motard has taken that advice to heart. In Albion, he had a 1,000-liter tank fitted with a pump. In his new home, he's doubled that capacity and left room to add more if needed. He's also installed a rainwater collection tank for watering the garden.
But a tank doesn't solve everything. You still need to be able to fill it: when supply only runs for two hours a day, as it does for Karine, the reserve never really gets a chance to recover. And in larger households, even extra tanks can empty out within days.
Ultimately, it all comes down to how well-equipped the property is, how many people are living under the same roof, and budget. Not everyone has the same buffer.
Learning to make every litre count
Outages also force you to rethink your habits. Motard already takes lightning-fast showers. If the shortage drags on, he's prepared to go back to bucket washes and hand-wash only the clothes he absolutely needs. He still uses the dishwasher, but only when it's completely full. Thanks to the setup he's put in place, he's approaching what's ahead with a degree of calm. As a last resort, he could use his pool water to flush the toilet. He's also invested in a solar photovoltaic system to reduce his exposure to power cuts. More self-sufficiency, in other words, though he's the first to admit: it all comes at a cost.
Others make do with what they have: bottled water for drinking and cooking, a filter jug filled the moment supply returns, and a bucket under the gutter to catch rainwater, even as rain becomes increasingly scarce.
Some people are dealing with harder conditions: showers and laundry put off indefinitely, dishes piling up, not enough water left to flush. In those circumstances, calls to save water ring a little hollow. When the tank is empty, there's simply nothing left to save.
During his two weeks without water, Julien was able to rely on several deliveries from the Central Water Authority (CWA). "That helped a lot," he admits. But it took repeated follow-ups to get them there, and he had to be home at the right time. The Australian expat's experience was less positive: her delivery requests, along with those of some of her neighbors, went unanswered. "That leaves private suppliers, with costs that are hard to predict. A neighbor apparently received a quote of Rs 5,000 recently to fill a tank, with no details on its capacity or the delivery terms," she says.
What solutions are on the table?
The heart of the problem is Mare aux Vacoas. On October 6, the Minister of Energy and Public Utilities, Patrick Assirvaden, laid out the situation plainly: the reservoir was supplying only 61,000 m³ of water to the La Marie treatment plant, compared to 110,000 m³ under normal conditions. It was down to 35.9% capacity, versus 88.6% a year earlier. The minister also identified a structural issue: the island's reservoirs are not connected.
To bridge the shortfall, the government has announced several measures. Eleven boreholes are set to serve the affected areas, with an additional 31,000 m³ expected to enter the network by the end of October. Fifteen pressure filtration units were ordered four to five months ago: seven have already arrived, and the full set should deliver around 33,000 m³ more. A second pipeline from Mare Longue is also planned to bring an extra 15,000 m³ to La Marie. Encouraging figures on paper, but for now, they remain targets.
On the ground, some operations have already begun. In early October, the CWA started pumping water from the Pétrin River to La Marie, adding an estimated 2,000 m³ per day. A similar operation was planned on the Papayes River. The goal is to ease pressure on Mare aux Vacoas, even as the region's underground water sources are themselves suffering from the lack of rainfall. Every drop counts in the meantime. Since August 10, regulations have restricted non-essential uses and banned waste: washing cars, watering gardens, and filling swimming pools with a hose or similar device are all prohibited.
Looking further ahead, Patrick Assirvaden wants to include desalination in a "Marshall Plan" for water and develop new supply sources. He has also pointed to a resource currently being wasted: the 55,000 m³ of treated wastewater discharged every day, which could be used for purposes including irrigation.
The weather, it has to be said, hasn't helped. According to meteorological services, the 2025-2026 summer received only 66% of normal rainfall, and February 2026 was the fourth driest February on record since 1904.
For everyone living on the island, those figures come down to one simple question: will there be enough water at home tomorrow? Karine fears that summer will make things worse. Motard prefers to invest now so he's ready. As for the Australian expat, she's waiting for more reliable supply, leaks that finally get fixed, and shortages that are better anticipated.
Their stories reveal what lagoon photos never show: making a life in Mauritius also means learning to live with its realities.
A journalist, holder of the DALF C1 and C2 and a diploma from the University of Mauritius, I have nearly twenty years of writing experience. After six years in the Mauritian press, I joined Expat.com, where I have been working for over a decade, including five years as editorial assistant, and now as editorial manager.
