The next time you encounter someone scratching in your bin on refuse collection day, take a deep breath and try not to get angry.
Consider what happens to all the non-degradable waste we discard and how this army of recyclers is doing us all and the planet a massive favour, writes Gasant Abarder in a new #SliceofGasant column.
Mogamat and I have a few things in common. We both have a wife and four kids and we’re committed to providing for our families.
On the particular morning each week that our paths cross, we would have covered a few kilometres before our respective days start in earnest. Me on a treadmill covering around 3km before I get ready for work. Mogamat covering much more on foot to get to my house.
But that is where the similarities end.
On Thursday mornings, Mogamat treks from Manenberg to be outside my house in Claremont when it’s bin collection day before 7am. I bundle several empty 5l water and other plastic bottles into a black bag or two for him that I keep separately from the bin. He neatly packs it into the rickshaw-style trolley he has fashioned for himself while we make small talk. This way, he doesn’t have to scratch through the bin because I already know what he is looking for.
From here, he says, he will continue his journey on foot to Athlone to the scrapyard and once he gets his meagre takings, he will make the walk back home with a few rands. He gets R1 for a bag and a half of plastic bottles and R2 for a bag and a half of metal cans. The pay will increase marginally once the owners of the bigger scrap yards open for the year.
‘I’ve given up on trying to find a job, but I can’t give up because of my family. I want to make an honest living but it’s hard. I don’t want to do crime,’ he tells me.
There are a few dozen faces like Mogamat that I recognise. They are the regulars who scrounge from the bins to eke out an existence. Our trash is their treasure. And here’s the thing: they do a favour for us all by ensuring that our waste, especially plastic, doesn’t end up on a dump where it will take thousands of years to disintegrate, if ever.
Many of them leave a mess and it’s annoying. But they explain that they must work fast for fear they will be chased away from the bins. There are a few folks who leave a mess and have made it hard for them because for the most part, they want to leave the bins the way they found them.
It makes me feel guilty when I stand at the supermarket till with a full trolley of food for the month and complain about how the trolley has less but I’m paying more each month. The municipal account gets higher each month too. And the medical aid premium has increased by a whopping R1 000 year on year. All the while, salaries have remained static. But then I think of Mogamat and I count my blessings for how privileged I am.
He and his friends are part of the more than 30 percent of South Africans who can’t find gainful employment but refuse to resort to crime to improve their lot. We waste an awful lot of food and other consumables. But Mogamat and the rest of the folks who collect our recyclable waste have educated me about how to discard waste.
A piece of unwanted furniture, that has metal, can keep Mogamat and his family going for at least a day and won’t end up in our rivers or stormwater system where it clogs up the works.
It got me thinking about an alternative waste economy that would require a little bit of capital outlay of separate bins by the City of Cape Town and its residents, but which will benefit us all in the long run by reducing waste and creating a more sustainable environment. It would also help to alleviate the theft of copper and metal cables if we had bins for different waste items in their categories.
I no longer regard Mogamat and his friends as a nuisance but as an important ally in the chain of reducing waste and contributing to environmental conservation. Think about it the next time you prepare the bin on refuse collection day. A little bit more effort in discarding waste can literally change lives.
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Picture: Supplied
