Heydays of huge garbage dump over for scavengers
Heydays of huge garbage dump over for scavengers
By Lara Parpan
SMOKEY MOUNTAIN, Philippines (AFP): The putrid smell from the
gargantuan dump, once a humiliating symbol of the Philippines'
poverty, has at last been replaced by a blanket of soft green
grass on its summit.
The 21-hectare (50-acre) dump-cum-shanty-town beside Manila
Bay, which was ordered shut in 1993 by President Fidel Ramos but
which residents say continued to operate until June 1995, is now
ready to be reborn under a government redevelopment plan.
But the dump's closure, while removing a thorny image problem
for the authorities, ended decades of lucrative scavenging for
almost three generations of families which have lived at Smokey
Mountain since it first opened in 1954.
Prior to its closure, about 1,200 tons of the 5,000-tons of
garbage produced daily by this metropolis with eight million
residents, was dumped here, waste management authorities say.
The result was a veritable mountain of trash which grew up,
attracting scavengers who slowly became residents of the dump-
town, embarrassing officials and Manila residents when Smokey
Mountain gained worldwide notoriety.
Despite its rudimentary amenities, Smokey Mountain was years
ahead of the Greens. Recycling became a byword here long before
it caught on in the West, and near its summit, a row of junk
shops towers over the dwindling pile of refuse.
Amid the squalor of the shanties huddled together on the huge
garbage heap, order somehow reigns in Julie Apilado's junk shop.
Sacks of used paper, cans, bottles, plastic and scrap metal, all
consigned to designated areas, occupy every nook and cranny of
Apilado's "yard."
"I learned about recycling from the people who bought garbage
from us," said the 39-year-old mother of three, who has lived
here for 32 years.
A puzzled look crosses her face when asked if she's an
environmentalist. "I'm not sure," she says.
Apilado says earnings have dropped from 4,000 pesos (US$154) a
day to 1,500 pesos ($58) since dumping was halted at Smokey
Mountain.
To augment sagging income, three pushcarts and four pedicabs
make rounds collecting recyclable garbage from Manila's streets,
which is then sold to large factories which have a use for the
material.
A nearby day-care center founded by a French Jesuit priest
teaches Rosemary, 12, and other former scavengers how to paint
shirts and make greeting cards from recycled paper after school,
in the hope this will prevent them from moving on to other dump
sites.
Rosemary used to be one of the 1,300 child scavengers who
began scouring the dump when her mother first took her there when
she was nine. Her father, also a scavenger, died from a lung
disease several years ago.
Felisa, 35, says her husband barely makes enough to meet the
needs of their three children, driving a pedicab in city streets
for a fraction of the money he made as a scavenger.
But she concedes life has become more healthy for her and her
family since the dumping stopped.
"The toxic fumes have disappeared, my children cough less, and
maybe the good thing is that people have learned to look for
other livelihoods," she says. "I can't believe that we put up
with the smell for so many years."
But she and 1,600 families living on the dump's fringes have
rejected the government's offer of temporary housing nearby.
About 1,300 families have moved to the new site, while 200 other
families were resettled elsewhere.
The government redevelopment plans include permanent housing
for all of them, several port-related projects and an
"environment friendly" incinerator.
Gloria, 43, who lived with her family for 10 years at Smokey
Mountain, washes clothes outside her new one-room lodging at the
temporary housing site. She and her husband, who still scavenges
for trash nearby, resisted relocation for three years before
giving in.
"The president has spoken, I know the project is going to push
through," she says, as she awaits government's promise of 4,000
pesos in capital which the family intends to use to open a small
grocery.