proaching the
dumpsite on the outskirts of the southern city triggers a newfound desperation
among the rubbish recyclers trying to make a living from other people’s
leftovers.
At the entrance gate two men have vaulted onto the top of the truck,
while another hangs precariously from its tailgate, their mouths stuffed with
rags to avoid the suffocating dust as best they can. Two others stand guard
at the gate to screen encroaching newcomers. “We just don’t allow anyone
to come into our territory because there is much less to go around for
everyone,” says one of the guards, scanning an expectant group milling
near the entrance. Tenjiwe Sihlalo, 40, wades through the mashed garbage,
trying to keep pace with the slow-moving truck, ignoring the grit and dirt it
has churned up. “Good garbage is hard to come by these days, unlike in the
past, when we could get quality throwaways,” she says. As the truck tips out
its load, the scavengers rush forward, waving away the plumes of dust,
trying to quickly identify anything of value for resale. “You hardly find enough
trash of reasonable quality,” complains 52-year-old Gibson Hlongwane.
The manufacturing firms that have survived Zimbabwe’s seven-year
recession have been conserving packaging – bad news for the dumpsite
entrepreneurs. Economists estimate that most firms are operating at between 60 percent
and 70 percent below capacity in a long-running foreign currency crisis
that has
squeezed imports of raw materials and equipment spare parts. Just two
out of 10 Zimbabweans have formal jobs, while inflation, currently around
4,000 percent, could hit over a million percent by the end of the year.
Hlongwane has been recycling garbage for the past five years, and says times have
never been this tough. “It appears manufacturers no longer discard
cartons and cardboard boxes that used to fetch us good money,” he comments,
picking through scraps of cardboard. “Either that or the workers at the
factories first go through the material that has to be thrown away for what they
can retrieve for recycling before dumping the worst for us.” The erratic
collection of garbage by the city council from Bulawayo’s wealthier
suburbs has not helped. “We used to get second-hand clothes and shoes thrown
away by the residents. Now we rarely do,” Sihlalo says, inching towards the
base of the rubbish dump to prize out what looks like a broken sandal before
picking up her bag and heading for an open space to sort out her day’s finds.
Post published in: News