Reflections on Garbage

One thing that's become increasingly difficult to ignore in Cameroon is the trash. Walk down the street and you'll see an incredible assortment of rubbish - the soles of shoes, plastic wrappers, tissues, discarded clothing. The first night I was here, I was scandalised to come across an old brassiere; soiled and splayed across the road in an rather unladylike fashion.

Living with a Cameroonian family, I had noticed the absence of the ever-present can in 'standard' places such as the washroom and the kitchen, and had also witnessed the casual tossing of a tissue into a ravine. As for my own refuse, I've been keeping it in a ziplock bag in the naive hope that a suitable drop off would shortly be found. However, having bit my curious tongue for the past week, I finally decided to just ask about it, and when my boss replied that Cameroon's "waste management facilities" were non-existent, I was horrified, though I can't say I was surprised.

This got me thinking, though. How much garbage do we each accumulate, especially in the western world, only thinking about it as far as the curb? After being here for only a week, I know it won't be long before my little ziplock is truly put to the test, but I can't stand the thought of just throwing it into the woods. Which got me wondering, to some extent, isn't that what we already do? We dispose of our garbage in a 'civilised' fashion, but then it just gets dumped somewhere out of our direct line of vision. "Out of sight, out of mind" we think, having done our civic duty by depositing it efficiently at the end of the drive, to disappear magically once we return. Can you imagine if you put out the trash on Thursday morning, and it just STAYED THERE!?

Seeing my own accumulation of detritus every day has really made me ponder more effective consumption of goods, and methods of disposal, and I'm planning on doing a much better job recycling when I come home to facilities that actually exist. I pity the perplexed men at the depot when I burst into song over the joys of the three Rs. For now, let you all be forewarned, when I return to Calgary, my bags won't be bursting with gifts, but three months' worth of Q-tips and kleenex.