Tag Archives: Garbage in India

The Economics of Trash, Foreign Affairs Magazine

My article, “The Economics of Trash”, was just released on the Foreign Affairs website.  Here is a teaser, and you can check out the full piece at ForeignAffairs.com

“The streets of India’s major cities look dirty, piles of waste rot in the corners of buildings, and plastic bottles crunch underfoot. But the grit hides an informal waste collection system so effective that, despite an increase in the sale of disposable, non-organic consumer goods in India in recent years, the trash that ends up in the hands of municipal garbage facilities is over 50 percent organic — that is, mostly food waste. In 2009, food scraps made up only 21 percent of non-recycled waste in the United States. India’s ubiquitous trash-pickers may seem to some an unfortunate byproduct of Western-style consumption, but where others see garbage many Indians see opportunity. In an informal glass market in Bangalore, I was offered three rupees for a green glass bottle. By selling three bottles, I could have earned enough for a local bus ride.

The country’s informal recycling sector, however, can only generate so much profit. It is constrained by its lack of capital and long-term investment…”  Go to Full Article

Understanding EWaste

During my research into municipal solid waste, I’ve had the opportunity to learn a lot about ewaste by talking to workers in the industry, interviewing leaders in organizations supporting better ewaste processing in India, and making a few site visits. My first experience with ewaste was a trip to an informal circuit board processor just outside of Delhi. Most of the pictures in this post are from that visit, which left me feeling slightly hung over and absolutely depressed. However a second trip to the second hand electronic dealers and ewaste recycling vendors in Seelampur, in Delhi, and a trip to Bangalore left me with many more questions. Ewaste is a one in all conflict with pollution, over-consumption, and neo-colonialism intertwined. Images of women and children picking apart old computers are now ubiquitous proof of global demise. But if you have been following me at all you won’t be surprised to hear that the issue is a bit more nuanced than we all imagine.

India is not a major importer of ewaste, or at least according to official numbers it is not – import laws currently prohibit the import of electronics for waste processing. Still in 2004 the national ewaste industry, according to Toxics Links, generated an annual revenue of $1.5 Billion, with expectations for major growth. In 2005, the waste advocacy group SAAHAS estimated that gold extraction

Women cleaning circuit boards.

alone from Bangalore’s budding e-waste recycling industry was worth about $1 million.

Some of this revenue is generated through imported waste – illegally or under the guise of donations. Even so ewaste in India is not simply a problem of developed countries cost dumping.

Indian consumption of computers, mobile phones, and televisions is generating about 400,000 tonnes of waste annually and is expected to grow at 10-15% per year. (As a reference, the US and China are the world leaders of EWaste production, with 2.3 and 3 million annual tonnes respectively.

Waste water drainage at an informal circuit board processor

China, also happens to be the world’s largest ewaste importer.) Even without imports this is enough to provide a steady supply of materials to the waste mining industry. India, following China’s lead, is crossing a line. It’s anyone’s guess as to whether the country will one day become a major force as an importer or exporter of ewaste, or both.

The danger posed by electronics arise from the mishandling of highly toxic chemicals such as lead, mercury, cadmium, PVC, beryllium, and flame retardants. In addition, acid wash, cyanide, and fire are employed to release the precious metals, all of which pose a danger to the handler. India has plenty of informal/backyard recyclers with terrible working and safety standards. However the industry is also extraordinary for its diversity. A circuit board processing operator might expose his/her workers to the fumes of a smelter and let  children play in polluted mud.

Plastic and second hand keyboard/printer dealer in Seelampur, Delhi

At the same time a different merchant, another cog in a long chain, might simply be in the business of breaking plastic and metal for sale and segregating refurbish able keyboards and printers. Such decentralization of the informal sector makes regulation of the industry all the more difficult.

Managers and owners of informal e-waste facilities are generally uneducated and running on small profit margins. Often they are not aware of the extent of the hazards in their business. While they do not work constantly with the hazardous substances that their laborers handle, they are at the facilities day in and day out. They take no more measures for their own on-site health than they do for their employees, which is nil. As is also the case in municipal solid waste, where safety standards are implemented the laborers themselves can be the biggest challenge to meeting new policy. The founder of E-Parisaraa, the country’s first sanitary ewaste processing facility, remembers when

These women work without gloves or masks, others in their group wear both.

he began operations he had to resort to threatening workers with fines if they did not wear gloves and masks, even after they had received training on the importance of such safety measures.

Top down supported centralization of the industry is required in order to eradicate danger to health and environment. In fact formalization campaigns are already underway in India, through the effort of NGOs and some government support. European governments, with a very active role played by the German aid organization Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (Formerly GTZ), have donated large

Open dumping behind circuit board processing site.

amounts of money to helping these campaigns. Including E-Parisaraa, which began as a formal and regulated company, there are already four formal for-profit ewaste processing centers in India that operate with international safety standards. Some of the waste that is processed in these units can still end up in the informal sector in India or dumped in other countries. However with a more centralized industry the trickle down of pollutants will be easier to monitor by the government and consumer watch dogs. This will be a long process, and will not find success if it focuses solely on the goal of meeting international safety standards and labor regulations. Rather it starts with teaching those in the informal sector the basics of business – how to keep accounts and pay taxes – while providing them with convincing arguments and incentives to stay in the system.

Children playing at an informal waste processing site.

The biggest hazard to health is posed by smelters, where circuit boards are melted, and phosphorous from the processing of screens. However, many of the other dangers can be addressed with surprisingly simple measures – masks, gloves, better soaps, and waste water management. Counter to common logic, when ISO standards are followed ewaste is a two way street. Without any companies meeting international standards for circuit board processing in India, E-Paisaraa has been selling its PCP boards and other intricate ewaste elements to Umicore for further mining in Belgium. The founder, P.Parthasarathy, is also working on a plan to sell circuit boards collected in the informal sector to Umicore, thereby taking them out of harmful circulation in India.

International regulation of the Ewaste industry is as difficult as you can imagine. The Basel Convention on the Transboundary Movement of Hazardous Waste has attempted to clamp down on the ewaste trade. However, without ratification of the treaty by the US the convention is still working with baby teeth. Ewaste is also one of those things, like

Sitting down with a manager at an informal ewaste processing site.

old ships – that I would like to cover soon, which is a hazy category under the legal definition of hazardous waste. For example second hand computers which are sold or donated for use in another country might breakdown after they have arrived. They may also be imported illegally for the sole purpose of waste processing. But how do you tell the difference between the two in transit and how do you punish those who import illegally if there is no domestic monitoring. Legally it is unclear where the responsibility for such “wastes” lie.

Concerned waste producers are left between a rock and a hard place. It is nearly impossible to guarantee that your mobile phone or computer or television will be processed in a safe and secure manner. Although President Obama supports the drive for more domestic ewaste processing, the industry remains expensive as compared to ISO regulated companies in developing countries  and lags behind techno savvy processors in Europe. Many states are now enacting laws to ban any export of ewaste. However it’s unclear to me how effective banning the international ewaste trade will be. Another interesting route to address the ewaste problem is in the production processes. I’m not just talking about direct processing waste, which by the way is a forgotten problem in electronics. Better product design can help extend product life, replacement, and repair. Such thinking is not going to solve the waste problem on its own. But in a world of gray it’s an excellent way to start.

Survey Results

Thanks to everyone who participated in my survey. The  majority of you were from the US but there were respondents from all over the globe. Considering the highly scientific collection method and the statistically relevant response of 41 participants, I’m ready to make some sweeping statements about humanity’s relationship with trash.

cardboard

Four of you said you would save these for storage or shipping. I'm disappointed, I would have said Fort Building.

Recycling definitely won the day. Over 85% of you said that you would put used cardboard and a plastic tub in your recycling. Now the cardboard was probably an obvious answer. But let’s think a little bit about the plastic bottle. Although many of you do not have this in your homes, these types of jugs are typically made from  polycarbonate plastic (#7) and are not recycled. In the past year PET jugs which are recyclable have increased but the US recycling rate for all PET bottles in 2009 was still only 31%.

Also consider this. Garbage in most legal and policy definitions is defined as something discarded, or which is of no further value to the user. So

Water Jug

Some creative thinkers in this group! One of you said you would save this jug to use as a penny jar. Another insisted he/she could use it to make beer.

even when you place something in the recycling, it’s still garbage! When I asked these same questions to a room full of Indian students and lecturers a considerable number of them claimed that they would sell the cardboard. And the water jug, which is in common household use, is in fact on deposit and would be traded or returned to the manufacturer. What does this mean? It means that in India cardboard is not garbage, plastic water jugs are not garbage because for the end-user they contain a monetary value.

Also interesting was your response to the question of a broken television. 6 of you said you would try to find someone to take it off your hands for you. Close to 50% would recycle their T.V. This is of course not an option in India. A used T.V. would be sold, hands down.

Finally, you are a very clean bunch. Over 30 of you claimed not to have dropped anything on the ground in the past week. Those who did confess to littering mentioned cigarette butts and food. One Indian respondent confessed to dropping takeaway trays on the ground. This is a great example of the litter problem that exists here in Delhi and across many other parts of the country. And it is something we can all reflect on. In the US we like to imagine that we are moving forward towards an enlightened and modern concept of waste. We keep our streets clean but we live farther away from our waste and fail to see the marginal value of our goods. When I was in Brooklyn I had a broken TV, in fact it’s probably still siting in my old living room. Because honestly, who in the US wants a TV that doesn’t turn on, has no power button, and doesn’t get a digital signal? Recycling, even re-using in this context often means shipping these products to, you guessed it, India!

Check out the actual Survey Results here.

A New Perspective

Jhulta Minara. By Shalabh

If you have been following this blog you know that the issue of litter keeps emerging as one of the biggest hurdles to India’s waste infrastructure and general urban development.  Well last week I visited Ahmedabad, Gujarat, and was served a strong reminder of India’s heterogeneity. In Ahmedabad the infrastructure is there -garbage cans are present. And the public is utilizing them resulting in a stark difference from the streets of Delhi and other large cities (so I’m told). Even outside Ahmdebad I could see that things are working just a bit better than other small towns and roads I’ve traveled in the North West. It also helps that the state is wealthy and that Shri Narendra Modi was adjudged the best state chief minister for three years in a row. There are certainly other places I’ve heard of and hope to visit in India that are even better well known for their waste management, but this trip was at least a taste of the variety of environments India encompasses.

But before I rattle on any further, let me backtrack to the reason for my visit to Gujarat. I was invited to speak about waste management in India at “Celebrating 50th Year of Swarnim Gujarat: The Role of Gujarati Diaspora”. Even though my topic was not exactly diaspora centered, I spoke with a great crowd of NRIs, residents, and students who deeply care about the growth of their state and country. I used the survey I conducted through this blog to demonstrate the difference between how residents in the US and India understand “garbage” in very different ways – something that I will try to expand on in a future post. (Check out the slides from my presentation.) Speaking with conference participants I was happy to find that many of them were already thinking about India’s garbage problem, some had even started drawing up their own solutions.

After three days in the warm company of Dr. Adesh Pal and his family I headed into the city. My first meeting was with Dr. Shrawan Kumar Acharya, author of the Ahmedabad chapter of Solid Waste Practices in Urban Cities, and Dr. Saswat Bandyopadhyay, both of CEPT University. The first thing I noticed in my meetings with these professors was their impressive hands on approach. The walls of their offices held maps of townships, data charts and action plans.

In between sidebars and emails Dr. Bandyopadhyay made an extremely bold suggestion – that the content of India’s waste is not changing. Dr. Bandyopadhyay argues that, contrary to previous government estimates, historical world trends, and a truck full of personal anecdotes, India’s waste remains mostly organic and will probably stay that way for the near future. This most likely due to the informal sector’s role in purchasing and processing material prior to disposal. In addition, Dr. Bandyopadhyay did not see a bright future for large scale implementation of decentralized waste management, another assertion against the grain. He sees the land requirements and reliance of such systems on segregation as too big a hurdle. Pointing out that with time residents’ participation in segregation programs wanes, he believes that constant outreach would be necessary to keep such programs going. This can be an expensive and nuanced task. In general he asserted that life cycle costs for decentralized waste management were unsustainably high.

Dr. Acharya was also keen to talk about waste in market driven terms. He pointed to the movement of rag pickers from large cities to small and medium towns as visible proof of the growing waste problems there. If mega cities are at a loss for a way to landfill and process their waste, towns and villages have even less options. The lack of an informal recycling network in these areas creates a huge void. I touched on some of the effects of this, in my post about the Manimahesh Yatra. A second trend, said Dr. Acharya, was the increase in private sector participation in waste collection. NGOs built the first successful waste collection streams in Ahmedabad. After the waste system became profitable and stable, private companies entered the game. Although they out bid the NGOs for most government contracts, the professor argued that they are a positive force in a growing market. When I visited one of the outbid groups the next day, they had a very different take on the trend.

The Self Employed Women’s Organization (SEWA) is a truly impressive group. Founded in the seventies, it helps women in the informal sector organize into unions and cooperatives. It has grown into a mammoth of an umbrella group, with members in nine other Indian states. Visiting their building in Ahmedabad was a real treat. The offices are simple open layouts and in the whole three story tall complex, I saw a couple kids and a baby but only two men.

SEWA started organizing rag pickers in 1975. Even though waste management is only a small part of what the group does today, they still represent a large population, 45,700 waste pickers between three cooperatives in Ahmedabad. And their influence on the field goes much further.  In 2004 the group began the city’s first decentralized waste management program, helping women organize to secure a contract from the Vejalpur residential authority for door to door collection and segregation. Today this model is ubiquitous in neighborhoods across India. However the cooperative, Shri Karya Siddhi Kargal Kam Mahila Sewa Sahkri Mandli, no longer works in that neighborhood. They were out bid in 2007 by a private company. One SEWA employee says, “It’s like having a baby and seeing it get adopted and raised by someone else.”

The biggest challenge for the waste cooperatives and unions now is to figure out how to secure a livelihood for their women in a competitive market. One group, the Gitanjali Waste Picker Cooperative has opened a facility where members are employed in making stationary. Eye roll! How many groups out there try to create a product like this for a kitschy market? The Zabaleen, waste pickers in Egypt, are certainly doing it. However what is most impressive about this cooperative’s work is that it is just making regular stationary. Just a simple lined notebook, nothing special or remarkable about it. And its purchasers are regular stationary stores and offices. SEWA gifted me with a pen made from rolled up magazine pages and a hard paper cap. Durable, simple, and sustainably average. I’m just trying to stop myself from chewing on it like I do with most other writing implements. SEWA has also started a scrap shop to instill competition into the historically abusive informal recycling market.

The trip was rounded off with a meeting about biomedical waste with a division of Ramky, India’s biggest for-profit formal waste processor, and an adventurous attempt to get into Alang, the world’s largest ship breaking port. However those are stories that will have to be saved for another day. For now I am back in Delhi wandering through the streets with a fully gnawed corn on the cob, searching for a trash can.

Profile of a Rag Picker

This week with the help of Shalabh, aka wanderer extraordinaire, I went out to seek a few of the people who handle the trash around Delhi. That’s how I found myself sharing a bag of peanuts, served in a recycled magazine page, with Maya and her band of sweepers.


At first glance the street is a dump. Goats dressed in old sweaters and chickens wander between the bins and garbage bags on either side of the road, a dusty side street leading to a simple crematorium. At 2:59 pm the site makes a comedy of Delhi Waste Management’s sign claiming, ‘Zero

garbage zone 13 to 15 hrs.’ However on closer inspection Maya runs an ordered and cleanly operation. Segregated bags of waste are piled high and covered with a plastic sheet, waiting for the broker’s next visit. Although the day’s un-segregated waste is picked over by the goats, the garbage they dislodge is sure to be picked up soon. Maya sits close to the ground on a short stool. Surrounding her are five lounging men; aside from her husband, they are all sweepers hired by Delhi Waste Management, a city contracted company, to sweep the neighborhood streets and deliver their bags to the dustbins at this location.

Goats

Goats and chickens feeding on the day's trash.

About 65 years old, Maya has been watching over this street for 25 years.  She hails from a rural village just a few hours away from New Delhi, in Uttar Pradesh. After marrying she moved to this slum community of Begampur Harijan Basti in Delhi. Before claiming her corner Maya jumped around the city, working mostly with garbage. She eventually struck a deal with the neighborhood surrounding Begampur. In return for keeping the road to the crematorium clean, she would be allowed to use the space to collect and segregate the area’s waste.

Mam Chand with a sweeper

This was no easy job. Maya says that back then the road was a favored spot for street shitting. “The crap was up to here,” says Maya’s husband Mam Chand, waving his hand by his knee. To break the neighborhood of its bad habits Maya took to sleeping on the crematorium road. When residents snuck out to take care of their business in the cover of the night, she chased them down. She remembers, “I carried a big stick with me and would chase them and then ask them to pick up their mess themselves.”  Although she still sleeps in her makeshift home on the road, after more than two decades of guardianship the street is clear and no one is breaking the rules. However, just off the temple’s main drag and outside Maya’s jurisdiction, we found enough fresh material to convince us that her rule is far from obsolete.

Garbage waiting to be segregated

In exchange for her commitment to keeping the road clean Maya is spared hassling by police and no one is allowed to cannibalize her business. Her presence on the block is so strong that when the municipality built cement dust bins to collect the neighborhood’s trash, they built them next to her operation. When the municipality and then the contracted private firm set up their operations they employed the expert, Maya, to ensure that the area around the dustbins remained clean.  This turns out to be a big task as Mam Chand pointed out to us. Although he had cleaned the bins at the other end of the road that morning, there was already a solid mass of garbage collecting around the half empty metal containers. He says the neighbors used to be better about their trash, but with the coming of plastic bags and other disposable packaging people stopped caring about the value of what they dropped, and where there dropped it.

Maya and her husband live a life with one foot in the formal sector, but with little security.  According to Maya, Delhi Waste Management currently pays herself and her husband a total wage of 1000 rupees a month. In addition, they make 2000 to 2500 rupees/ month selling plastic bottles and any other valuable waste they can segregate to a broker from the company. The going rate for an unbroken glass bottle is 1 rupee but they don’t often find such valuable material. Their money is made in thin plastic and plastic bottles, 3 rupees/kg and 50 paise respectively. There is also a little money to be made selling the meat of their goats. And there are the chickens, Maya pulled back the door of what I thought was a stack of card board to reveal a comfortably roosting hen.

Although the prices of materials ebb and flow with the market, Maya says that wages have remained about the same for the last 10 years, and in fact were lowered from 1200 when the city contracted out. Maya and her band of sweepers suspect that much more money has been allocated to them but that it is lost in “brokering,” as she diplomatically referred to Delhi’s corruption. All in all it doesn’t add up to much. Mam Chand says, “we make a total of 3 thousand a month, its barely enough to keep two people going on food, milk costs 22rps a liter so that tells you how well off we are.” Although goat’s milk might help Mam Chand save some rupees,

Maya sleeps outside to protect the street and her garbage.

there are also medical expenses to consider, like Maya’s appendix operation which cost them 75000 rps. And there is their one child, a widow supporting three children of her own. Their daughter lives in another section of the city but often returns looking for help. “You have to support your kids,” says Maya with a heavy shrug.

Maya and her men are just a small piece of the many layered and complicated system of waste in India. Getting paid a wage brings them closer to a stable way of life, but it’s hardly enough to get by. Any changes to the system, such as the collection of unsegregated waste for waste-to-energy programs, or even a change in habits like better segregation and consumption habits on the part of residents poses a threat to their stability.

Despite this Maya looks over her road with proud resolution. It is her space. One of the young sweepers joked that she was Panchali , meaning a wife to all of them.  Maya was quick to respond, “I live alone here in the night. You come here and I’ll tell you whose wife I am. I have a dagger and I’ll drive it through you.”  With her wit and command it’s not difficult to imagine Maya in another setting, manipulating her self-built corporation from behind an oak desk and far from the grandmother that squatted on the wicker stool before us. But even without the trappings of an empire, she is still the boss and her life will pass on that corner, amongst the trash that is her legacy.

Garbage Around: What’s Wrong With This Picture?

Oh Nuts!

That’s right! There is no chocolate, or raisins , or anything else besides almonds. Before you declare false advertising and suggest I send Planters a note so that I can get free nuts for life, cool your jets. This is a re-used bag!  They were purchased from a corner store with the hope of actually finding real trail mix.

Once we became aware of the true contents of the bag, the store owner was kind enough to pull out cashews and other nuts packaged in the same way. He explained to us that a man, who he claims doesn’t have a number, stops by about once a week to deliver the nuts. His hesitance indicated either confusion on his part as to why we had any interest in who provides nuts or that the arrangement was part of the informal economy. I figure it was probably a little bit of both.

After some thought, here is what I think is the most likely scenario. Planters has a factory, either in the US or somewhere else in the world – could be India or could not be since Planters is not a big distributor here. At this factory there are sometimes mistakes on the assembly line. Our Trail Mix bag, which was very clean and crisp in appearance, also claimed to be “resealable,” which unfortunately  it was not. So long story short its possible that the Planters factory(s) sells its faulty packages to an outside dealer, which sells to another dealer, and so on, down the chain finally reaching the the informal nut packager in Delhi. Mind you, I have no proof to back this up and it’s only one of many possible cycles. Could be that the Planters bag was used and discarded, picked up, cleaned, and re-used.

By now you are probably thinking, “How very sanitary.” I’ve been reflecting on standards in India and the US. Personally I don’t see anything wrong with the use of defunct Planters bags for a cheaper market as long as the nuts are still clean. Well I ate them as did friends and not one of us is lying in heap on the floor of a bathroom, so far so good. But who knows that the next package will bring…

Indian Pollution Control Association; Compost in the City

Ashish Jain oversees his fiefdom of worms from a leather swivel chair in a small office of a non-descript consumer’s market somewhere in the great urban expanse of Delhi. His NGO, Indian Pollution Control Association (IPCA), was established in 2001 with the mission of improving standards of living in India and a focus on solid waste management and rainwater harvesting. With as many as 100,000 homes sending garbage to IPCA for vermicomposting, and a daily growing roster of costumers, Mr. Jain’s creepy crawly subjects are always working over time.

IPCA’s waste management strategy is simple: Cut costs and increase efficiency in waste collection through local segregation and vermicomposting. I recently visited one of IPCA’s three plants, all of them based in or around Delhi. Used to the toe to toe traffic and chaos of the city streets, I was surprised when I crossed the entrance of the two acre facility in Greater Noida to find an air of serenity about the place. A collector entered the compound behind us, calmly perspiring over the handle bars of his tricycle as he pulled in the day’s garbage. According to IPCA’s philosophy, the largest cost in a municipal waste system is transportation. To eliminate this burden, IPCA carries out collection and processing in 3 kilometer clusters, a distance which makes it possible to handle much of the waste with manual carts.

In the far corner of the plant another man squatted before a fresh pile of garbage three feet tall. He went through the waste one handful at a time, removing little plastic packets of single serving chewing tobacco and other inorganic waste. IPCA employs rag pickers to serve, for salary, the same communities that they had previously covered informally. The employees are given a uniform, health care, and a stable, minimum wage, income which, IPCA argues, is a path to self respect and greater recognition in the mainstream. Although IPCA says that it provides all of its workers with gloves, this man was not wearing any. Mr. Jain explained that despite safety training the workers, who have been handling waste for most of their lives, prefer to got without the clumsy protection.

As any home composter loves to tell dubious friends, composting doesn’t smell. Well, this is mostly true. The air just around the segregation piles wasn’t what I would call pleasant. But, then again it was better than the thick stink rising from the banks of the Yamuna River around my neighborhood. The long parallel rows of brick pits, where the worms quietly carried out their work, smelled mostly of earth and were lined with trees for protection from the rain and sun. Every so often the compost was monitored and turned, while staff lounged on a small patch of green garden, and white egrets perched in the trees and on aerating piles of waste. After a few weeks the odor free compost is removed from the pits sifted by hand, and bagged for sale.

A worker sifts the compost removing impurities like inorganic waste.

IPCA markets this product, Vermi Green, to a growing number of organic farmers in India. Any garbage which cannot be composted, or fed to animals on special farms, is sold for recycling or processed in house – IPCA currently operates two small paper and class recycling facilities. Finally a small amount, 5-7% of the waste, is sent nearby to the Gazipur landfill. Driving by the city dump on our way back to the office the first thing I noticed was a sudden cloud of hawks darkening the skies. Following their angle of flight, I finally saw the hills and valleys of a wasteland spread before me. Already over capacity, but with no other viable options available, this landfill is openly accepting Delhi’s garbage.

Mr. Jain’s is an impressive non-profit business model, with the money made from the garbage of wealthy families being reinvested to help serve poorer areas.  Yet IPCA faces limitations. The NGO’s reliance on composting as its major processing mechanism is hardly a new idea. In fact, it has been the method of choice in India for centuries. Modern times have seen many large composting facilities fail due to lack of maintenance and product demand. That IPCA has found a stable and growing market for its organic compost, higher priced than standard fertilizers, is the hopeful exception and not the norm. The land required for vermicomposting units, about 2 acres per 3 kilometers of collection, poses another problem, and is the only area in which the NGO requires government investment. Finding such unused space in urban India, and avoiding “not in my backyard” sentiments, is an acute challenge and can turn a low cost process into a highly expensive venture.

Finally, Mr. Jain says, IPCA faces resistance from Delhi’s major waste corporations, municipalities, and unionized street sweepers. IPCA is not just fighting the companies for market share. Amongst the rubbish the staff is jockeying with informal, public and privately employed individuals for valuable resources and the right to stay in the game for the long-term. Despite these challenges Mr. Jain is highly optimistic for the growth of IPCA, confident that it will cover 1 million customers—households,  neighborhoods, and companies–within a year. My parting gift from IPCA was a children’s book about Garbie Garbyhog, the very happy trash eating worm.

The Green Commonwealth Games?

I’ve had a number of people ask me what is going on with Green at Commonwealth Games. So I’ll quickly share some of what I’ve been able to find out. First, to see what promises were made you can check out the CWG’s Eco-Code chart. The committee signed on with United Nations Environment Program to help make the 2010 games the first sustainable Commonwealth event. While there is certainly a movement towards these green goals, there have also been hiccups along the way. Here is a quick summary of some high and low points for the greening of the games.

Afforestation and potted plants are meant to offset the effect of building up the city’s infrastructure, such as the metro, and other CWG construction. Delhi has definitely put resources towards the cause. However the promise of two million new trees has yet to be reached and, as was planned, will extend well past the close of the games. Saplings do not fully cover the cost of a fully grown tree, but that is generally a trade off with infrastructure growth.

The highlight of the Green construction initiatives has been Thyagaraj Stadium, with megawatts of solar panels. In addition, hundreds of CNG powered buses are transporting the athletes and other participants between venues. Fly-ash was used in bricks, and construction debris, like PVC, was reused in the building processes. One key public relations gimmick for the greening of the games, Green Calculators, were to display the total carbon footprint of the games and allow spectators to purchase carbon credits. However, halfway through the games these are still absent. Also of note is the recent sewage back up, one of a couple thus far, caused by used condoms at the Games Village.

And to my favorite subject… garbage. In September it was estimated that 163.2 tons of waste would be generated by the games. Three private vendors were hired to manage the cleanup ISS, Sarvatra and A2Z Maintenance & Engineering Services. In early October  1,100 color-coded waste bins were provided for segregated disposal at Game sites. When I attended an aquatics event this week there were cans labeled for bottle recycling as well as unlabeled green and blue bins. But all the bins contained mixed waste regardless of the label or color. And of course, as soon as you stepped outside the CWG compound there was not a can in site, including inside CWG minted Metro. Convincing people to use the bins, segregation aside, has also proved challenging for the organizers. On the night of the opening ceremonies 20,000 kg of waste was collected, most of it laying on the ground besides empty waste bins.

Once the garbage is collected, plans are to circumvent the traditional informal recycling system and send the refuse to a waste-to-energy plant, a project racked by years of debate and setbacks, which if it successfully opens will be the country’s first. This is bad news for the rag-pickers on top of restrictions they are already facing plying their trade during the games.

For organic wastes, the CWG also made a promise to provide in-house vermicomposting facilities. Whatever is left will be sent to the Ghazipur garbage dump, one of India’s three “sanitary” landfills which are approaching capacity, even without the additional waste from the Games.

So the news is both good and bad, particularly on the waste front. There are also many details that I haven’t covered for the greening of the games including water filtration and choice of locations.  With all of the mishaps and corruption charges leading up to the games, concern for the environment has largely been shelved by the media. I’m hoping there will be much more analysis and data available once the games are done.

Cleaning a Mountain

As I set out on the 20 hour ride to Himachal Pradesh to volunteer for the Mountain Cleaners, I was already planning my return with a great little green travel piece. Something about the beauty of the Himalayas, the quaint district of Chamba, often passed over by foreign tourists, and a sprinkle of feel good earth-saving bull. Instead what I got was one smelly, wet, and tiring week.

Garbage is thrown in some pretty visible locations.

The annual Manimahesh Yatra (Pilgrimage) lasts two to three weeks. Hindu followers of Shiva hike, ride and fly to the holy lake, 4201 meters above sea level. I arrived at the tail end, witnessing the final surge in the 500,000 or more (still trying to get an official number) pilgrims making their way to the top. To put this into a global perspective, it takes $414,000 to maintain the still imperfect waste system and facilities for the 292,000 annual visitors to Japan’s Mt. Fuji. At Manimahesh there is typically no money allotted to general clean up and half a million visitors is considered a slow year.

Such is the weight of the task that the Mountain Cleaners undertook in their inaugural mission to the Yatra. My arrival brought the trash saviors of Shiva’s mountain to a total of nine bodies. Jodie Underhill, a small British woman with fly away blond hair and founder of the two year old initiative, was sitting alone with her dog, Toes, at Manimahesh Lake, snowed into her tent and suffering from a fever. Her one employee had just returned from the top at her orders, afflicted with his own combination of head cold and homesickness – at one month and 300 km this was the longest trip he had ever taken from his village.

My first few days were spent in the town of Bharmour. Here my new travel buddy Mike, a British standup comic/social worker in his late forties, and I sorted the waste from about eight bins set out around town. Although the bins were labeled for separate disposal, the message rarely got through and the inside of each metal can looked more or less the same. The idea was to separate out the saleables – plastic and glass bottles, thin plastic, dry paper, and metals. Though composting had been an original hope of the project it was quickly abandoned when the true volume of the waste became clear. The disposal method for non-recyclables, which in this context included snack and cigarette packaging, is as yet undecided. There is no landfill option available, so the town’s unrecyclable garbage usually ends up being thrown off the side of the curving roads in some pretty visible locations.

After taking a holy dip in Manimahesh Lake pilgrims often leave their undergarments on the banks. So, volunteers wore vests reading "Leave Your Sins Not Your Underwear"

Watching Mike and I sort waste quickly turned into a community event. Mike, with his grey hair, encroaching scruff and authoritative demeanor was the bell of the ball for the men of Himachal Pradesh. It got so bad that I was tempted to shout out, “Hey American Woman here… HELLO!!?” But instead I got out my camera and at the request of many a young gentleman took snaps of them with the Englishman. Our only requirement to take a picture was that the requestor put on some gloves and pick up some trash. Sort of like a kissing booth at the state fair but our slogan was, “Mere ko Kachra Do, aur Photo Lo” – Bring me trash and take a picture.

Hanging out in town alongside us was an Indian volunteer from Delhi and a complicated, alcoholic, recently divorced Swami who called all the girls darling and read palms – sparkling or tragic fortunes depending on his mood and whether you were laughing at him. During the night we all shared a room in the Bharmour Mountaineering Center’s hostel and the days were spent sorting waste and hiding from the rain under a shack built out of recycled Tetra Paks. Even Baba (the swami) for all his shortcomings was dedicated to the cause and had moments of valuable outreach and contribution to the effort. The village was in total party mode, with events like wrestling matches and concerts in the temple square every night, families sleeping together in every available structure and many more saffron-clad men wandering about. Alcohol was flowing in secret and marijuana was burning everywhere.

The Mountain Cleaners attracted a diverse group of volunteers.

After a few days I left the comfort of musty mattresses behind, strapped on my back-pack and headed for the mountain. Reaching the first camp site, the snowcapped peaks and expanse of the Himalayas surrounding me was incredible, as long as I only looked up. Looking down was breathtaking for a very different reason. At Manimahesh there was no informal recycling going on like you find in most of India. Garbage lined and padded the trail all the way up to Manimahesh mixing along the banks of the river with human and animal shit. Pits dug in preparation for the Yatra’s new waste collection system were filled with every sort of crap, metaphorical and otherwise. Cows roaming the mountain climbed into the pits and made themselves right at home. At this point I can only offer speculation as to the lack of activity from the informal recycling industry. Because Himachal Pradesh is a well off and removed state it might be that the incentive to pick up and recycle trash isn’t as strong. Then again it’s also possible that the pilgrimage is just too short to make for-profit collection viable.

For the rest of the week I lived in leaking tents in the makeshift city of Dhunchho (3056 meters), the only entertainment being the good company of the volunteers and an occasional lamb sacrifice. The food was the only real comfort in the whole trip. As a show of religious duty communities organize around one main benefactor to provide free food and chai to pilgrims along the entire road to Manimahesh.  There are hundreds of these lungars. They play music early in the morning and late into the night and provide constant support on the mountain for the entire three weeks. When we weren’t stuffing ourselves with lentils and rice the mountain volunteers continued our sorting ritual, picked up garbage bags from the lungars and shops and cleaned up the trail as much as we could.

Segregating waste on the Mountain

The most interesting part of the experience for me was the reaction of the Yatra participants to our collection efforts. While Jodie was often called a saint, the Indian volunteers were asked with astonishment how much they got paid and what caste they were from – which might explain why environmental groups like this struggle to find local volunteers and participants. As the trip wore on, my skin tanned and my hair developed a nice dark and straightening sheen so that I looked more and more like a local. When I walked down the mountain on the last day, a solo bottle collector, I was told that I was too pretty and smart to be doing this bad work. One woman asked first in Hindi then in English, “Who are your parents!?” I still don’t have an answer for that one. Some pilgrims didn’t understand why picking up trash was necessary since the river would just carry it away to the ocean. This is of course not the case, and even if it was it would still cause problems. However in general once our mission was explained, everyone was very supportive of the work we were doing. The lungars, who were all volunteers themselves, were the most helpful. Having recently switched to stainless steal dishware from plastic and paper, many of them were ready to commit to even further steps in coming years.

I left the mountain on the last day of the pilgrimage. The hundreds of shelters and stores that had lined my way up the mountain had turned into skeletons and for stretches of time it was just me and my plastic bottles. The quest to clean up Manimahesh will take many more years and much more than a few dozen volunteers. At some point the burden will need to switch to local bodies if there is to be any hope for a permanent solution. But it seems that the Mountain Cleaners are ready to re-load and start again demanding more support from the government and the community. Though their expectations were humbled this year, they made great strides in community outreach and a visible dent in the trash problem. I will certainly be rooting for them.

Volunteers at Dhunchho

Mountain Cleaners at Dhunchho

 


UPDATE (June 24th 2011) One of the Lodges that houses the Mountain Cleaners recently burned down destroying the groups equipment at Triund. If you are interested you can find out more about the fire and donate money for new equipment here:
http://www.mountaincleaners.org/news/1190