Madventures/Blog

We were crossing over the river Pasig, when the smell hit our nostrils.

The Jeepney driver didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at our discomfort and slowed down enough for us too see clearly the “river” below, the narrow stream in the midst of the Manila’s poorer neighbourhoods. Here and there the river was not much more than sludge of discarded plastic floating in industrial and household waste.

“They call it the dead river,” our driver said.

In the 90’s, the whole river was declared completely lifeless. The most problematic points of this waterway have become biohazardous dwelling place for thousands of Manilas homeless. The government is trying to revive the river that is constantly struggling to survive in the middle of Manila metro area.

We continue our journey in silence.

Once again, our nostrils sense we have arrived before our eyes do. Soon the eyes pick it up too. The air is hard to breathe and the smell makes the water rise into your eyes.

We arrive in Montalban dumpsite. And we have no way of getting in. The armed guards make sure of that. Too much bad publicity and no need for two nosy Finns to add some more.

So we move on. Our next stop is Payatas, another dumpsite. Another set of guards. This time we take a chance. Money changes hands. Understanding is reached.

We prepare our cameras and consider ourselves lucky, until we see what waits us behind the gates of the landfill.

Hundreds of hunched figures shift through the rubbish. What at first gander looks like a flock of gulls, turns out to be plastic bags whirling high in the wind. The birds do come, but only in tides, as if they have to go and get some fresh air every once in a while, to gain some energy to join the damned who are prodding the mountains of waste in hope of finding something recyclable and therefore, sellable.

In the United States alone from 380 billion disposable plastic bags only 1 percent is recycled. And all that is just a tip of the iceberg compared to plastic waste used in bottles and other containers, wrappers etc. Then there’s the rest of the world…

What was just a nightmare prediction when our generation were still children, has become reality: world is drowning in plastic.

Here in the Payatas wastelands, small children scavenge trough this trash, searching for recyclable junk like it was gold. Young men and women join them, for many this is the only way to make a living. We see old people at it too.

On occasion, these high piles of garbage are known to collapse and crush people underneath them.

Most of the people working here also live at the site.

Imagine all the waste you produce daily and do not even give a second thought to. Now imagine living in the middle of all that waste, trying to make your living out of that waste.

It is a sad sight, but when we talk to these people, they have a clear sense of what keeps them going.

It’s the work.

It’s what makes them feel like human beings.

Almost two weeks ago we got word that Payatas and Montalban were places hit hard by the typhoon Ondoy, which brought down month’s worth of rainwater in mere hours, resulting in devastating flash floods and landslides.

This is no time to be eloquent – it’s just so fucking unfair. These people live in shit and then this thing hits them.

You want to do something about it? Here.

At this count, 246 people died and 38 others went missing in the catastrophe.

R & T