Teirs is a world of filth. A world where man lives peacefully with houseflies; where stench is nothing but aroma and heavy nauseating marsh is a welcome sight. Not too far away, you could spot mounds of yellowish substances scattered all over, with huge green bottle flies obviously relishing their mid-day meals. A little further, another middle-aged man was busy releasing more mounds, oblivious of the flies that gladly assail him. Behind him, a group of young men with ages ranging between 14 and 25 busied themselves in the middle of the refuse, rummaging away. At intervals, they look up, stretch their backs and adjust their backpacks. Well not quite. Sacks may be more like it. For them, it is a busy day, and getting them to leave their job for a brief chat was always going to be too much.
This writer therefore had no option but wait. In between, more of the boys were returning with heavy sacks, slung over their shoulders. A couple of them tore away at sticks of sugarcane, oblivious of the stench and barely wasting efforts to ward off eager flies. Another boy, probably around 14, sucked away at his mango. He occasionally waved away the unrelenting flies; but at other times, he just lets them have a taste of the dripping juice. Appalled, this writer asked why he was allowing the flies share his fruit, but the boy who later gave his name as Abdul, simply replied, “Oga I beg lif am” (Boss, please let them be). When reminded that he could fall sick, he and his friends looked conspiratorially at each other and burst into a knowing laughter, pausing in between to size up this ‘bookish’ stranger who seemed to be more concerned about their health and welfare than themselves.
Welcome to Kurata Mechanic Village/dumpsite, located at the end of Amara Olu Street, off Agidingbi Road, Ikeja. On both sides of the main entrance to Kurata Mechanic Village are long rows of shanty stalls occupied mostly by food sellers, who as this reporter witnessed, were never starved of patronage. Young men and boys in filthy clothes trooped in and out of the ‘canteens.’ More of those coming out could be seen dangling sachets of ‘pure water’ with one hand and a tooth-pick on the other, while stretching with relish.
Indeed, the scenario here is such that anyone coming from a saner world would find it hard to believe that these people have ever heard about cholera, dysentery or even meningitis.
For them, what matters are the cans, the plastics, the loose steel and pieces of iron they are able to pick from the dumps and turn to cash. Even the danger inherent in constantly inhaling the stench emanating from marsh as they bend over scavenging is to them irrelevant.
As one of them put it, ‘dirty no dey kill black man’ (meaning ‘Dirt does not kill a black man.’)
But just how much do they make from this venture? Does it take care of their family needs? Is it enough to make them oblivious of the inherent health hazards? Better still, couldn’t they look for other jobs to do?
Our first direct respondent is a Hausa boy, who literally understands no word of English. Despite his efforts to excuse himself from any exchanges, the sight of his proceed so early in the day (it was just past mid-day and his sack was already filled with empty cans of soft drink) and his youth proved too much of an attraction to this reporter. Just why isn’t he doing something else? Why isn’t he in school or learning a more dignifying trade, for instance?
Through an interpreter, he said he is 16 years old and specialises in picking aluminium and empty cans. He was on his second sack of the day and hoped to pick at least another bag before dusk.
“I pick aluminium, empty cans and when I gather them, I sell a kilogram for N70. Sometimes, I can pick up to ten kilos, which translates to N700.”
Today is his lucky day, he said; but on a bad day, he confessed that “Picking a single sack of cans can be difficult.”
But who buys the cans from him? We asked.
At this point, the interpreter, a much older man who gave his name as Lawan, interjected that he buys the aluminium from the boys at N70 per kilo and sells to bigger collectors.
He said, “I buy from the boys. Sometimes, they bring in as much as 20 kilogram in a day, and in turn, I sell to a collector. The collector in turn sells to some big companies.”
Lawan explained that he is 35 years old, from Arewa, another name for Northern Nigeria, in a town called Gada in Sokoto State.
Sometimes, he said the boys pick plastics, especially water bottles, which they also sell to some Lebanese and Chinese, who clean them up and recycle them.
Asked if he makes enough money to sustain himself, Lawan says he manages. He said he is 35 years old, unmarried and has been in Lagos for 15 years. “We make enough to feed. You can see food sellers all around. So food is not a problem. We don’t pay rents. When night falls, we all (he and the boys) sleep in the yard at the back.” He said the ‘yard at the back’ is run by the big collector who buys their pickings in bulk, so he has no problems with them sleeping there free of charge. The yard also doubles as a depot for the stuffs until they are taken to “the white men” who buy them.
As he finished the last sentence, one of the boys who had been busy at work joined our now swelling crowd. The sight of a neatly dressed man with a recorder and a camera, and asking questions was somewhat of a spectacle.
How’s business? This reporter asked. But again his blank look gave him away. Another unlettered youth. His age could be pegged at 15.
However, when the message was translated to him, again by Lawan, he managed to say the word ‘Fine’.
He confessed that he does not understand or speak English and that “it is only in Nigeria that you people speak English,” unwittingly giving away the fact that he is not a Nigerian.
One of the female food-sellers, who witnessed this conversation, disclosed that “a lot of the scavengers are from Niger Republic, Cameroun and probably Chad. But our ignorance down south, which they are fully aware of, has led most of us to take them all as Hausas.”
Another boy, Yassi, from Sokoto however speaks a smattering English. He says the job is not an easy one, as he has to trek long distances every day, looking for refuse dumps to forage for cans and plastic. On his lucky day, he says he picks up to 25 kilogramme worth of cans. A quick calculation of that at N70 gives this reporter a handsome sum. Not bad. But how often does this happen?
“Not all the time. But, you know, business cannot be rosy all the time. And it is only when you have picked enough that you can make enough money to eat well and live well.” He reasoned.
Yassi revealed that he has a house that he and his colleagues retire to at night. From time to time, he set money aside as savings for rainy days.
He said the reason he is able to speak the little English is because he went to school a bit back in Sokoto before coming to Lagos. “I had to come to Lagos because things were really difficult back home. I had dropped out of school, and at a point, it was difficult to feed. There was nobody to rely on. Even my parents were managing, so when I told them I was going to Lagos, they prayed for me and begged Allah to bless me.”
Asked if he and his colleagues ever fall sick, considering the fact that their job is a dirty one and they practically live all their life on filthy refuse dumps, Yassi shook his head in negation and said “No, we don’t fall sick. In fact, I have never seriously fallen ill before, safe for occasional headache and maybe body pain; and I think that is natural because the job is hard.”
Does he have any plans for the future, or does he sees this job as a permanent one?
“I already told you that I am setting money aside,” he replied. “My plan is to make enough money to send home, so my father can help me plant onions and tomatoes during the planting season. That is the business that I know; that is what my parents do and that is what I plan to go back to.”
Taking a cursory look at the group of boys and young men in their filthy, almost tattered clothes, one couldn’t but wonder if they ever fall into the hands of the police.
Lawan said “The Police come here once in a while and threaten us with arrest; so usually, we settle them, sometimes with N5,000, sometimes less. The last time SARS (The Special Anti-Robbery Squad) came here, they collected N1000 before going away. I am their boss here, so usually, I settle them. “
But are they involved in any form of crime? Why would the police extort money from them despite their situation?
“No, we don’t do crime. Even the KAI Brigade (Kick Against Indiscipline) come to disturb us a lot. Those ones collect between N3000 and N5,000 from every time they come.
Ugbale Umoru is in his late thirties and hails from Kaduna State. Like the other boys, he is into scavenging of cans, irons and plastics. He says he has been in Lagos for 14 years and that he came to Lagos when the military left power and things got really stifling up north.
“You know when the military was in power, there was business in the North and money circulated freely, but the moment they left, everything just collapsed. There was no business to do, no jobs, no food to eat! Yet I didn’t want to steal. So I took the decision to move to Lagos.”
He said things have improved for him remarkably since coming to Lagos, because he can now eat well. “You can see food sellers everywhere,” he said, pointing to the rows of food sellers, “and I make enough to at least eat. When I’m not working (scavenging), I also take out time, especially on weekends, to dress well and have some good time.”
Is he married? No, he replied. But he gave a knowing smile, when asked if he has a girlfriend.
Not only Northerners
Just as this reporter was beginning to think this is a job dominated only by Nigerians of northern extraction, 25-year old Mumini Olabiyi stepped forward. He is from Ibadan and married with children, he revealed. His whole family reside in Ibadan, but he goes home from time to time to be with them.
Even though he could hardly express himself in English language, Olabiyi said he completed his primary school education. “I attended and completed Orita-Aperin Primary School, Ibadan. I came to Lagos to learn the job of scavenging, when things became too difficult for me in Ibadan.”
When reminded that the job of scavenging shouldn’t necessarily need any learning or under-studying, Olabiyi disagreed. He specialises in picking pieces of real iron, which he says now sells for N25 per kilogramme. “Recently the price came down to N25 per kilo, but on my lucky day, I have made up to N2,500. On the average, I make about N8,000 in a month.”
When told that N8,000 is barely enough to sustain him alone, he replied that he tries to manage it. Ironically, he revealed that he once trained as an auto-mechanic with specialty in Mercedes Benz, but said he prefers the job of scavenging because it rakes in more money that the energy-sapping mechanic job.
He also said he is not ashamed of the job despite its filthiness. Like the other group spoken to, Olabiyi says he has never fallen ill. To buttress his point, he said, “In fact, there was a day I even went to donate blood, and they (the medical personnel) said my blood is in good condition.”
An attempt to meet and speak with “the big collector,” who runs the depot however proved unsuccessful on two occasions. On the second visit, a man who gave his name simply as Babadudu explained that the boss had gone on a trip. He said he works directly for the boss and says his main responsibilities are to collect the cans from the scavengers, melt them in a ground oven, crate them in rectangular iron cases, where it solidifies before being sold to some Chinese buyers, who comes from somewhere around Oshodi. He does not exactly know the name of the Chinese organisation or office address, but volunteered that they probably export the solid tin to their country.
His colleague, a lady who would not give her name showed a sample of the melted tin, when solidified and said they’re probably used it in making keys, door handles, steel utensils, aluminium chairs and the likes. They however could not tell how much a crate of melted tin goes for, but said they buy the cans from the boys at N50 per kilogramme, which negates the claim by the scavengers that they sell at N70. Babadudu was however quick to add that the prices fluctuate from time to time.
He said he has been on the job for 21 years and has been married for 11 years with three children who attend private schools.
Surprisingly he said he gets paid N5,000 a month. But seeing the look in this reporter’s eyes and sensing the question that was to follow, he quickly added that he augments it with money he makes from direct scavenging and his auto-mechanic business. He says he is a trained Japanese car mechanic and runs a workshop somewhere in the mechanic village by the dump site.
Olusosun dump site, where men chase after filth
Elsewhere at Olusosun Dump site at Ojota, (Lagos) this reporter would not be allowed direct contact with the scavengers. Olusosun is arguably the biggest dump site in metropolitan Lagos and anyone who drives past the site with glasses wound down need not be told that he is driving past a major dump site. The stench remains with you long after you’ve driven or moved away from it. God help you if you’re caught in traffic beside it.
On this occasion, the site manager who spoke through the phone requested a written permission from his superiors at the state Ministry of the Environment, otherwise the reporter would not be allowed anywhere near the dump. Further investigations however revealed that he was trying to shield the under-aged scavengers working on the site from the prying eyes of the media. A message forbidding under-aged children scavengers or workers on the site boldly welcomes any visitor.
However, this reporter managed to sneak to the site to behold a hoard of men chasing and fighting shamelessly over filth. Here filth is nothing and fear of disease does not even suffice. Almost in the thick of the refuse is a line of food sellers who sell everything from food to water to cigarettes and liquor.
Scavenged clothing for sale
Here, the rat race gives no room for interview opportunities, but this writer was lucky to behold a group of young men busy piling clothes of different shapes and sizes.
What do they plan to do with the clothes? One of them, Bashir, who obviously is the leader, asked almost sneeringly that “What do they use clothes for?
He said the clothes are being packed, to be washed with disinfectants and transported to Arewa (the North).
Asked why they have to collect such dirty clothes for re-sale, Bashir said the poverty up north is something most of the people down south may never understand. “You Lagos people think the North is like here, where you throw away new things. All these clothes, when washed, are hot cakes in the North.”
He concluded “That is what I do. It is the business that brings me money with which I feed my family. Even my friends are into it. When we sell, we share the money.”
Suddenly, this reporter spotted some younger boys in the distance and approached them for a brief chat. They however recoiled and called one of the men who immediately went hostile. One of them also pointed out that this reporter had been taken photographs, which he promptly denied, and quickly left the scene.
So much for a day out with scavengers.
