The inclusion of informal waste workers in solid waste management planning

Informal waste workers plying the streets of Hanoi, Vietnam

I wrote this in my previous job as Waste Management Project Officer. I'm posting it now.

In developing countries where there is often a lack of services offered by traditional structures, there is often a more important role given to the informal sector. The informal sector is mostly composed of self-employed people who have organized their own business without necessarily having official status (through acquiring a permit, having a proper storefront, etc). One important service many municipalities are falling short on in rapidly developing cities is that of waste management. City governments are having a difficult time cleaning up after more a more affluent lifestyle that leaves huge amounts of waste and packaging in its wake.

Making up this shortage, there are throngs of informal waste workers plying the streets buying re-marketable waste from houses and picking through garbage. They are then able to sell those recyclables to intermediaries – junk shops – and make a small profit in the meantime. It should be clear that the reason for the waste workers to enter the sector is neither to clean up the streets nor to help reduce the amount of resources being sent to landfill. They enter this sector because they may lack the skills or education necessary to be employed in a formal sector, or lack the necessary amount of capital to open a stall or store. The most beneficial aspect of the waste trade is that it only requires some mobility… and well, perhaps a strong voice in order to carry a melodic call for recyclables through the streets. You can hear them everyday calling out to houses… “Booooooooooottles! Plaaaaaaaaaaastic! I will buy your bottles!”

The work is difficult, hauling large bags of paper, cardboard, plastic or glass through the streets or else transporting it with a flimsy bicycle. Despite the laborious nature of the work, there are fringe benefits. Workers are able to work on a flexible schedule, can take extended leaves if they want and are able to make some extra money by working more as they wish. These benefits are particularly important for women. Mothers are able to take on traditional roles in the household while they can also have some extra work when time allows, helping low-income families bridge financial gaps.

Cities like San Fernando La Union, where I was working in the Philippines, are expanding their waste pick-up and recycling services trying to make up for years of not being able to address the increasingly present waste problem. However in expanding this service informal waste workers are being squeezed out of their income. As incomes are increasing in many brackets, the people at the bottom are often stuck in the same situation. More so, many city dwellers look at informal waste workers as undesirable and uncivilized symbols of 3^rd world poverty (I use the term 3^rd world purposefully).

Policies in developing cities often address the lack of municipal waste management services while ignoring the effects on the informal sector. The sector is mostly composed of low-income individuals either trying to make supplementary income for their family or relying entirely on the income of buying and selling waste. Most urban dwellers support these policies because they not only get rid of waste in the street, but have political machinery and policies that prohibit any waste pick up other than municipal, effectively shutting out the informal sector.

It is therefore incredibly important that this group of workers, the informal workers, be able to benefit from the increased development in creating structures that do not limit their ability to collect waste. As well, it is important that policies be put in place that encourage the hiring of women for private companies when under contract by the city.  Programs that help train and organise women working in the informal waste sector could help them be included in the switch to a more formal structure.

It is incredibly fundamental that with this modernization, government policy makers ensure that those at the bottom of the waste management stream be able to also profit from development. Because the institutionalization and professionalization of the waste management sector often excludes women and the poor from participating, efforts must be made to ensure that programs are in place that allow them to make the step up to the formal sector. The accessible work that the informal sector provides has been instrumental in helping people in poverty to make ends meet; this cannot be forgotten by policymakers.    

Videoke

The Videoke Station

Two weeks before I left for the Philippines, I was at Le Drugstore, a lesbian bar in Montreal. It was Karaoke Night, an otherwise quiet Tuesday. About 5 people in our  group, the slightly drunk blond host of the night turned to the Asian guy at our table (a Belgian, nonetheless) and said in French You guys, Asians, in your country karaoke is a front for prostitution! Seemingly unaffected by this ignorant comment, our friend ignored her and she continued to sing one of the songs she picked. Sadly, she will probably never be the diva she always wanted to be. However, in the foggy haze of this lesbian bar, everyone in different stages of drunkenness, she can feel like the stage is hers.

In only my first few days of life in the Philippines, I experienced the videoke. Videoke is the Filipino version of karaoke. Even before starting my job here, I was attending a birthday party where the family had rented a videoke terminal. In the middle of rice paddies, outside the tin-roofed concrete house stood the golden podium: a television screen affixed to a tall base on wheels complete with large red buttons and speakers from which our sung ballads will project against the neighbour’s tin-roofs and rice fields.

This is where I first sung Ironic, by Alanis. Little did I know that this was the easiest song anyone can sing, and would soon become my signature song. There has been many (and I mean about several times a week at the peak) times where I sing at videoke, and not one time goes by where I do not sing Ironic. I am told, others have begun to sing it while I am not in attendance. And I’m told it’s sung in my honour.

The previous intern and I are singing to The Sign

Now, karaoke is popular all over East and Southeast Asia, this is a fact. However something about it here makes it more common than anywhere else. In Vietnam, I may have sung karaoke about 5 or so times in the two years I was there. So far, in the two months I have been here I have sung karaoke upwards of 20 times. Most of the bars have a terminal. All you have to do is pay 5 pesos (about 10 cents Canadian) and tell the bar person what number song you would like and it’s done. The microphone will circulate from table to table as patrons sing their favourite love ballads. Even the toughest-looking guys will shoot down glasses of rum or gin while singing Hero by Mariah Carey.

Well, I surely can’t sing Hero (though that didn’t stop me from trying) but as time goes by I am searching for my new signature song. The song needs to be identifiable, easy to sing along to, and ready for its trendy re-emergence.  Some how none of the Ace of Base songs actually work (I’ve ruined Lucky Love and Don’t Turn Around). Celine Dion is way too difficult despite the fact in allows me to insert the fact that I once lived behind her (damn, I did it again). 

As the search continues, I will no doubt make a fool of myself singing way out of my range (my range is beyond what human ears can hear, by the way). Meanwhile, if that drunk rock-bottom diva at Le Drugstore was right, where do I pick up my cheque?

Jeepney, the new Xe Ôm

I can't go on with this blog without comparing my experiences in Vietnam with those in the Philippines. I know, I know - I am not even there yet. But part of my preparation is about researching what life is like there.

In doing some research, I came across the Jeepney. An odd jeep/truck contraption that serves as an informal mode of public transportation. 

Whereas in Hanoi I would have to negotiate price with a motorbike taxi  - a xe ôm, I guess the equivalent would be hopping onto a Jeepney. So instead of awkwardly trying to keep a safe distance between me and my (often) drunk xe ôm driver, I will have to awkwardly sit next to other passengers, and wonder if my change from the ride will ever make it back to me.

Check out this Youtube video about how to use a Jeepney:

Next Floor: The Philippines

No. It's not the Philippines. But I had to put a picture to make this post a bit less boring

My original plan was to publish my last attempt at a blog post: a post where I confusingly went back and forth trying to decide whether or not I should apply for a masters.

Well... you don't have to suffer through that, as I must have accidentally deleted it! And neither do you have to suffer through endless posts about studying Community Economic Development, because I am just about done the program.

I have spent the last year uncertain of what my future holds and insecure about the decision I made to come back to Montreal.

Next month I head to the Philippines for a 6-month placement. A new country and a new culture. 

As I will be once again working in an office after over a year of absence, expect to read lots of blog posts that I write while at work. Got to look busy, you know.

Gratuitous Video Scene #8: Bus in Java, Indonesia

During our trip in Java, Smorg and I took a diverse array of transportation: motorbike, train, bus, bemo, minibus, ferry.

In what seems typical of public transportation, at every stop along the way a parade of people selling things come onboard. They then proceed to constantly try and sell you something while you are both trapped on this moving vehicle. They will actually throw the product in your lap, where you can examine it for a while. They will then come back and either take the item back or you give them the money. Snake fruit, pens, Muslim prayer sheets, doughnuts, fried tofu, magazines, you name it, they sell it. Every now and then I would wake up in a drowsy state as 10 people would storm through the bus throwing things into my lap, while my head spun between reality and sleep.

Most interesting are the musicians that also hop on between stops. Guitar, percussion and singing fill the bus. For bus-singers, their voices were quite good, and it was a welcome change from the hard selling.

Java, Indonesia!

If you were wondering why I hadn't updated my blog, it's because I went to Singapore and Indonesia for the Lunar New Year. The original plan was to head to Philippines, but prices quickly skyrocketed heading that way, and the cheaper option was Indonesia via Singapore. I had been to Bali before, but regretted not heading to Java during the 10+ days I was there. This was my second chance.

After booking the tickets, Smorg and I figured out it was actually the rainy season in Indonesia. Realising the original Philippine plan may have been worth it, we just made sure to pack extra socks and our heavy duty rain ponchos.

The "rainy" turned out to be alright. We only got caught once in a torrential rainfall, but it soured our shoes for the rest of the trip. Literally, we transported our rank-smelling shoes with us all across Java never having the opportunity to stay in one place long enough to let them dry.

Some photos from Indonesia.

We did a jungle trek in Pangandaran, West Java. Monkeys and barking deer.

The Green Canyon in Pangandaran. In the rainy season, its brown. We then jumped into the fast water. I have only a few bruises from hitting rocks. 

Random bamboo bridge. Near Pangandaran.

Borobudur, in Central Java. This Buddhist temple was discovered under a dense jungle a couple hundred years ago. A relict of Indonesia's Buddhist past.

Stupas of Borobudur. Smorg and I had about 3 hours of sleep before coming here.

Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park, at sunrise. To the right is an active volcano.

Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park, at sunrise.

Steaming Mount Bromo. In the background is Mount Batok. Mount Bromo last erupted in 2007.

Smorg and I walked all around the rim of the volcano. It wasn't so difficult, but we had to turn around and backtrack about an hour, because we reached a spot that my grip-less fake Louis Vuitton shoes wouldn't handle. My real shoes were tied up in a bag smelling awfully like mouldy sea water and cat pee.

Acupuncture

My wrist has been hurting me for quite few months now, and in the last week it has gotten pretty bad. So bad, that I could not type or even drive my electric scooter.

My co-worker suggested to me I try her acupuncture doctor. Cheaper than "Western Medecine," I thought, why not? I had never been acupuntured (hehe) before, but definitely would try it.

The acupuncture doctor practises from the bottom floor of his home. It's about 4 metres by 5 metres, and is divided with a small wooden screen. He was really excited to have a foreigner come to him, and he was even more excited to know that I could speak a little Vietnamese!

The treatment lasted about 5 minutes, where he poked my wrist with the same needle a couple times, and massaged my nerves. You could imagine how great that felt. I told him I was dizzy, so he made me lay down. He then proceeded to feed me longans, not allowing me to feed myself. I was lying there on the hard bamboo table while an old bearded Vietnamese man fed me fruit. Next time, he told me I should eat before I come over.

It cost me about 3 dollars for the treatment, but I was kind of hoping for something a little more therapeutic. In the end, I decided to go over to Yakushi Centre on Xuan Dieu to try out their treatment. It was definitely worth it. I paid twice as much, but it lasted a whole hour. They even attached an electrical source and soft shocks pulsed through my arm and hand.

In the end my wrist is doing a lot better... But still having difficulty typing and riding my bike. As for the cause, apparently it is tendinitis.

Back to Vietnam by way of China... Part I

For my way back to Vietnam from Montreal, I found a cheap flight to Beijing. I decided to take a couple days in China, before using Aeroplan points to get to Hanoi. I got a 6-month multiple-entry visa, thinking that maybe I would want to take another trip to Guangzhou for another shopping spree someday.

Somehow I got a reputation at work now, where everyone thinks I love China. I don`t love China. But it's true that not many travellers in Southeast Asia (or Hanoi) choose to visit China, opting instead for the cheaper countries in the region. Despite the fact that China is about 3 hours from Hanoi.

Still a bit jet lagged from the 11-hour time difference and the 23 hour voyage, I spent the first day exploring the Forbidden City. Judging by the amount of people in this Forbidden City (photo above), it's obviously no longer forbidden! I walked around the site with one of those recording devices you can rent, where some lady with a weird British/Chinese account talks about the history in an unadjustably high volume. I still can't believe there is a city of 13 million people with a winter climate similar to Montréal. I always gave the smallish population of Montréal the climate-excuse. But this seems to defy that, so back to the drawing board (is the French language the next best excuse?).

The next day I explored the Great Wall of China with my Couchsurfing companion. It was much more impressive than I had originally thought. Also, much more dangerous. Some parts of the wall had a steep incline and no steps. I had to hold on to a railing and slowly slide my body down. I don't understand how the Chinese would have been able to run up these inclines to attack the invading Mongolians. At that point I couldn't even figure out how I would be able to survive another kilometre... with steeper inclines in the horizon, and being to far in to turn around (this, paired with my fear of heights). I persevered. 

Lenin Park

Literally across my new place is Lenin Park.

It's a small little triangular park dedicated to the Russian communist. Cat my new housemate and I have been enjoying the sights. We sit and stare at kids and teens break-dancing, robo-dancing, spinning on rollerblades and spinning soccor balls on their arms, head, and feet.

Oh and, babies driving around in mini cars.

(I apologise for the poor quality of my camera phone)

Cat and I laughed about how all these kids have to perform amazing things to get attention, and all we have todo is walk through the park and people turn their heads and stare.

Motorbike trip Hanoi - Chinese Border

A couple weeks ago I got a text from a new Vietnamese friend. He asked 'tomorow you want motorbike to china 2 nights. pls tell me soon'. And so unaware of Rebel's horrible return to Hanoi, I packed my bag and hopped on the back of the motorbike with no idea what I was getting into.

It turns out we joined a group of 22 other people - all Vietnamese. A group of young people who use an internet forum to organise motorbike trips around Northern Vietnam. The kind of organising that the communist government wants to stop.

After about a total of 12 hours sitting on a motorbike my ass hurt more than I could ever have imagined. It was a bit of a long journey just to frolic around a waterfall. We made several stops along the way, though. And the actual route was a loop, so we didn't have to backtrack.

Here are some photos of the butt-busting trip.

Eleven motorbikes were in the flot.

It was terrifying going around the mountains. Up up up then over and then down down down into another valley.

Halfway through our trip we stopped at a spring where national hero Ho Chi Minh had hid during the American War. This mountain is called Karl Marx (Cac Mac) and the spring is named after Lenin (Le-Nin). I got to see and touch Uncle Ho's actual bed inside the cave where he camped, although at first I thought it was a dinner table.

I don`t know who in the group decided on the route, but most of the roads where just blasted. And not yet finished. Though apparently they looked finished on the map. Someone must have accidentally bought the map titled "National Highway Masterplan 2008-2020"

This beauty of a road went on for about 13 kilometres. It took about an hour to go through. Not pictured here is the incredible incline that would probably not even be considered on developed roads anywhere else. I couldn't get a photo of the incline because I was holding on for my life. We passed many construction crews. Some of them asking me to come and smoke from their tabacco pipe with them. I kindly declined as what I needed to get me through the experience would have been much stronger.

This was the place we camped out on the second night. I say 'place' as I think that a cafeteria of a park station with all the chairs taken out and blankets spread out would be considered a place. Where else would you house 23 people who come knocking on your door.

I finally arrived at the waterfall. Except foreigners are not allowed in the border lands between China and Vietnam without a proper permit. The solution was to cover my face up like a criminal as we went through the check point. Who would notice?

Yes. Those are two men fishing on top of the waterfall in their underwear.

This is all of us!

My House and Neighbourhood in Hanoi

My camera has been stolen, so until then you will have to put up with photos from my mobile phone.

I should mention that I am moving to a new house soon. I figure now would be a good time to post about my current neighbourhood and house.

I live in the middle of a giant block. Between the two streets is a densely packed neighbourhood that one can access only through the alleyways that sprawl through the block like veins. In order to reach my house, you have to take a right from the main street, turn right, then turn left, go through a covered tunnel-like structure, pass the canal, take a right, then the left, then right, then left, then right, then left, then right again until you get to a dead end. This is about 10 minutes walk from the main road upon which my address is based. Taxi's cannot reach my house, let alone the fire truck (if there even is one in this city).

I find it completely amazing how houses organically sprung up from the ground. Pressures as a result of the loosening up of the tightly controlled Vietnamese market, called Đổi Mới, allowed for the dividing up of previously large tracts of land. As a result, you often see small one-level buildings surrounding by narrow 5-floor houses that were built on what I assume was one large housing-lot. The average house is only about 3-4 metres wide, but stretches 5 metres deep and 5 storeys tall, mainly because local taxes are based on the width of a building rather than the actual area.

Walking through the maze of alleyways, it seems like houses were pieced together like a puzzle, one house being built to another, and other just filling up spaces between two randomly places houses on a lot. The alleys came later, as spaces between buildings for moving people, bicycles and motorbikes. Alleyways hold their own businesses and shops. Along the way to my house from the street I pass by a school, a vegetarian-food lady, many hair salons, guesthouses, food sellers, motorbike repair and wash shops, etc. Within the same block, there are many other alleys that are densely lined with these businesses, mimicking a main street. The block also has a huge square surrounded by houses where vegetables, meat and prepared foods are sold. You wouldn't know such a place was there unless you lived in the area and came across it somehow.

Starting in the morning, people on bicycles ride through the maze of alleys singing a jingle for the products they sell. There's people selling phở, bread, fried rice cakes, and people willing to buy your recyclables, or broken appliances, etc. It's a city within a city. And the best part is aside from the singing of the sellers and the kids playing in the alley, there is no street noise.

Twitter Twit Twittering.... Tweet!

So I've finally given into Twitter. Now anyone can track me down by either checking out the Twitter Gadget on the right side of this blog, or following me on Twitter.com (please add me!).

Now I can let the world know when I am stuck in a squatter toilet with no toilet paper:

delucajon OMG, that Vietnamese sandwich I ate at lunch wanted to get out fast, squatter- and no tp hehe LMAO-literally. sent from mobile 22 minutes ago

In reality, it's because of my new job. As communications officer, I was given the responsibility of "figuring out" social media (probably because I am the youngest at work). How can I resist? I can spend hours reading about how Twitter and Facebook can help raise awareness. And my boss can't tell when I'm on the organisation's Facebook account or my own!

All this reading on social media convinced me my life would be much better if only I could summarise it in a 140 character message that's beamed across the internet.

So......   follow me!

Cockroach Encounters

Photo: Definitely not the largest I've encountered. This was in a bathroom in Halong City. 

 

The other day while cooking some pasta, a cockroach popped it's head out from my house mates cupboard just above the stovetop. I panicked. I grabbed a can of Raid (or more like Rade, considering the knock-offs they have here) and trembled as I tried to extinguish it's life. 

I thought above writing a post about this in story-form. But then figured it might be boring. So I thought, why not write it from the Cockroaches perspective?

'Exquisite!' I say aloud. A little bit too loud, so I glance over at my little larvae hanging out near the bottle of olive oil to make sure they are still asleep. I've come across a bag of Swiss muesli, a welcome change from the usual cupboard full of dried noodles and bottles of soy sauce in the next house over. Though I usually avoid lighted areas, I slowly make my way to the other side of the door. I am kindly rewarded. Underneath me is some sort of giant shiny cylindrical object that is rattling faintly and spewing steam from its sides while a comfortably hot airy mass hugs it's way up the cupboard. I rub my antennae together, soaking up as much heat as i can before i retreat back into the frigid 35 degree cupboard and it's strange foodstuff.

But wait- Sensing something i quickly freeze my antennae. Just beyond the silvery cylinder, a shadow slowly comes into focus. It looks strangely assembled. I long vertical body, with a silly and round top, and only two visible limbs. It moves closer, and then notice it is awkwardly moving on another set of two limbs. What a strange and sad creature. Surely, it too has come to bathe in the steam and warmth of this cylindrical god i have come to worship.

This sluggish creature moves so slow, i think to myself. It's surely taken it a whole 2 minutes just to saddle up to this silver steam god. Quickly, i notice this creature is also in possession of some strange metal cylindrical god. In one of its limbs it holds it up above the steaming god, closer to me. I then notice that attached to this large limb, there are four more limbs – no- five. Four are wrapped around this new cylindrical deity while another is firmly sitting on top.

SHIT – It dawns on me.... This is the monster from the tales grandma told me about. The ladybug coloured metal cannister filled with a water so potent it will send my exoskeleton into shock. I quickly dart to the other side of the cabinet. I wait to see if this sluggish creature can catch me in time, I can hardly contain my breath. I dash back over to where I emerged and the loudest most shrill screech escapes from the metallic devil. Deafened not only by this deathly noise, but also from my pin-head sized heart pumping, I finally seek refuge inside the cupboard. Shaking, I wait between a package of oatmeal and a bottle of fish sauce.....

Lao Trip Part 2: Kayaking in Pictures

 

Day One: we had no idea what was in store

We also didn't know we'd be eating delicious vegetarian food off of a banana leaf.

 

The team.

 

Along the way we passed many random Lao sightings. Kids fishing, families bathing, livestock...

 

It started to rain at one point. This is me and Lélé. We bickered about half the time, but quickly smiled for this rainy shot.

 

Day 2: right before we went into a complex of rapids. Not the scariest, I only thought I would die about 2 times.

 

I think I got a urinary tract infection after this swim

At the end of day 2, it also started raining.

Lao Trip

The trip to Lao was incredibly amazing. Not only because everyone living in the house went, but also because it seems we packed so many different things into one trip. For one, our transport was quite varied:

• Walking
• Mountain Biking
• Swimming
• Tuk-Tuk
• Jumbo (like a tuk-tuk, but a retrofitted pick-up truck)
• Rickety wooden boat
• Long ferry boat
• Kayak
• Elephant

Compared to Vietnam, Lao is a peaceful sleepy country. The city of Luang Prabang, where we spent most of the week, is a World Heritage City. I suppose mainly because of this UNESCO designation (of which Quebec City is as well), the city is a tad bit too touristy for my liking. Too many French-style cafés serving baguettes and croissants. I suspect the average Lao or Luang Prabang resident doesn't (or can't afford to) eat in these restaurants.

Here are some photos of my trip

Kids egging on a monk to throw down jackfruits.

After losing 3 house mates because of the treacherous climbing and the unkown reward, we came upon this beautiful set of cascading waterfalls. Amazingly deep and blue. We spend way too long here.
The village we overnighted in during our kayak trip. Complete with chickens, boars, palm trees, a giant hornets nest in the room, friendly Lao people, and the drunk Lao guy who we heard vomit all night long.

We took an hour and a half boat ride to see a whole in a cliff (a cave, they call it) with 2000 buddha's in it.

The scariest ride I have ever had in my life. I kept thinking of how the inability to sue people for responsibility in much of the developping world means that safety provisions haven't been instituted. It was raining and muddy going up these mud cliffs. I kept seeing my housemate's giant elephant slip in the mud, and wondered how my seemingly less-experienced and smaller elephant would be able to climb it.