I'm in Ethiopia to help my friend Eyasu start up his nonprofit. He wants to help his community; specifically to combat the immense poverty surrounding Koshe, Addis Ababa's main trash dumping site. So it only makes sense that I would go see it for myself. But, to repeat… Koshe is a trash dump. No fence. Totally open. Slum surrounding it. And to my surprise… only a 5 minute walk from where I live!
We walked a few minutes from our house, down the hill, and across a bridge when I see a mound of dirt off in the distance. The regular tin roofed houses are gone and replaced with poorly made plastic and wood tent structures, the slums. We make our way across the grass/dirt/rocks, over a little stream of water, and come to the mound… the mound of trash.
Eyasu told me to run up it quickly. The ground was squishy, but thankfully I didn't sink in. This part of the trash dump is old, more decomposed and compact. So, I'm looking at my feet to be careful of how I'm stepping, but not really yet concentrating on what I'm stepping on.
When I reached the top, I paused to soak it all in. I was standing before what I originally guessed to be at minimum 3 football fields of trash. I'm not good at estimating distances. I later looked it up… Koshe is 37 kilometers wide and 9 kilometers deep with trash. Below my feet lay old torn clothes and broken bits of miscellaneous objects. What got me the most, wasn't the smell (which surprising I don't remember being that bad), but the bones that I walked on. Yes, bones. All shapes and sizes.
We walked for a long time, through trash, not seeing many people. I start to make out a giant pile of something in the distance. As we got closer, I saw more people. Why are there people? It's a trash dump! NO ONE should be there! Except there they were.
It was hard to believe even as I stood there witnessing it. I realized that the pile I'd saw was a huge hill of plastic bottles (Oh, the wonders recycling could do here). We rounded the corner of it, when bam!
Men, women, children, mothers with babies on their backs sitting in, digging through, and eating trash. Easily over 200 people.
Flies lay before my feet. Not just a few, but hundreds that seemed to make a layer over the trash.
From where I stood, I could see the main road where the trash trucks came and went. There were a few there dumping fresh trash. They were swarmed by people ready to jump at the chance to get first pick at the new goods.
I clearly stuck out like a sore thumb. What would a white person be doing there, most certainly not to eat?! Out of respect, I didn't take many pictures. The act itself is degrading enough without a privileged person standing over you taking photos. I wanted to show those who watched me that I'd came simply to see, no hidden agenda. I'll come back (oh boy!) and hope to take more pictures then.
Eyasu later told me that even Ethiopians won't come to this place. He say's there's a bad stigma that these people are violent. I experienced nothing but stares, kindness, and children eager to shake my hand. For lunch, later in the day, which was delicious (injera's slowly growing on me), we ate a Eyasu's friend's store. We told him how we'd gone to Koshe earlier in the day and he was shocked. He's never been. I invited him to come with us the next time we went. He refused the invitation.
Back at the dumping site, I was starting to feel awkward and was ansy to go. It almost felt like I was intruding on people's privacy simply by watching. Then, Eyasu tells me "they're calling you." We walk over to a group of 5 or 6 guys all crouched down around something. Once I get closer, I realize that it was cardboard box lined with plastic filled with spaghetti and chicken. Who knows how long it'd been sitting out? Oh, the thought. Who knows whether or not the thought had crossed their minds. But, there they were eating it. Next thing I know, they're offering me some! Of course I had to decline, vegetarian or not. Eyasu later told me that the guy said it was probably too spicy for me anyway. The chicken was doused in burberry, a thick red powder coated over every piece. I was shocked at how quickly and with such ease that Eyasu took a piece of chicken from the man's hand and began eating it. He turns to me and jokingly says with a smile on his face, "breakfast." He didn't want to offend them or show that he was any different, so he took the piece. He also claims that his stomach is made of steel. We said thank you and goodbye and made out way back through the football fields of trash.
We came across 3 babies. I'm not good with guessing ages but maybe 1, 2, and 3. Firstly, they were alone… sitting in trash. Secondly, we realized that two of them had reddish orange on their hands. At first I didn't understand. Then, I saw that the baby was holding a nail polish container. I immediately turned to Eyasu and said that he can't eat that. Eyasu shouted to a woman, 80 feet or so away who he said was probably their mother. He called her over and explained to her. She took the polish away and washed their hands with a bottle of water she'd brought. We got to talking and asked questions about what would help her- daycare or vocational training. She said daycare, as did a few other women whom we spoke with on our walk out. They have children old enough to go to school, but lack the money required to pay the school fees and required uniforms.
After briefly stopping at the house to change, scrub with soap and water, and hand sanitizer we walked 5 or so minutes in the other direction to the Biruh Tesfa school, grades 1-8 where Solomon and Teresa go. It's a public, government-run school. We were suppose to meet with the school's director, but he'd been called to an urgent meeting, so postponed until Monday.
The past few days, Eyasu and I have been out late (By late I mean dark aka 7-9pm). So, it felt weird to be home around 3 and see the kids there, home from school. After some buna (coffee) I suggested we play frisbee. Sawhi wasn't there the day before when I had shown everyone how to play. We went out on the path behind the house so that we had more room. At first it was just Sawhi, Solomon (neither of whom speak English), and myself. But, laughter crosses all language barriers and boy did we laugh!
Our small game and giggles made every other neighbor pop his or her head out to see what was going on. We began to get quite the audience and I tried to recruit the children who watched to join in and play. They were shy, but after seeing how much fun we were having (and my persistence), they joined in. Eventually there were over 12 kids (ranging in ages from 3-12) playing with us!
A few of the girls spoke to me in small English sentences, asking my name and what I like to do. We played for awhile, even stopping frisbee to play a follow-the-leader Eyasu had made up and rain. I taught them Wah (Kivunim shoutout!). It was getting dark and we said we had to go. They said they wanted me to show them one more game first. So I showed them how to play a stepping memory game. I told Eyasu to tell them that we will play again. The little girl asked when, next week? I said no, tomorrow! We parted ways and I couldn't have been happier with all the new friends I'd made. Once again, I'd wanted to take pictures and a video so badly as they were so, so cute! But, I didn't want to intrude and thought it best to build the relationship first. So these pictures are also to come!
I'd promised my sisters the night before that we would paint our nails. So, once everyone was home from Church (two sisters go every day) I brought out my nail polish. I put them out on the table, assuming everyone would help themselves. Next thing I know, I'm painting everyone's nails! I did all five of the girls. It was so nice to be able to do something for them after all that they've done for me. I am grateful for their smiles and excitement!
