For years, I’ve been deeply invested in the mission of proper waste management in Kathmandu. My work with organizations like Doko Recyclers has seen me campaigning tirelessly, raising awareness, and advocating for what I believed were straightforward solutions: segregation at the source. I often spoke with conviction about the importance of separating our waste at home, confident that with enough effort and education, our valley could transform its approach to garbage. I truly believed I had a strong grasp of the challenges, the nuances, and the path forward.
But then came an opportunity that
would shake my perceptions to their core and reveal a truth far more entrenched
and frustrating than I had ever imagined. Recently, I had the privilege of
working alongside Dr. Dhundi Raj Pathak from ADB and Pankaj Panjiyar from Doko
Recyclers, along with the dedicated Doko Recyclers Team, on a critical
project: a waste characterization study across all municipalities within
Kathmandu Valley. This wasn't just another awareness campaign; this was
hands-on, scientific work, delving into the very composition of our city's
waste.
The journey began with a small
training session and familiarization with waste types and categories, held at a
place that has become a symbol of Kathmandu’s waste conundrum: the Teku
Transfer Station in the Balkhu area. This station is a crucial node in our
city’s waste network, a place where waste from various parts of the valley
converges before being loaded and transferred to its final destination, the
Banchare Danda landfill in Nuwakot. I arrived with a mix of excitement and
anticipation. Here was a chance to work with experienced, professional, and
ground-reality-working teams, to see the system from the inside out, and to
contribute to a study that could genuinely inform future waste management
policies.
However, that initial excitement
quickly morphed into something else entirely. The moment I stepped into the
transfer station, a wave of disbelief washed over me, immediately followed by a
profound sense of shock. What I witnessed was a relentless, chaotic ballet of
vehicles: some arriving, others departing, all engaged in the seemingly
Sisyphean task of managing the valley's refuse. Vehicles carrying vast
quantities of waste arrived one after another, dumping their loads onto a
designated area. The scene was a blur of activity. Scavengers, nimble and
determined, were already present, trying their best to segregate valuable items
from the mountains of trash as fast as humanly possible. Simultaneously, an
excavator worked tirelessly, scooping up massive piles of waste and loading
them onto other vehicles, bound for the landfill site.
My mind reeled.
"What the hell is going
on here?"
I remember asking myself, the
words almost escaping my lips. It was an involuntary reaction to the sheer
volume and disorganization. But that initial question was swiftly followed by
another, even more pressing and disheartening one:
"Why are people not
segregating waste at the source?".
From my perspective, and indeed,
from any logical standpoint, it is quite easy to segregate waste where it is
generated, to manage and handle it properly there. This simple act at the
household or office level should be the foundational step, making every
subsequent stage of waste management—collection, transfer, processing, and
disposal—infinitely more efficient. Yet, what I was witnessing was a complete
breakdown of this fundamental principle.
Our training at Teku required us
to get hands-on. We were tasked with taking a vehicle’s worth of waste,
approximately 200-300 kg, and segregating it for the characterization
study. There was a glimmer of hope initially. The vehicle assigned to us was
supposedly one that carried organic and other waste separately, clearly
indicated by its color and writing. My thought was, "Great, this will be
an example of what should be happening, a demonstration of effective
source segregation."
“Oh, how wrong I was.”
The reality was a bitter pill to
swallow. Despite its designation, the vehicle that was supposed to carry
segregated waste didn't carry segregated waste. The reason was glaringly
obvious and profoundly frustrating: the waste given or taken from the homes
was already mixed, crammed into single plastic bags. This wasn't an
anomaly; it was the norm. It highlighted a deep-seated behavioral challenge
that cut across all the efforts being made. I thought about the countless times
municipality waste workers have been advising communities for several years,
and still continue to do so, urging them to practice waste segregation. I
know they genuinely want to carry segregated waste from homes, offices, or
other sources, yet, the reality remains unchanged; the waste is still mixed.
It was a jarring illustration of the disconnect between public service
directives and community compliance.
Then came the actual task of
segregation. Guided by Pankaj Panjiyar, who introduced us to various types of
waste, their characteristics, and recycling practices, we began to sort through
the 200-300 kg of mixed waste. It was immediately apparent that it was quite
hard for us to segregate the waste. This wasn't just physically demanding;
it was a complex and often disgusting process. The primary reason for this
immense difficulty was the pervasive contamination. The recyclable
fraction of the waste – items that could have been valuable resources – was contaminated
or mixed with organic, hazardous, or sanitary waste.
Imagine opening a seemingly
innocuous plastic bag, only to find not just one, but sometimes another plastic
bag nested inside, both brimming with a horrific melange. Mixed waste,
meaning recyclable paper and plastic, was intertwined with organic waste,
hazardous waste, or even animal or human waste. The sight was
disheartening, the experience even more so. The waste was not just mixed; it
was "so contaminated and mixed" that it became a formidable
barrier to proper handling. Adding to the challenge was the overpowering
stench. The waste was "quite smelly," making it hard for us"
to work with for extended periods. Furthermore, the presence of "small
small size of waste items" further complicated our task, making it
incredibly difficult to meticulously segregate recyclables from organic,
non-recyclable, and other types of waste.
My personal observations
confirmed what was previously an abstract concept to me: the current
situation at the transfer station makes the recovery of recyclable items and
the segregation of other types of waste quite impossible. The sheer volume
of waste arriving at Teku is immense, and there's an immediate need to transfer
it to vehicles bound for the Banchare Danda landfill. There’s simply no time,
space, or appropriate infrastructure to efficiently sort through such a heavily
contaminated stream. The speed at which waste must be processed means that
opportunities for meaningful recovery are lost. The recyclables, once mixed
with everything else, are rendered unusable, effectively becoming just another
part of the landfill burden.
This grim reality also shed light
on why many well-intentioned projects for proper waste management in Kathmandu
have consistently failed in the past. I've learned that several projects,
previously implemented by municipalities with the support of donor agencies and
development partners, all required proper waste segregation at the source.
And they all failed because that crucial step was simply "not done or
happened". It's a frustrating cycle: the solution is known, resources
are allocated, but the foundational human element is missing, leading to
repeated failures.
As a practitioner, as someone who
actively segregates waste at home, I find this situation deeply perplexing. I
have been separating my waste at home, and I genuinely do not see any
challenges to myself in doing so. It’s a simple routine that takes minimal
effort. Therefore, I do not believe there are inherent challenges among us
for proper segregation of waste at our homes or sources. It's not a matter
of difficulty; it's a matter of choice and habit.
And it’s certainly not a lack of
awareness. Many stakeholders are working tirelessly in this sector for
proper collection, transfer, and management, along with continuous advocacy and
awareness about proper waste management. I myself, as a person who previously
worked with Doko Recyclers and had conducted several awareness campaigns and
advocacy campaigns about proper waste segregation at the source, can attest
to the sheer volume of information, education, and public outreach that has
been conducted. I also don't think that we lack awareness about waste and
its proper management. We've all seen the notices, heard the pleas, and
understood the environmental implications.
So, if it’s not difficulty, and
it’s not a lack of awareness, what then is the underlying issue? My experience
at Teku, combined with my long-standing engagement in waste management, has led
me to a few sobering conclusions:
- Firstly, I think it is our practice that lacks.
Knowing what to do and actually doing it are two entirely different
things. We might understand the concept, but the consistent, daily habit
of separating waste into different bins simply isn't ingrained in our
collective behavior.
- Secondly, I think it is our ignorance that leads
to this situation. This isn't ignorance of facts, but perhaps an
ignorance of the profound impact of our individual actions, or a willful
disregard for the consequences of not segregating. It’s an ignorance that
allows us to throw everything into one bag, oblivious to the ripple effect
of contamination and inefficiency it creates down the line.
- And finally, and perhaps most critically, I
think it is our blaming-others mentality or saying that ‘the system does
not work’ mentality that is hindering our proper waste segregation at home
or source and proper waste management in Kathmandu Valley. It's easier
to point fingers at the municipality, the government, or the waste
collectors than to take personal responsibility for the small but crucial
act of segregating our own waste. This deflective mindset paralyzes
progress, as individuals wait for someone else to fix a problem that
fundamentally begins in their own hands.
As someone who has invested so
much personal and professional energy into this cause, I was genuinely
shocked to see what was going on at the Teku Transfer Station. Despite the
monumental efforts of various stakeholders like the Municipality, the
Government, private organizations like Doko Recyclers, experts like Dr. Pathak,
practitioners like myself, and numerous other organizations, NGOs, INGOs, and
small groups – all working towards proper waste segregation at the source
and efficient management after collection – the ground reality was vastly
different from what we had imagined. It was a disheartening realization
that all the campaigns, the meetings, the policy discussions, and the public
notices seemed to have had little impact on the very first, most critical step.
I know, with absolute certainty,
that for proper waste management, the process starts, or the first step is,
proper waste segregation at the source. This is not a debatable point; it
is the fundamental principle upon which all effective waste management systems
are built. Yet, what I saw, and what continues to happen, is that this first
step of proper waste management was, or is, not being followed by anyone of us.
The waste arriving at Teku Transfer Station was not segregated properly and
was mixed with each other in a horrible way. The very act of attempting
segregation at this stage takes an inordinate amount of time, making it
impractical and inefficient. And this isn't just a scene unique to Teku; I
have visited various other transfer stations, and the situation over there is
precisely the same. The problem is systemic, valley-wide.
The municipalities, bless their
efforts, have tried their absolute best. They have published notices and
actively informed their communities and society about proper waste segregation
at home. They have even committed to collecting the segregated waste.
They have gone to great lengths to make people aware and have also supported
segregated collection systems. Yet, despite all these sincere efforts, the
people or the society have simply "not worked on it," and "the
situation has not changed". The waste continues to arrive mixed, a
testament to a collective inaction that undermines every well-intentioned
initiative.
My experience at Teku was a stark, personal reckoning. It highlighted that the challenge isn't merely about establishing systems or raising awareness; it’s about a fundamental shift in individual behavior and a commitment to personal responsibility. Until each household, each office, and each individual embraces the simple act of segregating waste at its source, Kathmandu’s beautiful valley will continue to grapple with a waste crisis that is entirely preventable. The solution isn't out there in some grand, complex scheme; it begins, quite literally, in our own hands, at our own doors. The question is,
"Are we finally ready to take that
first, crucial step?"
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