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This
radio documentary chronicles the surprising economic rise of one
of Egypt's most downtrodden communities -- Cairo's garbage recyclers
-- and the recent wave of modernization that is sweeping the city
and threatens to wipe out recyclers.
The story unfolds in the largest of a half dozen "garbage villages,"
located around Cairo's edge. In this tight-knit community, made
up primarily of Orthodox Christians, trash has become the fuel for
a network of family-run, micro-industries. Close to 50,000 people
live off the city's garbage, from transporters, to sorters, to processors
who sell the recycled material back to local factories. The Zebbaleen,
as the garbage recyclers are known, have become famous in international
development circles for their recycling efficiency and entrepreneurial
success.
The story highlights how economic success has lead to social changes,
especially for the girls in the community. As their families rise
above mere subsistence, the girls have become increasingly educated
and financially independent, allowing many to break away from the
traditional cycle of early marriage and childbirth.
At this point, the story takes a step back and paints a darker background.
For all its economic success, the Zebbaleen still live knee-deep
in fly-blown decomposing garbage. This medieval squalor has attracted
waves of foreign journalists and TV crews, which, in turn, has raised
the ire of local city leaders, shamed by the bad publicity.
This leads to the final revelation. The city governor has decided
to launch a city-wide, clean-up plan -- contracting out garbage
collection to three multinational companies -- that will deny the
Zebbaleen access to the valuable recyclables, conceivably destroying
their industrial network. At the time of the report, the companies
were poised to begin operations.
In many ways, the modernizing plan makes sense. Cairo is a filthy
city that desperately needs trained cleaning crews. But it’s
also a city steeped in unemployment and crying out for the very
entrepreneurship the Zebbaleen have displayed. The report ends by
asking whether the recycling community is a natural victim of progress,
or whether local leaders might find a way to incorporate the Zebbeleen
recycling know-how in the new deal?
How the Story Came Together
While living in Cairo, I read about the Zebbaleen and the multinational
contracts from an article in a local English?language weekly, the
Cairo Times. The article was light on details, but the concept peaked
my interest.
I tracked down an environmental NGO, which had worked with the recycling
community and got a first interview with Laila Iskander, an Egyptian
environmental consultant who had spent 20 years involved with Zebbaleen
women and children. She agreed to take me to the garbage village
to visit her projects.
It was an important first contact. Laila had a deep emotional attachment
to the community and gave excellent English-language radio interviews.
She set my first scenes in the neighborhood, taking me into a school
for working boys and describing the street activity, as we drove
through the narrow streets.
I returned to the community some days later with another friend
of Laila's who volunteers with a development agency that trains
girls in making rugs and quilts from rags, and offers the girls
literacy training. It was a relaxed place to talk to neighborhood
girls about the changes occurring in their lives.
But the NGO schools and workshops were small islands of hygiene
and serenity in the larger raucous neighborhood replete with noise
and squalor. I needed to capture the wider neighborhood –
and that was when the research became more complicated.
The city governor, hoping to avoid further bad publicity about the
Zebbeleen villages, had recently prohibited journalists from taking
photographs in the neighborhood. I also had to hide my microphone
from view when recording in the streets. The NGO workers were very
protective of the community and no amount of pleading would convince
any of them to walk with me through the streets and introduce me
to local residents. I was even chastised for wanting to go alone.
I understood their concerns, and tried to be as respectful as possible,
but there were still important gaps in the sound and colour I needed
to portray the community life.
Eventually I returned with a fearless Egyptian driver/fixer who
talked us inside some local homes and businesses, allowing me to
see the dark, garbage-filled workspaces and backyard pig stys that
are typically Zebbeleen. We were also able to record several emotion-charged
interviews with recyclers, who were happy to voice their grievances,
given the chance.
Local politicians can be difficult to track down in Egypt. I was
fortunate to catch the city governor after seeing a notice that
he would be speaking to the American Chamber of Commerce on his
modernization plans. I cornered him in the lobby after the lunch
speech.
Working at a distance from Canada, I often miss out on the reaction
of my audience to my work. My editors were pleased with the story
and forwarded a few e-mails to me by enthused listeners. However,
the strongest indication I had that the story had made an impression,
was when I learned that it had been nominated for a CAJ award.
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