The Trash Man Cometh

It’s been said you can say a lot about a people and their culture by the things they  throw away.  Or don’t.

We have been in this new place, Myanmar, since Saturday afternoon, having flown in from Bangkok.  The Mandalay airport is a good hour’s drive out of town where, fortunately, we were met by Shawn, the project coordinator for the American Nursing Institute (ANI) here in Mandalay (and our roommate) and Soe Naing, the school’s driver. 

Our apartment is quite nice, with two bedrooms, a sitting area, laundry, and a decent-sized kitchen.  Certainly there are some rough spots, but in the main it’s a comfy place to land at the end of a hot, dusty day.

And like college kids at the start of their Freshmen year, we’ve fallen into something of a domestic routine.  This morning was trash day, which actually happens three or four days a week.  At seven-thirty, I open the front door (we’re on the second floor) to listen for the sound of the garbage truck as it lumbers up 83rd street before stopping briefly near our apartment building to ring a hand bell as signal to area inhabitants to bring out their dead. 

On Monday I walked down four smallish bags of trash—some plastic water bottles, empty cans, beer bottles (Rebecca remains an incorrigible and unrepentant lush) and some paper/plastic/foil bullshit.  Coffee grounds, tea bags.  I handed it up to the dude in back of the truck, who immediately turned to his spoils area.  That would be the stuff some fool threw away which still has some value.  And, it so happens, that would be like ninety percent of our shit.  I felt like I just handed the guy a bag of money.  Here you go…we just have too much, I guess, and need to jettison some of this wealth!

Pretty much everyone else is bringing out their trash in wicker baskets.  It’s maybe one-tenth what I just dropped off.  Wadded up tissue paper.  Vegetable peelings that have no place in the world of potential edibles.  Locust wings (the belly, I’m told, is delicious.)   

“You see, our GDP is very low.  We are below Bangladesh!”  This from my friend, Mr. Nyan, who teaches English two days a week at the nursing school.  Monday and Tuesday he took me to a local tea shop and restaurant to get a feel for the country’s culinary and social graces.  Sure enough, when I later checked the data I learned the difference is by a factor of almost three, due in large part to the Bangladeshi industry and textile sector.  “We have made some choices concerning energy which has crippled our ability to attract industry, though now that is starting to change.”  

I was a bit shocked.  Growing up, I always thought of Bangladesh as the poster child for abject poverty.  And I think I was correct in my assessment (though I have yet to visit.) But as I looked out at the street scenes of this city, and indeed at the bustle of the tea shop, I sensed energy and purpose.  That, and a great deal of tea slurping.  “Remember, you are seeing one of a handful of places where there is relatively strong commerce. (Mandalay City)  As you travel about, I think you will see evidence of economic hardship.”  As he said this, we passed a couple of women who were brushing their teeth and bathing at a public well, of sorts, one of many dotted around the Central Palace Moat.  Mr. Nyan caught my eye. “They enjoy their baths from water diverted from the moat.  These people have no water in their flats…”  The women smiled and laughed, scrubbing themselves discreetly through their longyis.  Nothing taken for granted or causally discarded.

While typing this entry I went into the kitchen for a handful of Pringles potato chips.  While shaking them from the can, a sliver of potato fell to the counter.  When I went back in to get more, I saw a small army of very small, very fast ants had marshaled their forces under the crumb, and were taking it to their lair.  Heave Ho, Boys!  Some idiot has thrown away a perfectly good chip.  We’ll feast tonight!