Every time you leave the bathroom, you hit the lever and watch the water swish away another gallon and a half of wastewater. Your relationship with trash is probably similar: put it in the bin, haul it to the street (or let OneSource do it for you if you live at Tufts), and rest peacefully knowing that some truck has taken it somewhere far away. Indeed, our purchasing patterns show that consumers respond to marketing through bulked-up packaging. We buy excessively knowing that if we dislike something, we can just throw it out and, within a few days, have it carted off to some landfill. Waste isn't something that Americans are accustomed to thinking about, and when we do, we know it will be down a pipe or in a truck on the way to someplace else very shortly.
Yet this out of sight, out of mind mentality is one that people in the developing world are perhaps decades away from adopting. In the mean time, their options are pretty simple: sh-t in a hole and burn the trash. While in El Salvador, I saw that one of these issues was dealt with pretty well. With grants from various international organizations, many rural communities have been able to introduce cheap, easily-made composting toilets which look a lot like those on the Appalachian Trail. This system has proven better than the typical hole-in-the-ground by a long shot: The toilets don't fill up, they leach less pollutants into the soil and they require fewer holes, which saves land and preserves property value. Adding soil to organic human waste and allowing natural bacteria to take its course also produces an incredibly rich fertilizer, which is helpful for the subsistence farming population. I would even contend that the composting systems of rural El Salvador are more advanced than our own current system, considering all the hype to go green. Almost two gallons of water every time you flush? If you really want to reduce your waste, go defecate in your backyard and compost the feces to fertilize your garden. I'm certain Michael Pollan would approve. (Last spring's Snyder Lecture, anyone?)
If poor Central Americans have beat us in using environmentally sound approaches to human waste, what ingenious solution do they have for trash? Nothing. People in the developing world are largely dealing with their trash the way they have for centuries: by burning it. A hundred years ago, burning wasn't too harmful, as wood scraps, food waste and worn fabrics were all organic. Now, proto-capitalist markets are bringing goods to El Salvador that could be found in a 7-Eleven. Burning a ripped cotton shirt is one thing; burning a Lay's chip bag, a Suave shampoo bottle and a broken Chinese-made action figure is another. Community health issues — not to mention global warming issues — are suddenly a concern. Breathing in hydroxypropyltrimonium chloride from the shampoo bottle is less than ideal for anyone's health.
The obstacles in creating a landfill are practically insurmountable when one factors in the power dynamics of local governments (read: the rural poor are practically always politically powerless). Salvadorians know that every item they buy will likely eventually be burned in their backyard. They themselves will rake the pile together, bend down, light a match and tend the fire as they maneuver themselves upwind.
Am I saying that by being less wasteful, the impoverished of the global south are more responsible than we Americans are? For one thing, they could never afford to buy as much excess as our culture promotes, thereby cutting down on the amount they waste. But the moral is that, since they are aware of everything they produce and must personally deal with its disposal, they seem to be more responsible about how much they buy and consume. And I think there is something to be learned from that.
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Jacob Kreimer is a junior majoring in international relations. He can be reached at Jacob.Kreimer@tufts.edu.
