India Trip: March 3

Today, we visited the waste pickers basti (slum) in New Delhi. It was an hour-long bus ride to the outskirts of the city. The people we were about to meet eke out a living sorting through garbage, picking out what has value in the recycling market. It had rained earlier in the morning, so the narrow path into the slum was muddy and slippery.

We walked single-file to a clearing where we were greeted by a ‘welcome’ written with limestone powder on the ground. A dozen chairs had been laid out in a semicircle. We were surrounded by mounds and mounds of garbage; plastic bags, bottles, rotting vegetables, aluminum cans, and other kinds of waste. The air smelled ripe and flies were all over the place.


My friend, Mahesh, and Shashi Pandit who organizes the waste pickers, introduced us to some of the leaders of the All India Kabari Mazdoor Mahasangh (All India Waste Picker Federation).
We are told that the dump is one of about 70 in the city. Around 700 adults and 200 children live among the garbage in makeshift huts and ramshackle houses. We were offered tea and I accepted a cup.

We learned that there are nearly 350,000 waste pickers in Delhi. Traditionally waste pickers have made a livelihood out of the collection, segregation and recycling of waste in the New Delhi Municipal Corporation areas. Since 2006, a company by the name of Ramky has been harassing waste pickers. The company has been given a contract to pick up waste from collection sites and transport it to the landfills. But instead it has been laying claim to the recyclable garbage, which is the only source of income for waste pickers.
Company representatives regularly visit the sites and threaten the waste pickers, who are simple and mostly uneducated. They try to chase them away from the depots. Several have been forced to run away. When the company is not successful in doing this, its representatives demand money from the waste pickers. Despite intimidating tactics and threats of violence, the waste pickers union continues its struggle for justice and means of livelihood for its members.

I notice that a five-star hotel is being constructed nearby. I ask Shashi what the future holds for those living at the dump. He replies that everyone will be forced to leave in a few months as the hotel owners would not want to spoil the “view” for their guests, especially foreign tourists.

We enter a small room that is being used as a school for local children. There were around 30 children between the ages of 3 and 12. The school is managed and run by a husband and wife team, Manoj Kumar and Vibha. Both are volunteers. Vibha is a high school graduate and knows a little English. She teaches Hindi, Math, and English to the kids. The children here cannot attend local schools because they are from remote villages in India and therefore, cannot prove their citizenship status.

I talk to the children in Hindi and ask them questions about what day of the week, month, and year it is. They answer me in Hindi and English. When I ask a girl what she wants to be when she grows up, she says, “I want to be a judge.”  Another girl wants to be a doctor and another, an engineer. I am struck by their hope and enthusiasm about the future.

I ask the teacher what the needs of the school were. The children could use slates and chalk, she says, and then she adds, “They really need vaccinations and some kind of daily nutrition. If we provide food, more children will come to study at the school.”

The Unitarian Universalist Holdeen India Program provides support for basic organizing work among the waste pickers. The challenges they face are staggering. But Shashi and others are very hopeful, “We are fighting for survival, not profit. If we can get the city to help us keep our jobs, we will not only help take care of the environment but save the city a lot of money that otherwise they would have to pay the private company. While it is a struggle, I know we will prevail.”  All of us are moved by his passion and optimism.

It was a disturbing, saddening, yet hopeful experience. The rest of the day felt mundane in comparison. We came away changed.