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GARBAGE "EMPIRE"
A1+
[04:50 pm] 25 August, 2008
The garbage of Yerevan's Shengavit, Kentron, Erebuni and Arabkir
districts is dumped in Nubarashen's trash dump. The place resembles
a garbage "empire" guarded by dozens of watchdogs.
Sentry post never stops a passer-by thinking he is an ordinary vagabond
and like many others has come in search of luck.
The highway is surrounded scrap heaps of 1.5-metre height. One can
see multi-coloured sacks, worn-our shoes and hats, bins and cans,
keyboards and the such thrown here and there. Sea gulls hover over
the dump all day long.
You finally reach a group of people along the dusty and muddy road.
The work is in full swing here. One can see both adults and
children. Seeing video-cameras many of them look askew, whisper
something to each other and point out. A middle-aged man steps out
of the group and comes up to strangers.
"What's up? What are you looking for?" he wonders.
"I am a journalist. I have come to watch you working," I said.
"Is that a video or a photo camera? Do not shoot us or...," warns the
man and joins his friends. I immediately hid the camera in my bag. But
everybody seemed to know my occupation and watched me in a curious way.
I noticed two fellows putting polyethylene bottles into sacks. The
brothers have worked in the dump for a few summers. The elder brother,
Arsen, is going to leave for Russia in autumn and is saving money
for the ticket. The younger brother, Artak, studies at a Yerevan
university and works to meet his daily needs.
"People may think we are of no fixed abode. But we work over 30.000
drams a day. Do you earn so much a day?" said Artak.
The brothers deliver the polyethylene bottles to the sand factory of
Masis. They are given 100-150 drams for a kilo.
The brothers didn't let me shoot them as they feared lest their
friends should recognise them and know about their work.
"I want you to understand me properly. I am not ashamed of my work. I
simply don't want to starve. The point is that our friends will not
understand us because of the Armenian mentality."
Arsen says most of local employees are already well-off people. "They
drive luxurious cars and wear expensive jewellery. They work here as
they find it profitable." Last year Arsen saw a man find 2.000.000
drams in the dump.
"They say someone even found â~B¬5.000.000 but no one saw him."
Artak and Arsen do not get in touch with others. They say there are
groupings in the dump.
Though the brothers are content with the money they earn they wouldn't
like to work in such a place. "Why should a student work in a dump
to earn his daily bread? Why should my brother leave for Russia and
work for Russians?" said Artak.
On the way I met a woman bending over a garbage heap. She was a
middle-aged woman in worn-out clothes. "Hello. I want to talk to you."
"What do you want? I am simply a garbage-collector. Go away."
--Boundary_(ID_+fi2ZOOic4Q8++r2H1N08g )--
A1+
[04:50 pm] 25 August, 2008
The garbage of Yerevan's Shengavit, Kentron, Erebuni and Arabkir
districts is dumped in Nubarashen's trash dump. The place resembles
a garbage "empire" guarded by dozens of watchdogs.
Sentry post never stops a passer-by thinking he is an ordinary vagabond
and like many others has come in search of luck.
The highway is surrounded scrap heaps of 1.5-metre height. One can
see multi-coloured sacks, worn-our shoes and hats, bins and cans,
keyboards and the such thrown here and there. Sea gulls hover over
the dump all day long.
You finally reach a group of people along the dusty and muddy road.
The work is in full swing here. One can see both adults and
children. Seeing video-cameras many of them look askew, whisper
something to each other and point out. A middle-aged man steps out
of the group and comes up to strangers.
"What's up? What are you looking for?" he wonders.
"I am a journalist. I have come to watch you working," I said.
"Is that a video or a photo camera? Do not shoot us or...," warns the
man and joins his friends. I immediately hid the camera in my bag. But
everybody seemed to know my occupation and watched me in a curious way.
I noticed two fellows putting polyethylene bottles into sacks. The
brothers have worked in the dump for a few summers. The elder brother,
Arsen, is going to leave for Russia in autumn and is saving money
for the ticket. The younger brother, Artak, studies at a Yerevan
university and works to meet his daily needs.
"People may think we are of no fixed abode. But we work over 30.000
drams a day. Do you earn so much a day?" said Artak.
The brothers deliver the polyethylene bottles to the sand factory of
Masis. They are given 100-150 drams for a kilo.
The brothers didn't let me shoot them as they feared lest their
friends should recognise them and know about their work.
"I want you to understand me properly. I am not ashamed of my work. I
simply don't want to starve. The point is that our friends will not
understand us because of the Armenian mentality."
Arsen says most of local employees are already well-off people. "They
drive luxurious cars and wear expensive jewellery. They work here as
they find it profitable." Last year Arsen saw a man find 2.000.000
drams in the dump.
"They say someone even found â~B¬5.000.000 but no one saw him."
Artak and Arsen do not get in touch with others. They say there are
groupings in the dump.
Though the brothers are content with the money they earn they wouldn't
like to work in such a place. "Why should a student work in a dump
to earn his daily bread? Why should my brother leave for Russia and
work for Russians?" said Artak.
On the way I met a woman bending over a garbage heap. She was a
middle-aged woman in worn-out clothes. "Hello. I want to talk to you."
"What do you want? I am simply a garbage-collector. Go away."
--Boundary_(ID_+fi2ZOOic4Q8++r2H1N08g )--