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Thursday, 08 July 2010

The Trash Woman

By Johna Ferguson

Here in Qingdao in the older part of our city, trash people come daily to buy empty bottles, paper, cardboard, styrofoam, used furniture or old TV’s. They each have a litany they call out usually just using their voices, but sometimes a loud recorded one. I want to smash those speaking machines for I think if they are too lazy to use their own voice then better not at all.

There is a public walkway outside our high wrought iron patio fence, and they go up and down the 92 steps, sometimes even pulling a two-wheeled cart for heavy things. They can also climb the granite stone dead-end road, but there are no houses on it, just a park on one side and the garages of houses of our compound on the other.

I have one special woman I always give everything to, never asking how much she’d pay for it wouldn’t be much, but everyone else gladly takes her money knowing she’ll sell the stuff and make a good living wage.

She’s from the countryside and goes home only for the month-long Spring Festival break to see her family. But now two of her children are in college; just one girl at home with the grandmother carrying for her. The woman’s husband also collects trash here, but sometimes works at laborers' jobs if they pay well.

This woman always has the biggest smile on her face even if it is windy, cold and raining. She doesn’t call out for anything, just appears in the big brick courtyard that is between our six buildings. If I’m in the kitchen or bedroom, I see her and knock on the window so she’ll come get what we have, but otherwise I’ll miss her.

If we have something big then my husband has her cell phone number - yes, even she has a cell phone. I give her clothes I don’t want and many things I have cleaned out from the cupboards here from my husband's former marriage like sheets, towels and even old books that libraries don’t want plus all our plastic and glass bottles, boxes and bags.

These trash people really help keep the environment clean, for otherwise everyone would just dump all their junk in a pile beside the road or just toss it anywhere on the ground expecting someone to pick it up.

When I was sick once, my husband paid her to come do our laundry and help me clean the house. Of course, she can’t speak English so we could only use body language, but it worked.

She didn’t want to stay long, she said, she made more collecting trash, even though my husband paid her a very good wage. She said she also liked the freedom of managing her time and being outside in the fresh air, no matter the weather.

One time when I was going back to Seattle, she came with a gift for me. Her mother had made me a pair of beautiful embroidered cotton liners for my shoes. Another time she brought me a picture of her children, and her oldest son came a couple times to talk about his college major with my husband.

There are two quite old men who come by, but most of the trash collectors are younger men, maybe about 40 years old. It isn’t an easy job, that’s for sure, but these people definitely serve their country well acting as recycling centers or special garbage trucks that pick up glass, garbage, or yard waste like in Seattle.

Not only do they help keep the city clean, but they can work and earn money. In a country with high unemployment, it’s a useful and helpful solution for everyone. Every time I dump something into my dumpsters in Seattle, I will think fondly of her, her out in no matter what the weather, daily buying things from my neighbors, but knowing that next year our paths will again cross.

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Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post

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