Litter and life

Sometimes it feels like the problems in the world are so great, so vast, so beyond me, that there isn't a damn thing I can do to make a dent in the situation.

I feel like that all of the time.

These things are systemic and institutionalized.  

They're bigger than I am. They're stronger than I am. 

They mock my efforts and attempts at reversing what they have set into motion.

It makes me feel so small, so insignificant. 

One of the best examples I can think of is the problem of litter.  

It's a problem in Washington Heights, in that it makes our streets ugly and lowers the overall perception of the neighborhood.  In Nairobi, though, it's a way of life.  

Unless you're in the middle of the city you aren't going to find a trash can on the corner of the street. There isn't a system for waste removal on public roads beyond the most traversed neighborhoods of the city, so every other neighborhood drops their trash where it is convenient.  The streets are lined with garbage. 

I'm being literal. The streets are literally lined with garbage. 

I'm staying in a slum in Mathare where I can't see the ground where I'm walking because a layer of plastic separates me from the sewage beneath it. 

There are sections of the street set aside where people toss their garbage, should they choose to collect it in a bag to begin with. 

Tiny piles of trash burn along the edges of the walking paths, a futile attempt to eradicate the litter that can't be contained in one area.

I've lived here for the past two weeks.  I've collected my trash in a tiny plastic bag and I've given it to the woman that takes it out twice a week.  I haven't thought much about it beyond that.  I'm not throwing it out of the window, so it feels like I'm doing the right thing.  

And then it dawned on me - my trash is going the same place everyone else's trash is going.   It's part of the pile on the road. 

I can ignorantly collect it and pass it off in a sealed bag, but it's all going to the same pile. 

I don't throw my waste out of the window, so I assume that I'm not littering.  

It's not that easy. 

Unless I collect my own trash and take it to a public waste can, I might as well pitch it out of the window. It's the same exact result. 

I can convince myself that I'm doing my part by gathering my waste in a bag, and I might sleep more soundly at night because of it, but it's just ignorance that lets me rest. 

The truth is that there is so much more than I'm responsible for, so much more that I need to be aware of in order to actually be a part of the solution. 

Anything less is the same as adding to the piles of trash that make me hold my breath when I walk the streets. 

These things are systemic and institutionalized.  

It's bigger than trash.  It's life.

If I don't see the big picture and my role in it, I'm contributing to the problem. 

My work in the world can't end with a tidy bag of my own waste and a clean conscience because I don't openly throw it on the road. My work needs to look at developing systems that address the core issues, not just making sure that I put some volunteer time in.  My work needs to be about sustainable programming that meets the needs of the community, not just teaching a class for a week or two.  Volunteering might help me sleep at night, but the pile of trash is growing and I see my wrappers on the street.  

I might not be able to take care of these problems.  They might always be bigger than I am. They might always be stronger. 

But If I can see them for what they are then I can work to disarm them.

And I sure as hell won't convince myself that I've done something good for the world in order to get a better night of sleep when all I've done was litter in a different way than my neighbors.