Getting loaded one bin at a time: Waste picker explains why trash is treasure

We see them everywhere, pulling heavily loaded street trolleys piled with plastic bottles, paper, cardboard and recyclables.

Waste pickers are, at times, the Achilles heel for many motorists who believe the road was tarred for the exclusive use of their wheels.

Six days a week, 52 weeks per year

Johannesburg waste picker Amos Vuma has faced the perils of traffic six days a week, 52 weeks of the year.

For a decade, he has pushed and pulled his trolley along the streets, loaded with other people’s rubbish that, to him, is a treasure.

“I love my job; I love every part of it,” said Vuma. “It’s a struggle because I am not a morning person, especially during winter, but heading out and making an honest living, taking care of my children and giving them a solid education; that is what I live for and why I love what I do.”

For a decade-and-a-half, Vuma’s days have started at four in the morning, and he gets to knock off at the same time in the afternoon as offices shut their doors. It’s a long day, but waste picking can be profitable.

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R4000 a week

Vuma employs two junior pickers, salaries them and still takes home about R4 000 weekly. That’s almost triple what he said some of his family members earn in the formal sector as cashiers, shelf packers and waiters.

“It’s a good business, and while some weeks can be a bit quiet, there’s usually never a shortage of rubbish to collect, sort and sell.”

It’s a daily race against time because Vuma must collect, sort, and bag his loot before the municipal trucks arrive.

This is why he only manages a street block at a time and usually collects three blocks worth in a day, just one step ahead of the garbage truck.

“I pack my bakkie to the brim,” said Vuma. It takes about two hours to go through a street’s wheelie bins.

He fashioned a homemade cage on the flatbed where he stacks his stuff high. “I am the guy that metro police pull over for overloading,” he laughed.

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‘Mr Vuma’

“Mr Vuma” is the name Vuma gave to his clapped out old bakkie.

Mr Vuma became his ticket to strengthening his business. He’s had it for about five years after his brother-in-law lent him the shortfall in cash he needed.

‘I pushed and pushed and saved every bit of money I could, and it has made a huge difference in my earning capacity.” He is now saving toward a larger one-tonner which will allow him to load more, sell more and employ more people to race through more neighbourhoods and net more cash.

Vuma has become a fixture on garbage days, and some complex residents pack their boots and offload extra stuff for him on the way to work.

An 84-year-old woman pulls up weekly and gives him whatever she collects at home and from her neighbours.

She told The Citizen that Vuma is more reliable than service delivery – and friendlier, too. She added that sometimes people like Vuma are invisible to us.

“People like him form the garter that holds up much of what’s still going right with South African society.”

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Pushing for the future

“I am pushing for my future, pushing for my children and pushing so that I can help my family,” he said.

Recycling centres do a brisk trade with thousands of trolleys berthing, offloading and heading off again to collect more rubbish.

Before he was mobile, Vuma walked the daily round trip of about 15km to the company where he sells his wares.

There’s some stuff he won’t touch; ‘dirty stuff” – the sex toys, used condoms, sometimes used jocks and panties.

“I wish people separated their garbage a little so that we don’t have to see or accidentally encounter these kinds of dirty things,” he said.

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People’s trash says a lot about who they are

While he’s no profiler, Vuma said by reading someone’s trash it is possible to paint a picture of who they are. It’s not something he’s into anymore because the clock ticks quickly in the race against the municipal refuse removal service.

But he has seen tax returns, bank statements, filthy nappies, nearly new gym equipment for home and other useful ‘garbage”.

During his interview with The Citizen, Vuma recovered a fluffy coat from a bin and handed it to a woman passer-by who looked like she needed it.

When Vuma clocks out at the end of the day, he is not dependent on a punch card. He’s his own boss and answerable only to himself.

The school of hard knocks has taught this Limpopo-born entrepreneur that the only thing that makes survival possible is hard work – and the only path to prosperity is smart work.

And that is why, bin by bin, he is growing his business organically; how a single staffer became two and then three.

‘We can change our own world this way. And be in control of tomorrow. It’s not about getting lucky; it’s about making your own good luck.” – news@citizen.co.za