‘This is an important job’
Back to the garbage yard, the business has died for the day.
Bamfo and her youngest children, 10 -year -old Enkunim and Josephin, 6, are emptying the last few bottles. She will be on the bed till 8am, before starting work again in the morning, she will wake up at midnight to study her Bible.
Bamfo did not think it would be a waste choice.
When she finally got the school certificate, she was 19 years old and selling oranges and collecting enough money for the secretary course. But she cannot afford a typewriter.
When other girls tapped on their machine, she pulled the keyboard on her exercise book and practiced it, pressing her fingers on paper.
Soon, the money is over. Instead of a dream office job, she broke the work stone on the site of the building.
“At that moment, I see myself – I am a big defeat, and nothing,” says Bamfo, “I bowed on her office chair to keep an eye on any final delivery triasiccare. “I see that the world is against me.”
Then one morning, she was awakened that the building’s place was invisible overnight, replaced by the dumps: water sets, drink bottles and a truck of nylon wig.
Her five children fell asleep. Her husband had not come home as usual. To buy Kasawa to make a banking – dumpling stupe – she needed money immediately.
A friend had told her that the city’s factories would buy plastic waste for some ceddis. There were one of the lowest tasks, which included not only backbreaking labor but also a stigma and shame.
She said, “If this is a woman who is picking up the trash, people think that you do not have your family to take care of you.” “They think you are bad. They think you are a magician.”
One day she came home to find out that her husband had left her. But he told his father that he told his daughter to say that he had become “vultures”.
The wonderfulness of her father was just ashamed. To escape the harassment of her neighbors, Bamfo went to the other side of the city with his children.
There, she occupied her small courtyard, bought garbage from the pickers and sold to the factories and recycled the plants. After a while she built a wooden house. Eventually, she raised the courage to call her father.
“I said, ‘Look at this and the work I do. See that this is not something bad.”
When he saw a tri -cycle team that became a courtyard and bamboo business business, the Enocusu waste management (“Enocusu” is “TW for progress”), he could not help but be affected.
“You are not a woman, you are a man,” she tells her once, half appreciation and half accusing her. “The heart you have – your brother does not have that heart.”
Now she hopes to go to some of her flexibility. The king, as a supervisor in the yard, slept on a nearby dumpsite as a young boy, and saved him by Bampho and her garbage business. “I can’t say bad things about her. She is my mother.”
As the night sitting on the walnut, pollution plastic recruitment has been slightly high. But Bamfo says that she got a reputation in the battle to keep it on the creek.
She says, “This is the important task we are doing.” Sometimes I feel very bad and bad about not getting the education I want. But we clean the city. I think about it. ”
This story was created in partnership Sourcetial
