Memories from Pelourinho





It’s funny how sometimes it’s the things you notice when you’re in an idle state of mind that seem so memorable later.

 

One night a couple of years back, I was out in the streets of Salvador, the capital of the north-eastern Brazilian state of Bahia, famous for its picturesque colonial architecture in central Pelourinho; what’s now considered the best Carnaval in the country; and the musical band Olodum, who made a notable appearance in Michael Jackson’s ‘They don’t care about us’ video in the 1990’s.  

 

In the midst of the partygoers, I caught myself watching an older, somewhat scruffy man sitting among the masses, busy with what might initially have seemed a strange task in the middle of all this. He had a collection of empty plastic beer and soda cans at his feet, which he collected from all the people partying around. What he did next seemed to require much physical prowess: he was crushing the plastic cans with his feet one after another, and collecting them in a garbage bag next to him.

 

Pelourinho in central Salvador 

I realized that this was a means of earning money for this man, and he was far from being the only one. Almost needless to say, this method of earning money is reserved for the less economically fortunate in Brazil, a reality of life that is sadly inevitable. Although I have personally only come across this in Brazil, I’ve heard that it’s a fairly normal (or should it be 'normal'?) occurrence of the day or night in other countries in Latin America as well – people even come up to you while you’re sitting down somewhere drinking your soda to ask if you have finished yet so they can take the empty can along. 

As much as this reflects just how persistent social inequality still is in Brazil and surrounding countries of the Americas, there is something about this business of collecting cans that might make you think what the possible advantages might actually be. The streets get cleaner the same night, the poor can make at least some extra money, and I assume that the lot of aluminum gets recycled, at least I hope so.

I must admit that back when I was in Brazil watching this, I didn’t think so hard yet about the recycling part. How weird though, isn’t it – on the one hand, you face a country’s sad reality of poverty, and on the other, you then realize, sooner or later, that there might be some environmental benefit to what these people are doing to earn money.

Soon after coming back from Brazil, I was hurled into the ungrateful European job market, which brought me to volunteer at a sustainability-oriented NGO in Amsterdam, where I gained my current interest in sustainable development and the green challenges we all face. But that’s a different story.

Let me just say, despite all the new information I learned about sustainable development, an episode like that of the man collecting and crushing cans still quite often comes up in my mind. Something that’s both so simple and so complex at the same time, maybe even just a grain of sand in a desert, but one that leaves a lasting memory.