The Borla (Rubbish) Crown: Create, Gather and Dump

“Hey, quickly fold that rug and station it on your head and let me help you carry it. Be careful not to share the contents with people on your way. Do all it takes to come back without it,” the words of my mom.

As if by design, I met up with other friends also with similar contents either in well tied polythene bags, boxes, baskets or spoilt silver pans. Together we navigated the labyrinth of houses in our neighborhood chatting about any and everything.

Those were the early teen days in Accra New Town, where we had to move from New Town and cross the infamous Nima gutter to dispose off the very refuse that we created and lived with till the container stationed in the far end of the home was full.

Sisters more often than not did the sweeping and refuse collection, whiles it was our duty as boys to go dump the refuse, contents of which included food parts, very minimal plastic (compared to today), pieces of paper, tins and cans etc.

Note: The smell that emanates therefrom was pungent to the extent that it contained feathers and intestines of a feast fowl, in such case full or not, refuse had to be disposed off asap.

So we walked till we arrived at the big container that was a median between household refuse and the main dumpsites. Dumping styles varied, you either tossed your package into the bin or climbed the mini stairs to do so.

The former because the container was not needed and the latter because need to go back home with it for the next consignment. If you mistakenly toss it in, would have to jump in and fetch it if the borlaman was not around.

After dumping, if you need to return your container, you hit it on the ground severally to ensure that no maggots and ants would make the return journey back home with you.

The borla man, a tall stout man usually spotting a cow boys cap, wellington boots and a construction workers apparel more often than not, tucked into the boots. Mostly standing atop of the refuse organizing the heap.

As best as I can recall, it used to be a free dump. What we never thought of for one moment was how who paid the borlaman to inhale all that stench and continue organizing heaps of refuse.

For those who know the Nima Mamobi road stretch well, if the Nima Public Toilet (Hollandians) container was full, next stop was on the junction that connects Nima to Mamobi township or the container that was stationed close to the Mamobi public toilet.

Later, payment for dumping started and you dare visit the container with less than required or no money at all, chances are that you would have to return with your load intact.

Hard luck in matters of waste disposal was to visit all three places and realize that all containers were absent or filled and “sealed” (covered with net the size of that used for a football goal post.)

Last option: to walk all the way to the otherside Nima Mamobi Highway and toss your heap right into the gutter. And I look back at those times with disgust and shame. That psychologically we found nothing wrong with such an act.

Roll forward the years and till date, people in the area still do that and more so when it rains, that is when they come out to empty their refuse bins. In our day 50% plastic (polythene bags, bottled water, slippers etc. but more nauseating is the disposal of sanitary pads and pampers. The gutter is now a refuse dump. 2015!

Years on, these containers are still very much a part of the setting in Nima and Mamobi even though the work of refuse collection agencies are also popular and pervasive, news about the filled land fill sites means more often than not, these containers get fool and are flanked by well arranged polythene bags, sitting in wait to be carried away.

The worse days are the days when you have to return home with the refuse because there wasn’t an available container, so the borla had to wait longer to be disposed off.
 
You count yourself lucky if someone from the direction you are headed redirects you with news that a particular container was full. Balanced on your head like a king bearing a crown, borla has ever sent us walking long distances once upon a time.

And how can I write this piece without the mechanical aspect of matters. It was a privilege to be present when the borla truck came to pick the refuse. We looked on as the truck presented an empty container and mechanically braced up with moving parts and shafts cranking and fastening at joints before the filled container rises up and settles in place of the empty one.

At that stage the vehicle “belches” and leaves a throe of dust behind before the driver switches gears and drives off with all that God knows how many households have produce of trash transported by the likes of myself and other carriers.

An experience I wouldn’t mind living all over again. Borla chronicles got a lot more vibes and insofar as nobody will keep it, we shall forever dump it; caveat being “if you gotta dump, dump it right yeah?”

Thanks for reading my latest dump.

28th Jumadath Thanee 1436 = 17th April, 2015


Abdur Rahman Alfa Shaban