"Kubi! Kubi!
KUBIIII!" my tita screeched, knocking wildly on the gate. I was napping and the sound of my aunt's slightly hysterical voice shocked me into waking. I ran to the door, and yanked it open.
"Darasem! Agiwar ka basura yon ta adda diyay truck!" (Quick! Take out your trash because the truck is coming this way!) she told me in one breath, her eyes wide with urgency. I sobered at that and felt the sleep seep out of my limbs. I nodded and walked purposefully to the back room. I hauled out an immense black plastic bag and carried it out unto the street. There, in the distance, I saw people busily loading similar burdens into something I had not seen in weeks: a garbage truck. I felt a rush of relief, heartened by the prospect of bidding two weeks' worth of accumulated garbage adieu. I spent the next few minutes methodically rounding up stray bags. The truck was mere meters away. My titas and I waited outside, bristling with unconcealed excitement.
"Does it look full to you?" one of my aunts whispered to no one in particular. I squinted into the darkness and made out three men jumping up and down on the back of the truck, heroically defying the laws of matter. I shook my head vehemently. This lone truck, I liked to believe, held the ticket to our sanity(-ation). My tita's doubt was infectious, but I beat it back.
The garbage truck started to move. We leaned forward hopefully...and watched an impressive pile of refuse make its slow procession down the street, completely ignoring our own expectant heap. Looks of bewilderment, cries of dismay! My titas and I waved frantically at the barangay kagawads following the truck. It's full, they said. We'll be back tomorrow, they assured us. Heads bowed and shoulders slumped, we carried our bags defeatedly across the street. We would have to wait until the next day before we could rid ourselves of this bane.
So it goes in Baguio City these days. The Irisan dumpsite has been closed, because many fear a repeat of the Payatas tragedy and because there is just too much trash. Negotiations to share dumpsites with neighboring towns have been futile in the hands of our blundering mayor. Government action is achingly slow. Our streets are lined with garbage bags trying very hard to look neat, but failing miserably. The wind carries a rotting, putrid smell not even pine can mask. The rain hastens the decomposition process so that maggots and other fauna easily colonize the accumulated waste. Why not, my dad suggested over dinner, hire a dumptruck and have them unload all of our garbage in front of City Hall?
That would definitely get the officials moving.
While we consider the logisitics of this plan, we can try to ease up on trash production. The action of one will hardly make a dent, but the collective efforts of many will. Also starring in this great act are the basic R's we couldn't get enough of in elementary:
Reduce,
Reuse, and
Recycle. The simplest things really work. For instance, you can avoid throwing away food by cooking just enough for you and your family. Carry groceries in your own canvas bag. Buy a sturdy water bottle and keep refilling that instead of adding to the growing heap of plastic bottles. Recycled paper is always the bomb-- print a report on the clean side of used paper. It's back to basics for the people of Baguio.
For this city, the garbage problem is a fall from grace. Is it possible for Baguio's Cleanest and Greenest Hall of Fame spot to get revoked?
