By Livy-Elcon Emereonye
Is it possible that valuable resources lie within trash that people create wealth from waste?
In Nigeria’s bustling cities, where waste heaps rise daily, scavengers work tirelessly, searching for items others have discarded but that still hold value. Scavenging, termed ‘iron condemn’ in the south and ‘baban bola’ in the north, has transformed into a crucial business that thrives on competition.
For numerous young men and women, scavenging serves as a necessity rather than a choice. With unemployment rising and opportunities scarce, thousands turn to waste for their daily bread. All it takes to begin is a sack or wheelbarrow, and the hunt starts—plastic bottles, aluminum cans, copper wires, and even electronic scraps are picked, sorted, and sold.
Each day is a contest of speed and determination. Dumpsites and roadside bins attract crowds of pickers, each trying to secure the most valuable finds. To the typical bystander, it may look like waste, but for someone, it represents a way to make a living.
Various reasons have led to heightened competition in scavenging. The strong need for recyclable materials plays a crucial role in the operations of recycling companies and factories. The business has almost no entry barrier, drawing in more people by the day. As cities in Nigeria grow, the amount of waste they produce rises, leading to both opportunities and competition.
For many, it is a race against hunger. A kilogram of aluminum or copper can fetch several times more than plastic, making every piece contested. Scavengers often admit to quarrels and clashes over valuable items. In this business, speed and sharp eyes mean survival.
However, behind the individual scavenger lies an informal but well-structured system. Middlemen purchase materials in bulk from street pickers and stockpile them in small warehouses. From there, truckloads move to recycling companies that melt, crush, or reshape them into raw materials for industry.
Unseen by many, scavengers keep Nigeria’s recycling industry alive. Reports suggest that most recycling plants rely on waste pickers for up to 80% of their inputs. Without scavengers, many industries would struggle.
Despite its harshness, scavenging offers hope. It provides daily income for thousands who might otherwise remain jobless. It eases the pressure on landfills, reduces environmental waste, and even serves as a stepping stone for some to small-scale trading or business. Stories abound of scavengers who, over time, saved enough to employ others or become dealers themselves.
The flip side is equally real. Scavengers face dangerous conditions—handling sharp objects, inhaling toxic fumes, and enduring long hours in unsanitary environments. The work carries stigma, often regarded as dirty and degrading. Many scavengers face harassment, not only from society but also from authorities who sometimes treat them as nuisances.
The sector also carries a darker reputation. Some individuals hide under scavenging to steal manhole covers, cables, and building materials, creating mistrust between communities and genuine waste pickers.
Whatever the case, the scavenging business in Nigeria continues to expand as poverty and urban waste grow. Yet its future depends on recognition and reform. If organized into cooperatives, given protective gear, and integrated into official waste management policies, scavengers could become respected contributors to Nigeria’s circular economy.
Right now, the competitive landscape is quite fierce. At every dumpsite and street corner, scavengers battle daily for scraps that mean food, survival, and sometimes, the chance at a better tomorrow—and the current harsh economic reality makes things worse, so one would hysterically ask, “When will things improve?”
