At the crack of dawn, as I step out onto the streets of Addis Ababa, a familiar sight greets me: groups of women sweeping the roads with handmade brooms, their silhouettes framed by the rising sun. They gather the debris into piles, later transferred into trash bags for the city’s trucks to collect. These women—working diligently day after day—are the unsung custodians of our capital. Yet, despite their tireless efforts, the city remains far from clean.
A comment I once heard from a returnee lingers in my mind: “In the West, people clean streets with machines, and their cities are spotless. It’s the culture of waste disposal that makes the difference.” Indeed, I have seen this contrast firsthand. Along Bole Road—Africa Avenue—a boulevard lined with high-end investments and grand visions for urban development, you only need to walk a few meters behind the main road to find a starkly different reality.
Recently, I visited the Repi landfill, known locally as Koshe, or “dirt.” Sprawling across 37 hectares in the southwestern part of the city, it has served as Addis Ababa’s primary dumpsite for over 70 years. In 2017, a landslide at Koshe claimed more than 100 lives—a tragedy we seem to have collectively forgotten. Yet, the problem persists. Waste segregation at the source is almost nonexistent. Toxic medical waste from hospitals, food scraps, plastics, and industrial debris—all end up in the same pile. With no alternatives, workers are left to burn what they can, polluting the air and endangering public health.
This failure is not unique to waste management; it is a pattern across many sectors. Consider a seemingly unrelated example: a condominium where a small leak required an entire room to be chiseled apart, all because of carelessness during the initial tiling. The minor issues we neglect today become the major crises of tomorrow—whether in infrastructure, environmental protection, or public health.
Change is possible. I remember when wearing seat belts was seen as an act of arrogance, reserved for “NGO types” or the overly cautious. It wasn’t until a law was passed—backed by the threat of fines—that seat belt use became the norm. Today, it’s second nature. This shift shows that with strong political will, consistent enforcement, and public awareness, we can adopt new habits for the greater good.
Environmental degradation is not someone else’s problem; it is ours. Climate change is a global crisis, but it begins with local actions—like separating plastic from food waste. The United Nations, in its Sustainable Development Goals, calls for urgent action on climate change, emphasizing the need for education and capacity-building. The African Union’s Agenda 2063 echoes this, advocating for climate-resilient communities. Ethiopia’s own Constitution, in Article 44, guarantees the right to a clean and healthy environment.
Yet rights without responsibilities are empty promises. Addis Ababa has waste collection services organized through small and micro enterprises. They operate on scheduled days, with penalties for noncompliance. This system exists, but it is not enough. Without proper waste segregation at the source, we are merely moving the problem around, not solving it.
Waste segregation may seem like a small act, but its impact is profound. It reduces pollution, lowers costs, and protects public health. We should not wait for another tragedy like the Koshe landslide to act. We must demand accountability, strong leadership, and a cultural shift that treats environmental stewardship not as a favor to future generations but as a duty to our own.
Addis Ababa is a city of more than 10 million people. It is time we treat it—and the environment that sustains it—with the care it deserves. Indifference to the environment is indifference to human dignity. The path forward is clear: start with waste segregation at the source, and let that be the first step toward a healthier, more livable city for all.
Contributed by Selamawit Kidane
