He’s breathing and pulsating while puking out the last drops of thick, black matter as I wait and hold him upside down relentlessly. I am surrounded by snowcapped mountains and the sun shines down from a blue sky onto the industrial estate near Queenstown.
I shake him, pound his shoulder into the rim of the barrel and close up his soiled orifice.
The oil can flies point-blank into the collecting container and I manhandle the next one up to the rim of the waste oil barrel.
Shortly after that, there’s replenishment coming in. I once again stand in front of the conveyor belt and rummage through waste with my luckily, or more like necessarily, gloved hands. I fish certain kinds of plastic and nonrecyclable rubbish out of the filthy avalanche.
The idea to see all previously known order of New Zealand garbage separation on their final destination isn’t long-lasting at all. Seemingly noone washes their containers or depletes the containers of air here. Nothing of that, there is all kinds of recycling to find in one heap. Embedded in general waste. Smells, colours, shapes and sensations bring you fireworks for the senses!
Shoes, a flat iron, a telephone, rubbish bags, a docking station, a whole microwave, bent frying pans and much more can’t come close to the teeth of the further machinery. Variation is no alien concept here. 🙂
To go to one’s rubbish is as questionable of an amusement as looking through their windows. Still, it gives you a not to be underestimated view into society. What do they consume, in what way do they get rid of it, what do they throw out, what literature will you find in the trash?
Admittedly, after one day at the recycling plant you cannot answer all questions. But nevertheless, I had a nice look inside the final destination of the consumer society. My helping hand was needed for a single day only, so that I quickly popped in to the agency and got another assignment on the spot.
The very next morning I will get some more exclusive looks into unknown areas at the airport.
Two late shifts, helping to move some X-ray machines. Meanwhile, the agency looks for more technically demanding jobs for me. In Queenstown there is not much industry to be found. Though for a job that makes more use of my wits, I would be willing to move to another place. 🙂