海角大神

On the outskirts of this straggly, southern Lebanese hilltop village lies a small, tin-roofed warehouse. Packed inside are bundles of crushed plastic water bottles and barrels of empty soda cans, plastic bottle tops, and glass shards.

The warehouse is the hub of a small but thriving local recycling initiative that began when a group of women came together to improve their village鈥檚 environment.

But in a country that still struggles to modernize its infrastructure, including an at times headline-grabbing inability to collect its garbage, the warehouse also stands as a testament to the perseverance of a doughty octogenarian who defied local customs, government negligence, official indifference, a lack of funding, and even the perils of intermittent warfare to realize her modest vision.

When, more than 20 years ago, Zeinab Moukalled pulled together volunteers among Arab Salim鈥檚 women to sort and recycle the village鈥檚 overflowing trash, she says it was an attempt to compensate for the near-total absence of the Lebanese state in tending to their municipal needs.

鈥淲e really don鈥檛 have any government to help us, so we have to do things by ourselves,鈥� says Ms. Moukalled, now 81 and popularly known around here as Haji Im Nasser.听(鈥淚m Nasser鈥� means 鈥渕other of Nasser,鈥� and 鈥淗aji鈥� denotes she has performed the hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.) 鈥淲hat we did was for the environment and to improve our lives in the village.鈥�

And it has served as an inspiration. The success of Moukalled鈥檚 campaign has not only ensured a safer and healthier environment in Arab Salim 鈥� where it helped eradicate a traditional culture of haphazard garbage dumping 鈥� but has also led nearby villages to try and establish their own recycling projects.

Deficient infrastructure

Lebanon鈥檚 civil war ended in 1990, yet this tiny Mediterranean country continues to be wracked by infrastructural deficiencies left over from that 16-year conflict: from daily power cuts and water shortages to a lingering crisis over garbage disposal. Two years ago, mass protests broke out against the government when garbage accumulated for weeks in the streets of Beirut after the main dump site south of the capital was closed.

A national solution to the trash problem has yet to be found, as politicians bicker over who stands to benefit from potentially lucrative garbage-disposal contracts. With successive Lebanese governments more often than not failing to adequately address such deficiencies, it is often left to individual civil initiatives to improve living conditions in local communities.

Moukalled came up with the idea for her recycling effort in 1995. At the time, there was no functioning municipality in the village, and community needs were supposed to be handled听at the level of the governorate. Moukalled visited the then-governor of the area in Nabatieh, a market town three miles to the south, to enlist his support, but was unsuccessful.

鈥淲e tried to persuade him to help us, but we gave up and decided to do it ourselves,鈥� Moukalled recalls.

There was no money for the project, and some women were initially less than enthusiastic about sifting through their household鈥檚 garbage each day to separate bio-degradable trash, plastics, glass, and metals.

But these weren鈥檛 the only obstacles facing Moukalled as she pressed ahead with her agenda.

Recycling under fire

In the mid-1990s, Arab Salim was on the frontline of the Israeli army鈥檚 occupation zone in southern Lebanon. Soaring to the east of the village was a craggy mountain surmounted by a military outpost manned by Israeli troops听or their local Lebanese militia allies. Fighters from Lebanon鈥檚 Shiite Hezbollah organization routinely fired mortar rounds at the outpost or scaled the mountain to launch close-range attacks. The resulting retaliatory Israeli artillery fire often hit the village and its outskirts, killing and wounding residents and causing damage to property.

鈥淎t the time, we were under occupation, and people didn鈥檛 care about the garbage situation because we had shelling every day,鈥� says Moukalled.

Another early challenge was finding a place for the barrels and sacks of sorted trash. A public appeal for recycling companies to contact her and collect the trash inspired a newspaper article about her innovative campaign. That exposure led in turn to a meeting with UN aid officials in Beirut and a grant of $29,000. At last, a newly elected governor in Nabatieh 鈥� after initially chiding Moukalled for allegedly circumventing the government 鈥� gave the volunteer women some money and land for the warehouse. It was built with funding from the Italian Embassy.

Arab Salim lies along the crest of a mountain ridge with views to the west that reach the Mediterranean. Although the Israeli occupation of south Lebanon ended in May 2000, reminders of war are still found across this Shiite village. Hezbollah has a strong presence, and the streets are lined with sun-faded portraits of 鈥渕artyrs鈥� killed fighting the occupation two decades ago. More brightly colored pictures commemorate a new generation of fighters killed on Syria鈥檚 battlefields.

Everyone here knows Haji Im Nasser and speaks of her fondly.

鈥淗er work is the best thing that ever happened to Arab Salim,鈥� says Amin Shrara, 30, who owns a sandwich shop in the village center. 鈥淭he village was drowning in garbage when I was a kid. But Im Nasser educated us not to throw garbage out of the window, but put it in dumpsters. The village is unbelievably clean because of her.鈥�

'Government gives us nothing'

Lebanon鈥檚 national garbage crisis has elicited greater interest in the work of her project, now a non-profit NGO called Nidaa al-Ard, or Call of the Earth. A steady stream of visitors come to Arab Salim to see how the operation runs. The neighboring villages of Kfar Ruman and Jarjouaa also have begun similar sorting/recycling schemes.

鈥淲e started six months ago. We have given barrels to all the houses and have employed four people to collect the garbage,鈥� says Ali Moukalled (not a direct relative), the mayor of Jarjouaa.

The problem facing these new recycling start-ups, however, is still the lack of funds 鈥� and government inaction. The Arab Salim warehouse is too small to accommodate all of Jarjouaa鈥檚 waste.

鈥淲e are knocking on the doors of foreign NGOs asking for money for our needs,鈥� says Ali Moukalled. 鈥淭he government gives us nothing.鈥�

Today Nidaa al-Ard is expanding its activities into water protection and conservation and regulating stone quarries. The Arab Salim warehouse also contains a small classroom for school children to learn about the environment, conservation, and recycling.

鈥淧eople鈥檚 attitudes [toward the environment] have changed, of course. There was a little boy who saw her mother throw trash on the street and he said, 鈥楳ama, don鈥檛 do that or Im Nasser will be angry,鈥� 鈥� Zeinab Moukalled says with a soft chuckle. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been a long journey, but we have done well.鈥�