Mountainous Dump Looms Over Manila

The smoldering garbage dump grew so big over the decades that it became known as “Smokey Mountain.”

The Philippine government finally closed the notorious 11-story mound in 1995, planning to remove the Manila eyesore and the poor scavengers who lived on it.

Officials planned to convert the dump into a showcase of compassion and economic progress by leveling it and building rows of apartments for the more than 2,700 scavenger families who worked its slopes, collecting pieces of metal or plastic to sell.

“The government wanted to turn Smokey Mountain from a monument of national shame to international fame,” said Oscar Barrientos, a project engineer.

But like eliminating poverty, which still grips about a third of the Philippines’ 74 million people, the government has found eradicating Smokey Mountain a daunting task.

Under the original $154-million plan, a private developer, R-II Builders Inc., was allowed to reclaim nearby land in Manila Bay to build a harbor and commercial center that could provide jobs for the dump dwellers.

The company also was to dispose of about 130,000 truckloads of trash that had accumulated since the 1950s by burning it slowly in an incinerator to be installed at the dump.

Protests by environmental groups, however, blocked the plan. And it was completely aborted last June when President Joseph Estrada signed the Clean Air Act, which bans the use of incinerators.

Barrientos said about 6,500 truckloads of garbage were bulldozed off the mound and dumped elsewhere, but communities in the Manila area with landfills refused to take more.

Then came a series of new proposals. One involved dumping the garbage in Manila Bay as landfill to form part of the harbor hub. Another envisioned turning the garbage into a “mountain park” with benches, trees and manicured lawns.

Some critics question the idea of remaking Smokey Mountain into a residential area. Congressman Carlos Padilla said methane gas produced by decomposing garbage makes the pink, green and blue apartment buildings going up at the 52-acre site a “ticking time bomb.”

Barrientos says the methane emissions are minimal. Three large oil companies agree, saying they sought to collect escaping gas and convert it into cooking gas but found there wasn’t enough.

Just the same, the developer has installed a network of plastic pipes to vent methane into the air and keep it from accumulating under the surface.

Allegations by Padilla of financial irregularities in the government contract prompted congressional and government reviews that have further slowed the project’s completion.

If the garbage mountain remains, the apartments are unlikely to be opened for occupancy as planned later this year, the company says.

About 21 of 30 planned apartment buildings have been completed. Each apartment has 346 square feet of floor space, including a loft with two small bedrooms.

Like most of the scavengers now sheltered in rent-free temporary houses nearby, Reynaldo Almendo, 36, worries whether he can afford the monthly rent of 700 pesos--about $18.

He has known no other work but scavenging. Although he has a dream of owning a small grocery store, he is ashamed to apply for a loan from a bank because he does not know how.

“I’ll find a job somehow. I can make it,” he said, wearing a worn-out boot on one foot and an old shoe on the other, items probably unearthed from the garbage.

Many scavengers have been taught skills like growing orchids and using computers in hopes of improving their job prospects.

But Linda San Jose, a government housing official, said the problem is jobs are scarce in the Philippines.

In the temporary houses, a few scavengers have turned to drug pushing to survive, she said. Others flock to the new garbage transfer station near the old landfill site, armed with the familiar hook-shaped metal rods used to claw through refuse.

“We have brought them out, but they will always go back to the garbage if they don’t find other jobs,” she said.