This is Where I Live

The first thing that comes to my sight when I look up to start this new day is the vast stretch of land, the feel of it, the sound of it, the voice of it, calling out to me. That unmistakable smell can be detected, like a voice alluring me closer and closer, never knowing where it ends. Any man that crosses my path will be dealt with according to my wishes. No one should intrude on this wasteland, for I have claimed it as my own. This is my home, my shelter, my territory.

I live in a waste dump. Sure, it might not be one’s first choice to live in, and it probably isn’t the wish of a 14 year old child living on his own, surviving independently and protecting himself. But truth be told, it isn’t as bad as it sounds, nor as how ordinary people would imagine it to be. And even if I could, I would never leave this place for anything.

It all started when I was a youngster at the tender age of 10. Though I must ask, what do ordinary people expect from a preteen with drug-addict parents? Honestly, I just got sick of all the fighting and needles around the house. I did everything I could to keep my personal space suitably clean, but with parents like that it is sort of a hard thing to follow up.

I did try and change my parents, though. However even after numerous threats and countless visits to rehab, I then realized that people never change. No matter what you want them to be, as long as they aren’t willing, you cannot change them. I guess I just got sick of hoping. Hoping that they would turn over a new leaf and focus more towards their own attention deprived son. But I guess that was impossible. They just seemed to love drugs more than they loved me. So I moved out.

I packed my toothbrush, some clothes and some random objects and walked out on the street. I think my parents barely even noticed I was gone. Soon I was walking along every street, every corner, every alley, until I found out that I had nowhere to go. I felt lost and all I could do was bend down and cry.

But then that’s where I felt a sudden glitch of hope. The gates to the city dump appeared right in front of me. A light shining down on it as if presented to me from the heavens above. It may seem awkward, but it just felt so warm and welcoming. I immediately rushed off to my new-found palace of desire.

I can’t possibly explain the excitement I felt once I stepped into the waste land. It was just as if that part of childhood I missed had come back to pay me a visit. There was a whole new world set up right in front of me, just waiting to be explored.

With some hundreds of tires, I made my fort. For food, I searched around the dump. From rotten apples to half eaten sandwiches, they were all the same to me. Then buried deep beneath a whole pile of paper, I found an upholstered couch, not perfect, but it was good enough to sleep in.

It just seemed like the perfect home that I was deprived of. Everything I needed was there, food, shelter, plus there was a public restroom not 50 meters away. This was about to be my haven.

After a few days I got used to waking up to the sounds of rubbish trucks dumping their load every morning. It wasn’t a problem for me, really. New rubbish means more supplies right?

Once in a while I would go ‘shopping’ for clothes. Basically, I would go on to a part of the dump that I haven’t been to before and pick out any kind of clothes, from ripped up T-shirts to pleated shorts. It boggled my mind how people would actually throw all these things up. Practically half of them were still in perfectly good condition. Once in awhile I even would find a pair of brand new Levi jeans. At this moment I realized just how many resources society was wasting these days. But I wouldn’t become like them. No, I would take everything that society rejected and make it my own.

I did make friends in the dump. Not many but, hey, it was a dump. Firstly there was Carl, the rubbish collector who drops by everyday. We became close buddies in a short time, probably because he felt the same love for the rubbish dump as I did. Every morning at ten he would drop by with his latest discovery in the truck and we would chat while having lunch.

There was also Bob, the rubbish dump operator. Like Carl, he also did love the rubbish dump. He even lived less than 10 feet from it. I could never hate him, since he was the one that let me live here in the first place.

Some people may ask why I live in a rubbish dump. I am not a drug addict, neither am I homeless. I have a home, and that is my rubbish dump. Often they wonder how I get my food and when I tell them, they just stare in disgust and walk away. One even shouted the word ‘scavenger’ to me. But I honestly don’t see what is wrong in being a scavenger. I am not making my way by any negative or harmful ways. Simply said, I live on the things that you throw away. I don’t know what is so sociality demoralizing about that.

I don’t go to school, I never did. Because I feel that living in the real world is going to give me much more education than being in a stuffy classroom with 29 other students. There are no exams, no surprise quizzes. Every day when I wake up to a new day, that’s my real life test, seeing if I will survive through the day.

So here I am, sitting on my upholstered couch, a cup of Starbucks in my hand, graciously given by Bob, admiring the scenery of my home. Later on 3 more rubbish trucks would drop by, which is good news for me.

Being here for 2 years has given me a new perspective in life. I now feel as if I have actual meaning to live in this world. Perhaps I still have more to offer to the world, and that is why I am still living.

I can see people walking by, laughing while on their cell phones with tons of shopping bags in their hands. I wouldn’t really say I am jealous. I like my life as it is.

I don’t need tons of money and a high standing in society to be happy. I have my life and this endless sense of adventure by being in this dump. Honestly, I think I’m blessed to have such an invigorating life. I would never change it for anything. You could offer me all the money in the world, but I would never leave my home.

I stand up as I hear sounds of engines approaching. “Well,” I say to myself, “Lets see what the lords have in store for me this time.”