Wastelands

Recycled Commodities and the Perpetual Displacement of Ashkali and Romani Scavengers

Eirik Saethre

• Éditeur: University of California Press
• Année: 2020
• ISBN:
  9780520976139
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: Social Sciences
• Sous-sujet: Cultural & Social Anthropology

Wastelands is an exploration of trash, the scavengers who collect it, and the precarious communities it sustains. After enduring war and persecution in Kosovo, many Ashkali refugees fled to Belgrade, Serbia, where they were stigmatized as Gypsies, consigned to slums, sidelined from the economy, and subjected to violence. To survive, Ashkali collect the only resource available to them: garbage. Vividly recounting everyday life in an illegal Romani settlement, Eirik Saethre follows Ashkali as they scavenge through dumpsters, build shacks, siphon electricity, negotiate the recycling trade, and migrate between Belgrade, Kosovo, and the European Union. He argues that trash is not just a means of survival: it reinforces the status of Ashkali and Roma as polluted Others, creates indissoluble bonds to transnational capitalism, enfeebles bodies, and establishes a localized sovereignty.

1

The Sociality of Exception

Popular discourse routinely homogenizes Roma as a single ethnic and cultural group, but scholars frequently point out that few, if any, commonalities exist among the wide array of Romani peoples.¹ This diversity results, in part, from centuries of persecution and ghettoization by dominant European populations. Acton notes that Roma possess “a continuity, rather than a community.”² In Serbia this was particularly true. Although many historic Romani neighborhoods and villages were composed of people claiming a unified identity, Belgrade’s settlements became microcosms of heterogeneity as migrants and refugees from across the former Yugoslavia flooded into the city. Polje, for instance, was home to Ashkali, Bayash (alternatively Beyash or Boyash) Roma, and Yugoslav Roma.³ These identities were reified through language: Ashkali primarily conversed in Albanian, while Bayash used Romanian, and Yugoslav Roma, Serbian. As a result, Ashkali were labeled Albanians while Bayash were dubbed Romanians. In addition to linguistics, distinctive religious, occupational, and economic practices further separated each group. Wanting to live among their own kind, residents created a ghettoized geography: Bayash in the center, Yugoslav Roma farther away, and Ashkali on the outer border.

While significant differences pervaded Polje’s inhabitants, they were united by the shared experience of segregation. Romani geographies—whether formal communities or informal squatter camps—were isolated from non-Romani spaces as well as from each other.⁴ Polje, for instance, was an island surrounded by risk. Residents venturing outside the settlement were targeted by police and surveilled by store clerks. Taking public transportation could result in the opprobrium of or confrontations by Serbs. Just walking down the street might end in physical assault. Because the settlement’s population generally consisted of extended family groups, there was little impetus to brave these hazards and socialize beyond this residential network. As a result, people rarely left the settlement for reasons other than to search for trash, beg, or make purchases at neighboring convenience stores. Enclaves like Polje dotted Belgrade’s landscape, each one forming a self-reliant community that was internally fragmented and separated from seemingly identical settlements nearby.

Lacking routine interactions with other Ashkali and Romani communities, residents were socially immobilized. Confined to Polje, sociality was unavoidable and unrelenting. With only one thoroughfare running through the settlement, residents were perpetually privy to the comings and goings of their neighbors. This was particularly true in the afternoons, when men returned from work and unloaded their carts. In good weather, residents were loath to remain inside their small shacks, so families sat outside. On these days, residents filled the margins of the lane, asking one another, “What’s up, cigan?” and regaling passersby with tales of their day. Unable to draw from a common history or identity, people focused on their shared economic aspirations, discussing and appraising each other’s finds. These conversations quickly evolved into financial exchanges as neighbors bought, sold, and traded items that they were unable to obtain any other way.

Because residents had limited opportunities for camaraderie or commerce outside of Polje, they created bonds, however tenuous, between one another. This was the sociality of exception. Examining a Palestinian refugee camp, Allan notes that in environments of privation, material and monetary exchanges transform disconnected individuals into cohesive communities.⁵ She writes, “Economic exclusion and poverty represent more than an austere backdrop to camp life; they are, arguably, the conditions that now constitute it.”⁶ Distinctive relationships were precipitated by the common experiences of living in a segregated community, coping with economic marginalization, and being inherently vulnerable. In Polje intersecting affiliations were constructed from the discarded commodities of late capitalism. Garbage conventionally lacked worth, but as scavengers bought and sold these items, trash was imbued with value. These transactions not only fashioned a unique economic regime but also structured relationships. The bartering of trash and the establishment of social bonds were two aspects of the same process.⁷ To illustrate the formative role that garbage played in Polje’s sociality, this chapter explores the histories of each of the settlement’s main groups—Ashkali, Yugoslav Roma, and Bayash Roma—and then describes how these categories were transcended through the shared afflictions, ambitions, and economies of trash.

POLJE’S NEWEST INHABITANTS

Arriving in Polje after the destruction of Zgrade in 2012, Ashkali built homes on the periphery of the settlement. Bekim’s one-room shack was the first structure one passed upon entering Polje. But the simple edifice stood in stark contrast to his family’s complex history. Born in Kosovo, Bekim was the youngest of five siblings. His mother was illiterate and unable to write her son’s name. At his birth she asked a Serbian nurse to enter it for her on the official record. However, the nurse was unfamiliar with Muslim names and misspelled it. To this day Bekim must continue to misspell his name on all legal documents. Soon after his seventh birthday, Bekim’s family fled to Serbia to escape the atrocities of the Kosovo War. Settling in a town not far from Belgrade, they moved into a three-room brick home with running water and electricity. Reminiscing, Bekim commented that he began learning Serbian while playing soccer with his friends, most of whom were either Romani or Serbian. At that age, he added, they did not know what it meant to be Serb, Bayash, or Ashkali. As an adult, though, he believed these ethnic differences were too much to overcome.

When Bekim was thirteen, his father relocated the family to Belgrade. They gave up their house and moved into a shack in Zgrade. Like other boys his age, Bekim began smoking and thinking about girls. Bekim’s new friends mocked him for being single and introduced him to Endrit’s daughter, Fatime. Bekim quickly became enamored and gave her a ring to signify his affection. However, it was not long before Endrit noticed the jewelry and asked Fatime where she had gotten it. Wishing to conceal the romance, she replied that she had found it in the trash. Endrit urged her to sell it but Fatime replied that she would rather keep the ring for herself. Not long afterward, Endrit saw his daughter walking with Bekim and their courtship was finally exposed. Fearing Endrit would attempt to separate them, Bekim proposed. Once Fatime agreed, Bekim spirited her away to his uncle’s home, not far from where he had grown up. After consummating the marriage and confirming Fatime’s virginity, Bekim quickly arranged a wedding celebration. Although Endrit was opposed to the match, there was little he could do. Several days later, he dropped his objections and asked for €1,200 ($1,500) bridewealth. Bekim negotiated with him and eventually paid €400 ($500). Bekim was sixteen and Fatime was fourteen.

The subsequent years were difficult for the young couple. Fatime quickly became pregnant but the child was stillborn, devastating both parents. Not long afterward Bekim’s father died, leaving him without social and financial support. A few months later Fatime became pregnant once more. This time the child survived. But their third child, born the following year, did not live past infancy. Faced with death and poverty, Bekim hoped to build a better life for his family by relocating them to the EU. He paid human traffickers to smuggle them over the border into Hungary and they eventually settled in Austria, where Fatime’s fourth child was born. However, Bekim began working illegally, was caught, and the family was deported to Kosovo. Soon, they were back in Zgrade.

Over the next four years Fatime gave birth annually, but only two of these infants survived past their first birthday. The couple rarely spoke of their deceased children as it elicited acute anguish. When Bekim quietly raised the topic one afternoon, he broke into tears. Weeping as he stared at the floor, he declared that all he wanted to do was look after his children. But try as he might, he was unable to provide them with a decent life. A shack, Bekim said, was no place for infants. He added that his babies should not suffer but they did. Sobbing, Bekim explained that despite all his efforts, nothing changed. With tears streaking his face, Bekim lamented that he was only twenty-four years old yet had already lost four of his children. “How can I live with that?” he asked. “For the rest of my life, how can I live with that?”

Each day Bekim struggled to make ends meet by sifting through the city’s dumpsters looking for recyclable materials. Like most Ashkali, he concentrated on finding paper products. Discarded cardboard was relatively plentiful but collecting it on his trokolica was strenuous work. He earned only 4 dinars (4 cents) per kilogram and at this price a great deal of paper was needed to provide enough income to support Fatime and his four surviving children. With access to cash difficult, the trash also became the family’s primary source of shoes, clothes, furniture, and food. Even when he was not on his trokolica, Bekim habitually searched every dumpster he passed. Fatime and the children did the same. At the age of nine, Bekim’s youngest son was already bringing home items he found during trips to the local convenience store.

Not far from Bekim and Fatime, Gazmend and his second wife lived adjacent to one of the berms surrounding the settlement. Gazmend was distantly related to Endrit’s father, while his wife was Drita’s aunt. At sixty-four years old, Gazmend’s face was an exercise in contrasts. His short, gray beard and wrinkles gave him a wizened look that was immediately contradicted by his boyish grin. Gazmend proudly boasted that his family had lived in Kosovo for three hundred years. However, during the violence of the war, he abandoned his home in Pristina and moved into Zgrade. Now living in Polje, Gazmend’s shack was situated in a bucolic setting, free from the ubiquitous noise and trash that characterized the rest of the settlement. He reveled in the peaceful solitude of his surroundings. Not only did he avoid being a bystander to the comings and goings of Romani residents, Gazmend was able to elude police searching for illegal electric connections. The neighboring berms rendered his shack, and the light emanating from it, invisible to anyone on the main road.

Compared to many of the other shacks, Gazmend’s was built of sturdy materials and kept free of debris. Remarkably, it sported a hinged window that could be opened. Because articulated windows were expensive and heavy, they were a rarity in the settlement. This feature marked Gazmend as both a master builder and a man of means. He had furnished the interior with spotless carpets, a couch draped with a fresh cover, and a wooden china cabinet containing neatly stacked dishes. A large rug depicting the Kaaba hung on the central wall while prayer beads were placed on the table next to the couch. Like other Ashkali, Gazmend’s Muslim identity was critical to his sense of self, but religious observance did not occupy a large part of his life. Although he avoided eating pork and celebrated the main Muslim holidays, Gazmend drank alcohol when it suited him. He also never fasted for Ramadan, claiming his advanced age and frequent illnesses made it too difficult.

Like so many of Polje’s residents, Gazmend scavenged through the dumpsters. He worked longer and harder than most other men, despite being the oldest person in the settlement. Although he acknowledged that trash-picking was difficult, Gazmend believed that enterprising and disciplined people could realize financial success. He estimated that a pile of plastic in his front yard could be recycled for €20 ($25). It was nothing more than trash, he said, but it provided money. Gazmend remarked that he was able to live quite well off trash because, in Belgrade, everything could be sold. He even collected pieces of old bread, which he offered to farmers as pig feed. His income from bread, Gazmend bragged, funded his daily purchase of cigarettes. Without rent or electricity bills, Gazmend saved most of his earnings. He observed that even food could be found for free: discarded fruits and vegetables often filled the dumpsters in the back of the green market.

Given his achievements, Gazmend asserted that there was no excuse for being poor: if Ashkali and Roma were unable to get ahead, it was because they drank all night and then slept late the next day. Gazmend often noted that an individual “would find nothing if he stayed home.” He complained that residents spent what cash they had on public displays of wealth such as large parties or weddings. Becoming visibly frustrated, Gazmend said that residents such as Bekim were responsible for their own poverty. But while Gazmend stressed the profitability of trash, the dumpsters were not his only source of income. Four of his six children lived in the EU and they regularly sent money to their father. On one occasion Gazmend demonstrated the significance of these remittances by removing €1,200 ($1,500) in cash from his wallet. He also produced a Western Union receipt, which he kept as proof that the money was not stolen should the police ever search him.

Unlike most Ashkali, Gazmend also had access to alternative accommodation outside of Polje. He continued to hold the title to his home near the center of Pristina, Kosovo’s capital. But Gazmend preferred to reside in Polje. His painful memories of violence and discrimination dissuaded him from returning permanently. However, Kosovo was not his only option; Gazmend’s daughters in Germany were frequently urging him to move into their apartments. But he steadfastly refused, saying he enjoyed his life in Belgrade. His current living conditions, Gazmend declared, were not so bad. Yes, he lived in a shack but he had everything he needed: a community, a home, electricity in the evenings, and steady work at the dumpsters. He acknowledged that it could all be destroyed, as Zgrade had been, but if this occurred another plot could be found. Gazmend was adamant that he would spend the rest of his life in a settlement. He planned to die in a shack.

In an adjacent plot dwelled Fadil, one of Gazmend’s twenty-seven grandchildren. Fadil’s young wife had recently given birth to their first child but their joy was tempered by the difficulties of raising a family in Belgrade’s settlements. Fadil’s father, Albin, also resided in Belgrade. He, along with Gazmend’s youngest son, Fitim, lived in shipping containers approximately twenty kilometers from Polje. Regardless of the distance, the two men commuted to the settlement every day to search the dumpsters around the settlement. Remarking that neighboring junkyards offered the best prices in the city, Fitim believed he could make more money here than anywhere else in Belgrade. There were few other areas of the city with this concentration of residential buildings and, as a result, the abundance of discarded recyclable materials. In an effort to increase his earning potential, Fitim, with financial help from relatives in Germany, purchased a tractor to haul larger items.

The profusion of trash also drew other former residents of Zgrade to Polje, including Valon, Endrit, and Rajim. Soon after Zgrade’s destruction, Valon’s family received an apartment with running water and legal electricity but they lacked one important amenity: a place to store large amounts of paper for recycling. Consequently, Valon claimed a plot of land in Polje for his stockpile. While Endrit bragged about the running water and regular electricity that his home in Kosovo possessed, he could not find work. To earn an income, he came to Belgrade for several months each year accompanied by his wife, two daughters, son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren. They often stayed with Bekim and Fatime, making the shack home to as many as thirteen people. Like Endrit, Rajim’s family also received a rural home in Kosovo but he sold his share to his brother and built a brick house on a small dirt track in the back of Polje. Given his proximity, Rajim could often be found in Bekim’s shack chatting with Albin, Fitim, Valon, Gazmend, and Endrit.

Polje became an Ashkali social space because it was a critical site of resources: the dumpsters. Settlements provided access to an income that could not be found elsewhere precisely because they were on the margins. Excluded from mainstream regimes of value, scavengers made their own. The enduring mater...

Table des matières

• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: The Other World
• 1.   The Sociality of Exception
• 2.   Precarious Domesticity
• 3.   Abject Economies
• 4.   Constrained Aspirations
• 5.   Relocations
• Conclusion: Jebem Ti Život
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index