The person I'd like to talk about is Sunil, who drives the rubbish truck that collects waste from our neighbourhood in Colombo, in Sri Lanka. I see him most mornings at about half past six when I'm leaving for my shift at the hotel where I work as a receptionist.
He and two other men collect bins from every lane in our area, six days a week. They lift heavy, often smelly bags, sort out the plastic from the food waste, and deal with the rain, the heat and the stray dogs. Sunil's been doing it for over fifteen years, so he knows every house and, honestly, probably everyone's habits.
His job is important in a very obvious way that we forget. If the truck doesn't come for even three or four days, the bins overflow, the drains get blocked and you start seeing mosquitoes and rats. A few years ago there was a strike, and within a week the whole area smelled terrible. Nobody could talk about anything else. Clean streets are something we only notice when they disappear.
I think people rarely thank him for a few reasons. One is that the work happens early, when most people are still asleep or rushing. Another is status. In our society, jobs involving waste have traditionally been looked down on, so some people simply don't see the workers as people they should greet. And I suppose there's also habit: it's easy to take a service for granted when it works smoothly. A while ago I started saying good morning and giving him tea when I could. It's a tiny thing, but he seemed genuinely surprised, which says a lot.