The Carties: Cape Town's Informal Waste Economy

An Unexpected Urban Economy

For the first time, I have noticed the clip-clop of horse hooves at the places we have stayed, including one brief, unintelligible interaction with a member of a three-person team sitting on a horse-drawn cart.

In Rugby, they rode along the streets from the boisterous commercial areas to the quiet residential zones, keeping to the slow lane on busy roads. The horse moved at a canter, not at speed to reach any particular destination, but at a measured pace suited to their work.

The Carties of the Western Cape

The old British term for such operators is rag-and-bone man, but here they are called "carties", and they are apparently quite prominent in the Western Cape. What surprised me was that the horses were blinkered. These carties collect waste or scrap, or offer a collection service, then sell their findings to processing or redemption centres.

This is quintessentially informal trade. The carties operate outside formal business structures, yet perform an essential service within the waste economy. They navigate a curious space between spontaneous enterprise and regulated activity; waste collection, even when conducted informally, is subject to stringent regulations.

Survival and Welfare

My interest in this was sparked by wondering how these carties survive and what provisions are in place for animal welfare. Our concerns were allayed when we discovered the Cart Horse Protection Association, which provides equine welfare and veterinary services to this informal industry.

Beyond my curiosity, this represents an acknowledgement of a trade structure that operates in the margins yet deserves support for both the people and the animals involved. I would hope there are opportunities to create pathways for progression for those who have worked in this informal and difficult sector for generations.

These operators have built a livelihood from what others discard, creating an economic network largely invisible to formal commerce. Yet it provides both income and environmental service, quite different from council-operated domestic refuse collection.

Then Back at Home

Whilst the rag-and-bone trade no longer exists to my knowledge in Great Britain, the opportunities to dispose of domestic goods, electricals, and furniture are quite fraught, expensive, and punitive. Making individual provision for such disposal leads to the unfortunate illegal activity of fly-tipping.

Perhaps what Britain lost when the rag-and-bone men disappeared was not just a quaint tradition, but a functional safety valve for household waste that formal systems have failed to adequately replace.

Regulating Informal Waste Activities in Cape Town [PDF]

GroundUp: Putting the horse before the cart

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

The benefit of naught

Seeing beyond the plain offer

What looks like an offer may not necessarily have a benefit, as there can be many variables at play to determine if, in the immediate term, the situation might have some credible participation. In the same terms, a bargain, attractive as it may seem, is also perverse; in that, it presents an opportunity to acquire either what you do not need or more than you need.

The utility of that acquisition is elastic, as it might give you the benefit of longer use or better facility, much as acquiring excess beyond what you need can lead to waste. The balance between the durable and the perishable is somewhat lost as consumption might be sped up or storage presages the loss of quality and usability.

Not all offers should be grabbed and taken advantage of, just as a bargain might not be of any benefit to you as it is to those offering the bargain to shift stuff or get more footfall. To paraphrase an old sales dictum, if you are not paying the going and full price of an offer or a bargain on a product, you have become part of the product.

Back to the original evacuation

In the eye of the bounty,
For the desire of hungered,
Walked the morsel into a cavern,
The workshop of white chargers,
Four short of three dozen,
Cantering in dressage on two red hills,
Equally divided to the task.

The morsel mangled,
Masticated and crushed to pulp,
Moved deeper into the cavern,
And down a peristaltic tunnel,
Into the factory of acids and fluids,
The work of sustenance was at play,
Strength to the bones and life it gave.

Through tubes and bigger tubes,
In channels that define the living,
For activity yet misunderstood,
But necessary at all times,
Then all discomfort came a-belly,
Ascending the contraption of Thomas Crapper,
He settled to the evacuation.