Jakarta's Landfill Residents Face Uncertain Future as Bantar Gebang Nears Closure

On the outskirts of Jakarta, huge rolling peaks of rubbish stretch across more than 100 hectares (247 acres), towering over nearby villages. Each day a convoy of trucks plough in and dump more garbage into one of Asia’s largest landfills.

Here, thousands of people live on the fringe of the site and make their income picking through the waste and salvaging scraps for resale. The work is dangerous – earlier this year seven people died after one of the massive trash mounds caved in, burying them alive.

“It’s just our risk here,” says Rasta, 55, who salvages rubbish at the site, as he tearfully recalls the fatal event. “If we don’t take the risk, well, then we don’t eat.”

Now, people who rely on the site face an uncertain future as Indonesia’s government grapples with how to manage swelling levels of waste in the capital, the world’s largest city. The site, known as Bantar Gebang, is well over capacity and the government wants to gradually close it from next year, raising questions over where the rubbish will go, and what will happen to those who depend on it for their livelihoods.

About 40km from the Indonesian capital, from a distance Bantar Gebang resembles rolling hills. Up close, the illusion disappears. An irrepressible, putrid smell hangs in the tropical air, black streams of leachate – a highly contaminated water runoff – snake between the mountains of refuse. Swarms of flies hover over every passing truck.

Every day, about 8,000 tons of rubbish arrive from Jakarta on 1,400 bright orange trucks.

Among the rubbish pickers who work at the site is Andi, 29, and his wife, Winah, 43, who was born in a village near the landfill and has worked there since childhood.

Each day, they earn about 100,000 to 200,000 rupiah (about AU$8-16).

“Alhamdulillah [Praise be to God], I wouldn’t say it’s a lot, but it’s enough for the children’s schooling and for our daily food,” he says.

“It’s not physically fun,” he says of the work. “But working with friends, you can make a joke out of it.”

Workers tease one another as trucks rumble past in near-constant convoys.

“Anjay! (Whoa!)“ one worker shouts after spotting highly prized Aqua-branded water bottles, which fetch a higher price per kilo than other plastics.

Rustini has spent more than three decades collecting recyclables to put her children through school, determined that they won’t follow in her footsteps. She says she was “incredibly proud” that one of them was now working in Taiwan and another was preparing to move to Japan.

“Everything [for my children] came from here, from even the smallest items of waste. It has provided quality education for my children to fight for their own future.”

Karmidi, 32, started working at the site when he was just 10. Now married with two young children, he scours waste with a hooked pole called a “ganco”.

He says the work is dirty, but he enjoys being his own boss and providing for his family.

“This way, we can work when we please, the trash does not stop.”

He works at night when it is cooler but more dangerous as he and other waste pickers weave between dump trucks, bulldozers and excavators in the dark.

As the population of Jakarta has swelled in recent decades, Bantar Gebang has grown, becoming a dumping ground for all kinds of waste. Now, it is well over capacity and the government wants to close it down.

It comes as concern has been rising across Indonesia – especially among young people – about rivers, beaches and streets that are increasingly choked with rubbish. There is also growing opposition to the burning waste.

In February, Indonesia’s president, Prabowo Subianto, declared a national “war” on waste after leaders from South Korea described the popular tourist island of Bali as “dirty”.

The environment ministry has told local governments to phase out all landfills that practice open dumping, including establishing sorting facilities for organic and recyclable materials.

The government wants to close Bantar Gebang to general waste by the end of 2027, by gradually moving away from open dumping, the Jakarta environmental agency says, starting with orders this year for residents to separate organic waste.

Eventually, the site will only receive “residual waste” after organic and recycling materials have been removed. That will then be incinerated in a massive waste-to-energy plant, a facility that burns rubbish in a controlled environment to produce electricity. It is one of more than 30 such facilities planned by state investment agency Danantara across Indonesia – including in Bali, where construction began this month – to solve the mounting waste crisis.

But campaigners question whether viable alternatives to take rubbish away from Bantar Gebang will be ready in time. Campaigners say those plants will cost billions of dollars and require proper waste segregation, something rarely practised in Indonesia.

In Bali, the push away from open dumping has already created havoc. When Suwung landfill closed to organic waste in April, unsorted trash piled up on the streets, fields and rivers. Much of it was burned, sending a toxic haze across parts of the tourist island. The local government was forced to partially reverse the decision, allowing organic waste back at the landfill a few days a week.

Back in Jakarta, the uncertainty over Bantar Gebang’s future is causing concern.

Nur Azizah, a waste management expert from Gadjah Mada University, says if the site is “closed without alternatives, then game over, you will see waste everywhere”.

Despite its dangers, rubbish picker Andi says a greater fear is that Bantar Gebang will eventually close.

“I have hopes to make our kids happy, making sure they have enough,” he says, “If it closes, what choice is there?”