Tokyoites divide trash into burnable and non, forcing everyone to consider what is going into the bin. How to determine a nonburnable, beside lighting a match to it? Residents at the Manor rely on the in-house expert who keeps the trash room neater than the average teenager's bedroom. No matter how fastidious Manor folks are about separating their detritus, Mr. Clean inspects each garbage bag to prevent mistakes that might incur fines from Minato-ku (harbor ward). A 27 page booklet on the subject explains more categories than one might expect. Sadly, the rules shifted last year, confusing gaijin (foreigners) even further. Sanitation workers will not accept garbage unless properly divided, sorted and wrapped. On collection days plastic bags are rounded up in blue netting to deter gangs of crows from pecking their way in, which they manage to do in any case.
Bins in the Juban come in pairs to allow for proper disposal. Once on a mountain hike with nihonjin, I dangled a banana peel carelessly. "Carry it home," I was advised. "But if we don't see you throw it away, you may." (Confession: it ended up under a tree.) Three years ago when Minato-ku's streets gleamed, I observed a child call out to a woman riding a bicycle; a tissue had fallen from her pocket. She stopped to collect it. Since the economic downturn of 2008 litter seems to be on the upswing, with cigarette butts the biggest offender. Wide as mailboxes, street ashtrays invite customers to congregate by corners since the law requires smokers to stand and puff together. Perhaps they prefer the bus stop for the Number 96 to Shinagawa, judging by the number of butts now underfoot.
"I started out in computers," Mr. Clean told me in perfect English. "When my mother fell ill, I switched to this job since it gives me more time to look after her." When he noted how many empty cans of essa (cat food) this Manor resident adds to the building's refuse, he pulled out his keitai (cell phone) to share photos of his three neko-chans (cats)-- adopted strays. (Tokyo has a tribe of well-fed stray cats, looked after by legions of women on bicycles rather than a non-profit org.) Lately, our refuse has become heavy on paper with high school practice exams. Is it only ten days until seniors don red gowns for graduation at Yokohama International?
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